Page 66 of That Prince is Mine
“There… there was this guy in college. He was nice and smart… and I wasn’t overly enamored with him, so he seemed like a very sensible choice…” She trailed off, realizing that she was rambling.
“Emma,” he enunciated slowly. “Are you telling me there was one man in college?”
“Yes?” He should know this wasn’t something she took lightly. She was opening herself up to him like she seldom did. She was offering him her trust. Blushing to the roots of her hair, she added, “That one time.”
Michel’s breath left him in a whoosh, and he sat down on his haunches. He ran his hand down his face and over his mouth.
“Are you… disappointed that I’m so inexperienced?” Mortified, she glanced around for something to cover herself with. Come to think of it, why was she the only one naked? Michel was still fully dressed.
“Never.” He rose on his knees again and held her chin so she would look at him. “Nothing about you could ever disappoint me, Emma.”
“Then… I don’t understand why you’re upset.” She hated how her voice trembled. Was she making a mistake? No. Even confused and worried, she knew she wasn’t. It felt too right to be wrong.
“I’m not upset,” he whispered. “Not even close.”
He wrapped his hands around her knees, and she clamped her legs together. He leaned over and trailed hot, lingering kisses from her shoulder up the curve of her neck, and she sighed, desire sweeping her up again. When he spread her knees apart, she opened up for him without resistance. Running his hands up and down her thighs, he stepped between them and kissed her with tightly reined hunger.
“No, darling Emma.” He brushed his lips up her jaw and said against her ear, “I’m shamefully pleased about your inexperience and… bewildered by the part of me that wishes I was your first.”
“That’s not so bewildering. I loved sharing so many of your firsts with you because you’ll never forget them—you’ll never forget me. Maybe that’s what you want, too.” She drew back just far enough to cup his cheek and hold his eyes. “If it helps any, that one time wasn’t very good. It was entirely forgettable.”
His chuckle was low and husky as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I desperately want to make this unforgettable for you.”
“You will,” she murmured, threading her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck.
When his lips met hers once more, she forgot her insecurities—she very likely forgot her own name—as liquid lust spread through her. She became a creature of need and hunger. She wanted this man. She wanted to make him hers.
She squirmed on her perch on the bed when his hands found her breasts. She couldn’t even be embarrassed at how loudly she moaned when his thumbs circled the hard peaks in excruciatingly slow circles. Especially since he groaned equally loud when she thrust her chest in his face, demanding more.
He sucked her aching nipple into his mouth, and her back arched hard enough to lift her ass off the bed. He pushed her back down, his fingers digging into her hips. After lavishing equal attention on her other breast, he licked and nipped his way down her stomach. He spread her legs apart farther and dropped wet, open-mouthed kisses on the inside of her thighs.
“Michel—”
“Shh.” He didn’t lift his head. “Let me taste you, Emma.”
Her hips jerked wildly at the first lick of his tongue. His thumbs parted her, and he lapped at her center like she was rich, decadent ice cream. Her head fell back, and she gripped the sheets in her fists.
“I knew you’d taste like heaven,” he murmured against her, drawing a shiver with the vibration of his words.
Pressure built up in her lower stomach and her center ached unbearably, but the rest of her body felt limp like a wilted flower. When his teeth scraped across her throbbing nub, she gave up and fell onto her back with a whimper.
“Good girl.” He rewarded her with another delicious scrape of teeth.
“Michel.” She wanted. She needed. Moaning and writhing, she lifted her hips off the bed and pulled his head deeper between her legs. “Please.”
The good man that he was, Michel obligingly pushed a finger deep inside her as his talented tongue continued to swerve maddening circles around her clit. She groaned, fisting her hands in his hair—he was delusional if he thought he was going anywhere—and ground her hips into his face.
“I want…” With greedy, mindless lust, she sought her finish. “Michel, I need…”
He pushed a second finger inside her and sucked her clit into his mouth with a low groan, and she was gone. Her back arched as she screamed. His fingers and mouth slowed and gentled but didn’t stop as her orgasm crashed into her in waves. He kept going as she jerked, twitched, and shivered, hissing and moaning her approval.
At last, she lay still—her legs spread wantonly and her fingers tangled in his hair—utterly spent. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the pant of their harsh breaths. But an exceptional accomplishment like this shouldn’t go unpraised.
“That was definitely a first,” she slurred.
“What?” Michel paused in the middle of impatiently ripping off his shirt.
Her eyes widened, and she rose onto her elbows. She might feel like an overboiled noodle, but she wasn’t missing this unveiling for the world. But he stood frustratingly still with his shirt pulled down from one shoulder. Even so, her gaze greedily took in the peek of washboard abs and smooth, hard chest.
