Nineteen
AURELIA
I yelpas the prince’s arms go tighter around me, and he stands without much struggle at all, even with my added weight clinging to him. He nudges the handle on the door with his elbow, stepping into the hallway.
“Friedrich! I’m practically naked,” I squeak.
His laugh rumbles through me. “No one is up here, and besides, all they would see is your back.” He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “And maybe a little side boob.”
I bury my face in the crook of his neck to hide my embarrassment. His bedroom is a few doors down, and he deals with that door just as easily, kicking it closed behind us before setting me gently on the bed.
We study each other for a moment, and I can’t find it in myself to be shy that he’s staring at my breasts when he just had his mouth all over them. My eyeswander his exposed chest, too. It’s a fine sight to behold; a sprinkle of chest hair graces pectorals that are defined but not super muscular, just like the rest of him. I know he’s a runner, but he must spend a little time lifting to get the kind of carefully defined abs and lithe arms that have no trouble carrying me around.
I trace the lines of his abdominal muscles, trailing my fingers down and down into the line of hair running from his belly button and then hiding beneath the grey sweats he changed into after our dash through the rain. There’s a very prominent tent in those pants that I can’t ignore.
“Can I take these off?” I ask as I caress along the waistband.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his expression drawn tight as if he’s having to concentrate on something as he nods. I drag his pants down ever so slowly, my breath catching when I see there’s nothing else underneath, and his penis springs free. I’ve never seen an adult man fully naked before, and I think I stop breathing altogether when I sit back to take in Prince Friedrich in all his thick, veiny, slightly curved glory. Anatomy class did not prepare me for this. This thing between his legs, it’s…
“It’s so big,” I manage when my lungs start to work again.
He huffs a laugh. “I’d take that as a compliment, but I’m not sure what you’re comparing it to.”
“I guess I don’t have a frame of reference really, but this…” I cock my head to the side to see it from anotherangle. I know where it’s supposed to go, but how? I lift my hand but stop myself. “Can I touch you?”
He takes in a long breath. “Hell yes,” he says on the exhale.
I reach out with one finger, following a vein all the way down to the patch of neatly trimmed dark hair at the base. He hums as I do, and my whole body tingles with the need to make him react again.
I gaze up at him. From my sitting position on the edge of the bed, he towers over me. His hand goes to my face, his thumb stroking the arch of my cheek. The blue in his eyes is almost completely covered by wide, blown pupils.
“Show me.”
“Fuck,” he groans.
Taking my wrist in his hand, he guides my palm to the thick shaft and moves his hand over mine, pressing my fingers down to curl around him. My thumb and middle finger barely meet. The flesh is soft and warm, but underneath is hard as stone. His hand is still on top of mine as he guides me all the way to the tip of him and then back down again. He leads me through a few strokes, and I flick my gaze between his agonized face and the work I’m doing much lower.
“Just like that.” His voice is strained, and I see tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he drops his hold on me.
“Slow like this?” I ask, hating myself a little for being so unsure about something that seems so elementary.
“Fast. Slow. Whatever the fuck you want.”
The desperation in his voice makes me bold, and I start to move my hand again, a bit faster this time. Something like pride wells in me as he mutters out strings of profanity-laced praise.
Thick, clear liquid beads at the tip, and this new brazen part of me wants to know it too. I swipe my thumb through it. I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but I lift my thumb to my mouth and taste.
“Okay, that’s fucking enough,” Friedrich growls, lifting me under my arms and tossing me further back in the oversized bed. “These are done.” He pulls my borrowed pajama bottoms down by the ankles, sliding the back of my panties down a bit too.
Then he’s over me, holding his larger frame up on his forearms, our bodies still pressed together. The hair on his chest is beautiful friction on my exposed breasts. His kiss is wild and frantic, his tongue swirling with mine like he must consume all of me. I almost whimper when his mouth leaves mine, but then his lips are on my neck, my clavicle, briefly back on one breast and then the other. He’s taking his time with my body, and it’s both wonderful in how very good he makes me feel and infuriating in how badly I want him to get a move on.
As if reading my mind, Friedrich resumes his oral exploration. A shudder rolls through me as he reaches the tender skin below my belly button.
“Careful, I’m ticklish.”
“Is that so?” He shoots me a mischievous grin and wiggles his fingers at my sides.
“Oh, no! Please no!” I wiggle and squirm beneath him as he grabs my sides and gives a little squeeze, which just makes me squeal.
