Kiss the Girl (Naughty Princess Club 3)

“Fuck. Don’t stop, oh God,” I mutter, as his thumb starts circling faster around my clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons against my ear. “Let go and let me feel you. I’ve got you.”

He’s definitely got me. His arm around my waist is like an anchor, holding me up as my thighs start to shake with my impending release. But I know he doesn’t mean it that way. I know he means he’s got me. And he’ll do whatever it takes to not mess this up.

I’ve never felt safer. I’ve never felt more desirable or wanted. I want to keep him forever so he can do this to me and say these things to me every single day and get rid of all the nervousness and doubt floating around in my head. That thought should scare the hell out of me but it doesn’t. It just makes everything hotter, knowing this won’t be the last time he makes me feel this way.

Eric’s hand between my thighs is a flurry of thrusting and pumping, sliding and swirling until my orgasm starts to uncoil low in my belly and I feel myself pulsing with the start of my release. My hips jerk harder against his hand, needing this more than I need air to breathe right now, every inch of my body tingling with anticipation.

I can feel his chest heaving against my back and feel him panting against the skin of my neck as he keeps telling me how good I feel, how wet I am, and how fucking hot it makes him to feel me come apart against his hand. It drives me crazy and makes my body burn, knowing that what he’s doing to me is turning him on just as much as it is me.

His thumb flicks faster over my clit, and I fling my arm back around his head, gripping his neck tightly as my hips rock against his hand.

“Yes, yes, fucking hell . . .” I moan loudly, squeezing my eyes closed as my body hovers at the brink of orgasm.

Eric plunges inside me as deep as possible one last time and holds his hand still as my release flies out of me. I feel myself clamping down around his fingers with each and every pulse of pleasure that rocks through me. I scream his name, and I’m pretty sure I draw blood with as hard as my nails are scratching against the skin of his arm and against the back of his neck.

He doesn’t stop pulling every ounce of this mind-blowing orgasm out of me, his thumb circling my clit lazily until my body falls forward and I collapse on top of my arms, which are now resting on a pile of crushed up chips and angel hair pasta.

Eric moves his hand out from beneath my skirt and leans down, placing a kiss on the back of my neck.

“Are all the nerves gone now?” he asks.

“Pshaw. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nerves? What nerves?” I mumble with my cheek pressed into a package of Chips Ahoy! cookies.

He laughs softly, grabbing my hips, hauling me off the counter and turning me around to face him, pulling my body flush against his. I immediately feel that he is still hard as a rock, and I feel a little bad making jokes right now. Blue balls are no laughing matter. Men can die from that shit.

“Come on, let’s go to the bedroom and have sex and get rid of this problem that’s currently poking me in the stomach,” I tell him, grabbing his hand off my hip and pulling him with me as I turn away from the counter.

He jerks me to a halt and pulls me back against him.

“Nope. That was just for you. Not until you trust that I’m not gonna hurt you or mess this up,” he says softly, staring down into my eyes.

Fuck. Does he WANT me to cry?

“I—I do trust you. I just . . .”

“You’ve got voices in your head that won’t shut the fuck up. I know. I’m trying like hell to kick their ass,” he tells me with a gentle smile.

“I’m getting there. Like the wise hooker played by Julia Roberts once said, the bad stuff is always easier to believe.”

Eric reaches a hand up between us and brushes a lock of hair off my forehead with the tips of his fingers, pushing it back behind my ear.

“Then I guess I need to work harder on giving you nothing but good stuff.”

“Well, what you just gave me against this counter was mighty fine. I could handle a little more of that,” I reply with a smirk.

“I think I can arrange that. But first, grab the cookies, pretzels, and peanut M&M’s, and I’ll grab the cream cheese from the fridge,” he tells me, giving me a kiss on the tip of my nose as he heads over to the fridge.