I took him by the wrists and placed his hands back on the arms of the throne. “You’re not allowed to touch me,” I said in a breathy voice. “I’m the one seducing you.”
This was an entirely necessary precaution, as I knew how easily he could make me forget myself. I felt like a novice being handed a finely honed weapon. I was more likely to cut myself than I was him.
“If you touch me,” I said, “that means that I win.”
He liked my challenge. I could see it in his eyes.
I tried to think of what to do next, the things that he had liked in the past. He seemed to have liked everything.
So perhaps I should be doing the things that I liked. His eyes were hooded and his pupils were so large, they looked like two deep pools that I could happily drown in. I reached up to the pin at his right shoulder and undid it.
“What did I just tell you about the possibility of being interrupted?” He sounded both amused and aroused.
The idea that we might be caught made it seem more exciting and strengthened my boldness. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the base of his neck as I pushed the top of his tunic to one side. His breath caught, and he made a soft groan at the back of his throat that I both felt and heard.
I continued to softly kiss along his exposed skin, loving the warmth and feel of it. The way his muscles would tense and pulse everywhere that my lips touched him.
“How is my seduction attempt going?” I asked.
“Passable.” His judgment might have wounded me, but I could hear the strain in his voice, as if it took everything in him to hold back.
“Passable?” I repeated. “That won’t do.”
I heard his breathing, each inhale and exhale coming quicker than the one before. “You always have to be the best, don’t you, my little princess?”
It drove me wild when he called me that, but I did my best not to react. The roaring of blood in my ears made it almost impossible for me to think or speak for a few moments. “I suppose I’ll have to redouble my efforts.”
I began to kiss and taste his skin, reveling in the tautness of his muscles as he strained to hold still. I could tell that all he wanted was to reach out and grab me. But he was too competitive to do so. I sat up and studied him, watching the different emotions flitting through his eyes, how his mouth tensed as he drank me in.
“How does this make you feel?” I asked, putting my hand over his chest so his thundering heartbeat could move against my palm. My own beat just as hard and just as fast.
“I’m indifferent.” He could barely get the lie out.
I smiled. “Yes, I can feel your heated indifference against me.” I canted my hips and he made a strangled noise that sounded as if I had ripped it from his chest.
I was not unaffected. Threads of pleasure wound their way through me and I trembled, my skin feverishly prickling with need. But I held still.
“Do that again,” he ordered, his pretense of being unaffected completely dropped.
“I didn’t hear you say ‘please,’” I taunted him. This felt like when I had discovered I could do magic. I wanted to wield it, play with it, test my limits. It was exhilarating.
What could I do?
I ran my fingertips lightly along the ridges and planes of his torso. I let out a little sigh. “I do so enjoy your chest.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual,” he said, and his desperate tone caused crackling pleasure to race along my veins. His eyes roved over my body and the muscles in his jaw clenched when I reached up to run a finger along my own collarbone.
“I am so soft,” I breathed. “As I recall, you like how soft I am. You like many things about me.”
He didn’t respond. Given the look on his face, I wasn’t sure he could.
I returned my hand to his chest. “I like how it feels when my bare skin is against yours.”
No response. Just his ragged, broken breathing.
I thought of the night of his birthday, what his words of desire had done to me. He had given me those words. I had never done the same.
Would mine have a similar effect on him?
