Dirty Wicked Prince (Court Legacy 1)

Gentle.

Words.

But he wasn’t gentle. He was calloused and hard like his rough football hands.

In the next seconds, he stripped himself bare down to nothing but his muscled form. Like the rest of his body, he was powerful, chiseled everywhere from his thick torso to his bulky legs. He sheathed himself with a condom before palming my legs apart and made no apologies for those tears he clearly saw. He said he wanted me to scream for him.

I did once he entered me.

I called out at that first thrust, flesh tearing, my body filled to the brink. I wasn’t casual with sex. I only did it with people I trusted or had an emotional attachment to.

Needless to say, that hadn’t been many.

Dorian Prinze was only the third boy I’d been with, and he filled me so largely it was as if he were the only one. He stretched and pulled me from the inside out, the expression of awe on his face telling me he felt the same tension in my core.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he said, kissing my mouth open before bowing his head and tonguing my nipples. He sucked one in, and I screamed again, his thrust hard and fast between my legs. “You’re mine.”

He said the word mine as if claiming me. Like he had any right to brand me. His words heated over my moist flesh, Dorian’s warm body slick over me. We were both sweating, his body powerful and unrelenting.

“Mine,” he repeated, feral and completely maddened. Drawing back, he watched himself enter me again and again. My muscles expanded and contracted as I hugged my thighs to his hips. He faced me. “You’re mine. You hear that, Noa?”

I’d say whatever he wanted…

As long as he didn’t stop.

As long as he gave himself to me for as long as these few moments in this bed lasted. They would end. I’d get up and realize what a mistake this was. He probably would too, but would most likely still believe his words of ownership.

But I couldn’t be owned. Not by him at least.

I mean, there wasn’t a place for me anyway.

Dorian was consumed by something, and I wasn’t about to fuck with whatever it was. I had my own life, my own family and myself to take care of.

I didn’t have time for the heartbreak.

I cried out again as Dorian took me to my brink, and he roared, the bed slamming against the wall as he fucked me into submission.

“That’s it,” he coached, pumping once, then twice before his eyes rolled back. His cock spasmed inside me, emptying himself into the condom, and the fact he was ridiculously beautiful (even as he came) made me want to touch him.

He let me, my fingers dancing in that lovely blond hair. The tendrils slid through my fingers like shimmering silk, his hair sun-kissed and glowing in the moonlight. He let me play with it for longer than I thought he would before kissing my fingers. He sucked one into his mouth, biting me.

My flesh burned beneath his teeth, my body wriggling below him. I wanted to kiss him again, and I hated myself for it. I hated my draw to him.

But then, he kissed me first.

He bent that big body, crowding me in. He took my mouth like he did everything, no apologies from his full lips.

He kissed me so long I forgot where we were and, eventually, how I’d ended up in his arms. He hugged me to his big body like a teddy bear, playing with my hair as he kissed me.

It felt too good to tell him to stop.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sloane

I woke up the next morning in a bed and a room I didn’t recognize.

Oh, yeah. Right.