Page 8 of Savage Prince
His hand stills. “You can’t deny it. Somewhere, hidden in this prim and proper suit is a bad, dirty little thing dying to break free.”
He has no idea how right he is. I’ve kept the chains tight, locking down the wildness from my younger years, all in an effort to break from the mold of my past.
“I should go.”
His breath ghosts over my ear again, sending chills down my spine. “Maybe you should, but you won’t.”
One finger plunges inside my body and my moan fills the silent room.
“That’s right, princess. You’re mine tonight, and I’m going to take damn good care of you.”
Any thoughts of leaving are wiped away as he finger-fucks me with confident strokes until I beg.
“Please. More. I need more.”
He grunts, pushing a second finger inside. His two fingers barely fit together, and I press back to feel the stretch.
It has been way, way too long since anyone but me has touched me.
I whimper and moan, losing my iron grip on propriety. Not tonight. Tonight is about getting what I’ve denied myself for years.
“I need your cock. Now. Please—”
He pulls his fingers free and lands a slap between my thighs, setting off a scream-inducing orgasm.
He spanked my pussy.
I writhe, attempting to move, but he buries a hand in my hair, keeping me pinned. Maybe it’s better that way, because my next instinct is to spin around and fall to my knees in front of him, and find what I hope is a thick cock to go with the rest of him.
“You want my dick? You think you can handle it?”
“Yes!” I scream the answer, and he releases his grip. A few seconds later, I hear the crinkle of foil.
“Might not fit in this tight little pussy. You think you can handle being stuffed full?”
Moisture floods between my legs.
“Big promises—” I start to taunt, but something thick and solid nudges against my soaked entrance.
“Princess, I got big everything.” His cocky attitude should be a turnoff, but as he pushes inside, I realize it’s not fueled by arrogance, but confidence.
He feelshuge.
His fingers close around my hair, fisting it at the base of my neck as he continues pushing through my slick channel until he’s balls deep.
“Big enough for you?”
“Oh God.”
“Hold on to those prayers. Gonna get a little rough.”
If I were rational and sane, the wordroughwould have me freaking the hell out, but it doesn’t. I reach out and grip the edge of the desk.
“I can take it.” My tone is pure challenge, more suited to the rebellious teen of my misspent youth than the professional woman I am today.
It must be the right answer, though, because it unleashes the beast behind me. My stranger draws back before fucking into me with a measured rhythm of deep and then shallow strokes. He relentlessly hits the spots that light my body up.The man has skills.
It’s the last coherent thought I have as my fingers tighten around the edge of the desk. My head begs to thrash from side to side but is pinned in place by his hand.
