In Bed with the Beast (Naughty Princess Club 2)

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers against the skin of my neck, in between soft nibbles and licks.

“Keep doing that. Holy hell, keep doing that.”

I start rocking my hips against him faster as he continues to suck on my neck.

“Women ranked the side of the neck above the breasts and nipples as an erogenous zone, according to a recent study, and that’s probably because of the high density nerves there and . . . oh, my God,” I mutter loudly when he bites down harder on my neck.

My hips have a mind of their own at this point as I rock and swivel and move against him, never wanting this moment to end. It feels like all of the blood in my body has converged between my legs, pulsing and tingling and driving me crazy with want and need.

My thighs tighten on either side of his as I push down harder on him, moaning loudly when he thrusts himself up against me. With his mouth still attached to my neck, devouring every single nerve ending there, we move together in perfect sync, me grinding against him and Vincent lifting up to meet me, until my orgasm is rushing through me so quickly that I wouldn’t be able to stop it if I tried. And there is no freaking way I want anything but a relief from the ache Vincent has given me.

Both of his arms suddenly band around me, holding me tightly against him as I come, squeezing my eyes closed with my head still tipped back as I shout his name so loudly I’m thankful he doesn’t have neighbors.

I slowly open my eyes and lift my head up, panting heavily as I look down at him.

“These sweatpants of yours are magical. You should always wear them, and only them,” I inform him.

“Really? Just the sweatpants?” he growls, shifting himself beneath me.

He’s still really hard, and I’m still tingling from my release, and the movement makes me purr like a damn kitten.

“Fine. Not just the sweatpants. Everybody likes a piece of ass, nobody likes a smart-ass,” I retort. “Speaking of a piece of ass . . .”

I trail off, lifting my eyebrows up and down suggestively.

He chuckles softly, running his hands up and down my spine.

“Nope. Not yet. Not until you’re ready. This was just for you.”

My heart instantly cracks wide open. I have to bite down on my lips to stop myself from making a comment about him being better than any prince I’ve ever read about. He’d just deny it anyway.

“Fine. How about you just send me a text and let me know when I’m ready.”

I’m trying really hard not to be frustrated, especially since he’s now given me two orgasms and gotten nothing in return.

I’m such an awful person without sex. Who knew?

“What was that you just said about nobody liking a smart-ass?” he counters, lifting me off his lap and setting me on my feet.

“Just for that, I’m going to make you sit in the library with me and read until I get sleepy,” I tell him haughtily, grabbing his hand, pulling him up from the chair, and dragging him down the hallway.

Chapter 23: Vincent’s Got Himself a Girlfriend

The sound of a cell phone vibrating has me setting down my coffee on the small kitchenette table in the corner nook of Vincent’s kitchen and digging around inside my purse. Although I’ve left three messages, my dad hasn’t called me back since his hysterical strippergram phone call the other day that ended with him hanging up on me. When I finally find my phone at the very bottom of my bag, it doesn’t show any missed calls, and I try not to be too upset that he hasn’t returned my calls.

I hear the buzzing noise again and look up from my purse, spotting Vincent’s cell phone on the corner of the kitchen island, and I realize he forgot it when he rushed out the door. He had to go into work early this afternoon because he got a call from PJ that someone called in sick and they needed help unloading a shipment of alcohol.

Walking over to the phone, I glance down at the display and see that it says Mom and Dad calling. I continue staring at the phone until it stops bouncing on the counter. I start chewing on my thumbnail when a notification pops up saying he’s missed twelve calls from them.

That can’t be good, right? I mean, he told me he talks to his parents all the time, and I’ve actually seen him excuse himself from the room to take a call from them several times in the last few weeks. If they’re calling this many times in a row, something must be wrong.

Don’t pick up the phone, Belle. It’s none of your business.