The Wild Heir(78)

“Fuck you!”

“That’s right,” he says, gritting his teeth into a wolfish smile. “Yell. Swear. Lay it on me if it makes you feel better.” His hand goes to the back of my neck, gripping me there. “The only thing you really need is some good hard dick.”

I stare at him, my mouth dropping open. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, his heated gaze going to my lips, the grip on my neck growing tighter. “You need to be royally and thoroughly fucked. That’s your biggest problem. That’s why you’re so snappish and tense tonight.”

“Of course you would assume every problem can be solved by sex,” I sneer at him, trying to ignore the heat building in my core.

“I think your problem can be,” he says. “And I’m more than up for the job.”

With his free hand he takes my wrist and places my palm flat against his erection. My breath hitches as I feel how hard and warm he is, and my hand instinctively grips his length, which brings out a low moan from him that I feel reverberate down my spine.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is exactly what I need.

Him.

Inside me.

But no. No, I’m still mad. I’m still mad that he slept with that crazy girl even before he met me, I’m still mad that his mother told me those things, like she has zero faith in his feelings for me, feelings that I’m not even sure exist. I’m still mad…

“Question time,” he murmurs as he leans in and slowly brushes his lips against the rim of my ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

I swallow. The pressure between my legs is indescribable.

“Answer carefully,” he murmurs, the heat of his breath and growl of his voice sending shivers from my head to my toes. “I’ll find out the truth in a second. I can practically smell how fucking wet you are.”

His mouth goes to my earlobe, nipping it between his teeth and giving it a tug that makes tiny explosions go off around my body.

Oh, god.

“What was the question again?” I whisper, my eyes rolling back.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he says into my skin as his lips slowly slide down my neck, setting me on fire. “Princess?”

“You tell me,” I manage to say, playing the game, wanting it so damn badly.

Because yes, I want to be fucked. By him.

Roughly.

Royally.

Fucked.

And now I’m mad that I can’t stay mad at him.

“I like this version of you,” he says, stooping over slightly to place his hands under my dress and slowly slide them up my inner thighs, just as he did yesterday. The heat from his wide palms makes me feel like I’m about to combust right here on the spot.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” I manage to say, already feeling dizzy and breathless as his hands go higher “It’s already started,” he says. “Can’t be stopped. You said for me to push you, so I’m pushing you.”

His hands slide up and up and now I know he can feel how wet I am. The sensation of his skin against mine makes my world spin.

“Helvete,” he swears, his voice hoarse. “You’re soaked. And you’re not even wearing underwear.”

“I didn’t want pantylines with this dress. I—” My words fail me as he slides one long finger right over my swollen flesh. I moan, unable to keep composed and my hands grip his arms to keep myself steady. “Magnus,” I gasp.

“Fuck, yes. I love hearing my name like this,” he says gruffly, taking a nibble of my neck. “I don’t think I ever want to hear anything else.”

He slowly begins to rub the tip of his finger over my clit.

My body feels like it’s going to explode. “Figures you’d love the sound of your own name,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

“Only when your cunt is drenching my fingers like this,” he says in a near growl. I have to admit, his dirty talk caught me off-guard yesterday but it’s definitely starting to have an effect on me.

A good effect.

The kind that makes me want to give in, to be absolutely wild and free with this man. To be the person I’ve been afraid to let loose.

To be completely uninhibited.

Completely his.

“Kiss me,” I whisper.

He raises his head and looks at me in surprise before a wicked smile curls the edges of his mouth.

He does as he’s told.

The kiss is far more than I remembered from the other day. It almost knocks me off my feet, my heels starting to wobble. His tongue is insatiable, explicit, as it thrusts into my mouth hungrily, his lips crazed and needy. It’s wet and violent and makes the want inside me throb, tighter, harder. His hand at my head is gripping my hair as if he’s holding on for dear life and each tug shoots fire down my nerves. Every part of my being feels alive, soaking it all in, desperate for more of his touch, more of him, more of everything.

He pulls back half an inch, just for a second, just enough time to let out a moan while his other hand holds my face captive. His heavy-lidded gaze fixates on my eyes, then my lips, as if I’m some sort of apparition.

Then I grab the lapels of his tux and yank his lips back to mine. The need in me builds and builds and I’m dying to wrap my legs around him, to feel every inch, to feel his want for me. I think I whimper. I gasp. I kiss him with the same kind of abandon as he’s kissing me with, his mouth devouring me as if wanting to swallow me whole.