The Leopard Prince (Princes #2)(71)

As if he would leave her tomorrow.

George tightened her grasp in his hair at that thought. It must have hurt him, but she wasn’t letting go. She pressed her body to his until she felt his arousal even through the bulk of both their clothing. She rubbed herself against him.

Harry broke their kiss and tried to pull his head up. “My lady, we can’t—”

“Shhh,” George murmured. She trailed kisses along his jaw. “I don’t want to hear can’t. I want you. I need you.”

She licked the pulse at his throat, tasting salt and man. He shuddered. She bared her teeth against his neck. She released his hair with one hand and ripped at his shirt, tearing it open and off one shoulder.

“My lady, I, uhh…” He lapsed into a moan when she licked his exposed nipple.

From the way he took her bottom and pulled her hard into his groin, he was no longer interested in protesting. Just as well. She’d never realized a man’s nipples were sensitive. Someone should make this information known to the general female population. She took the tiny nubbin between her teeth and delicately bit down. He squeezed her bottom in his big hands. She lifted her head and pulled the shirt entirely off. Definitely better. Of all the things God had made on this earth, surely a man’s chest must be one of the most beautiful. Or perhaps it was just Harry’s chest. George ran her hands across his shoulders, skimming gently over the scars from his beating.

She’d come so close to losing him.

Her fingers drifted down to circle his nipples, making him close his eyes, then lower, into the slim line of hair below his navel. Her fingernails must have tickled. Harry sucked in his stomach. Then she reached his breeches. She explored the flap and found the hidden buttons. George flicked them open, conscious all the while that his penis was underneath, already hard and tenting the fabric. She glanced up once to find him watching her under lowered lids. The emerald fire in his eyes made her squirm. A slow seep of wetness began at her core.

She opened the breeches and found her prize, poking up through the top of his smallclothes.

“Take them off.” She forced her gaze to his face. “Please.”

Harry crooked an eyebrow but obediently stripped off his breeches, smallclothes, stockings, and shoes. Then he reached for the front of her dress.

“No. Not yet.” George danced out of his way. “I can’t think when you touch me.”

Harry stalked her. “That’s the point, my lady.”

Her rear bumped against the bed. She held up her hands to ward him off. “Not my point.”

He leaned close without actually touching her, the heat from his bare chest almost menacing. “The last time you played with me I nearly died.”

“But you didn’t.”

He watched her, his eyes unconvinced.

“Trust me.”

He sighed. “You know I can deny you nothing, my lady.”

“Good. Now get on the bed.”

Harry grimaced but he did as she ordered, stretching on his side. His cock arced up, nearly touching his navel.

“Unhook me.”

She presented her back and felt his fingers as he undid her gown. When he reached the end, she walked out of his reach and turned. She let the bodice fall. She wasn’t wearing stays, and his eyes immediately dropped to her nipples, peaking the fabric of her shift. She placed her hands at her waist and wriggled the dress down.

He narrowed his eyes.

She sat on a chair and pulled off her garters and rolled down her stockings. Wearing only her shift, she walked to the bed. When she crawled on the bed beside him, Harry reached for her at once.

“No, this won’t do.” George frowned. “You can’t touch me.” She looked at the row of carved spindles on the bed’s headboard. “Hold those.”

He twisted to look and then lay down and grasped one spindle in each hand. With his arms over his head, the muscles in his upper arms and chest bunched.

George licked her bottom lip. “You can’t let go until I tell you.”

“As you wish,” he growled, sounding not at all submissive. He should’ve appeared weak in such a compromising position. Instead, he reminded her of a wild leopard captured and tethered. He lay there, eyeing her speculatively, a trace of a sneer on his lips.

Best not to get too close.

She ran a fingernail down his chest. “Perhaps I ought to tie your wrists to the bed.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

“Just to be safe,” she reassured him sweetly.

“My lady,” he warned.

“Oh, never mind. But you must promise not to move.”

“On my honor, I will not let go of the bedposts until you permit me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

But it was close enough. She leaned over him and licked the tip of his penis.

“Jesus Christ.”

George lifted her head and frowned.

“You never said anything about talking,” Harry panted. “For God’s sake, do that again.”

“Maybe. If I feel inclined.” She inched nearer, ignoring his grumbled curse.

This time she lifted his cock aside and planted a series of tiny, wet kisses on his belly. She ended when she came to the dark, wiry hair above his erection. She opened her mouth and scraped her teeth against his skin.

“Shit.” Harry sucked in a breath.