Prince's Son of Scandal

“It is, damn you.” He hooked his hand behind her neck and dragged her closer, voice growing hoarse. “No one else has ever—”

He covered her mouth with his, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say.

She didn’t care. All she cared about was being up against his lean, powerful body, feeling him devour her mouth as though it was the only thing he would ever need. It was an onslaught, his hand shifting to her hair to drag her head back. His other arm crushed her into him while his lips ravaged and his tongue invaded.

Her heart knocked into her rib cage, sending sweet pulse beats through her arteries, weakening her limbs. She felt helpless, but not to him. To this yearning. Lethargy stole her strength when she longed to cling to him. All she could manage was to crush the edges of his jacket in her fists and moan into his mouth.

He made a jagged noise and dragged his teeth along her generous lower lip, tugging then releasing. “I’m being too rough.”

“I need to know you feel the same. I want you so bad. You have no idea.”

“I do.” Another rough noise scraped from his throat. He dragged up the skirt of her gown, so when he picked her up as he pushed off the door, her legs were free to twine around his waist.

“But it’s only lust, bella. Tell me you understand that.”

She was on the verge of laughing, loving his easy strength. Her self-assurance slipped a notch, but she could feel him hard and straining between her legs. It was too beguiling to ignore, making her tighten her arms and legs, trying to increase the pressure there. “Whatever it is, I need it.”

He walked her unerringly to the bed and came down to settle his weight on her, mouth sealing to hers again. Writhing under him, she tried to touch all of him with her whole body, tried to drag his clothes out of the way while searching for hot naked skin.

“Slow down.” He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head, then dragged his mouth along her jaw, down her throat and bared her breast for his fierce gaze. “This will not end before it starts.” He used his teeth on the swell of her breast, making her shudder. “I’ve fantasized about it too many times to rush now that I have you where I want you.”

A surge of moisture hit her loins. “I think about us when I’m in the bath.”

He lifted his head and with a hiss said, “You witch.” He levered up and rolled her over, swept her hair out of the way then slowly tugged open the ties behind her neck. “Tell me exactly what you do when you’re in the bath.” He set kisses down her spine. “Be specific.”

“I could show you.” She lifted into his hardness.

He grasped her hip and met her pressure with thrusts of his own, breaths thick and animalistic as he ground his erection into her soft cheeks. Then he slid a hand under her bunched skirt and across her stomach, fingers delving beneath her silk panties as he settled on her again. “Keep moving,” he said, gently sawing two fingertips between her damp lips, mouth planting wet kisses on her nape. “Show me how much you want me.”

She did. She rocked herself between his hand and his heavy hips until she was trembling with desire. She stopped, shaking with arousal. “I’m so close. I want to feel you inside me.”

“Not yet.” He shifted and settled his hand deeper, so his fingers slid inside her, so satisfying yet maddening. “Keep going.”

Helpless to her own body, she did, until she was releasing broken cries, fists clenching the blankets, body clasping uncontrollably at his penetration, shivering and completely lost. Utterly his.

“So good,” he said, licking between her shoulder blades, still mimicking lovemaking with light thrusts of his hips, drawing out her orgasm as he kept his hand in place. “I want you in a thousand ways. There will never be enough time for how much I want you.”

And he called it only lust?

She pushed against the mattress, trying to twist beneath him. He withdrew his hand, but hooked his fingers in her panties and pulled them down and off, sitting up on the edge of the bed to throw them away, then he shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes.

She knelt behind him and reached to work down the buttons of his shirt. He turned his head to catch at her mouth with his, easily distracting her. Their tongues met and the heat kept growing, not appeased in the least. She sobbed and he turned to scrape his hands down her shoulders, brushing her gown away so she knelt in a puddle of near-black velvet.

He stood then, chest expanding in deliberate breaths between the edges of his open shirt, as if he strained to keep control of himself. “Don’t ever ask me again if you’re beautiful. Know it, bella. You are the kind of beautiful that could topple a kingdom.”