The Prince's Scandalous Wedding Vow

He licked at her lower lip, his tongue finding all the nerve endings inside. She wriggled on his lap, hips rocking, and he longed to reach down and rub her between her thighs. Part of him wanted to shock her, while another part wanted to soothe her. She was passionate and responsive and utterly gorgeous...and right now she was his, all his.

“Can you feel me?” he growled, kissing the side of her neck, his teeth scraping across her skin. “Can you feel me between your thighs?”

She nodded her head, a jerky nod, even as his tongue flicked her tender earlobe and then swirled inside the shell of her ear, making her groan.

“I can feel you,” he murmured, tugging on her hands, drawing them lower so that he held her hands against her butt, making her back arch even more. Her white cotton blouse clung to her small, high breasts, the thin fabric outlining her nipples. His head dropped and he sucked on one nipple, drawing on it hard.

She gasped, and whimpered, grinding down against him. He could feel her through his trousers, her body hot, wet.

With his free hand he worked the blouse off one shoulder, revealing the simple white cotton bralette, the thin fabric cup damp from his mouth. He stroked the pebbled nipple, making her squirm again.

“I can feel your heat and your need,” he said, his lips just below her ear. “You are so wet, and it’s so sexy.”

She shuddered at his words.

“What I want to do with you is very hot and rather indecent. I’m afraid it would shock you.”

She was finding it increasingly hard to breathe. “How so?”

“I would like to touch you, everywhere, and discover with my hands and my mouth what you enjoy. I’d like to kiss you between your thighs and use my tongue to make you come—”

“Would you enjoy that?” she asked, interrupting him.

He laughed softly at her wrinkled nose, her expression indicating disbelief.

“I would like it very much.”

“You’re telling me the truth?”

“I will always tell you the truth. No lies between us. It would ruin everything.”

She stared deep into his eyes. “I do trust you,” she said quietly, firmly, as if giving him reassurance. “Which is why I want you to be my first. You’re supposed to be my first. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“As much as I like the sound of that, I’m afraid it doesn’t make sense.”

“But it does. It’s science,” she said, “the laws of something or other. Nature or physics. If I could think clearly, I could tell you why it’s meant to be, but I can’t think clearly, not with you kissing my neck and everywhere else. You’re clouding my rational brain.”

“I should stop.”

“No. You should most definitely not stop.” She drew her head back down to his, kissing him sweetly, persuasively. “Promise me?”

“Promise,” he answered, rising with her in his arms. As he walked, he kissed the side of her neck, making her breath catch in her throat. He was already hard and hungry, but that faint hitch in her breath made his body burn and throb.

She was gorgeous and sensitive and she made him feel so many good things. He wondered if he’d ever felt like this before. He couldn’t imagine desiring anyone as much as he desired her.

He headed to the stone house, hesitating in the center room, not sure which way to go. Josephine pointed to her room. Her bed was small, considerably smaller than her father’s, but it would still be plenty big enough for the two of them.

In her room, he sat down on the edge of the low bed and drew her between his thighs. His hands ran up and down her sides, stroking the length of her, savoring the feel of her. She was slim and toned and yet she had lovely curves, perfect breasts and generous hips, and a firm backside that was meant to be touched.

“What do I do?” she whispered as he reached for the hem of her blouse.

“Nothing. Let me,” he answered, lifting her blouse up and then untying her sarong so that the fabric fell to the ground. Next to go was the plain white bralette and matching white panties, and once they were off, she was his, and beautifully bare. He smothered his groan of appreciation. “You are so beautiful,” he said, drawing her even closer to kiss one pink-tipped breast. Her nipple puckered, tightening as his lips brushed the sensitive tip.

His body throbbed all over again, his erection straining against the zipper of his trousers. His tongue swept the peak lightly before his mouth closed over the damp tip. She shuddered as he drew on the nipple, her slim back arching. His hands settled on her hips, holding them firmly, thumbs stroking her hip bones.

She practically danced in place, making soft little whimpering sounds. She was so sweet, so innocent, and he battled to keep his desire in check, not wanting to rush.

The first time was special. The first time should make her feel good and beautiful.

He kissed his way to her other breast, giving the dark pink nipple the same attention and then some, pulling harder on the tip, working it and feeling how her body responded, hips rocking harder, her legs now trembling.

He stroked down her hips and then to her outer thighs and back again. He stroked lightly, awakening every nerve he could as her breath became increasingly shallow. She was practically panting as he caressed up the inside of her knee, up her smooth taut thigh to tease the curls between her legs. But instead of touching her then, he caressed back down her thigh and then up so that his knuckles grazed her. She bucked a little against his hand as he trailed a finger where she was most sensitive.

She was trembling against him now, her hands on his shoulders, holding her up. He slipped a hand between her thighs, finding her slick folds. She was so tender, so warm, so wet. He desperately wanted to put her on the bed and part her thighs and lick her, and taste her, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her. This was clearly all so new to her, and so he contented himself with stirring her and heightening her senses and her pleasure. He wanted her fully aroused to make sure her first time was as comfortable as possible.

She shuddered again when his fingertips traced her delicate lips and then her nub. Her breath even shuddered as he stroked her, oh, so lightly there.

“I can’t stand anymore,” she said lowly, hoarsely.

“Sit. Switch places with me,” he said.

Her expression was uncertain and yet she did as he asked, and he used the moment to strip off his clothes before kneeling in front of her, his hands circling her ankles. He stroked the fine bones in her ankles and then up over her shins and calves to her knees, and then down again, working the backs of her calves. He could feel her relax, her breath grow deeper and slower. Gradually, he shifted his attention higher on her legs, stroking up her thighs and down again, and with each stroke he pressed her legs back, opening them gradually to him. She stared at him, fascinated, her husky breath the only sound in the dark room.

The moon wasn’t yet high enough to see her well, but he could see enough to be painfully aroused—pale skin, her thick honey-brown hair tumbling over one shoulder and breast, and the triangle of curls at her thighs. She gleamed in the dim light, her long limbs exquisite, her small, full breasts perfect. He felt beyond hungry; he was ravenous and he wanted to feast on her. Instead he was careful, and he leaned between her thighs to press a tender kiss in the hollow where her thigh connected to her pelvis. She groaned softly as he blew lightly on her inner thighs, focusing the air on her curls. She jerked against his hold, her breath hitching again.

“This is a kind of torture,” she murmured.

“The best foreplay always is,” he answered, parting her there to slip his fingers across her. She was hot and so tender, her soft flesh like liquid velvet. He kissed her on her nub, then used the tip of his tongue across her.

She shivered and cried out.

His body went rock hard, so hard he felt as if he’d pop out of his skin. He wanted her, wanted to be buried in her sweet we

t heat, buried so deeply that they were one, forever one, making her his, and only his. He kissed his way back to the junction of her thighs, kissing her lightly, soothing her before rising up and shifting her back on the bed and slowly extending his body over hers, covering her.

Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers at his nape.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

And he did.

Josephine closed her eyes at the hunger in his kiss. His lips were firm and the pressure of his mouth parted her lips. She shuddered at the feel of his hand under her breast and then on her breast, fingers stroking the tight, peaked nipple, sending rivulets of feeling throughout her body. Her hips pressed up against his, his thick shaft extended across her belly. She’d always wondered what this would be like, and he was right; she’d imagined it as a clinical sort of thing, but there was nothing clinical in the heat and texture and sensation.

He made her feel so wonderfully alive. She couldn’t imagine this moment with anyone else, just him.

He lifted his head to gaze down at her. There was something in his expression that made her chest tighten and her heart thump with pain.

“You promised,” she whispered. “You promised you wouldn’t stop. And I won’t regret this, I swear to you.” She caressed his neck and then her hands went to his shoulders. “Don’t be afraid.”

He laughed low, as though amused. “I’m not afraid, and I’m glad you’re not afraid, either. The first time isn’t always comfortable, but it’ll get better.”

“I’ve heard that, too.”