Page 67 of Stolen Princess

FERRIN

Chills sweep up my legs and draw my balls up as more blood pumps straight to my cock. Jesus. Her fucking kisses are my kryptonite. One hand threads into her hair that’s heavy and clinging to the side of her face. My other hand holds her firmly in place. If her body fully presses against mine, that’ll be it. As it is, it’s taken Herculean effort not to take in every perfect inch and line of her before fucking her blind.

“Kiss me,” she murmurs against my lips, her hands in my hair pressing me harder against her. I grip her throat and tear her off me so I can press her into the wall. My grip tightens, and I keep her here, feeling her pulse thrum against my own that’s shooting through my palm. She drags her lip between her teeth, not in an attempt to be sexy, but because she’s wound up and nervous, and that’s not helping me.

“Knock that off,” I growl. “You’re driving me crazy. I’m not the guy to do this with, princess.”

Her eyes narrow. “Did you know all along? Is that why you called me that?”

“No. You look like a princess to me.”

And she does. Beautiful and delicate and sweet. Like those elegant desserts we’d have to serve to the money people when they’d come into the orphanage. We’d be paraded around as charity cases, and they’d give us their sad, pitying eyes while they drank champagne, ate caviar, and indulged in those desserts.

That’s what she is. An untouchable decadence I can never taste. Something forbidden and far too good for me.

“Is this because of my mother? Because if you take my virginity, you can’t swap me for the tiara?”

“Christ.” I laugh. “You were nearly taken tonight. You were having a panic attack. You watched me murder someone in cold blood. Why on earth would you want to kiss me?”

She blinks, her wet lashes like paintbrushes framing her guileless eyes. “Because you saved me. Twice. Because you told me your real name when I bet you tell it to no one. Because you killed him in cold blood so he wouldn’t take or hurt me, and after you washed his blood out of my hair to stop my panic attack. Because I need to believe in someone, and you’re the one I want to believe in.”

Her words hit me sideways, making it difficult to breathe. No one’s ever believed in me. “I’m not a good man.”

“But you are to me. Touch me,” she pleads softly with a quake in her voice, though she’s holding steady. “Show me what it’s like. Teach me how to touch you.”

Motherfucker, this girl will be the death of me in far too many ways. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

She wraps her hand around my cock, feeling it throb and pulse as it grows harder for her. My head bows and my eyes close. Fuck. God.

“Yes, I do.”

My chest rises and falls faster. I need to get out of this shower, and she needs to not be so naked and fuckable, but I can’t move away because I need to touch her. I can’t think past it. I open my eyes to finally look at her. Her perky tits won’t even fill up my hands, and her toned, angled stomach and pussy look so soft. She shaves, and it makes me smile.

There is no waxing for this girl. No lasers. No frills or extras.

It makes her even more perfect to me, and before I know what I’m doing or how I got here, I’m on my knees in front of her. I lick my lips, and on an intake of breath, I taste how she smells. It’s what I was dying for last night—and how the fuck was that only last night when it feels like a month between then and now?—but it’s better than I imagined.

She’s pink and so pretty, and I look up at her face as I touch her pussy.

She shudders, her lip back between her teeth.

“Spread your legs. Do it,” I urge when she doesn’t move. “I need to see you.”

She’s shaking so hard, only it’s so different from before.

She shifts her stance, but it’s not good enough, and I take her leg under the knee and place it on my shoulder. Her breath catches, and so does mine, because her entrance is there and it’s wet and glistening and her clit is hard and pulsing, and, fuck my life, I have to taste both.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at you?”

“Uh.” She’s flushed so red there’s hardly any pink or pale skin left.

“I’m going to lick you.”

“Lick me?”

I smile at her aghast tone. “You didn’t read that?”