His Undercover Princess (Tempt Me 1)

She narrowed her eyes, and this time it wasn’t just desire smoldering in her gaze. “Are you trying to shame me?”

“Fuck, no, especially not when I’m about to hear that sexy moan of yours while you’re naked in front of me.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked. “Me naked?”

“It’s a start.” He had a list, a long one that started with naked and ended with too tired to ever come again.

“So where should I begin?” She stepped between his splayed legs as she toyed with the hem of her sweater. “With this or…” She brought one stiletto-shod foot up so it rested on the seat in front of his groin, the toe of her shoe brushing ever so lightly against his balls. She bent forward and ran her hands up her legs, pushing up her skirt and revealing the lacy tops of a pair of thigh highs held up by black satin garters. She glided her fingertips over the snap holding them in place. “Or here?”

His mouth went dry, and his lungs pinched closed. “Leave them on.”

“Careful.” She put her leg down and smoothed her skirt. “I was afraid you were going to pass out on me. You gotta remember to breathe.”

Cheeky girl. She’d learn, and soon. “Sweater.”

Elle didn’t ask what he meant, didn’t turn shy. She stripped the fuzzy white material off her, exposing a sheer nude bra that did nothing to disguise how hard her nipples were or how full and heavy her tits were. The sweater slipped to the floor, unneeded and unwanted.

“Skirt.”

Gliding the backs of her fingers over her curves, she slid her hands lower and around the indent of her waist to the back of her skirt. Blood rushed south, leaving him light-headed but unable to look away as the material gaped and then skimmed over her round hips, down her long legs, and landed in a pool of green around her ankles.

If he did

n’t run five miles a day and spend at least an hour in the gym several times a week, he would have worried about keeling over as his brain short-circuited while viewing the goddess in front of him. She was Freya come to life—love, lust, beauty, sorcery, fertility, gold, war, and death were wrapped up into one breathtaking woman.

“Walk for me.” The words sounded torn from his throat, raw and desperate.

She arched an eyebrow but turned and strutted away from him. Since he’d spent the day staring at her butt and never saw a panty line, he’d expected a thong. Instead, she wore a pair of sheer panties that stopped halfway across her ass, accentuating the high, round curve of her flesh. A black satin garter belt lay flat against her creamy skin, long lines of slim ebony ribbon making lines down the backs of her thighs to the thigh highs.

“That’s far enough,” he said when she’d made it to the edge of the rug and spun around to face him. “Does my watching you make you wet?”

“I don’t know that I can get any wetter.” Her pink tongue darted out and flicked against her lips, leaving them slick and shiny.

Yep, that smart mouth of hers and sinful body were going to kill him before the night was out. “Does your pussy ache for me?”

She nodded, her brown eyes heavy lidded and full of promise.

Not good enough. He wouldn’t let her run tonight, not from herself, not from him, and definitely not from the attraction burning them both from the inside out. “Say it.”

She lifted her chin in a stubborn tilt and didn’t make a sound.

“If you say it, I can make that ache all better. If you don’t, I won’t.” A total lie. There was no way he wasn’t tasting all of her tonight.

No doubt she knew exactly how big of a liar he was, but she played along by batting her eyelashes. “How are you going to make it better?” she asked, her voice as soft as her curves.

“I’m going to kiss it and make it better.” He set down the tumbler. The akvavit had lost all flavor, because the only thing he wanted to taste was her. “Isn’t that what you want, my lips on you? My tongue? My fingers stretching you until you aren’t sure if you’re feeling pain or pleasure, you just don’t want it to stop?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“My pussy aches for you to fill me up so I can ride you until I climax so hard my walls milk you dry.”

He nearly came in his pants just from hearing the words rolling off her delicious, very un-princess-like tongue. “Get over here.”

For a second she didn’t move, not even a smart-ass twitch to her shiny pink lips. Blood pounded in his ears in its rush to his painfully hard cock. If she didn’t get her sexy ass over here soon, he was going to implode. He dug his fingers into the chair’s leather arms, an anchor in a blizzard of lust that had him blind to everything but her. Finally she moved just as he was on the precipice of breaking his own cardinal rule—relinquishing total control and giving in by being the first to move. Relief and anticipation whipped through him as he watched the show of a lifetime. Elle strutted toward him, her full hips swaying with every step, as she watched him with unblinking intensity, everything about her screaming a challenge at the same time as she gave in to his demands. His heart beat in time with each stomp of her skinny heels as she crossed the rug and stopped in front of him.

“Do you like these?” He slipped his finger beneath the edge of her panties, curling a finger around the middle and pulling it so the material bunched and nestled between her slick folds. Leaving it in place, he withdrew his finger without touching her any more, despite her mewling protest. He held up his finger, admiring how it glistened in the light. God, she was wet—he sucked the moisture from his finger—and sweet.