Page 41 of Prince Material (The Prince Pact #2)

ORSON

Snow whirled past the windows like it was running from something. It kept coming and coming, piling up so high that Floris figured it would reach the second story by morning.

At least it gave us a good excuse to hole up into our room.

True to their promise, campus police had kept the press off campus.

Well, for the most part anyway. Apparently, some paparazzi had still managed to get some shots of us, walking back after dinner.

We’d both been bundled up against the cold, holding hands with gloves on, so it hadn’t exactly been the most flattering shot, but whatever.

Nathan and Tim were still next door to us in a dorm room, following us wherever we went.

I’d grown used to having Nathan shadow me.

He had a dry sense of humor and knew when to cheer me up with a good joke.

Also, he was gay, which had been a big shock.

And even more shocking: he and Tim were together.

Floris had joked they probably hoped this detail would last a long time because it gave them a chance to be together.

But we probably wouldn’t need them for much longer, since everything had quieted down .

Because of the storm, classes were canceled today, so we were staying inside. I was on my back, my neck propped on the edge of my bed and my fluid mechanics book open on my stomach.

“We’re trapped,” Floris declared with his usual flair for drama after getting up once more to check on the snow levels outside. “Snowed in… with only one bed.”

I snorted. “Do we need to go over kindergarten math again? Because I’m pretty sure we have two beds in here.”

He gave me a dismissive wave. “Work with me here. Only one bed sounds much more romantic. Especially when you’re stuck with the actual Prince Charming.”

“Prince Charming? I had no idea. I didn’t sign up for that…”

“It’s in the small print. You should always read the small print.”

“Does this Prince Charming come with a money-back guarantee if I’m not fully satisfied?”

He put his hands on his hips. “Are you saying you’re not fully satisfied?”

I pretended to think about it, so he mimicked an arrow to the heart.

“Maybe you should try again,” I suggested. “So I can do a thorough evaluation of your skills and my satisfaction with said skills.”

He was still laughing when he all but jumped on top of me. My book slid to the floor as he kissed me slow and long, grinning when he finally pulled back. My insides knotted up. How was this real? How did I have this amazing man, an actual prince, in my room, in my bed?

His hair fell over his forehead, and I brushed it away so I could see his face, the impossible green of his eyes, that princely gleam in them. “How was that?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer.

“Not bad. Though maybe I need a longer sample to judge more adequately.”

“I aim to please.” He moved back in again, his lips on my neck, my cheek, my mouth again, soft and hard and everything between. “And the good news is that this Prince Charming comes with a lifetime warranty.”

I snickered as he kissed me again, but then his tongue slipped into my mouth and my laugh became a moan.

It wasn’t long before I forgot about finals and the storm, before all I could focus on was the warmth of him pressed into me and how perfectly we fit, like a hand finding a glove it never wanted to take off.

I slid my hands up his back and pulled him into me, his kiss deepening, our bodies locked tight.

His lips tasted like forever, and I was greedy for more, for everything.

We’d been in a sex haze for weeks, going as far as hands and mouths would take us, but he wanted all of me and I was finally ready.

The whole thing was building up in my chest, wanting to spill out between kisses.

When I couldn’t hold it back anymore, I pulled my face away just enough to breathe, just enough to tell him, “I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes went wide with delight. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m ready for it. I want all of you.”

He took my hand, squeezed it in his, then pressed it to his chest like he was making a vow. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

I laughed, nervous and not. “It might be overwhelming for me.”

“You say that like it’s a problem.”

“It means I won’t be able to do much for you,” I warned .

“I’ll probably come as soon as I’m inside you.” He laughed back and sealed it with a kiss that took all the worry and the nerves away.

He sat up, his thighs on either side of me. “We should get the mood right. Nothing says romance like fluorescent lights and the hammering sounds of the ancient heating system.”

Before I could even respond, he rolled off me and reached for his phone. He connected it to the Bluetooth speaker he had, then put on some mellow jazz. The overhead light came off and instead, he turned on the little bedside lamp. “There.” He nodded, satisfied. “Much better.”

Him going through that trouble made me all soft and gooey inside.

He got on top of me and kissed me again.

His tongue was gentle and deep, and his breath made the blood rush to my skin, to my head, everywhere.

We both knew what was coming and neither of us wanted to rush it, so we took our time.

Every kiss lasted a hundred years. Every time he pulled away, we smiled like idiots until the pull got too strong and we had to find each other again.

We were pressed together so close, my heart beating fast enough to know it was love and nothing less.

I let myself go soft in his arms. The tension, the anticipation, it all dissolved with every slow kiss.

He put his hand on my chest, moving it under the edge of my hoodie and then slowly up to my throat, pulling the fabric with him.

I shivered at the thrill of it and sat up enough to let him tug it off.

He moved lower, kissing down my neck and across my shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around him, dug my fingers in his shirt and felt the warmth of his skin through it.

We were a mess of limbs and hands and mouths, all of it perfect and easy.

We broke apart just enough for him to pull my T-shirt off, my skin flushed against the cool air.

He didn’t let the cold get far. His lips and his hands found all of me, kept me warm and burning for him.

He kissed a trail across my chest, my stomach, everything between, each kiss getting my blood moving hotter, my pulse racing faster.

He dragged his mouth back up to mine, took it sweet and deep before moving down my arms. Every kiss made me crazy.

My brain was melting into bliss and he hadn’t even gotten to the hard part yet. I wanted him. I wanted everything.

“Floris…” His name was on my lips, in my heart all the time now, like an incantation, almost.

He pulled his own shirt off, the flex and pull of his muscles making my head spin.

His tattoo wrapped around his arm, the colors stark against his skin, and I loved that I was one of the few people who got to see them.

I loved that I got to see all of him. He tossed the shirt aside, then went for his pants, shucking them off before taking me back in his arms.

It was the kind of touch you dream about.

The kind you can’t believe is happening, like waking up to fireworks and Christmas morning.

He moved over me, his skin sliding against mine, his hands gripping my sides, his weight pushing me into the mattress.

He kissed me like he needed me, like I was air and water and the only thing in the world.

I couldn’t be shy anymore. I reached down and tugged at my waistband, pulled my sweats off while he watched, those green eyes glued to me like I was a present he never expected, never wanted to stop unwrapping.

His hands traced my hip bones and moved lower, taking a hold of my cock and pumping it slow and steady.

I groaned and gripped his back, explored his arms, his shoulders, loving the way his biceps felt under my fingers, loving the way all of him felt.

I appreciated the curves of him, the lines of his ribs, the smooth heat of his stomach.

The round of his ass. He groaned into my mouth when I cupped it, kissing me with a hunger that sent my brain reeling.

I was rock hard, so turned on, I could hardly see straight. He ran his thumb across my tip and wiped the wetness up my cock, stroking harder, making me want to burst. “Are you sure you’re ready?” His voice was all smoke and honey, music still playing low in the background.

“Yes,” I panted. “Please, Floris.”

His touch slowed down. “It might hurt at first,” he said, moving his hand lower, teasing me until my head spun. “I don’t want you to?—”

“I want it.”

He took a bottle of lube from the shelf above the bed. I knew what was coming and I wanted it, all of it, more than anything.

“You tell me if it’s too much, okay?” He drizzled some on his fingers, then slicked his cock. No condom was needed. We’d both gotten tested again and everything had come back negative, as expected, so we were good to go.

“I will.” My voice came out a little shaky, but there was nothing to be scared of. Not with him.

“I love you,” he said, and I could hear how much he meant it, how deep the words came from.

Then his fingers were there, working my hole, gently pressing in until one slipped inside.

I gasped, feeling tight and open all at once, loving the feel of him.

He stayed like that until I adjusted, then worked it in and out until I was wordlessly begging for more.

Another finger joined, my muscles stretching and clenching, relaxing around him, wanting him deeper.