Page 30 of Defiant Princess

I come with a cry that Ford muffles with his lips on mine. His tongue drives into my mouth as he coaxes out my release with his fingers. He makes my wrenching, almost-too-intense-to-bear orgasm last for so long that by the time it’s over I’m too weak to fight him when he pulls back and quickly closes his pants.

“No, don’t,” I whisper in a pleasure-drunk voice.

He glances down at me, the heat in his eyes making my nipples tingle all over again. “Yes. My pants stay zipped. Or I mean it. I’ll do something stupid.”

“We can’t have a baby right now, Ford,” I say, leaving the “or ever” part unspoken, not wanting to upset him after the incredible thing he just did to my body.

“I know that, believe me,” he says, dragging a hand through his short hair. “But my dick doesn’t.”

“So, is that your kink? Imagining getting your lover knocked-up?” I ask, wondering if it might be mine, as well. Before tonight, if you’d asked me if I found the thought of being impregnated without my express, previous consent was hot, I would have vomited on your shoes.

But damn…even now, after having my hunger thoroughly sated, the thought of him guiding the tip of his bare cock to my entrance and pushing inside makes me tremble.

It’s insane, but alsoveryexciting.

“No,” he says, his throat working as his gaze rakes down my body. “Not with anyone else, anyway. But with you…” He winces, almost like he’s in pain. “Fuck, you look so beautiful like this. Half-naked and pink all over from me making you come.” He frowns. “Really pink…”

I glance down, seeing that he’s right. And that I can see much better in the near darkness than I did before, when the implant was still blocking parts of my abilities. Either that or I’m…

“Am I glowing?” I ask, fear creeping in to banish some of the warm, happy feelings pulsing through my body. A beat later the pink fades a little.

“I think you are,” Ford says. “Or you were,” he adds, as my embarrassment intensifies and the pink aura hovering around my skin continues to dissipate. He grins. “I literally gave you an afterglow.”

“Stop it,” I say, tugging my straps up and flipping my skirt down. “This isn’t something to be proud of. It’s weird.”

“How do you know? Could be a normal phoenix thing. Maybe you all turn pink after you come.”

“Maybe,” I mutter, hoping Catherine finds a phoenix journal in the library’s collection. And that the person isn’t shy about sharing all the intimate details about what it means to be our kind of shapeshifter. “Guess I won’t have the option of faking it anymore. Unless I’m wearing the implant locket.”

The thought of putting that thing on, however, even just to sleep safely, sounds increasingly awful. Yes, all the new information flooding my senses is intense, but now that I’ve relaxed a little, it doesn’t feel as scary. It feels…honest, real, like a piece of myself I didn’t realize was missing is clicking into place, making me whole in a way I’ve never been before.

“Why do girls fake it?” Ford asks, sounding offended. “I don’t get it. Why make your guy think he’s doing something right when he’s not?”

“Sometimes you’re just too tired or in your head or whatever,” I say, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the lounge. “And you want to stop trying without hurting your guy’s feelings. Or wounding his fragile male ego. Chase was so sweet, but even he got weird about that kind of stuff. If I couldn’t get there, it became all about him and his need to dominate my vagina with pleasure or something, even though I promised I was happy to stop when we did with no hard feelings.”

Ford grunts. “It should never be all about him.”

“Agreed.”

“And you’re not going to have to fake it ever again,” he adds. “I know exactly how to get you there. I can feel what your body needs.”

“So, you kept me on the edge for so long on purpose?” I ask as I rise to my feet and turn to face him across the chair.

His gaze locks with mine, sending another sizzle tingling across my skin. “I wanted to make it last. In case it was the only time you let me in.”

“I don’t like being out of control. I never did, even before, but now…”

“It feels scary,” he finishes. “I get it.”

“It feels like death,” I correct. “Doesn’t it feel that way to you? After years of having no control over anything, doesn’t giving it up feel terrifying? Like annihilation?”

He seems to consider that for a moment, but eventually shakes his head. “No.”

I frown. “Why?”

“I guess I feel safe with you,” he says. “Though I probably shouldn’t.”

His words hurt a little. I don’t want to be his wife, but I care for him. “I don’t mean you any harm, Ford. And even if I did, I wouldn’t come after you while your pants were down around your ankles. I’m not that kind of person.”

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