Royal Games (Dating Games Book 5)

by T. K. Leigh

  “Are you wet for me, love?” he murmurs. When he nibbles on my earlobe, a shudder rolls through me.

  I’ve fantasized about Anderson’s bedroom voice. How could I not when his accent as he speaks of normal things causes goosebumps to dot my flesh? But right now, his voice dripping of sin goads me to drop every single one of my inhibitions and be free. With him.

  His hand glides from my ass, a slow journey before it lands on my thigh, squeezing harshly enough for me to know there will be marks there tomorrow.

  “If I move my fingers slightly and rub against your knickers, what will I find? Will they be soaked for me?”

  Locking my eyes on his, I summon all the confidence that’s been missing from my life lately. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

  “You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

  Clutching his face, I pull him toward me, but he resists. “You have no idea how naughty I can be.”

  “Not yet. But I plan to find out.”

  His mouth captures mine, his tongue swirling and tempting me. It’s not enough. No matter how deeply he kisses me, how breathless he makes me, how much pleasure he fills me with, it’s not enough.

  Sensing my appetite growing with each passing second, he drifts his hand from my thigh and up toward my panties. The closer he gets, the more ragged my breathing, the more desperation threatens to unravel me.

  When his thumb ghosts against my center, I can’t stop the moan from escaping my throat. Anderson sucks in a breath, his eyes darkening at the slight contact. He shifts my panties aside, exposing me to him in this alley where anyone can interrupt us. But neither of us seem to care. We’re in our bubble again. It’s just us, finally succumbing to the desire we’ve been skirting around all week.

  “Jesus, Nora,” he rumbles, his fingers deftly exploring and teasing. “You’re so fucking wet.”

  I tighten my grip on his nape, circling against him, trying to extinguish the fire he lit. If this is how I react to a tease of his fingers, I can’t imagine what would happen if he pushed one inside me. Hell, if he pushed himself inside. The mere thought causes another jolt of desire to pool between my legs.

  “I need more,” I pant, thrusting against him.

  “More?”

  “Yes.”

  He crashes his lips against mine as he slips a finger inside. I mewl, quaking under his expert touch. I’m in another place, another time, another dimension. This seems too good to be true. It feels too good to be true.

  “God, you’re so tight, love. So warm. So damn perfect.”

  I lose myself in his words, in his scent, in his everything, climbing higher and higher. The euphoria washing over me is unlike any I’ve experienced. It’s a rush, the high more addictive than the most potent drug.

  “I can’t wait to have my cock buried deep inside you, watching as you come all over me harder and more violently than you ever have.”

  “Anderson,” I moan, my breathing growing more uneven. My thrusts become more desperate and unhinged, my greed threatening to swallow both of us. I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing only on that peak growing closer and more vibrant the faster and harder Anderson thrusts his fingers inside me.

  “Come on, gorgeous. Let go. I want to see how beautiful you are when you come. When I make you come. Let me have it.”

  He touches his thumb against my clit and, like a hair trigger, detonates the desire that’s been locked inside for too long. I start to cry out, but Anderson clamps his mouth over mine, swallowing my screams of ecstasy as waves of bliss wash over me, each one more abrasive and earth-shattering than the former. I clench and tumble, constrict and uncoil, my body quivering and tingling as my skin dances with the heat of a thousand tiny fires.

  I reach for his belt and pull at it, desperate to unbuckle it, but he stops me, removing his fingers from me and stepping back. At first, I’m bewildered, wondering if I’d imagined what just happened, if he regrets what just happened. Then a sly smile lights up his darkened expression and he kisses me.

  “Not here,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Not with the things I want to do to you.” He rests his forehead on mine as he fights to catch his breath. “I hadn’t exactly planned to finger fuck you in this alley. I seem to struggle sticking to my plans around you. Nevertheless, you deserve better than a dirty alley with beer cans and used condoms around. Truthfully, you deserve better than a tiny motel room, too, but I need you, Nora. I can’t wait any longer. I can’t deprive myself any longer. Say I can have you.”

  I dig my fingers into his hair, forcing his lips back to mine. “I’m all yours.”

  A fluttery sensation erupts in my stomach as I stare at the queen bed in our room. We practically ran the few blocks from the bar, hands clutched, silence riddled with anticipation stretching between us. A twinge of guilt fills me for not having any second thoughts about this. A week ago, I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of sleeping with a man on this trip, thinking I had to devote my entire journey to Hunter and his memory.

  But this trip isn’t for Hunter. It’s for me. It took Anderson to make me realize that.

  A warmth approaches from behind. I close my eyes as Anderson pushes my hair off my nape, smoothing it to one side. When he feathers soft kisses along my shoulder blade, my nerve endings stir, arousing me even more.

  Splaying his hand on my stomach, he draws me into him, circling his hips. “Do you feel what you do to me, love?”

  “Yes,” I moan, a tidal wave of lust careening over me as his lips continue their torturous journey, settling on that spot where my neck meets my shoulders.

  “I love the way you feel.” He yanks me harder into him. “Love the way you smell.” He inhales a deep breath, shuddering on the exhale. “But mostly, I fucking love the way you taste.”

  He wraps my hair around his fist and, in one quick motion, jerks my head to the side, clamping his teeth on my strained and exposed neck. My shocked yelp turns into a moan, the pain mixed with pleasure electrifying me.

  I’ve never been with someone who exuded this much dominance in the bedroom. Hunter and I were so young when we were together that we never fully explored our sexuality. And sex with Jeremy was only moderately satisfying when we were drunk.

  But Anderson…

  His touch intoxicates me.

  His sensual tone seduces me.

  And his body tempts me to crave everything I’ve denied myself for too long.

  “Harder,” I plead, unsure if I can handle any more, but dammit, I want to find out.

  He tears away and spins me around, glowering at me with dangerous eyes. “Is that how you want it?”

  I swallow hard, but nod vehemently. “I want to feel everything you can give me. I want to feel alive.” I bring my lips to him. “You make me feel alive. Give me all of you.”

  He deepens the kiss, steering me the few steps toward the bed. Once the back of my legs hit the mattress, he pulls away. Stepping back, he crosses his arms in front of his chest, an air of absolute superiority and control about him.

  “Strip.”

  Fuck.

  My heart rate spikes, making me lightheaded. But I do as he orders, tugging on the tie keeping my halter dress in place. With unhurried movements, I allow the fabric to slide down my body, leaving me in a strapless bra and panties. Anderson’s eyes flame, and I want to pinch myself. I still struggle to believe that I’m here, that I’m about to sleep with a prince. An actual, real-life prince. But like I told him earlier, I don’t see a title when I look at him. I just see Anderson.

  The room throbs with sexual craving as I reach behind me and unclasp my bra. When it joins my dress on the floor, Anderson’s jaw clenches, his hands forming tight fists. I’d love nothing more than to strip us of our clothes and feel him sink deep inside me. But for all the want flickering in his wild eyes, I can tell he’s enjoying the show. I am, too, the way he hungers for me boosting my confidence even more.

  Hooking my fingers into my panties, I push them down and kic
k them off. Emboldened, I turn from him and crawl onto the bed. Lying on my back, I prop my legs up, exposing myself to him. Then I leisurely run my hand along my collarbone, over a breast, and down my stomach, not looking away from Anderson’s gaze as I lower it past my waist.

  “Come have me,” I demand as I toy with myself.

  That’s all the invitation he needs. He reaches me in one long stride, his body settling over mine, his mouth covering mine. His kiss is untamed, yet controlled. Bruising, yet comforting. Harsh, yet humane.

  “You have the heart of a saint.” His breathing is labored as he pulls away, slinking down my frame. He takes a nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting and tongue caressing at the same time. I grip the sheets below me, writhing and jerking. “But your body…” He leans back, running a hand from my throat, between my breasts, pausing before reaching my center. “You have the body of a sinner.”

  I hold my breath as he inches closer to my apex, the seconds stretching. It doesn’t matter it’s been less than ten minutes since he last touched me. I need him again, my addiction to this man unmatched.

  He hovers over me, his lips skimming mine. “And baby, I really want to sin with you.” He cups my sex, plunging two fingers inside, stretching and stimulating my already sensitive flesh. But it does nothing to persuade my body to back down. It only makes me crave him with more intensity, more fervor, more thirst.

  He snakes down my torso, kissing and sucking every inch, every freckle, every slight imperfection. When he settles between my legs, he removes his fingers, placing his hands on my thighs and spreading them. I prop myself up on my elbows, our eyes connecting through the lust-filled haze.

  Slowly, he brings his mouth to me. When he makes contact, I fall back onto the mattress, the ache returning with more determination and vengeance.

  “So good,” I groan as I move in time with his ministrations. Reaching down, I run my fingers in his hair, my nails digging into his scalp. “So fucking good.”

  “You taste incredible, love,” he comments, slipping a finger back into me, his tongue never straying too far, the combination of his warmth on me and fingers inside pushing me higher. “I could feast on you for hours and never get my fill.”

  “That can be arranged,” I exhale breathily, my mind in a daze, my body a slave to the sensation.

  He increases his motions, determined to make me come again. But I don’t want to. Not like this.

  “Anderson,” I moan.

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “I need you inside me. Now.”

  “My fingers are inside you.”

  I vehemently shake my head, then sit up, scooting away so he has no choice but to stop. My body shivering and tightening with the promise of an orgasm, I kneel on the bed, tugging his belt. This time, he doesn’t prevent me from unbuckling it. He keeps his razor-sharp stare on me, jaw ticking and chest heaving.

  Once his pants are unzipped, I shove them, along with his briefs, down his legs, relishing in the tight muscles of his ass and thighs. Kicking off his flip-flops, he steps out of his khakis, but doesn’t make a move to remove his shirt, allowing me the pleasure. And when I unfasten each button and push it down his arms, I see that the pleasure is most certainly mine.

  When I saw him without a shirt on earlier, I was too rattled and on edge to fully admire it, but my god, it is truly a sight to behold. Vast shoulders give way to the rigid lines of his chest, his stomach toned and firm. And this time, I run my hands along every hard pane, soaking in every inch of him. I pause my perusal when I reach his waist, confirming what I’d pictured earlier.

  “Touch me,” he whispers huskily.

  Our shoulders rise and fall in time with each other as I trail my hand down the grooves of his stomach and wrap my fingers around his girth. A hiss escapes as he tilts his head back, ecstasy covering the lines of his face. Then he shifts his eyes forward, nostrils flaring, muscles clenching.

  Grabbing my wrist, he forces me to loosen my hold. With deft motions, he grips my waist and tosses me onto the mattress, my body springing with the impact. He strides to his suitcase, rummaging through it and grabbing a condom. Like a beast untamed, he crawls on top of me like I’m his captured prey on the brink of being devoured. Using his teeth, he tears open the packet, then flings the wrapper aside, rolling on the condom.

  When he lifts his erection up to me, I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him toward me. Neither one of us makes a sound as he slowly pushes inside, filling me until I can no longer take any more of him. He stills, remaining at the point of absolute fullness before retreating and inching back in once more.

  I rock with his rhythm, unhurried at first, wanting to remember every miraculous sensation, every caress, every flutter, every quiver. He buries his head in the crook of my neck, his beard bruising yet invigorating.

  “I always knew you’d feel good. I never thought you’d feel this incredible.”

  “I really know how to butter your crumpets, don’t I?” I breathe, recalling the conversation he’d overheard between myself and Chloe our first night as travel companions.

  He stills, staring down at me. Then we both erupt in laughter, the sound echoing in our tiny room. “This may be the first time I’ve ever laughed during sex.” A shadow crosses his expression, as if he flipped the switch from playful and flirtatious Anderson to dark and dangerous Anderson. “Get on your hands and knees.”

  A thrill washes over me like an avalanche. As if I weren’t already soaked with my desire for him, another surge of moisture pools between my thighs.

  He pulls out and helps me flip over. I spread my legs, putting my weight onto my elbows before glancing over my shoulder. Anderson runs a hand down my spine as he brings himself up to me.

  “Any reason you wanted a change of position?”

  “In my experience, it’s easier to make you come like this.”

  “Is that right?”

  He chews his lower lip and nods. Teasing me with his erection, he inches inside once more. “That’s right. And based on how wet you are, I give it maybe another minute. Max.”

  “A little confident of your abilities, aren’t you?”

  “Not confident. I can just read your body, Nora. Your flushed complexion.” He leans over me, running his hands down my arms and intertwining our fingers. “Your uneven breathing.” His tongue traces a circle along my neck, his own breathing ragged. He releases his hold on my hands, one hand going to my hip, holding me in place as he increases his pace. I throw my head back, moaning at the pleasure twisting within me, begging for release. “How you squirm with every touch.” He brings his free hand to my center, rubbing my clit as he slams into me with a fury and intensity I hadn’t expected.

  “Fuck!” I scream as I bury my head in the pillow, clutching onto the sheets.

  His motions are relentless, each drive inside and pinch outside pummeling me closer to the edge until I have no choice but to give him what he wants. I cry out his name, unleashing all the pent-up yearnings I’ve locked away for years, too scared to repeat the past to give them life. But I don’t care about that anymore. I want to feel again. I need to feel Anderson again. And again. And again.

  “So good,” he pants, his voice strained and tense. “So. Fucking. Good,” he emphasizes, each word accompanied by another thrust, each one deeper and more punishing than the previous. “I love how your pussy clenches around me. Love how you feel around me. Love how you mold to me.”

  He removes his finger from my clit, gripping my hips tightly with both hands. He stops his motions as he covers my body with his, taking my earlobe between his teeth.

  “This is going to be hard and fast. Is that okay?”

  My mind reels. Harder and faster than he’s already fucked me? I didn’t think it was possible.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  My heart warms at his words, but I don’t have long to bask in his affection before he straightens. He briefly pulls out of me, spreading my juices aroun
d once more. Anticipation swirls in me, my pulse skyrocketing, every hair standing on end.

  When he thrusts back inside, he’s merciless, fingers digging into my hips, each thrust impaling me to the point where I’m convinced I’m on the precipice of breaking in half. I pant. I moan. I scream. But at the same time, I indulge. I crave. I ignite, until he stills with a strangled cry, jerking and lashing through his release.

  He drops his hold on me, both of us collapsing onto the bed. I can only imagine what the people in the next room must be thinking right now.

  “My word, that was a good show,” he jokes in a forced, proper British tone after several moments of our heavy breathing.

  It’s silent at first, then laughter cuts through. I roll onto my side, playfully pinching Anderson. He swats my hand away, a smile lighting up his eyes as he lies facing me. Sated, he runs a lithe finger up and down my body, the gesture at odds with the way he just fucked me.

  “Do you regret it?” he asks after a beat, worry evident in his expression. I can’t blame him for wondering.

  “Not even a little bit. I needed this.” I touch my lips to his. “Needed you.”

  He kisses me deeper, breathing into me. “And I needed you. More than I realized,” he adds as an afterthought. “Now, get some sleep. I plan to wake you up multiple times throughout the night to do that again.”

  He throws the sheet over our bodies and pulls me into his embrace, kissing the top of my head. I inhale a comforting breath, content to finally be in this place with Anderson.

  “You won’t hear any complaints out of me.”

  “Good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Anderson

  Six Years Ago

  I stared at the white wall, blinking repeatedly, everything seeming like it was happening in slow motion. The stench of cleaning supplies and stale coffee permeated this place of death and sorrow. I tried to react, my brain telling me to respond to the man in green scrubs standing in front of me. But I couldn’t. That would make this real. It would give credence to what he’d just told me.