Page 97 of My Dark Prince
We made our way into the master bathroom. I could tell Oliver wanted to protest when I strode in with him, but I’d robbed him of his voice the second I tore off my shirt and bra, shoving my jeans and underwear down in one motion. They flung against the wall as I kicked them away.
Oliver stood in front of me, ogling me for at least sixty seconds straight.
“Are you having a stroke?” I wiggled my toes inside my white knee-high socks and stretched my arms above my head, bending backwards with a yawn. As a devout yogi, my flexibility rivaled a bungee cord. “If so, you won’t be mad if I send you to the ER with one of the house staff, right? Rush hour is such a downer.”
“Well, aren’t I a lucky man for bagging you?” he muttered, the bulge in his grey sweatpants swelling by the nanosecond.
“The luckiest.” I reached to pinch his cheek, knowing he always loathed it. “Get started on that shower. I’m hungry.”
When he didn’t make a move, I turned my back to him and slid into a downward dog position, gifting him an excellent view of my ass and legs. He sucked in a breath behind me, fumbled for the edge of the counter, and choked it with his fingers.
“Christ, Cuddlebug.” Ollie’s voice came out rough and desperate. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Why? Is it working?”
His responding gurgle implied he’d choked on his own tongue.
“Hmm?” In one swift movement, I shifted into a side plank, gliding my right foot over the inside of my left leg until it reached my upper thigh. “Did you say something?”
Oliver didn’t answer as I stretched my free arm straight up. In fact, he hadn’t even moved since I’d stripped. Without warning, I pointed my right leg high into the sky, offering him a front row view to my bare pussy.
My nipples pebbled, strained with lust. The wetness between my thighs probably glistened, an open invite.
Oliver just stood there, miserably shifting from side to side, trying not to touch himself.
“Sweetie, can you start the shower?” I slid down into a full split. “That steam isn’t going to create itself.”
“Hard disagree.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “There’s so much steam in here my balls are about to ignite.”
Somehow, he managed to rip his eyes from me and tore his clothes off, scattering them on the tiles. His body made me want to weep. My core pulsed, desperate to be filled. To be stroked. To be devoured by this man.
He was perfect. Every inch of him. All broad shoulders, muscular arms, and immaculate six pack.
He stumbled toward the glass enclosure and kept the door ajar as he fumbled with the knobs. The spray hissed to life, filling the room with foggy mist. Condensation gathered on the mirrors and walls as the air grew hotter.
Oliver rested his forearm over the quartz, desperate not to reach for his cock. It had become impossibly engorged, the crown almost purple. A perfect pearl of precum already graced the tip.
I knew my plan would be easy, but I hadn’t expected it to bethiseasy.
“You can tug one out, baby. I won’t be mad.” I winked, rising to my feet and grabbing my heel in a half-moon pose. “I low key want to touch myself, too.”
Oliver grunted in pain, fisting his cock and squeezing it hard without stroking. He tipped his chin down. Water cascaded along his imperial figure, past those blond curls I used to love thrusting my fingers into because they smelled like summer, and coconuts, and the boy I loved.
He swiped away the precum. “This is really hard for me.”
“I can tell.” My gaze slid to his cock, which latched onto his abs like a leech after he freed it from his grip. “Do you mind if I pet the kitty?”
“Ah … what?” He seemed dazed. Distracted.
“You know … polish the pearl. Play the clitar.”
He blinked at me a few times, looking ready to combust. “You have a sense of humor.”
He seemed surprised.
Ah, yes. Because I’m a frigid, sullen environmentalist.
“A sense of humor – and the libido of someone who just discovered sex. Plus, I make the best pizza you’ll ever taste. But you already knew that, future hubs.” I winked, gesturing to my pussy. “Now, may I?”
