The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(107)

“Fuckin’ clothes,” Josh moans, leveling up and sinking into me on one long, smooth thrust.

My breath is gone. My mind is gone. My damn heart is gone. I swallow, my head limp, my body soft against him as my walls mold around the perfection of him. “Can it get any better?” I whisper, held tightly to his body while he breathes into my increasingly sweaty neck, holding still and firm. The feelings Josh evokes in me are mind-twisting. How alive I feel when I’m with him is beyond comprehension. It’s crazy how completely and utterly infatuated by him I am. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like I belong, most certainly not in the family. But in Josh’s arms, feeling his heartbeats merge with mine, I’m home.

“I wouldn’t think so.” He kisses my neck, biting between each peck. “But then I do this”—he swivels his hips and grinds deeply—“and it just gets better.” Stars jump into my vision, my hands grappling at his back for support.

A groan rumbles up from the deepest part of me, and I’m forced to push my face into his neck to muffle it. Good Lord, where’s that pink hanky of his? Meticulous strokes are backed up with expert grinds. His caressing hands are supported by sporadic firm squeezes of my flesh. He works into me at a leisurely, yet constant pace, in no rush to get me to my tipping point, which comes faster than I’d like.

“You’re there?” he whispers, and I nod. “Me, too. Kiss me, Your Highness.”

Those words, said by Josh, in that gravelly tone and accent, toss me over the edge, and I free-fall through my climax, moaning into his mouth, barely able to maintain our kiss.

I just register the quickening of his tempo, going from easy, smooth strokes, to rapid, ferocious hits, before his body solidifies around me, and a broken, strained sigh pours into my mouth. Then the warmth of his seed fills me, his flesh rolling against my internal walls, as he lets the pleasure take over. The combination of our shaking forces me to grip him harder, our lips touching but not kissing. “Once again, Princess Adeline, you have bewitched the shit out of me.” Biting my bottom lip gently, he pulls back a fraction to find my face. “How do I look?”

“Sweaty.” I smile, taking in the glorious mess of his hair. “And like you just screwed someone against a door.”

My nose is nipped playfully. “Is it wrong that I don’t care?”

“Probably.”

“Well, I don’t. But I will pretend to care, if only to save my reputation with the King.”

I scoff. “I wouldn’t waste your time.”

“Are you kidding? When I’m done with him, he’ll be booking Westminster for our wedding and arranging my bachelor party. No one is immune to my charm.” His smirk is conceited and cocky. And gorgeous.

“Who said anything about marriage?”

“I’m speaking hypothetically.”

“Your American brain is deluded.”

“You wait and see. Ready?” He holds me by the tops of my arms as he slips out of me, both of us wincing a little. Like a gentleman, he grabs some toilet tissue and wipes me up, all the while smiling, before I work to straighten myself out as Josh fastens his zipper.

“Anyway, deluded or not, you should know the King is not in a very good mood this morning.” Brushing my hair off my face, I continue when Josh gives me a questioning expression. “I heard him shouting on the phone. To Sir Don, I think.”

“What about?”

There’s only one part of the rant I heard that I am prepared to share. Josh definitely does not need to know about the banker. “Some letters he wants rid of. I don’t know, to be honest. All I know is he wasn’t very happy about it and Sir Don and David were summoned.”

“Are you saying I have my work cut out for me?”

I laugh, thoroughly amused. Has he not been hearing what I’ve been saying to him? “Baby, your work isn’t cut out for you. It’s impossible. Why won’t you listen to me?”

“Because you’re a pessimist. What is it with you British? Always so reserved and negative.”

“Excuse me?” I’m about to have my say on that little matter, by maybe pointing out that his American arse is bolshie and cocky, but a knock on the wood brings my rant to a stop before I’ve drawn breath. My eyes go like saucers—panicked, worried saucers.

“Someone in there?” David calls, knocking the door again.

“Yeah.” Josh looks at me, a little alarmed. “I might be a while.” He physically cringes, as do I.

“Ah, the American. Come on, old chap. We’re ready to tally-ho.” David’s voice, all jovial, makes me frown. Why is he so bloody happy? “I’ll use the other lavatory.”

“Tally-ho?” Josh whispers, his eye-roll spectacular. “What a jerk.”

I snigger, covering my mouth to stifle it.

“Did you say something, old boy?” David asks, seeming to be directly behind the wood that I’m leaning against, mere millimeters away.

“No, no.” Josh reaches back and flushes the chain. “Just coming, old chap.” His attempt at a British accent is all the more condescending because it is utterly rubbish.

“Righto. See you in a jiffy.”

“Yar, yar.” Josh slaps his palm onto his forehead, exasperated, as the sounds of David’s steps fade into the distance. He gives me tired eyes. “I will win you, if only to save you from that ass-clown and his spawn.”