A second later, she leans forward and paints her lips against mine.
Her mouth opens wider, giving me more access. Her hand grips my shirt, and I pull her onto my lap until she’s straddling me. The kiss deepens, and my hands find her waist as she rocks against me.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” I say against her lips.
She rolls her hips against me, and I groan, my fingers digging into her thighs. My hands slide under her shirt and up her back, feeling the smooth skin, the delicate ridge of her spine. The sound that releases from her lips goes straight to my cock. I’m hard, and I have been since dinner. When she rocks against me again, I see stars.
She pulls back and yanks her shirt over her head. She’s wearing a simple white bra, and I reach up and trace the edge, watching goosebumps form on her skin. With precision, she reaches behind her and unhooks it, letting the fabric fall away.
“You feel so good,” she says, rocking against me.
I pull off my shirt, and then we’re skin to skin, but it’s not enough. I cup her breasts in my hands, run my thumbs over her nipples, and pull one into my mouth. Her head falls back on her shoulders as I swirl my tongue around the peak. She grinds against me, and I help guide and press her against my cock, where I need her most. The friction through our clothes is pure torture.
Her fingers work at my belt, and I lift my hips to help her shove my jeans down enough to free me. She wraps her hand around my cock, and I groan. My phone buzzes on the counter several times.
“Do you need to an?—”
“Fuck no.” I thrust into her grip.
“Good.” She strokes me slowly, firmly, her eyes locked on mine.
I reach for the button on her jeans, and she shifts to help me, then we’re fumbling, both desperate, shoving denim aside until I can feel the wet heat of her through the thin fabric of her underwear. I press my fingers against her, and she whimpers, rolling her hips into my hand.
She tugs her underwear to the side and positions herself over me. “I need you.”
I grip her hips, the tip of me pressing against her entrance, and we’re trembling, right on the edge?—
There’s a knock at the door.
We both freeze. Addison’s eyes go wide, and the haze we were in dissipates.
I put a finger to her lips and shake my head, knowing we were seconds away from not being able to stop. To say I’m fucking pissed is an understatement. She scrambles off my lap, grabbing her clothes, and I gesture toward the linen closet. Addison slides inside with her jeans clutched to her chest, and I yank my pants up, having to tuck my cock, then grab my shirt. I’m so fucking hard; it’s painful.
The knock comes again, louder, more frantic.
“I’m coming,” I yell, moving toward the door to open it.
My father’s assistant, Steward, stands in the hallway, rigid and formal. His eyes stay locked on mine without expression.
“Your Highness. The king requires your presence immediately.”
“It’s after ten. It can wait until tomorrow,” I say.
“I’m afraid it cannot, sir. It’s a direct order. Please follow instructions.”
I exhale. “Do you know what this is about?”
“I don’t, Your Highness.”
I stare at him, calculating my options, but there are none. When the king summons, you go.
“Give me ten minutes to dress.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” He bows and retreats down the corridor.
I close the door and lean against it, needing my body to calm down. Right now, I have no idea what the hell is happening.
Addison comes out of the closet and stands there, pressing her shirt to her chest. Her hair is a disaster, and her lips are swollen. She looks adorable and frustrated.
