Page 24 of Princess of Hawthorne Prep

Maybe I can hide it from him but not myself.

“Eager for my dick, are we?”

His other hand drifts across my cheek before the fingers tunnel through my hair, wrapping around the side of my skull before tightening so that I’m held firmly in place. There’s no way for me to move a muscle unless he grants permission.

Instead of pressing the thick length between my lips, he lazily circles the tip around them. A trail of moisture is left behind in his wake. His eyelids lower to half-mast as his stare intensifies. I couldn’t rip my attention away from the hunger in his eyes even if I tried. There’s something so compelling about the expression on his face.

It’s a potent concoction of need and anger. It’s difficult to tell where one emotion ends and the other begins. They’re thickly entwined. No matter how much Austin hates me, he still wants me.

His touch is surprisingly gentle as he glides the head over my parted lips before trailing it over one cheek and then the other. When he drags the soft tip along my temple, I squeeze my eyes tightly closed as it drifts across my lids.

First one.

And then the other.

He strokes my cheek again before arriving at my mouth.

“Open your eyes. I want them locked on me the entire time. Do you understand?”

His command has them flying open and colliding with his.

“Good girl.”

As much as I try to stymie the reluctant pleasure that floods through me, it’s an impossible task. My thoughts are a tangled, thorny mess. I don’t understand how I can want this when what he’s forcing me to do should be humiliating.

I’m not on my knees because I want to be.

I’m here because Austin shoved me to them.

There’s a difference.

And yet, it doesn’t matter.

“Kiss the tip, sweet girl. Show me who owns you.”

There’s not the slightest hesitation on my part as my lips pucker before making contact with the velvety skin of his crown. Without thinking, my tongue darts out to lick the drop of moisture that beads the slit. A slight saltiness hits my taste buds as my tongue slips out for a second time.

Before I can make contact, his fingers tighten in my hair, dragging me back and tilting my head upward to meet his hard stare.

“Did I give you permission to lick me?” he growls.

The question vibrates throughout my body before settling deep in my core.

“No,” I whisper, gaze obediently locked on his.

In that moment, as I tilt my head and gaze up at him from my knees, the world shrinks down until it only encompasses the two of us.

There is just him.

And me.

He’s all I’m cognizant of.

The words that fall from his lips.

The way his gaze singes mine.

The feel of his firm grip stinging my scalp and holding me firmly in place.

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