Page 39 of Stolen Princess

He swallows and pushes himself back but maintains his grip on my wrist and uses it to haul me up off the bed and spin me back around to face him. “I want your clothes to stay on.”

I smile. “You think that’ll help you when I have my fingers inside of me, and I’m moaning like a sweet little whore for you?”

He glares. This is so much fun.

I shrug. “Works for me, but you’ll regret it. I look incredible naked.”

His eyes narrow. “Where did you learn to talk like that?”

I simply smile at him. He likely knows the answer, but I don’t have to tell him.

His teeth capture my bottom lip, and he bites down hard. Hard enough to make me jerk back in pain and surprise, even as a fresh bolt of lust sweeps through me. Holy shit. His lips didn’t touch mine, but still.

“Get on the bed for me, princess.”

I squint at him. “Are you running this or am I?”

He laughs and releases my wrist so he can use his hand to wave toward the bed. “By all means, lead away.”

Nerves hit me, but I’m not backing down.

I climb onto the bed over the footboard, giving him a view of my ass with me on all fours as I crawl over to the pillow. He curses under his breath, and I can’t stop my triumphant smile, knowing he can’t see it.

I fall onto my back and adjust the pillow behind me so I can prop myself up. He hasn’t moved, and I don’t know what I was expecting him to do—maybe lie on the bed beside me—but the way he’s standing is more intimidating. His eyes are cast down on me, his chest, tattoos, and hard cock on full display.

Arousal spikes and heats my blood to a near boiling point as desire coils low in my belly. With a shaky breath, I run my hand up my tank top and cover my breast. And if I thought his eyes were dark a moment ago, they’re blacker than midnight now. His cheeks flush, and his lips part, and I get lost, no longer feeling shame or humiliation, but pure, driving lust.

My other hand slides down my body and slips into my shorts. I cup my pussy over my underwear before I push the center to the side. My legs spread wider, and I hold his gaze as I push a finger in, coating it with my wetness. I pump in and out a few times before I ring my entrance. I haven’t touched my clit yet. I like the tease. The build-up. I always imagine the guy doing this to me likes that it makes me squirm. That he loves touching me and looking at me.

It makes it so much better when I do finally submit.

“You’re wet,” he says, not a question.

“Yes.” My voice isn’t my own.

“Show me. Push two fingers inside yourself and show them to me.”

My breath hitches and nerves rattle me. “Why?” I ask, not understanding. Why would he care about how wet I am?

“Show me,” he repeats, this time firmer.

I do as he says. I push two fingers in, my hips rolling and arching to accommodate, and I slip my knees up to make it easier.

“If two fingers are a tight fit, you’ll never manage a cock as big as mine.”

I smirk. “Full of yourself?”

He grins devilishly. “See for yourself.”

I glance down, and the outline of his cock is thick and long, and yeah, that wouldn’t fit. “Good thing you’re not planning to fuck me then.”

“Good thing. Your fingers,” he demands.

I squeeze my breast, running the flat of my palm over my nipple. It’s so hard, and I want to touch my chest without the shirt, but that’s not what this is tonight. Not that it matters. He sees them, and I can’t believe I’m doing this. I almost laugh. I have no clue what I’m doing. It’s easier with him telling me what to do.

I give myself another pump and pull my fingers out. They glisten with my arousal, and he licks his lips as if he can taste it.

Without waiting for more orders, I slip my hand back into my shorts and underwear and push two fingers into myself again. Except that something he said is sticking with me. I don’t want to be a virgin forever. He may not be the guy to take it, but hopefully, some guy will someday. I scissor my fingers a bit as I plunge them in and out.