The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(25)
No. No, I definitely am not ready. He stands on the bed, his legs straddling my hips, and pops the button of his fly. I swallow on a hard gulp, my eyes crossing. I get a glimpse of some hair, short and neatly trimmed. No underwear? More swallows. Then he drags his jeans down, revealing inch after perfect inch of his assets. I sigh, relaxing a little, totally overcome by his long, smooth hardness. Every woman on the planet has seen this man’s body, but how many have seen his impressive manhood? Kicking his jeans off, he takes his position, straddling my waist again, and takes a firm, possessive hold of his dick at the root. My mouth is watering behind the stupid pink hanky gagging me, my hands struggling in the restraints of his belt. And when he starts to massage himself, breathing in deeply, I lose my mind completely, no longer in awe of him, but hating him for being so bloody cruel. I close my eyes, refusing to indulge in the sight.
“Open your eyes, Princess,” he orders through low pants. I shake my head, pleading silently for him to stop with the torture. “Open.” A nipple is squished savagely, and I buck hopelessly, barely moving him an inch, his solid body restraining me as effectively as his belt. My eyes spring open, wide and wild, falling straight to his fist pumping his erection. I whimper pathetically, but I can’t move my gaze, watching as beads of his pleasure gather at the tip and his fist increases in pace. His stomach, solid and chiseled, tenses and relaxes, causing a ripple effect up his torso. This is hell and heaven. His spare hand lands on my breast as he works himself, squeezing, his jaw tightening. He’s on his way to climax, his body rolling, his gaze glazed. I couldn’t close my eyes if I wanted to, the sight of him pleasuring himself now holding me rapt. His head drops back, his throat pulled taut, and he starts to mumble a jumble of incoherent words to the ceiling. Then on a yell, he moves forward on his knees, releasing his cock, and rests it between my boobs, clamping it between them by pushing my swollen mounds of flesh together. He starts to thrust his hips, both of us looking down at his cock sliding back and forth between by breasts. His quiet curse signifies his ending, followed by the flow of white liquid that shoots from the tip of his pulsing dick, spurting up my neck, some landing on my chin and around my mouth. My tongue fights behind the cloth in my mouth, desperate to taste him. But it’s trapped, so I’m forced to settle for the vision of Josh Jameson, the object of millions of women’s fantasies, sweating and heaving his way through his release as he straddles me. This is the best belated birthday present ever, despite a lack of release for me. This. This sight. This feeling.
“Wow,” he breathes, his cheeks blowing out. Releasing himself, he shuffles down a little and drops to his forearms, suspending himself above me, his face close to mine. His smile is otherworldly. Pulling the hanky from my mouth, he uses it to wipe me up before tossing it aside and resting his mouth on mine, not kissing or licking or biting. Just touching. “I feel honored.”
“Why?” I ask, thinking it is me who is the lucky one here, which is a claim I never thought I’d make, given the lack of my own orgasm.
“I just came all over the Princess of England. How many men can claim that?”
“None,” I answer truthfully, clearly delighting him. “Except you. That must please you.”
Beaming at me, he pushes his lips to mine. “It did, but not nearly as much as watching you come apart.”
“Are you finally going to fuck me?”
Josh laughs a little, like he’s privy to something that might shove my brashness clean away. “In time, Princess.” He reaches for my bedside table drawer.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a little panicked. “That drawer is private.”
He ignores me and pulls it opens, revealing the contents. “Well, what have we here?” He reaches in and pulls out my vibrator, and I close my eyes, not embarrassed, but more nervous. Especially when I hear the buzz kick in.
“That is mine,” I say as firmly as I can, with no hope that he will listen to me.
“How often do you pleasure yourself, Your Highness?” he asks, placing the tip on a nipple and swirling it slowly around. I groan, stretching out my body as best I can with him pinning me down. “Once a month? Once a week?” He trails it down to my tummy and drags it from side to side. “Once a day?”
“Josh, please.”
“What, Adeline? What do you want?” He scoots down my thighs, exposing my pussy, though my legs remain closed, and I am quietly grateful. Until he moves off me and spreads them. “Tell me.”
I pull at my bonds pointlessly. “Make me come.”
“With this?” He drops the buzzing silicone to the patch of hair framing me, and I choke on an inhale, fearing the condition I’ll be in if he moves south just a fraction. And the bastard knows it.
“Josh.” I level my wild eyes on his flawless face, pushing as much warning through the lust of my gaze as I can. He simply smiles and slides my vibrator between my legs, the pulsations catching my clit. I jolt like I could have had a million volts of electricity surge through me. “No.” Sweat instantly beads on my forehead and trickles down my temples. He removes the device and chuckles.
“What’s it worth?” he asks seriously. “If I bury my cock inside you and fuck you to orgasm, what will I get in return?”
Just the thought of his cock gracing my pussy tips me over the edge. “Anything,” I say desperately. Any caution I should have has been obliterated by my desperation. “Anything you want.”