“Mackenzie,” he repeats before I can tell him everyone calls me Mac. My full name sounds so sexy the way it rolls off his tongue. “There anything else that goes with Mackenzie?”
“I don’t have any special title such as prince.” I snort a laugh. “Or princess,” I add quickly. Too quickly. I bite the inside of my cheek so I’ll stop talking. This is why I am one of the Vieth Orphans that works in the office in the basement. Not only because it houses millions of dollars I keep track of, but I am also a terrible spy.
Sov says something to me that I don’t catch. My eyes narrow in on Milly as she walks in across the room. Crap.
“Let’s go outside. Get some fresh air.” I grab him by the arm, pulling him toward the terrace. He doesn't fight me. In fact, he reaches out to open one of the doors for me. We both slip out the door, closing it behind us. I should have run from him, but for some reason I didn't want Milly to get her claws into him.
“Finally,” he says, pulling me back around and pressing me up against the stone wall. Before I can ask what he means, his mouth is on mine. I allow myself to get lost in a charming prince regardless of the consequence. This may be my first and last kiss once Milly finds out. It’s not a terrible way to go, I suppose.
Chapter Seven
Sov
It is a mistake to kiss her. The desire to possess her rose up in me when I first saw her, but now…now, I’m going to have to lay waste to entire kingdoms to keep her. I force her mouth open wider, wanting to taste all of her. My tongue flicks along the inner recesses of her cheeks, across the top of her mouth and along the soft surface of her tongue. The world drops away, and all I care about is the way her lips feel against mine, the tightness of her hands gripping my surcoat, the gasps of desire she makes whenever I hit an erogenous spot.
I want to feel more of her. The dress that I thought was gorgeous is a nuisance. I tug at the fabric of her skirt, pulling it up only to find more fabric. It’s a fucking Russian doll of dresses. I’m never going to get through. I abandon going under her skirt to find her sweet pussy and search for the zipper. She had to be put in this gown some way. Frustration mounts when my search comes up empty.
Dragging my mouth down her neck, I demand, “Zipper, where is it?”
“Z-z-zip-per?”
“This dress. It needs to go.” I abandon words because my mouth has found the swell of her tits, heaving above the edge of her dress. I dig my fingers inside the top and find a pert nipple. I give it a squeeze, which causes her to jerk against me. “Zipper, babe,” I remind her. “Then I can put this ripe little berry in my mouth.”
I roll the bud between my fingers as I lave the tops of her breasts. My mouth waters in anticipation of sucking on her tits. My cock pulses and throbs, eager to get inside of her hot cunt. Her breaths are short and uneven. A rosy flush covers the skin that’s bared.
Baby is turned the fuck on. That’s probably why she’s not unzipping her dress. No worries. I got that covered. On her side, I find the stupid mechanism and give it a good yank.
“Wait,” she says, but her tits are free, and I can’t hear anything above the roar of blood in my head as the juicy flesh bounces out of the constraints of the dress. I mold one of her precious tits in my palm and lift it to my mouth. My lips close around the nub, and I suck hard, wanting her to feel it in her pussy.
Fuck, I want to touch her sex. I tug the dress down, but it gets caught around her waist. A knife. That’s what I need. I break away and reach down for the stiletto strapped to my thigh. I hear a cry, and this time it’s not passion but fear.
Mackenzie’s eyes are wide, and her hands are clasping her dress against her magnificent tits. “What is that for?”
I’d forgotten I had the knife in my hands. I flip it, idly, and advance. “It’s for the dress. That thing has got to come off so we can fuck.”
It’s like I turned a switch, only the light in her eyes goes from “on” to “off.”
“I’m not that type of girl.”
My hand tightens around the hilt. “You’re not interested?”
I can’t believe it. A minute ago, she was melting in my arms, panting out her desire. Her fingers were in my hair, messing with my clothes. The top two buttons of my shirt are undone, and my bowtie is askew. I point the knife at the undone silk tie. “This you?”