Page 113 of I'm sorry, Princess

He looks like sin incarnate.

Like the Greek god every woman would willingly worship without a second thought, without fear, without hesitation.

His smirk deepens.

“Come and take me then.” His voice is dark, full of wicked promise, as he pulls himself away from me and strides into the living room.

I follow, my breath unsteady, my body burning with anticipation, but the second I see him, sprawled out on the sofa, legs parted, completely freaking naked, I stop dead in my tracks.

For fuck’s sake.

I should have remembered.

I should have remembered just how big he is.

The first time we fucked, it was pure adrenaline, fast, rough, reckless. I barely had time to process the size of him before he was inside me, stretching me, filling me in a way no one else ever could.

But now?

Now I’m looking at him, at the thick length of him, at the prominent veins running along his cock, at the way he strokes himself lazily while watching me with that infuriating smirk, and I’m questioning every single life choice that led me here.

Freaking hell.

I swallow hard, my thighs clenching together as I slowly step toward him, my body already aching with need.

I climb onto his lap, straddling him, and the moment my wetness presses against the hard length of him, a sharp moan escapes my lips.

Gosh.

The friction.

I could come just like this, just from rubbing myself against him.

His hands move to my hips, gripping me with possessive force, guiding me against him, teasing me, making me feel every inch of him without giving me what I need.

I roll my hips, desperate, and his cock slides against my clit, hard, thick, teasing, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.

My head falls back, my chest rising and falling too fast, and when I glance to the side, I catch the reflection of our tangled bodies in the glass wall.

The view outside is breathtaking, tall trees, endless forest, a day full of possibilities.

But the view inside?

The sight of me, naked in his lap, his cock pressed against me, my body rocking against him, the way his large hands explore every inch of my skin?

It’s intoxicating.

When I turn back to him, his eyes are already on me, dark, heavy, predatory.

He reaches up, cupping my breasts slowly, reverently, his rough thumbs teasing my hardened nipples.

I whimper, arching into his touch, and his lips curl into a satisfied smirk.

“So fucking sensitive, aren’t you, beautiful?”

His mouth finds my neck, hot, wet kisses trailing down my throat, his teeth scraping against my pulse as he kneads my breasts, squeezing just right, just enough to make me whimper.

I feel embarrassingly wet, my arousal coating his cock, making every slow, teasing movement of my hips against him even more torturous.