Page 23 of Savage Princess

I would beg to differ.

He lets out another long breath, his gaze searching mine. His lips brush over my mouth, softly at first and then hungrier, and I feel his hands reach for my dress.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispers against my mouth, but he keeps sliding the fabric up. Up and up and up–until it’s past my thighs, my hips, my waist, and I lift up so he can pull it over my head, tossing it aside on the bed.

His gaze rakes down my body, over my bare breasts, the smooth, taut expanse of my stomach, down to the only clothing I have left. I feel him tense, his hands cupping my face again, his mouth coming down on mine, as if to stave off the moment when he has to decide to stop or go further. There’s so little between us now.

“I dare you to take off your shirt.” I reach up, my fingers trailing over it. “Or you could dare me to do it instead.”

I feel him hesitate, his gaze hot and hungry on mine. I can see the war that he’s fighting within himself—and I can see how close he is to losing.

A good girl would put a stop to this. A good girl would tell him not to do anything that he’s not sure about. To think about it in the morning when he’s sober.

A good girl would put her dress back on.

But I’ve been a good girl my whole life, and all I want now is to find out what it’s like to be bad.

I arch upwards, my fingers hooking into his shirt, pulling it up. “Dare me,” I whisper again, the words throaty and full of the same desire I see in his face, and Levin swears softly under his breath.

“Fuck, Elena. I dare you. I dare you to take it off.”

“Accepted,” I whisper, and I pull his shirt over his head.

He’s gorgeous, shirtless. I remember how worried he’d seemed the first night we were together, as if I wouldn’t want him when I saw him without his shirt. As if I’d find all that ink splashed across his skin repellent instead of sexy.

He looks dangerous, lethal. I run my hands over him, feeling the muscle bunch and flex as I explore. He shudders under my touch, his hips jerking against me again, and I can feel how hard he is. He must be aching,dyingto be inside of me, and I know he’s stalling. My touching him is just another way for him to put off the decision in front of him.

But I don’t want to stop. He feels so good under my hands, hard and masculine, and I reach up to grip his arms, pulling him towards me again. “I dare you to take off my panties,” I whisper, just before his mouth brushes over mine once more, and I feel his cock jerk against me. It sends a flood of desire through me, soaking the thin cotton between my legs, realizing what I do to him—just how much I can turn this powerful man on, how I can undo him.

The effect I have on his self-control.

It’s more intoxicating than the alcohol.

“Elena–” he breathes my name again, but his fingers are already on the edge of my panties, tugging them down. His fingers brush against the fabric between my legs, and he sucks in a breath. “God, you’re so fucking wet—”

“For you,” I whisper, looking up at him. “I’m so fucking wet foryou.”

His hand jerks, dragging the panties down my legs. His fingers slide up my inner thigh, hovering so close to where I need them, and I look up at him, breathing hard.

“I dare you to make me come,” I whisper, and Levin looks at me as if he’s never seen me before.

“You’re very brazen for someone who only just lost her virginity,” he murmurs, but his fingers are already sliding higher.

“You said that before.” I open my legs a little wider, arching up. “Maybe I’m figuring out what I want.”

“You don’t know what you want,” he breathes, his fingers almost there. I can feel them, almost brushing against the outer folds of my pussy, and I clench, aching for him to touch me there.

“I might,” I whisper, and I lean up to kiss him, just as his fingers slip between my folds and graze my clit.

I gasp into his mouth as he kisses me back, his tongue sliding hungrily against mine as his fingers start to expertly work my clit, rolling against it in a way that makes me flush hot with pleasure. He seems to know exactly the right pace, the right touch, until I’m so slick that there’s almost not enough friction, and yet it still feels so fuckinggood.

My hips jerk against his hand, wanting more, and he gives it to me. Faster, quicker, pressing against my most sensitive flesh until I know I’m on the edge, so close to coming. So close to what I need—

I cry out as he tips me over the edge, two fingers pressed down, holding my clit in place as his thumb swipes up and over it, again and again. I shatter as I moan his name against his lips, grinding helplessly against his hand as I come hard.

His fingers go very still, and he starts to pull away. I’m still trembling, breathless, but I don’t want it to stop. I can’t bear for him to stop touching me. Not yet.

I reach down, my hand wrapping around his. “I dare you to do it again with your tongue.”

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