Pretty Bride (Rags to Riches 3)

“I think most only care for their own pleasure.”

The sort of men she knew were not men at all, then. “That is my pleasure. Not the hot clasp of your cunt around my cock, sweet though it would be. Pleasure is knowing I made you scream and writhe as I fucked you with it.”

As she squirmed now upon the seat in the boat. As if trying to ease an ache within her.

As if she were already dripping with honey.

Though he’d spent by his own hand less than an hour ago, hot and throbbing his cock was now, knowing that she had imagined what he’d described and her need slickened her cunt.

Breathing harsh, he swung the oars forward out of the water, securing them within the boat. “Give to me a taste.”

Confusion lined her brow. “A taste?”

“Of your cunt. Now.” A night he would not have. But he would have this.

Her eyes narrowed. “My father is not yet dead.”

“And you would not like me to feel cheated by the cheap price I set. What if the taste of you is not what I dreamed? Best I be certain now.”

She bit her lip as if against a laugh. But not only amusement did he see. Temptation was there, too.

“Come stand before me, Jalisa. When I make you come on my tongue, you can also be certain that what I said is how it will be.”

Indecision only warred over her beautiful face for another second. Then she rose, the boat rocking from side to side in the water. He held out his hand to steady her. The trusting curl of her fingers around his also curled around his heart in a tighter grip.

So fucked he was.

“Step up here on the seat,” he said, voice raw with hunger. With her feet in the bottom of the boat, she was at an awkward angle to his mouth. Yet if she stood on the bench where he sat, a perfect height she would be.

She stepped up between his thighs, gripping his shoulder when the dinghy rocked again. “It wobbles.”

“I will hold you steady,” he vowed, and so he did, taking her hips in a firm grip as she rose before him.

Again she looked down at him, though not imperiously. Instead he only saw nervousness and curiosity and arousal. And the deliberately haughty tone she put into her voice as she said, “You may taste me now, warrior,” only made him grin.

As did the realization of why she called him ‘warrior.’ “Do you not wish to know the name of the man who is feasting on your cunt?”

She blinked, as if that had not occurred to her. Then she gave him a considering look. “I don’t think so, no.”

Yet the way she flattened her lips together, as if repressing a smile, and the dimple that suddenly appeared in her cheek said that she only teased him.

He could tease, too. “Pull up your shift.”

Immediately her lips softened and parted. Her breathing deepened. With fingers at her hips, she ruched the silk upward, baring her upper thighs an inch at a time, then the cleft between. Standing as she was, her thighs pressed together, he saw nothing of her deeper cunt. Only the slit at the front that nestled her pretty clit—but that was all he needed to make her come.

Already she glistened with her need—and completely bare she was. “Is this a princess’s cunt? They pamper and groom you even here?”

“No,” she said softly. “I was being prepared for marriage.”

For another man to look upon her. But she was his.

She gave a soft cry of surprise as he abruptly dragged her forward, and his mouth opened against her, his tongue slicking into that little slit. He groaned in pleasure at the first taste of her wetness. Salty she was from the sea, yet her flavor beneath was so sweet and heady.

Her body trembled violently as, with broad strokes of his tongue, Aruk teased her clit before sucking that pretty bud between his lips. A guttural sound she made, curling forward and releasing her grip on the silk to grab fistfuls of his hair.

“Warrior,” she gasped. “Warrior.”

With a growl low in his throat, he tore his ravenous mouth from her cunt and angled his head back to look up at her. Flushed she was, panting, her hair hanging around her face.

“Oh, do not stop.” With urgent hands, she tried to shove his head back down. “Do not stop.”

Unmoved, Aruk only waited, her sweetness on his tongue and lips, hungry for her cunt but hungrier still for something else.

She gave him a sudden dour look and tugged at his hair. “Then what do I call you, warrior?”

He grinned. “Aruk.”

“Aruk,” she repeated softly, and the fingers of her right hand let go of his hair to trace a path along his jaw. “So sweet a night with you will be.”