by T. K. Leigh
He covers my mouth with his as a bomb detonates inside me, swallowing my cry, waves and waves of my orgasm washing over me. But that doesn’t make him stop or pull away. He only kisses me harder, taking everything I have to offer, giving me everything he has in return.
As my body and mind come back to earth, our kiss transitions from one of desperation and hunger to one of affection and respect. It’s slow, but still makes me feel all the things this man brings out in me.
My tremors waning, he lowers my other leg, maintaining his hold on me until I have my balance.
“That’s why I asked you to not wear any panties.”
“So this was all part of your plan?”
“More or less.” He shrugs. “I wanted to recreate what I consider our first date, but give you the Prince Gabriel version. That first night in Tucumcari might not have been a date in the traditional sense, but I think that was where we truly began. Where we both decided to take a risk on each other. While I can’t take you out to a dive bar here, then fingerfuck you in an alley, I’d like to think I’ve given you a taste of what that kind of date with Prince Gabriel would be like.”
“I suppose…,” I draw out.
“You suppose?”
“You seem to have forgotten one rather important part of that ‘first date’.”
“What’s that?”
“That after you fingerfucked me in the alley, you all but bolted with me back to the hotel room so you could fuck me for real.” I give him a coy smile. “If we’re recreating that first date, but the Prince Gabriel version, you can’t neglect that. Otherwise, how am I to judge which version of you I like better?”
His pupils dilate, jaw clenching. “Is that what you want, Nora? To be fucked by a prince?”
A shiver rolls through me, a new wave of moisture pooling between my legs. I swallow hard, chest heaving as he leers at me with a look that drives me wild with need.
“I…”
“Tell me you do.” He leans his forearm against the wall behind me and brushes his lips against mine. “Tell me you want to be fucked by a prince.”
Holy shit.
This may be the hottest thing we’ve done in a while. Even hotter than the quickie fuck the morning of our engagement announcement when he screwed me still dressed in his suit, the one he wore in all the photos that day. But this… This game is infinitely better.
Doing my best to keep my voice steady, I look at him with an unwavering gaze. “I want to be fucked by a prince.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nora
Neither one of us moves as my plea hangs in the air. God, the anticipation will be the death of me. Worse, Anderson knows it, yet is still torturing me to the point that I’m pretty sure this could be considered cruel and unusual punishment.
Yes, he’s already given me a mind-erasing orgasm, but I need more. Need him in all the ways I can have him.
As a prince.
As Anderson.
As both at the same time.
At the end of the day, he’s all these things and more. My beautiful, mysterious, duplicitous prince.
Finally, Anderson slowly curves his lips into a devious grin. “I bet you do, my little vixen.”
Grabbing my wrist, he yanks me down the hallway, his steps quick, stride purposeful. When he reaches the last door, he opens it and flicks on the switch, the low light illuminating a large room, a king-sized bed in the middle. It’s not nearly as extravagant as the one I’ve been sleeping in the past several weeks. This one is more simple, modern, blacks and whites accented with hints of lilac and plum. It’s reminiscent of Anderson’s beachfront condo in Santa Monica. A peek at the man beneath the crown.
He kicks the door closed. I face him, the space between us crackling with tension. Stare resolute, he stalks toward me, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it to the floor. My mouth goes dry at the way his muscles stretch the fabric of his black t-shirt. I haven’t seen him in anything other than a suit and tie since we arrived here. It only makes my hunger for him increase.
“Turn around,” he orders.
Too desperate to disagree, I obey, spinning to face the bed. My heart pounds as I wait to feel his hands on me, my skin tingling with anticipation. But I don’t feel anything right away. Or even several moments later.
When I don’t think I can wait another second, his breath caresses my nape. I sigh, my body becoming momentarily lax as he presses soft kisses along my shoulders.
“God, I love your skin. So smooth. So creamy. So bloody perfect.”
He rests a hand on my stomach, pulling me against him, his front to my back. I whimper when he circles his hips, his erection prominent.
“I could bend you over the bed right like this and fuck you. Would you like that?”
I lean my head back against his shoulder, moaning as his hand brushes my nipple. When I don’t immediately answer, he squeezes. I yelp, a shockwave of electricity rushing through me.
“Tell me, Nora.”
“Y-yes.”
His grip on me tightens, his arousal pressing harder against me.
“And, god, what I wouldn’t give to do just that.” He wraps my hair around his fist, forcing my head to the side, leaving my neck completely exposed.
It’s official. This may be the hottest experience of my life. And I don’t give a fuck who I’m with. Prince Gabriel. Anderson. It doesn’t matter. I love all the parts that make up this man. I want all the parts that make up this man. The good and the bad.
When his teeth skim against my neck, I cry out.
“But I’m not.” He abruptly pulls away, leaving me wanting. I should be used to this by now. It’s a typical Anderson move. But damn if it doesn’t frustrate me to no end. Which is precisely why he keeps doing it.
I whirl around, panting. “Not what?”
“Going to fuck you.”
He’s so nonchalant about it, as if talking about the weather.
He slides off his shoes, then untucks his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.
It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen this man naked. I still marvel at his physique. He’s lost a little muscle tone over the past year, but he still has an incredible form. Broad shoulders, sculpted chest, that chiseled V around his abdomen.
“But I just told you I wanted to be fucked by a prince,” I protest.
“You also asked me to make love to you.” He unbuckles his belt and slides it out of the loops.
My attention is drawn to the tufts of hair just above his waist. It’s like I haven’t spent the past year becoming acquainted with every part of his body. Like it’s our first time all over again.
“So what’s it going to be, Nora?”
I chew on my lower lip, considering my options. Why does it have to be one or the other? Why should I limit myself to only one? He can fuck me and make love to me at the same time. Just like my heart can love Prince Gabriel and Anderson North.
Sauntering up to him, I brush my lips against his. “I’ve finally realized I can have both.” I pull back, my eyes locking with his. “I can love both.”
A hint of relief flashes across his expression, the meaning in my words not lost on him.
“Just because you only see one side of me doesn’t mean the other doesn’t love and admire you.”
I cup his cheek. “I know. I understand that now.”
He loops his arm around my waist, erasing the last bit of space separating us. “You’ve possessed the most important part of me all along.” He takes my hand and brings it to his chest, covering his tattoo of a compass. “My heart, Nora. You own it. Regardless of whether I’m putting on a show as Prince Gabriel or revealing my innermost secrets to a complete stranger I met on Route 66 as Anderson North…”
I blow out a tearful laugh at the memory.
“My heart will always belong to you.”
His mouth meets mine in a searing kiss. It’s not the affectionate-filled kiss like when we first arrived here. But it’s not the lust-f
illed kiss from mere minutes ago, either. It’s a combination of both. Ravenous, yet ardent. Greedy, yet satisfied. Eager, yet content.
He grips my hip and steers me toward the bed. When the back of my legs hit the mattress, we stop, but he doesn’t retreat. Instead, he finds the zipper on my dress and lowers it with ease. I help him push the sleeves down my arms, allowing the material to fall over my hips and pool at my feet.
He gradually brings our kiss to an end, his eyes flaming as they take in my black lace bra. I doubt this is on the approved list of royal attire.
“Sit on the edge of the mattress,” he says in a low voice.
I nod, doing as he asks.
He drops to his knees and takes one heel-clad foot in his hand. He plants kisses from my knee down to my ankle before unfastening the strap, sliding off my shoe. I don’t know how he does it, but he makes this mundane act extremely erotic, my pulse increasing when he gives my other leg the same treatment.
Not looking away, he stands, pushing down his pants and briefs before kicking them off.
“Like what you see?” He flashes me a flirtatious smirk.
“You know I do.”
I grab his hand, yanking him on top of me as we both collapse onto the mattress. When I wrap my legs around his waist and feel skin against skin, I whimper.
“I need you,” I murmur. “Need to feel you.”
Using the element of surprise, I manage to flip him over, straddling him. As I straighten and unclasp my bra, tossing it to the side, his eyes go even darker. His chest heaves through his unsteady breathing. With slow motions, he takes a breast in each hand, kneading. I arch into him, closing my eyes as I relish in the sensation.
From the moment I met him nearly a year ago, I knew there was something different about him. After I lost Hunter, I didn’t think I’d ever find love again. Didn’t think I wanted to find love again. How could I love another man when my heart belonged to a ghost?
Then Anderson walked into my life. In a matter of days, he managed to break down the walls I’d built around my heart. Crept his way under the mask I’d erected after a lifetime of being made to feel inferior. He did something I didn’t think another man would be able to.
Made me feel beautiful.
He still makes me feel beautiful.
Fingers burrowing into my hair, he coaxes my mouth toward him. But I fight against it, remaining just out of reach as I circle against him.
“You know you’re driving me crazy, right?” he growls, digging his fingers into my scalp.
I waggle my brows. “I can feel that.”
He brings both hands to my hips. Before I can react, he swiftly flips me onto my back and slams his mouth against mine. Resting his weight on one forearm, he reaches between our bodies and brings his arousal up to my center.
But like the tease he is, he doesn’t push into me. Instead, he tortures me by getting so close before retreating. I’m about to take matters into my own hands when he finally inches inside me.
Euphoria washes over me and I moan, momentarily sated at the connection of our two bodies. The connection we’ve both been deprived of for too long now.
“Look at me,” he demands when he’s barely inside me, teasing me with this small taste.
I do as he asks, focusing my eyes on his. He keeps his stare trained on me as he pushes deeper, slowly torturing me with his languid motions until he’s fully seated.
He doesn’t move for a protracted moment, neither one of us so much as breathing.
Then he exhales, his body going slack before he pulls back and thrusts into me again.
“Goddamn,” he grunts, pupils dilating.
I wrap my legs around him, my fingers digging through his hair. He withdraws once more before driving inside. This time, he continues thrusting. It’s not hard and punishing, but not gentle and tame, either. It’s both Anderson and Prince Gabriel in this one amazing connection.
I’ve known the truth of who Anderson is almost from the beginning. He didn’t trick me into sleeping with him and then reveal his true identity. Before I invited him into my bed, I knew he was a prince.
But this is the first time it feels like I’m sleeping with all of him. That he’s finally allowing me to have all of him. To have not just the person he wishes he could be, but also the person he wishes he didn’t have to be.
“I love you,” I say as I cup his face in my hands, holding him tightly. “All of you.”
He briefly closes his eyes as he moves faster, yet still reverently. “And I love you, Nora,” he chokes out. “So goddamn much.”
His lips press against mine, and I succumb to him. Not just his kiss, but everything about him. All his faults. His regrets. His fears. His imperfections. They’re all pieces of him, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
Not anymore.
With each thrust, my body is propelled higher and higher. A wave of desire slices through me as I fight against that familiar sensation. But it’s more pronounced than before. More intense. More…everything.
My breathing grows more uneven as I struggle to make sense of the myriad of emotions rolling through me. I want to fall apart, but don’t want to without Anderson.
As if sensing my inner war, Anderson pulls out of our kiss and cups my face in his hands. “Wait for me,” he begs, increasing his rhythm.
“Always.” I tighten my legs around him, that familiar tingling starting low in my core.
His pants fill the room, his increasingly frantic thrusts pushing me closer and closer to the point of oblivion. When I dig my nails into his spine, he reels back, roaring like an untamed beast as his orgasm sneaks up on him. He collapses on top of me, his teeth clamping onto my neck as he keeps thrusting, the pain mixed with pleasure setting me off yet again.
Lights flashing before my eyes, I fall apart with my prince, wave after wave of bliss washing over me and erasing every last doubt I’ve ever had.
Our heavy breathing fills the room as we attempt to come down, neither of us wanting to move, to put any space between us. There’s been too big of a distance between us lately. I don’t want to go back to that.
When he manages to lift his head, he peers at me with reverence, at odds with the carnal lust that blanketed his expression mere minutes ago.
“I wish I could promise you that I won’t fuck up again. But chances are I will. And probably worse than I did this week. Despite popular opinion that the royal family pisses rainbows and shits unicorns, we’re not perfect. Far from it.”
I laugh slightly, averting my gaze, but he pinches my chin, drawing my eyes back to his.
“Better yet, we don’t have to be perfect. And neither do you. You can tell me when shit just really bloody sucks and you miss home. I may not be able to whisk you away on the next flight to JFK, but I can at least do something to try to fix it, even if the best I can do is recreate an outdoor movie in Bryant Park, or have a pastrami and rye from Katz flown in.”
I shoot up, pushing him off me, mouth agape. “You can do that?”
“What? Recreate an outdoor movie? Of course. I—”
“No.” I quickly shake my head. “Have Katz flown in. Do you have any idea how badly I’ve been craving some pastrami and matzo ball soup? And pickles. Lots and lots of pickles.”
He laughs as he pulls me into his arms. “And here I thought pregnancy cravings didn’t start until the second trimester. At least that’s what the book I’ve been reading says.”
My brows furrow. “You’ve been reading a pregnancy book?”
“I figured it was the least I could do, considering we’ve barely been able to see each other lately. Thought if I read a bit on what happens every week, at least I’d have some frame of reference.” His expression falls. “I should have started in the chapter about dealing with pregnancy loss.” He cups my cheek, his hold resolute. “If I had known how difficult that first appointment could be, especially after what you went through, I never would have missed it. I knew it was important. You told me as much. I sho
uld have fought harder for you. For your needs. From now on, that’s exactly what I plan on doing. Okay?”
I part my lips, about to argue that he had a legitimate excuse, but he won’t hear it, erasing my protest with a kiss.
“Okay?” he repeats.
With a small smile, I nod. “Okay.”
“Good.”
He pulls me against him again as I process this new piece of information. Try to picture Anderson in his office, a stack of pregnancy books piled beside whatever important things are on his agenda for the day.
“What is it?” he asks, his voice borderline accusatory.
“What do you mean?”
“I can hear you thinking.”
“I didn’t know thinking made a sound.”
He runs a finger along my back, the gesture comforting. “Not for most people, but I can hear your brain.” He places a kiss on my head. “Tell me. No more secrets.”
I tilt my head back to look into his eyes. “I’m just trying to picture you reading a pregnancy book. I have to admit, it’s not easy, especially when the only things I’ve seen you read are the newspaper and books on World War II.”
“It was actually quite interesting.”
I shift toward him and prop my head in my hand. “Oh yeah? What kinds of things did you pick up on?”
He pinches his lips together for a beat, peering into the distance in contemplation. I can’t help but admire the strong lines of his face, the proud nose, square jaw, not to mention full mouth that brings me more pleasure than should be legal.
“Babies drink a lot of pee.”
I grimace. “Ummm… Okay.”
“Not once they’re born, but when they’re developing. Amniotic fluid is pretty much all pee. I found that interesting. I was actually wondering about that.”
“I’m glad to know the heir to the throne stays up at night wondering about baby’s pee while in utero.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a pretty complicated guy.”
“You’ve got that right.” I run my hand through his hair and muss it up. “What else did you learn?”
