Brutal Prince Bonus Scene (Brutal Birthright, #1.5)(32)

“You fucked up our wedding night,” I tell her. “You know we’re not actually married until we sleep together.”

“I know that,” she says.

“You haven’t been eating anything else poisonous, have you?”

Before she can answer, I press my lips hard against hers once more.

When I kissed Aida at the church, it was only to finish that stupid ceremony. Now I’m kissing her because I want to taste her mouth again. I want to press my whole body against hers and run my hands over that silky tan skin.

She’s incredibly soft. I don’t know how someone with the personality of a cactus can have the softest lips, shoulders, and breasts that I’ve ever touched. I want to run my hands over every inch of her.

At first, she’s stiff and unyielding, not wanting to respond to me. But as my thigh grinds against her bare little cunt, and as I take her breasts in my hands, she gasps and her lips part, allowing me to slide my tongue inside her mouth.

Now she’s pressing back on me, grinding her pussy against my leg. She’s kissing me back, deep enough that I can taste the lingering tang of chlorine on her lips.

I slide my hand down her belly, all the way down to her bald pussy. I rub my fingers over the perfectly smooth lips, loving how bare and exposed she is. Then I part her folds and find the tiny nub of her clit, swollen from the heat of the shower. I circle my middle finger around it, reaching down to test how wet it’s making her, then returning again to the most sensitive spot.

She gasps when I touch her there and squeezes her thighs around mine, rubbing and pressing against my palm with her cunt.

I slip a finger inside of her, making her moan. She moans right into my mouth, a deep and helpless sound.

I knew it. She’s a horny little slut. She likes sex as much as I do.

That’s perfect. Because if she wants it, if she needs it, then she has to come to me. And that’s one more way I can control her.

I rub her and finger her until I can feel her legs starting to shake. Her breath quickens, and her thighs squeeze tight as she gets closer and closer to climax.

Right when she’s at the edge, I stop touching her and withdraw my hand.

“Don’t stop!” she gasps, opening her eyes and glaring at me.

“If you want to cum, then suck my cock first,” I demand.

She looks down at my cock, so hard that it juts straight out from my body.

“Fuck no,” she says. “I’ll just do it myself.”

She leans back against the shower wall, putting her hand between her thighs. Her fingers slide between her pussy lips, and she exhales softly. I grab her by the wrist and yank her hand away.

“Hey!” she shouts, eyes flashing open again.

“Suck me off, or I’m not letting you cum,” I tell her.

She glares at me, cheeks flushed from heat and from the denied orgasm. I know it’s boiling inside of her, spinning around like a cyclone. I’m sure it’s nagging at her, making her ache and throb, and hopefully feel desperate enough to do as I demand.

I put my hand on her shoulder and push her down to her knees.

Reluctantly, she grips the base of my cock.

Her lips part, and I see the gleam of her teeth. I wonder for a moment if I’ve made a horrible mistake. I’d really rather not lose my dick to the temper of my new wife.

But then her warm, wet mouth closes around my cock, and my brain short circuits. If I thought her lips were soft before, I had no idea how they could feel on the painfully sensitive head of my cock. They slide over and around, completely enveloping me. Her tongue flicks against the underside as she gently licks and sucks.

Fuuuucking hell, she’s good at this. It’s no wonder Oliver Castle was obsessed with her. If she sucked his cock like this just one single time, I could imagine him following her to the ends of the earth to get it again.

She slides her hand up and down the shaft, her mouth and fingers working in tandem. Her other hand reaches underneath to gently cradle my balls, stroking the underside of the sack.

All these sensations together are rocketing me toward orgasm . . .

Until she drops my cock and stands up again.

“That’s all you get,” she says.

God, her obstinance is infuriating. If I said the grass was green, she’d call it purple just to spite me. I really should take this opportunity to teach her a lesson.

But she and I both want the same thing in this moment. A rare instance of our impulses aligning. And we want it so bad that desire outweighs malice.

Aida puts an arm around my neck, steadying herself while she lines the head of my cock up with her entrance. Then she wraps both legs around my waist as my cock slides all the way inside of her.

I grip her thick ass with both hands, my fingers digging into her cheeks. I hold her up as she starts to ride me, her arms locked around my neck, her soap-slippery body grinding against mine.

As hot as the shower might be, her pussy is even hotter. It clenches around my cock, squeezing me on the inward and the outward motion of the thrust.

I was wrong in my assumption that Aida isn’t athletic. She’s riding me with the vigor and enthusiasm of a sexual Olympian. I’m used to girls who pose themselves in the most attractive position possible, then lay back to let you fuck them. I’ve never been with someone so . . . eager.

As she gets closer to the edge, she starts to ride me even harder, her pussy like a vise around my cock. She’s slamming down on me over and over. The intensity of the strokes and the heat of the shower is making me dizzy.