Possessing the Princess

He looked very smug and very sexy, eyes alight with blue flames, hair ruffled by the soft wind, the top of his shirt open, and his gaze latched onto my mouth.

A gasp of excitement parted my lips before his mouth descended over mine and his tongue drove forward. His hands surged beneath my dress, landing on my hips. And, as he took my mouth on the plundering, hungry ride, he filled his palms with my ass. He kneaded and cupped and squeezed before his long fingers forged under my legs. Those wily digits found my heat, the slippery nectar on the gusset of my panties.

I threw my head back, his lips latching onto my neck, my hair loose and floating in the breeze.

My voice a sultry note, I murmured, “I thought you weren’t into exhibitionism.”

Picking me straight up as he rose, he hooked my legs around his lean waist and strode inside.

That time we didn’t make it to the bed or the bedroom.

Aris deposited me on the nearest sofa, then the sight of his impressive length right in front of my face as he loomed in front of me became too much of a temptation. The fat, rigid rod rode all the way to his hip, and I whimpered and leaned into him. Mouthing him there, I smelled the dark spice of lust rising from his loins even through the trousers.

“Ah, fuck,” he husked out, his groin bucking.

God, I wanted him.

“Please, let me taste you,” I beseeched, lifting a hand to palm the engorged orbs of his sac as I licked the big, round cockhead pressed against his pants.

“Why?”

I stared into his eyes. “Because I want you to fill my mouth and come down my throat.”

“Since you begged so sweetly . . .” Shucking off his shirt while I tackled his belt and buckle and zipper, he bared his upper body with a twist of his ropey shoulders.

I purred at the sight then moaned as his cock strove into view. The weapon was lance-hard, precum—my favorite treat—already dripping from the tip.

His pants stayed shoved to his thighs, and I nosed into the nest of hair surrounding his base before leaning up to dip my tongue into the slit where his tasty liquid welled.

His cheeks hollowed, those cords of his throat tensing, his abs tightening.

I stroked him nice and slow, avidly watching his grooved pelvis roll, his thighs striated with thick muscle, his chest gleaming. Occasionally I added a lick upon the wide, firm, and wet dome or down his entire shaft. I let him get nice and wet with my saliva and his precum, pulsing my fingertips around and around the head.

He growled and cursed and breathed heavily, and every male sound made me tighter, wetter, breathier.

Hastily, he reached down and ripped open the bodice of my dress, buttons bouncing to the floor. He tugged the cups of my bra down from my breasts and teased both areolae.

“Fuck, woman. You are wicked with that mouth of yours.” He kept cursing, husky and deep.

Giving him one more flat-tongued lick, I finally opened wide and took him inside. He did fill my mouth, almost immediately butting the back of my throat. But I’d had practice by now, and I could take him deeper.

I gurgled on that fat, hot cock, moving my stretched lips up and down and always twirling my tongue into the slit with each ingress.

“Fucking fuck.” His jaw tensed as I coaxed him a bit farther into my throat.

Then he yanked my arms up, crossing my hands behind my head. Using my wrists there and a handful of my hair to grip, he levered a little deeper. But he halted, gentling his hold, gusting out a tortured-sounding groan.

Again with that air of caution about him that had lingered since my kidnapping. I growled in keen feminine impatience, removing all but his cockhead from my mouth.

Almost glaring up at him, I made it clear I wasn’t going deeper until he forced me to, dammit.

Because I wanted it.

Swearing viciously, Aris regained his hard grip and powered me onto his girth.

Heat tripped all the way down my body, and I moaned around him.

“Blyad, Roya. Fuck!” He used my mouth, biceps bulging, fingers tightening, his dick thrusting in and out.

“FUCK!”

He swelled, the veins throbbing on my tongue. The first splash did paint my throat until he dragged my head back and sprayed the rest of his release along my tongue.

I hummed and moaned deliriously, swallowing the creamy virile essence of him as he kept coming.

I would have happily sucked him off again if he’d given me a chance, but Aris had other plans.

Pushing me back on the sofa, he kneeled in front of me. With hard hands, he finished the savage destruction of my dress, just making me hotter. My panties were next, and he gripped them at both sides and tore them off too.

He left the bra where it was, my breasts toppling out over the cups.

Then he wrenched me forward with a rough grasp at the nape of my neck. Devouring my mouth, he skimmed his fingers over my flushed center. I was very, very close already. I cried out into his mouth when he slid those fingers inside of my convulsive heat, and cried out again when he released my mouth.

His thick chuckle coasted across my skin as he lowered down to stare at his fingers thrusting into me.

Dropping even farther, his head was there. And his mouth. His lips and his tongue.

I arched and keened, looking on as he pursed his mouth around my whole pussy, slavering softly, licking wetly. He removed his fingers, holding my lips open so he could burrow even deeper.

So deep . . .

Bowing forward, I grabbed onto his shoulders. I rocked into him, kicking off my sandals and curling my toes into the rug.

“You are so good. Oh, Aris . . .”

“I could stay right between your thighs, right on this pretty cunt for days,” he muttered thickly into soaked and pleasured flesh.

My release came swiftly, the pressure binding tight before unraveling fully. I shuddered, gasping and moaning and clinging to him as his kisses and licks gentled on my swollen pussy.

From there, he cradled my breasts in his hands. He finally removed my bra completely. Gazing into my eyes, he worshipped my mounded flesh with long, luscious laps of his tongue over my straining taut nipples. He suckled me as his fingertips—teasing now—returned to play through my sex and up over my clit.

As beginnings of a new body-pulsing climax approached, I wondered if he’d make me beg him to fuck me.

That time, I didn’t have to.

He was incredibly long and thick and hard again when he reached down to drag his pants the rest of the way off along with his shoes and socks. From his wallet, he removed a condom. And I watched the thoroughly masculine motion of him sheathing that rampant organ, feeling part breathless and part deprived.