The Princess and the Player

“I think you better investigate,” she said, and guided his hands under her shirt, gasping as his questing fingertips ran over her sensitive breasts.

“You’re not fully dressed,” he accused her with a naughty laugh. “Ms. Montoro, I am shocked at your lack of undergarments. It’s almost as if you expected a bloke’s hands to be under your shirt.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Her core heated as he caressed her, nudging her rear with his hard erection. “And as you’re the only man around, you’re welcome.”

His laugh vibrated along her spine, warming her further. She loved it when he laughed, loved being the reason he was amused. Loved it when he touched her as if he’d discovered something rare and precious and he planned to become intimately familiar with every nook and cranny.

Then he got serious, palming her aching nipples, massaging and working her flesh until she could hardly breathe from wanting him. Would she ever get tired of that, of the gasping need and clawing desire? She hoped not.

She whipped off her shirt and tossed it on the bed, granting him full access. Arching against him, she pushed her breasts into his hands and flung her head back against his shoulder. As if reading her mind, he fastened his lips to her earlobe, sucking on it gently as one hand wandered south in a lazy pattern, pouring more fire on top of the flames he’d already ignited as her flesh heated under his fingertips.

Finally, his fingers slid into her shorts and toyed for an eternity with her panties, stroking her through the fabric, teasing her as he kissed her throat. So hot and ready, she could hardly stand waiting until he’d had his fill of exploring.

When she moaned in protest at the delay, he eased her back against his thighs and slipped off the rest of her clothing. Without a word, he picked her up and spun her around, placing her gently on the bed, his dark gaze worshipping her body.

Even that heaped more coals on the fire and she shuddered.

Through hazy vision, she watched as he knelt between her thighs and kissed each one. His tongue traced a straight line across her flesh and then he glanced up at her under his lashes as he licked her core. His tongue was hard and blistering hot and wet.

The flare of white-hot pleasure made her cry out. He dove in, tasting her in a sensuous perusal that drained her mind. Yes, she screamed. Or maybe that had only been in her head. Her body thrashed involuntarily as he pleasured her with his mouth, slight five o’clock shadow abrading her thighs as he moved.

Higher and higher she spun, hips bucking closer to the source of this amazing pleasure with each thrust of his tongue. The light scape of his teeth against her sensitive bud set off a rolling, thick orgasm that blasted her apart faster and harder than anything she’d ever felt before.

“Now,” she murmured huskily and lay back on the counterpane in invitation. “I want your very fine body on mine.”

He complied, clothes hitting the floor in a moment. He stretched out over her, his lean torso brushing her breasts deliciously. She wiggled until they were aligned the way she wanted, reveling in the dark sensation of this man covering her.

Savoring the anticipation, she touched him, letting her hands roam where they pleased. Fingertips gliding over his muscled back—gorgeously bunching as he held himself erect so he wouldn’t crush her—she hummed her appreciation and nipped at his lips until he took her mouth in a scorching kiss reminiscent of the one he’d given her at her core, tongue deep inside her.

Wordlessly, she urged him on by rolling her hips, silently begging him to complete her as only he could. A brief pause as he got the condom on and then he slid into her, filling her body as gloriously as he filled her soul.

She gasped and clung with all her muscles.

James.

Absolutely the best thing that had ever happened to her. The sexiest man she’d ever been with, for sure, but also the only one who saw her. No pretense. No games. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his face and something shifted inside, opening the floodgates of a huge and wonderful and irrevocable surge of emotion.

She let herself feel, let everything flow as he loved her. She couldn’t even find the capacity to be shocked. It was dangerous—she knew that—but couldn’t help it. Murmuring encouragement, his name, who knew what else, she rode out another climax made all the more intense by the tenderness blooming in her heart for the man who’d changed everything. But the wonderful moment soured as soon as her breathing slowed and the hazy glow wore off. She couldn’t tell him she’d discovered all these things inside that had his name written all over them. Could she?

No. Fear over his reaction gripped her and in the end, she kept her big mouth shut. After their affair became public, maybe she could admit he’d done something irrevocable to her. But now, reeling it all back, she lay in his arms, letting him hold her tight as if he never meant to let go.