Page 42 of Prince Material (The Prince Pact #2)

How grateful I was for the anal play we’d done that had prepared me for this.

I couldn’t imagine taking this step without that.

The sensation of his fingers inside me, as good as it felt, was still a little odd, but nowhere near as much as it had been that first time.

I could thoroughly enjoy it now, getting out of my own head and instead, focusing on how amazing he made me feel.

He stretched me wide, making sure I was loose and ready. His patience was my undoing. “I love you,” I said, breathing it out in shuddery bursts. “Love you. Love you.”

He pushed a third finger in, and my body took it, shaking and desperate, aching for more. He hit that spot inside me that made me wild, made me crazy for all of him. I clutched his back, pulled him into me. “I want you. Please, I want you so bad.”

He stroked my face, his other hand leaving my hole to line himself up. I was wound up, waiting, every nerve sparking, my skin on fire.

“You sure you’re ready?”

“Please, Floris.” I could hear the want in my voice, so I was pretty sure he could too.

Then he was pushing inside. It was a sweet, glorious pain, burning bright and making me gasp.

He didn’t move, didn’t push, just held still and waited until the hurt faded, his eyes on me, gentle and steady.

When it didn’t hurt anymore, when the stretch of him was perfect, he moved.

It felt so right and real and good that I couldn’t believe we hadn’t done it sooner.

He filled me up like he was meant for me, built for me, his cock sliding deeper with each thrust, stretching me more and making me dizzy.

I clung to him, my hands on his shoulders, my legs wrapped around him. Our eyes held as he set a slow, sensual rhythm that sent sparks through my entire body. Delicious tendrils of pleasure spread out, burning me until everything was on fire.

This wasn’t a fuck. It was more, so much more. This was making love.

His thrusts were tender and measured, never pulling too far out, never more than I could take.

But I wanted all of it, and I wanted it fast. I wanted to lose myself so completely that I didn’t know where I ended and he began.

He gave and gave, and I still wanted more, needed him to fill me until I couldn’t see straight, until it was too much for anyone else to take.

He groaned and my whole body seemed to rumble with it. Floris worked his hips, each thrust sending me higher, tighter, more breathless. He picked up the pace, driving into me with powerful, relentless strokes, and I couldn’t get enough.

I clawed his back, my fingers like live wires, all of me like live wires. The wet slide of him built and built until I couldn’t stand it anymore, until it was a wildness in me.

“I love you,” I cried, and I did, with everything I had, with everything he gave me. It was overwhelming, and I wanted it that way.

“Gonna come, Orson.” His breath was ragged, his voice shaking. “You feel too fucking good.”

I reached the stars. Saw them burst behind my eyelids as I tumbled over, came harder than I ever had, gasping his name, everything exploding white-hot and dizzy.

His thrusts were messy and offbeat as he chased after me, panting my name, groaning with his last thrust. “I love you.”

He buried himself as deep as I could take him and came hard, grinding into me, his whole body spasming. He collapsed on top of me and I locked my legs around him, every part of us tangled up and breathless.

We stayed like that for a long time, letting the world slowly come back into focus, everything new and different.

I didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to untangle myself from him.

I wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped up in his warmth, his smell, his everything.

He was still inside me, softening slowly, and I clenched around him to feel that perfect fullness a little longer .

Floris lifted his head from where it rested on my shoulder and looked at me, his green eyes hazy and sated. “You okay?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice yet. More than okay. I felt like I’d been remade, every part of me buzzing and alive in a way I’d never known before.

He brushed his lips over mine, feather-light. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” I managed. “It was intense. But good intense.”

He propped himself up on his elbows to look at me, his eyes bright, his hair tousled and damp at the edges. “You were amazing. It felt so good being inside you like that.”

I flushed at his words, at the intimacy and honesty of them. Being vulnerable had never been easy for me, but with him, it came naturally. “It felt right. Like we were always meant to fit together this way.” I brushed my fingers through his hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He shifted, pulling out of me gently and rolling onto his side. The loss of him made me ache in a strange, hollow way. But then he gathered me close, tangling our legs together under the blankets. “That was perfect. You’re perfect.”

I snorted. “I don’t know about that.”

“Hmm, let’s talk about my performance, then. Did I wholly satisfy you? Ten out of ten, would do it again?”

I laughed breathlessly. “Twelve out of ten, gold star, highly recommend. Though I might need you to keep proving yourself, just to be sure.”

“Mmm, I think I can manage that.” He leaned in and kissed me, soft and lingering. “Anything for my loyal subject.”

“Oh, is that what I am now?” I teased. “And here I thought I was the chosen consort.”

“Why not both?” He pulled me into his arms, nuzzling into my neck. “My subject, my consort, my everything.”

I really liked the sound of that.