Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(147)
It’s like he didn’t come at all, he’s ready to f*ck me. Overcome, I wriggle loose of his grip—partway, he won’t let go of me—and straddle him. My * aches to be filled, like my own body is pulling me down onto his shaft. I want him to see. I grip him with my hand and kneel, and stroke the thick head of his enormous cock back and forth, wetting it with my arousal, spreading my lips with his cock head. He leans up and watches, mouth open, his entire body tightening in anticipation, little thrusts jerking in my hand as he tries to reach inside me.
He finally has enough and grabs my hips and pushes down. I resist ever so slightly, my legs shaking as I savor the lust that drives him. He sits up and I tap his lips with my finger.
“Watch.”
He watches. I can feel myself spread around him, and then as he begins to fill me I struggle to keep my eyes open even as they un-focus and the world becomes a blur. The outside, the chill air of the castle and the silky sheets bunched under my knees, all of it disappears. The world is his hands on my hips, the throbbing hugeness that’s gradually filling me, a pleasure I never imagined shot through with a pinching pain that only makes me want it more.
I sink down until I’m sitting in his lap, impaled, his big cock speared into my body. I fall forward and lie on his chest, my back rounded by the big rod in my body, and gasp.
“Am I hurting you?”
I shake my head, because I don’t want him to hold back. He pushes on my hips, guiding me as I rock forward and back on top of him, every inch a new sensation. Oh God, this feels so good, how did I wait so long?
I rise up, sitting in his lap, and it becomes a slow but urgent dance, the rolling and popping of of my hips gradual but not gentle, his thrusts from below a little harder. He can’t keep his hand from my breasts, and I take his finger in my mouth, sucking and biting as he lifts my entire body with forceful thrusts that almost hurt.
All at once he’s on top of me and I’m splayed out on my back. He slows, lying on me as his he buries himself to the root, and pushes my wrists back, over my head, trapping them under one hand so he can slip the other under the back of my head and knot his fingers in my hair, pulling just to the edge of pain as he drives inside me with his cock and kisses me, swallowing my shuddering cries and whimpers.
My feet are free and I urge him on with my heels in his thighs, pushing him until he jerks and thrusts harder, grinding against me. I can’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure anymore, it all jumbles up into a hazy warmth that floods through my body, growing to uncomfortable heat between my legs, only to spread further. I can’t believe I was cold. I can’t believe I’m not on fire. The heat and warmth are seeping out through my skin.
He lets go of my wrists and wraps his arms around me. I do the same, looping mine around his neck as he buries his face in my shoulder. As he gets close to the edge he bites me and I yelp and squirm under him, driving him to f*ck me even harder.
I try to hold myself back but my body rebels, clenches him, and he cries out, loud and guttural, as he releases inside me, explodes, and it drives me over the edge. I buck and writhe under him as a climax rips through my body, stealing my limbs and voice away as I moan and thrash, carried away on a current of pleasure that tightens the whole world to a tiny, cold point that bursts out in a fiery explosion that rips out through my whole body, only to contract down and do it again.
When I finally go limp under him, my body still gripping him inside me, he lies on top of me, his head resting on my shoulder. There are bites on his shoulders and scratch marks on his back in hot red lines, and he left his share of marks on me, too. All that energy just exploded out and now I lie with him on me like a blanket, his arms around me, his manhood inside me, growing hard again.
“Does my princess need to rest?” he murmurs, stroking sweat-heavy locks of hair from my eyes.
I grin. “No. Your princess needs another hard f*cking, my prince.”
Chapter Nine
If you told me that one day I would be here, I never would have believed you. I’m sitting at a table in the great hall. Kristoff’s chair is only slightly bigger than mine, and I sit at his right hand, in a place of authority. It makes me nervous. My new dress fits better and leaves my arms bare, so it’s cooler during the heat of the day when sunlight pours through the enormous windows until the stones under my feet bake.
The really weird part is that this my meeting. Mostly.
“Your grace, this is most sudden…”
Kristoff silences the speaker with a look. A tall, graying man, he’s been introduced to me as the minister of education. I’ve already given them all a list of my ideas, though now that I’m pressed to actually present them to people who might be able to make the changes I’m pushing for, I feel stupid for getting myself into this.
I didn’t even finish my degree and they’re asking me how to reform their education system. The prince doesn’t say a word unless he detects a hint of disrespect from a member of his cabinet; then he silences them with a sharp word and turns to me.
Though it is not easy, I do my best not to slump my shoulders and whisper my ideas. I keep my chin up and sit straight, hands folded on my lap, and lay out my plans, such as they are. It’s all basic stuff, but from the looks on the faces of the men and women sitting around me, you’d think I was suggesting they start speaking Greek and have the teachers wear boxer shorts on their heads.