“Yes, in the royal palace at the Château des Neiges. And in my bed.”
She says nothing. I should probably keep the rest of my confession for another time, but it’s too late. It pours out of me, unchecked.
“I want to fuck you every night and wake up next to you every morning,” I say. “I want a future with you, with marriage and children, and… everything!”
Her chest heaves.
“Will you have me on those terms?” I ask.
“No.”
I feel as if my entire world began to crumble.
Oddly, she smiles. “I have one demand. I won’t have you until you kiss me on the mouth. Tongues and all, eh? It’s out of the question that I share my life with a man who won’t kiss me on the mouth.”
“Not even a prince?” Now I’m grinning, too.
“Especially not a prince.”
I take her head between my hands, lean forward, and press my lips to hers.
Finally, her taste!
ELISE
Finally, his taste!
I close my eyes, breathing him in, as he presses his lips to mine and kisses me. For a few minutes, it’s soft and slow and infinitely tender. His hands cradle my head below my ears, thumbs on my cheeks.
My heart speeding, I let my hands roam his chest, his neck, his broad, well-muscled shoulders. He takes his time. But he keeps pulling me closer and closer, until we’re flush against each other, my breasts crushed against his chest, my heart pounding next to his.
His tongue presses between my lips. I open my mouth in an invitation to explore. He delves in.
Ooh!His tongue is every bit as delicious as I imagined. With every stroke against mine, I grow wilder. I open up more and drink him in. My hands undo the top buttons on his shirt and caress the hard, scarred planes of his chest.
The need to undress hits us in a frenzy without warning. Both of us rush to rip off our clothing. I undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, trailing my hands over his rough skin and the hard ridges of his abs. While I grapple with his belt, he shows my clothes far less care, tearing my sweater off and biting away my bra so he can cup, rub, suckle, and own.
I quiver with excitement, grunting as I finally yank his belt free and pull down his zipper.
He stares pointedly at my sweatpants until I follow his gaze.Message received!Lifting myself off the chair, I hook my thumbs under the waistband, and with a single motion, I push them down together with my panties in a single motion and step out of them.
“Turn around,” he says, his voice low.
“Face down, ass up?” I ask, aiming for playful, but landing closer to breathless with anticipation.
Without waiting for his reply, I adopt his preferred stance—hands on the seat of the chair, backside toward him, legs spread. He doesn’t even need to touch me to have my core ache for him, needy and wet.
“I’ll never get enough of that sight,” he says in a gravelly voice. “But this time, I want to look at your face, and I want you looking at mine.”
He scans the room. Decision made, he makes room on the kitchen table, pushing the salt, pepper and a fruit bowl to one side. He grips my waist and hoists me up. I scoot to the edge of the table, wrap my legs around his hips, and slip my hand into his underwear to set him free.
When his cockhead prods against my entrance, I let out a slow, rattling moan.
“You’ve missed this,” he states without much inflection.
I don’t deny it. There’s no point denying the obvious truth.
Our gazes lock as he rolls on a condom. His mouth finds mine and his hands return to my hips. I lock my ankles at the small of his back.
