It felt absolutely naughty to be doing this kind of thing with a client, and the warning bells rang in her head. But they were silenced by the sheer physicality of him. He made her mouth water. She wanted him, but she’d settle for a bite of the chocolate. She opened her mouth.
Artur stepped forward, narrowing the gap even further, and placed the chocolate in her mouth.
It was smooth, sweet, rich, melting on her tongue, and she closed her eyes and tipped her head back. “Mmmm. That’s…that’s so good.”
She was deliberately baiting him with her throat exposed like that, and the next thing she knew, Artur was saying “How about this?” and she felt his lips pressed to the side of her neck, a brushing kiss that set her skin on fire and left her aching for more. “Or this?” he breathed out against the delicate skin covering her pulse and she heard the glass connect with the surface of a table. “Or this?” Then his mouth closed over hers, and Amy was lost.
He was a tease, tempting her, licking at her bottom lip and then drawing back so she was the one who lunged forward, kissing him so fiercely it was almost a bite.
“Yes,” she said on the next breath. “Yes, I like that…I like…” The last word turned into a moan as he ran his hands over the neckline of her dress, dipping below for a torturous moment before she was swept up in his arms.
Artur stretched her out on the sofa and Amy had never felt more like royalty in her life. Filthy, reckless royalty. She lay there like a queen, helping only a little as he peeled off her dress, then her bra, leaving her in panties and stockings.
“I think you’ll need to take those off, too.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “Not quite yet. I want dessert first.”
“Dessert?”
Artur stepped away, retrieving the plate of chocolates and strawberries and putting it precariously on the arm of the sofa. She didn’t care, because the next thing he did was take one of those little chocolates and place it between the hollow of her breasts.
“Now keep still,” he said seriously, then bent his head over her and licked it off her skin. He closed his eyes, swallowing. “That is wonderful chocolate. I wonder what fruit would taste like on your skin?”
The strawberry he ate off of her next was eaten from just above her belly button.
The next chocolate
was even lower…right on her panties.
She squirmed underneath Artur as he lingered over the chocolate, letting his breath melt the surface.
When he took it between his teeth, Amy couldn’t take it anymore. “I hope you’re done with dessert.”
“Not quite yet.”
Her groan was cut off in a gasp of surprise as he pulled off her panties and stockings in one smooth movement and spread her legs. Then he was devouring her, tasting her, taking his sweet time. The pleasure built between her legs until he put his lips over her clit like it was a fine piece of chocolate and sucked her to a climax that left Amy shuddering and slightly worried that they’d done irreparable damage to the sofa.
But Prince Artur didn’t seem to notice. He stood up and stripped, displaying a body that took Amy’s breath away. He’d looked unbelievable in a tuxedo. Now? There weren’t words.
From one of his pockets he produced the silver foil packet of a condom, and she could hardly inhale for the anticipation.
“Put your hands on the back of the sofa.”
“What?”
“Trust me.”
His big hands on her waist guided her into the position he wanted, bent over the sofa, and Amy pushed back toward him, wanting, needing—
He thrust into her from behind, his hand playing at her shoulder, at her throat. “I saw you looking at the skyline.” His voice was heavy, and she heard each thrust mirrored in his words. “The view’s better this way. Don’t you think?”
There was only one word she could say, because Amy was on her way to another release that would definitely ruin the couch. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, yes, yes.”
2
“The strategy has not been successful.”
Artur’s eldest living brother, Rafael, the reigning king of Stolvenia, spread out his hands in front of him on the table as everyone else at the meeting nodded their agreement. It stung—of course it did. Artur had given up most of his favorite pastimes in service of “repairing his image,” and here they were, saying he’d failed.