Page 26 of Wicked Prince

He tastes like sin and ecstasy, and my fingers burn with the desire to rip off every last shred of cloth that stands between us. He's already slipped his hands beneath my shirt, hot and passionate against my bare skin as they snake up my sides to palm my breasts. I moan as his fingertip travels along the scalloped lace edge of my bra, my head falling back so he can claim my throat with his mouth as he gropes me.

I can't say I'm surprised Lorenzo kisses like a vampire, all teeth and hunger, but I am surprised at the way I respond.

Guess I have a biting kink. These are the kinds of things you learn about yourself when you go to a player's house in the middle of the night on a whim, whether you want to or not.

When Lorenzo peels my shirt off over my head and his gaze flames with approval at what he's revealed, I'm far more consumed with what Idowant.

Things I have no business wanting, let alone needing, and that's exactly how it feels right now. Like I'm going to catch fire if I don't see this through to its logical conclusion.

Like there was any chance of that from the moment I walked in through that door. I can see it now, so clearly it's almost comical. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that, but it does nothing to stop me from moving forward into the abyss knowing full well what's coming.

I kiss him again, and he starts unhooking my bra with practiced ease that should make me roll my eyes. Instead, I'm just glad one of us knows what they're doing. When he palms my bare breasts in his hands, his lips back against my throat, it feels like he wants to devour me, and I'm loving every minute of it.

"Lorenzo," I gasp, my head falling back against the wall as he travels down, claiming the bud of my nipple between his lips. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh as it pebbles, and a surge of pleasure runs down my spine like lightning.

My hands slip into his hair as he gets down on his knees and starts unfastening my jeans. Everything is happening so fast, like a hurricane, and here I am in the eye of the storm, all too eager to get swept away.

When he tugs my jeans down over my hips, it makes a little more sense. As I realize what he's about to do, I'm stopped short of saying anything by the smirk on his lips as he flicks his finger across the small rosebud accent on the waistband of my panties.

"Very frilly," he remarks.

I frown. "So?" I ask defensively. "I didn't exactly plan on anyone seeing them tonight."

His smirk widens, like he doesn't believe me, but when he takes the rosebud between his teeth and tugs, the feeling of the bare air on my skin makes me gasp. He pulls them down the rest of the way along with my jeans and I step out of them, still in a state of confusion.

"It's cute," he says.

"Oh, shut up," I mutter.

All the bluster goes out of me when he spans the width of my hips with his hands and spreads me open. He lowers his head, and another gasp escapes me as his tongue travels up along my slit. I'm already shamefully aroused, and my head is spinning as I grip his hair tighter. He gives me enough time to protest, but I don't. I don't possess even a modicum of the self-control I once thought, and that first, brief touch makes the flame within my core roar even more ferociously.

"Fuck," I breathe as his tongue delves into my slit and he hitches my leg up over his left shoulder so he can go deeper. My back is flat against the wall, and it's all I can do to keep myself from arching into him. I've never even been to second base with anyone, and the sensations are almost too overwhelming.

Not quite, though.

Not enough to want it to stop.

Lorenzo moans against my sex as he continues to eat me out, and all of a sudden, any mystery that might have lingered as to why women are willing to put up with half his bullshit vanishes like smoke in the rain.

The guy might have a silver tongue, but he knows how to put it to damn good use, and he eats pussy like he's starving for it.

"God, you taste good," he says, his voice low and guttural.

Before I can respond, he flicks his tongue across my clit and I'm already so painfully close it makes me shudder. The next time he goes down and sucks my throbbing clit into his mouth, a full-body shudder works its way down from my head to my toes as I come.

He doesn’t stop.

A strangled cry escapes me and I grip his hair so hard it has to hurt, but he doesn't stop. Not until I gasp, "Please, I—I can't!"

When he finally looks up at me, his eyes dark with lust and mischief, I feel like I could come again from that look alone. "Please, hm? I didn't think I'd have you trained so easily."

"Oh, fuck off," I hiss, pushing him away as I get both my feet back on the floor.

My head is still spinning and my ears are ringing from the orgasm, but it barely even took the edge off the need that's still swirling around in my core.

He just gives me that smug expression, getting back to his feet. He slips his finger beneath my chin and tilts my head up so I have no choice but to look at him.

"I love the way you moan," he says, sweeping his thumb across my lips once more. My breath falters in response, like my body is an instrument he can pull any sensation and response from with the casual ease of a maestro. "I bet that breathy voice would sound even better purring my name."

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