Page 64 of My Dark Prince
I pressed my lips to her forehead for a few seconds, breathing her in. Dry. The clamminess had evaporated sometime during her nap.
She kicked her foot out, playing footsies with my thigh.
I looped a hand around it and began to massage her. “Listen, Cuddlebug. I need to get you back to Geneva. Dad expects me back home for that internship.”
“How about you just spend the night here?” she suggested, brightening up.
I bit down on my lower lip, shaking my head. “I wish I could. But I—”
“Come on, Ollie. I haven’t seen you all year.”
“It’s really important to me,” I admitted, quiet. “This internship.”
Even as I explained this to her, I felt like a shithead. It was her eighteenth birthday, and her parents had dumped her ass and divorced her without as much as a cupcake or a greeting card. And here I was, wound tight about some bullshit internship forced on me by my dad for a company I’d inherit anyway.
She twisted, crawling up along my body on her hands and knees on the bed. “At least bid me farewell nicely.”
“Listen, I don’t want to rush things—”
But before I could complete the sentence, she sank her groin against my hard-on. Her flimsy underwear did nothing to hide the wetness between her thighs. I could feel her ready for me, even through my jeans.
I sucked in a breath. We’d made out and even dry-humped before, but this felt different.
She dipped her head down and scooped my lower lip between her lips, sucking on it teasingly. “We’re not rushing anything.”
Her tongue traced my mouth, prying it open, and soon, we shared a passionate kiss. Her fingertips moved toward my torso under my shirt, tracing their way up my ribcage.
“I want you to fuck me,” she begged, grazing my chest with her nails. “I’ve been wanting you to fuck me since I was sixteen. I wanted it when I was drunk, and I want it now when I’m sober. I want to feel you moving inside me. Filling me.”
“This is not how I wanted it to happen.”
And still, my hands moved of their own accord, trailing the backs of her thighs, tugging her legs apart. My fingers curled around the smooth, sun-kissed flesh of her ass. I slammed her against my erection, grinding her tight, wet pussy against my hard-on through our clothes.
“We’ve waited for so long,” I said through our kiss. “I want this to mean something.”
“It does mean something.” Her mouth traced mine as she spoke. “Just because there’s no candlelight, or wine, or a cabin in a snowstorm doesn’t mean it’s not real. We don’t need the clichés.”
It wasn’t the clichés I sought. It was the perfect moment. A moment in which our emotions didn’t burn so bright that we’d fucking explode at any second. But right now, my heart wasn’t the one in danger of ignition.
Briar Rose undid the button on my jeans and unzipped me, leaning down to kiss me again. I was eighty-three percent sure we both tasted funky.
Her lips traced my jawline, hot and soft, moving down my body. “Do you have a condom?”
She bunched my shirt all the way up to my neck, leaving a lot of skin to kiss on her way down. I felt delirious in the worst-best way possible. Like I hovered on the fine line between happy drunk and need-my-stomach-pumped drunk.
“Condom?” I asked, disoriented. “I think I lost my grasp on the English language. I mean, I might …” I trailed off, trying to sort through the chaos in my head.
As I thought, Briar Rose scooped my painfully hard cock into her mouth and grabbed it by the root, giving it a lick. I hissed out. My whole body ached for her.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered Sebastian shoving a condom into my wallet as I rushed out of the lake house to the airport.
He’d sent me a smirk designed to piss me off. “You forgot your condoms, bro.”
“I’m not going to use any condoms, assface.” I rapped his forehead with my knuckles. “She’s distraught.”
“Even better. I once had a one-night stand with a chick whose cousin just died. She was feral.”
“You are a terrible human being.”
