I push up into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. I need him to go harder. Faster. And I tell him that, practically beggingfor it. The way his cock strokes me, the perfect friction of it, is something I could get lost in forever. He knows how to fuck. I may be inexperienced, but I know enough to know that.
“That’s it. Take it. Fuck me.”
Slap. Slap. Slap.It punctuates our growing symphony as his pelvis meets my thighs. As our bodies mix and become one over and over. My tits bounce. My hair is littered with who the fuck knows what. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone or if anyone is looking for me.
But again, who cares?
That seems to be how it is with him. I lose all sense of reason, and he becomes my apex.
Our hips move faster, skin slick with sweat all over us. He drops to his forearms and kisses me, and I cling to him. Toeing that delicious line. The one I’m chasing yet dreading. I don’t want this to end. I don’t want reality to come crashing back down on me as it inevitably does once our passion is sated.
“Fuck. I’m gonna come. Come with me, mia stella velenosa. Let go and come with me.”
With my new name as a whisper, a seductive purr, I’m pushed headfirst into another dimension. Waves of pleasure skyrocket through me, and I hold on for the ride. Jaw locked, his eyes entangled with mine, I let go.
He pants against my cheek, groaning and grunting as he shoots inside of me.
I have no idea how I’ll ever go back to how things were before we started this.
I’m not sure it’s even possible anymore. It’s a recipe for disaster.
23
MARCELLA
The leaves and brush make a bed that’s not the most comfortable to lie on. My body sags into it regardless, and my eyes close. I blow out a heavy breath, feeling a hand over my heart, and realize...
“Your heart is pounding,” Rowan whispers.
A slow, easy smile curls up my lips. “Yep,” is all I can manage.
One of his hands stays flat on my breastbone while the other glides down my stomach to my pussy. He cups me, and I squirm against him, my hips swiveling to shirk him off, my clit too sensitive, but he’s not having it. He pushes two fingers into me, and despite myself, my back arches slightly.
“What are you doing?” I question, wanting him to stop but also not wanting him to stop. It’s the paradox I live in with this man.
His fingers answer for him as they pump in and out of me. I peek open an eye and catch him watching himself finger fuck me again.
“I don’t have time for this,” I state flatly. “I have toget back.”
“I don’t care,” he replies as he keeps going. “You work for me, and this is where I want you.”
“I don’t work for you.”
His sharp gaze snaps over to mine. “You’re a servant of the royal family, and I am the royal family. Therefore, as I’ve been saying, you’re mine. Mine to touch, mine to keep where I want, mine to make come if that’s what I choose.”
His barbarian, caveman shit would be hot in a strange, alpha, dominating way if it weren’t also absurd in the fact that I will never be his. Not in any real way. It’s not even that he wants that with me. This madness is not exactly a fledgling relationship.
It’s sex. Good sex, but still sex. Exactly what I said it was the night at the wedding.
He said the same bullshit to me that night and likely says it to every woman he sticks his dick into. I’m not special to him, and I have no illusions that I am.
“Rowan, we have to stop this. It can’t keep happening.”
He doesn’t stop. His fingers keep going, and despite the fact that I just came, my body’s already working itself back up. He has me on a hairpin trigger. He touches, I respond.
“I didn’t follow you out here to chase you and fuck you.” His voice is distant. Lost almost. His eyes locked on my pussy.
“Then why did you follow me?” I bite into my lip, trying not to moan.
