Page 145 of The Thing About My Prince

“You can turn back over now,” I say. “If you want to.”

“Oh, I want to.”

And there she is, completely naked before me.

“Christ, I don’t want to ruin everything by popping my lid in my pants again because I’m so fucking desperate for you, but I swear to God, I could come from just looking at you.”

I pull off my sweater and T-shirt together and curve over her, sliding my hand up the silky soft skin of her outer thigh and dropping my mouth to her breast.

She dissolves under my touch, eyes closed, every muscle in her body relaxed, totally at home on my bed and totally trusting of my touch.

Her puckered nipple tightens further under my tongue, and she tenses for a second as she draws in a swift gasp of air. Giving her pleasure feels like it’s my life’s mission, what I was born to do.

When my hand reaches her arse, I slide it under and give her a hard squeeze. She arches away from the bed, thrusting her nipple harder into my mouth.

Each of her responses to my touch, even if it’s only the slightest quiver, spurs me on, wanting to give her more and more, make her soar past every high she thought she understood, show her just how far this can go.

Drawn by the scent of her, I kiss my way down her body, and when I reach that soft mound of dark hair, I can’t help but sigh in wonder.

“Good God, Lexi. I can’t believe I get to do this with you.”

“Please do it,” she breathes.

The second my tongue finds its way between her folds and brushes her clit, her fingers plow into my hair and the most beautiful groan heaves out of her.

The scrape of her nails on my scalp makes my balls tighten with need.

I want to make this woman come so fucking badly, want to know I am responsible for it, that she sees me as someone who can give her everything she’s ever wanted in life—fun, laughter, companionship, love, and rip-roaring orgasms.

She parts her thighs for me, and I maneuver between them, never allowing my tongue to lose contact with her delicious, sensitive nub. When I find her dripping entrance with my finger, she gasps and clutches the bedding.

Her reaction sends a flood of hot adrenaline through me, jacking all my senses up to maximum—the sound of her moans, the musky smell and taste of her, the warm slickness as I push my finger inside her, and the sight of her pleasure.

Gazing up at her closed eyes, her head rolling from side to side as her body writhes, I work her with my tongue and fingers until her breath quickens and her knuckles whiten and I’m sure she’s on the brink.

The second I move away to stand up, she bolts up on her elbows. “Where did you go?”

“I’m right here.” Desperate to remove my jeans, I fumble the belt, then the button.

“Let me.” Lexi perches on the edge of the bed.

She pushes my hands away and makes swift work of the undoing. The release of the zipper’s pressure on my desperate, throbbing dick sends me arcing over her. Hooking myboxers over my erection, she shoves down my jeans and underwear, my naked cock now level with her face.

“You are beautiful.” She strokes up the sides of my shaft.

“There’s no such thing as a beautiful dick,” I tell her.

“I thought that too. Until I saw yours.”

She cups my balls with one hand, grasps my shaft with the other, drops her mouth to the tip, and oh my fucking God, I think I’m going to die.

“Fuck, Lexi. I can’t. It’s too much.”

Ignoring me, she takes me in her mouth, and slides me into the warm wetness until I hit the back of her throat. Then she sucks.

A jolt of ecstasy fires through me, making the world vanish into a spiral of dark, swirling colors, like being dropped into a whirlpool that’s impossible to fight, a fate over which I have no control.

How the fuck am I supposed to survive this? How the fuck am I supposed to survive Lexi?