Page 11 of Spearcrest Prince

His kiss is searching and heated. He angles his head against mine, deepening the kiss. He tastes of expensive alcohol and spearmint. I wrap my arms around his neck and arch against him, anchoring my shoulders to the door as I roll my hips into his. He groans in response, grinding against me. He’s hard—shamelessly, gloriously hard.

And then he breaks the kiss. Our mouths part with a wet sound and a rasping sigh.

He turns me around. I move easily in his hands, placing my palms and cheek against the dark polished wood of the door. I try to catch my breath, bracing myself for the clinking of a belt. This is faster than what I’m used to, but we’re in a public place, and we’re both here for one reason only. I suppose I can’t blame him for being in a rush.

But instead of shoving my skirt up over my ass and thrusting himself inside me, Green-Eyes does something quite different.

He touches me.

He slips his warm palm up over my bare thigh, skimming my skin, sending a rush of pleasure through me. I press myself back against him. My breathing becomes short and raspy.

He stops, his hand resting on my waist, the warmth of his touch radiating through the thick fabric of my T-shirt.

“If you don’t like this, tell me now,” he murmurs in my ear.

I shake my head, cheek still pressed to the door. He kisses my neck, his lips brushing over my skin in soft, hot kisses.

A shudder skitters through me. He glides his hands up and down my arms in a gentle caress, then traces my sides, my waist. His hips grind against my ass, but it’s through all the layers of clothing separating us. He pulls on the hem of my T-shirt, untucking it from my waist, and his hands slide underneath. His fingers brush, paper-light, over the ridges of my ribcage. They tickle the underside of my small breasts, and a tiny whimper escapes my lips.

It’s not loud, but it’s loud enough to hear over the music pulsing through the door.

Green-Eyes lets out a low chuckle. “Ah. You like that?”

He traces the underside of my breasts with his fingertips and then wraps his hands over them, squeezing. They are barely enough to fill his palms, but judging by the way his cock stiffens against me, he doesn’t seem to mind. He rolls my nipples between his fingers and then pinches, drawing a gasp of surprise from me.

“Answer me,” he says, low and rough in my ear. “Do you like that?”

I nod again, my cheek still pressed to the door. My body is alive with sensation, like there are flames trapped between my bones and my skin. I swallow and wriggle against him. I’m turned on, more turned on than I expected—more turned on than I’ve ever been.

“I like it too,” he murmurs against my ear. “I like how your tits feel in my hands, your cute little nipples. I like that you’re not wearing a bra.”

I lick my lips, which are suddenly dry. He speaks with a slight accent—I didn’t expect that. It’s so faint I barely recognise it. But his voice is so hoarse it’s already taking most of my concentration to make out his sultry words.

“What else do you like?” he breathes against my ear. “What would you like me to do to you?”

Keeping one hand on my chest, he slides the other out from under my shirt and lets it drop to my leg. He rakes his fingernails up my thigh, gathering my skirt. His hand stops right at the top of my leg.

“Do you want me to touch you there, too?”

I can barely trust my voice, so I nod instead. “Mm-hm.”

“Say it,” he breathes. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Asking for consent is the bare minimum I would expect from a guy, but Green-Eyes’s style is something else altogether. Liquid heat trickles down between my legs, and I squeeze my legs together, desperate for some pressure, some friction—anything.

“I want to feel you inside me,” I whimper.

He groans against my ear, and his fingers stop. “Are you sure about this?”

I nod, licking my lips. “Yes.”

His body moves against mine. I hear him unbuckling his belt, and my heart skips a beat. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. His cock is thick against me. He grinds against my ass, his cock pushing into the small of my back, then his hands are at my waist, pressing lightly.

“Lift up your skirt for me.”

My hands tremble as I reach for my skirt, bunching it around my hips, exposing my soaking wet panties. I’m so hungry for his touch I ache. I spread my legs, arching against him.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please touch me.”

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