Page 103 of Trick

That’s it, Princess. Work for this. Savor it.

How I love the way you dance.

I rolled Briar into the paneling one final time. Her drooping sleeve plunged lower to reveal more of her freckled cleavage and stomach. Heat radiated between her spread thighs, which flanked my waist like a sexy torture device, the warmth of her cunt abrading my upright cock.

We ebbed to a halt. Our mouths skated together, breathing hectically.

Unlike the mayhem of our first kiss, this one took its melting time. Her palms fastened at my nape, my arm banded around her waist, and my free hand climbed up the back of her head to lock her in place.

I tilted my head, braced my mouth against hers, and feasted on the rickety air gusting from her. My lips slid with Briar’s, each electrified caress sayingthisandthereandnow, becauseI can’t stand this anymoreandI won’t anymore.

I sketched her and grunted as she sketched me back, this barely-kiss igniting every frenzied impulse. It took an immortal amount of restraint not to crush her to me and seize that righteous mouth. But how I loved the bow of her lower lip quivering when my tongue rushed across its width.

It kept going like this, a flick along the down of her lips, my teeth coming out to play. She responded like a virgin and a ruler, a combination of innocence and domination. Seasons help me, I felt like the one being seduced. Briar followed me without hesitation, curling herself into my body whilst I hummed from the deep well of my throat.

We broke apart, changed the angles of our heads, and locked eyes.

Then we surged into each other.

Ravenous, I groaned and sank my lips into hers. Briar whimpered, her mouth sealing with mine, splaying beneath me. My tongue pierced her lips apart and stroked into a wet envelope of heat.

Our lips slanted and clutched, opening and rowing together. My rhythmic tongue flexed between the seam and rocked against hers. I swatted into that hot channel, flicking against the flat of her own tongue.

As I licked into Briar, she sighed and gave in return, lapping against me. The divine taste of her drizzled across my palate.

My free palm dashed down her back to span her ass, grasping those ovals as I took her mouth. The kiss mounted to the point of aggravation. It didn’t feel gratifying, the sort of liplocks of interludes past, the congratulatory conceit of a fine performance. Nay, I didn’t reap the carnal rewards of an admirer.

It was more. This woman’s kiss and bliss.

I ran my tongue along the roof of Briar’s mouth. Her moan shattered between my open lips and chipped my soul to pieces.

Aye, there was that. That, and beyond.

It could be rebellion, the dumb rush of the forbidden, except for the hitch in my chest and the pained grooves across my forehead. For this desire felt honest and difficult, this privilege temporary. It stripped away what I’d previously known of seduction.

This was me, the jester. This was me, wanting her.

This waswanting.

I ripped my mouth from Briar’s and broke from the wall. With my lips raging against hers, I stalked us to the fireplace, where a thick rug reclined in front of the grate.

Hunkering to the ground, I unfurled her across the rug before the mouth of the unlit hearth. As she crawled backward, I crawled forward, our movements in sync, our gazes latched. When I ran my palm up her shoulder and urged it toward the floor, she reclined beneath me.

In the darkness, she sprawled there. The skirt lay rumpled around her legs, and her bodice was spread open to the navel, exhibiting a pair of nipples poking through the breastband. Her complexion suffused with a deliciously ruddy tint.

I was done for.

Hefting myself onto my knees, I reached back and peeled the shirt from my head. The material slumped around one wrist. She grasped the damn thing and launched it to the side, then tracked her gaze across my hands, forearms, and bare abs.

Shallow pants siphoned from her lungs. Those eyes slid over my pecs and finally leveled with mine—willing, waiting.

I slithered over Briar. Half of my weight suspended above her, and my knees bent between her parted ones. Poised above her, I draped my index finger atop her neck and then stroked the tip over the valley in her split bodice.

Briar released a thin cord of breath, the remnants of our kiss a streak of condensation across her lips. I raked over the sight of this princess. Her jaw slackened, and the braided crown of her hair strained to be set free.

I leaned down and seethed against her mouth. “May I touch you, Princess?”

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