I tip my head back, inviting his lips to my throat. He kisses down my neck as his hand slides between my legs, cupping my pussy.
“Bet you’re wet under this. Take it off.”
His hand slips under the lace, pulling it down. “Or should I?”
My breathing is ragged, and I bite my lips to keep from pleading for more.
His chuckle is low, right at my ear: “Say it, Élise. Tell me what you want. Do you like this?”
He circles my clit lightly. “Or this?” He pushes my jeans down, stroking my butt, and his other finger teases at my entrance.
“Or should I dive inside?” With that, he slides his finger in, circling, stretching my inner lips, and I can feel wetness spilling from me.
“I won’t fuck you until you ask nicely, princess,” he bites my earlobe.
“You mean you’ll leave here with your cock hard and your balls aching?” I shoot back, taunting. “I doubt it.”
With that, I kick the jeans free from my ankles and turn abruptly to face him.
Now it’s my turn. I claim his mouth, kiss him hard, hands tangled in his soft hair, my pussy pressing against his hardened cock. I unzip his race suit and slide it down his muscular shoulders, savoring every line. I tug at his undershirt, and he lifts his arms so I can peel it away. I want to slap that amused smile off his face—he knows I need him, knows I relish his body—but I won’t just be taken. I take what I want.
I strip away every layer, squeezing his hard thighs, finally wrapping both hands around his cock, palming it, claiming it. He pretends control, but I feel the pulse in his shaft, the velvety head slick with need.
“Mind if I taste you first?” I grin wickedly, starting to kneel.
“Actually, I do,” he says, hauling me back up and pushing me, firm but gentle, onto the bed.
He strips off the last of his clothes and pins me beneath him.
“I said I’m going to claim you, and that’s exactly what I’ll do, princess.”
“I’m not some fucking prize,” I hiss.
Why don’t you just give in, Elise?
“Do I need to tie you down, or will you stay put while I find a condom?” he asks, pressing his weight even closer, kissing my neck.
I want to spit something back, but my traitorous body loves this—his talk, his dominance, being pinned and helpless beneath him.
So I close my eyes and moan out loud.
“Good girl.” He rises, reaches for a condom in his jeans.
I don’t move, only watch as he rolls it on, my pussy clenching with anticipation.
“Spread for me, will you, your highness?” He licks his lips, and I obey. I’m done fighting. My whole body burns, and I’m trembling at the edge.
“That,” he swallows, taking in the view, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’re glistening.”
There’s no boyish grin now as he drags a finger over my aching pussy, sending a jolt through my entire body. I moan and lift my hips to meet him.
“Fuck me, Nico. Please,” I whimper, squirming beneath him.
He doesn’t answer, just positions himself over me, teasing at my entrance, waiting for me to raise my hips in invitation. Head thrown back, he moans—palms my hips and lifts me, filling me all at once. The angle is awkward, but he holds me firm, and I’m happy, filled, claimed.
He holds me there for a moment, savoring the squirm of my hips, the friction my pussy craves.
With a wolfish grin, he leans over me and thrusts hard—out, in, again. He fucks me hard, rough enough to hurt, and that’s what I need—his thrusts, his pleasure, the way he loses controland goes faster. I reach for him, but he pins my wrists to the bed, possessive and wild.
