The Princess and the Player (Royally Pitched 1)

feet and kissed her quick on the corner of her mouth. “Those others aren’t fit to be on any list with you.”

9

18 June

The Michigan Inn

Tristan let Ele lead him, holding on to her hand. He was still grinning after their exchange. He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable, but he had to know about her history. When her face flushed as red as his kit, he realized how much he’d embarrassed her. He couldn’t think of how to return them to their easy camaraderie. Teasing her had been the only way.

He had no idea what emotion he liked best on her. She carried off the posh princess, exuding confidence and power. Her anger turned her icy-blue eyes into flashing orbs, and he admired her innate defenses. But her relaxed persona, the one he’d coaxed out of her moments ago, made him burn with some emotion he didn’t know how to name.

She released his hand when they entered the bedroom. She began to unbutton her dress, picking up where she’d left off when she spotted him lounging on her couch. The third button came apart, and Tristan was gifted with a flash of light lace and the subtle curve of her breast. He stared, transfixed. With a confidence he only noticed when she was in tiara mode, she continued to undress. His eyes followed the line of her body as the dress opened in tantalizing waves, giving his hungry gaze ample skin to devour. Until looking wasn’t enough.

His brown hands trailed up her torso, a dark swath in the caramel cream of her skin, parting the dress further until it slipped over her shoulders and fluttered to the floor. He stroked upward, along the curve of her neck until he cupped her chin, and then tangled his fingers into her hair. Tristan dropped his head and followed the path with his nose, breathing in the scent of her skin. His mouth and teeth nibbled and tasted, nipped and tried until his lips met hers in a tender prelude. His tongue dipped inside. One small sample. But then Ele opened her mouth, giving in to his gentle onslaught.

Tristan got carried away in her response, upping the ante, walking her backward, searching inevitably for the bed behind her. He forgot his vow to take it slow, to ease her into this. He’d believed her when she said she’d done this before. She wasn’t inexperienced in the act. But there was a hesitant innocence in her kiss, and Tristan’s dick answered before his head could get back in the game.

Tristan finally relinquished her mouth and eased her down on to the bed. The picture she painted was almost too much—clad in lace, hair in disarray, lips glistening. He fought the urge to jump on top of her and slam himself inside. Her chest heaved, and her eyes danced with lust. Instead of stepping in between her parted legs—which he wanted more than anything—he shuffled away from her.

He stared at her as he pulled off his hoodie. The tenuous grasp on his control wavered. He sensed some inherent danger coming from getting tangled up with Ele. She got to him. Her wonder at the ordinary endeared her to him. Her confidence and self-assurance turned him on. Her want permeated the air around them, and Tristan reveled in it.

He leaned over and placed his hands on either side of her body. Ele surprised him, wrapping her arms around him and trying to pull him onto her. He lifted his hand and traced the line of her body from her collarbone and down along her breast, circling her nipple before continuing to the edge of her panties. Her breath caught, and she shuddered. Tristan grinned as lust shot through him. He wanted her panting and begging for him.

He glanced up. It was a mistake. When their eyes met, something touched him. He’d experienced it in the dressing room at St. Peter’s and again now. All of her shields fell away, exposing her vulnerable underbelly. It drew him in and swallowed him up. It made this moment between them more than sex. He paused, and in the prolonged second, he knew he wasn’t going to have sex with her today.

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

He broke the stare and slid his hands beneath the delicate waistband of her panties. Her legs moved restlessly as her desire flared. His fingers moved into the warm, wet recess of her body. A softly uttered mewl left her mouth as his fingers delved inside of her. He groaned helplessly as he drowned in the proof of her desire. His whole body throbbed with want, even as he dimly remembered his hastily made decision to refrain from sex with her tonight. So, with one well-orchestrated flick inside and one well-placed press of his thumb on her clit, he made her come around him.

He dropped his head near her ear. “Love how ready you are for me, E,” he murmured.

The heel of his hand pressed against her clit, drawing out her orgasm. She squeezed as she rode it out. When her eyes fluttered open, he scooped her up in his arms and rolled them. She sprawled against him as tiny tremors racked her body.

He kissed the top of her head, ran his hand through her mahogany tresses, worshipped her with small touches. As much as it pained him to admit it, his fingers itched for his phone, so he could capture the moment. They were a study in opposites. Him fully dressed, her blissed out in her knickers and lace. The dark hue of his skin against her creamy olive tone. His dyed mini ’fro, her silky tresses. His anticipation, her ecstasy.

Caption. This.

Her lips touched the underside of his jaw, and he ducked down to meet her gaze.

“E,” he said, nuzzling into her perfect collarbone. “That was banger,” he said.

A flush stained her neck, and he watched it spread, captivated by the way her body reacted to everything.

“Banger?” she asked, her voice library soft.

He laughed. “Banger.”

Tristan dropped another kiss on her head, his hand not idle either rubbing up and down her arm.

Surprising him, she straddled his hips and leaned forward with her hands on his chest. The feel of her damp knickers against his rock-hard groin was sheer torture.

“Can you stay?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Not a chance.”

He fought to control himself as she rubbed against him. His hands clung to her hips, and he halted her movements. Confusion flashed across her face before she crawled off him. Grabbing her hand, he cradled her jaw.

“Let’s take this slow,” he murmured before he sat up and placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. Then, he pulled her back down on his chest. “Gaffer has curfew set, and no way Cal and Ro will let me get away without knowing where I am.”