The Princess Trap

by Talia Hibbert

  “Good girl,” he whispered, releasing her neck. His tongue laved the bite mark he’d left, feeling the slight indents in her skin. He didn’t think it would bruise, but some dark, possessive part of him hoped it might. He pulled his fingers from her pussy and she whined, rolling her hips. “Shhh,” he murmured. “I’ll look after you. Remember?”

  “Yes,” she whispered into the dark. His heart swelled almost as much as his cock. God, he wanted to see her. He wanted to see her so badly.

  “Let me turn the light on, Cherry.”

  “No,” she said, her tone slightly panicked. “No. I’ll… Not yet. Please—”

  “Okay. It’s okay.” He kissed her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth, until she grew silent and still and the air between them calmed again. “Don’t worry. What’s your safe word?”

  “Milkshake,” she said immediately.

  “Good. Remember to use it. For anything. I mean that. Anything at all.”

  “Right,” she whispered. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry. “

  “Okay.” Her hand came up to feather across his jaw, and just that touch brought him to the edge of desperation. Touching her was one thing. But having her touch him? The fact that she wanted him? That she wanted him enough to give him everything, including the control she held so tight to her chest? He could come right now.

  Then she reached down and grabbed his hand, dragged it up to her lips, and sucked his fingers into her mouth. And Ruben almost did come.

  Her hot tongue slid across his skin, licking him clean, licking her own fucking juices. Christ, her mouth, her lips, so full and lush and soft, and the pull of each firm suck, almost savage…. He hadn’t meant to, not tonight, but Ruben had to pull his cock out of his pyjamas and squeeze, hard, right at the base. She released his fingers with a pop and he said, his voice a ghost, “Good girl. Fuck, good girl.”

  “Oral fetish, hm?”

  Ruben laughed, but the sound was rough and broken. “Oral fetish as in, if I get my mouth on your cunt right now, I’ll come.”

  “You mean—”

  “I mean I’ll come. Immediately. You’re too fucking perfect. Shit, come here.” He rolled on top of her, and she widened her legs almost automatically, her body flowering for him. Because she wanted him. This woman wanted him. Her T-shirt had ridden up, so the soft skin of her belly pressed against his naked dick, and Ruben hissed through his teeth. He thrust against her, smearing his pre-cum over her skin, and she fisted a hand in his hair and kissed him.

  He would never be the same.

  Chapter 20

  Cherry hadn’t meant to kiss him. She hadn’t meant to do any of this, but his filthy words were straight out of every fantasy she’d ever had, and the way he touched her—dominant yet caring, desperate and demanding and so fucking hungry—took her close to the edge. So she’d kissed him. And she was glad she had.

  His mouth slanted over hers, harsh and commanding, rough as ever. He thrust his tongue between her lips, only to glide it gently along her own as if performing an introduction. If they hadn’t been in darkness already, he’d have stolen her sight; he surrounded her, his powerful legs bracketing hers, their foreheads touching lightly. He rested his weight on his forearms, so close she could feel the brush of his skin against her cheekbones.

  One of his hands moved to her throat, his thumb and forefinger bracketing her jaw, forcing her head back. Enough to cage, to control, to suggest that he could hurt her. To prove he never would. He pressed his advantage, enjoyed the vulnerability of her position, owning her mouth with his tongue. And all the while his hips pumped against her, the searing hardness of his cock pressing into her belly.

  His pre-come eased the glide against her skin, smearing her with stickiness, filthy and decadent. She let her hands roam over the ridges and valleys of his muscular back, the skin hot, the flesh beneath it taut. Then she went lower, dipping beneath the waist of his pyjama bottoms, finding the rounded, powerful globes of his arse and squeezing.

  He dragged his mouth away from her lips. “Behave,” he said, his voice so fucking deep and heavy she felt it right between her legs. Felt her pulse between her legs. Felt everything between her legs.

  “Yes, Sir,” she teased.

  He rewarded her by biting her lower lip, giving her the slightest, sweetest pain to sharpen all this hazy, heavy lust. “Good girl.” The words sent sparks of heat showering through her pussy, and she felt elated, fucking high, because she’d known. All along, she’d known that this was what she wanted, what she’d eventually find. And she’d known it would be him. She’d known he’d give it to her.

  He kissed her again, lighter now, little raindrop touches of his lips against hers, like breadcrumbs showing her the way. The way to desperation.

  “Understand this,” he said. Kiss. “You are mine.” Kiss. “I know what you need.” Kiss. “And right now, you need to spread your legs like a good little girl and let me do all the work.”

  “Yes,” she whimpered, arching into him, straining against the hardness of his powerful body. “Please.”

  She felt him smile against her lips. It was the kind of filthy smile she’d seen on his face a thousand times, the kind that had made her desperate for him in the first place.

  “Tell me, Cherry. I know you’re wet—but how wet?” He trailed his lips across her cheeks, her jaw, whispering as he went. “Is it worse, now? Is it dripping down your thighs? Making a mess for me? Getting ready for me to use you?” He reached between their bodies, and she thought she’d pass out if he touched her. But he didn’t; he just tugged her underwear back into place, over her aching pussy. When she whimpered, he laughed darkly. “I’m sorry, baby. But I don’t have any condoms, so we need to keep those on. Next time, I’ll fuck you. Would you like that?”

  “Yes,” she blurted out. “Please.”

  Suddenly, his weight disappeared, and she thought for one terrible moment that he was going to stop. But then his voice broke through the darkness again. “You’ve been such a fucking brat tonight, I should just leave you like this.”

  He wouldn’t. Would he? She didn’t know. Maybe. Her mind was frantic, desperate, but she kept her mouth shut.

  Finally he said, “I won’t, though. I couldn’t leave my baby like this.” His fingers traced the swell of her pussy through her underwear, the only point of contact between them, and she shivered. “Fuck it,” he grunted, and then his hands, big and brisk, pulled the cotton off of her hips. He dragged the underwear down her thighs, down her calves, pulled it from her feet. She didn’t know what he did with it. She didn’t care.

  Then the mattress shifted as he settled between her thighs, and when he spoke again she felt his warm breath against her bare pussy. Fuck.

  “The first time I saw you,” he said, “making grown men sweat with nothing but a smile, all I could think was… What would I have to do for you to take all of that power and hand it over to me? And ask me nicely to keep it for you. To look after it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re so sweet, Cherry. I bet every man you ever fucked was shit-scared of you.”

  “Just a little bit,” she admitted, her voice hoarse. “That’s how I like my men.” Lie.

  “Good thing I’m not one of your men.” He ran his tongue over the inside of her thigh, right at the sensitive crease just before it swelled into her mound, and she almost screamed. “You’re my woman. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she gasped, arching blindly towards him. She needed more of that fucking tongue, and she didn’t care what she had to do to get it. “Please.”

  “Are you begging me, baby?”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” He licked her again, on the other side, his wide tongue straying onto the outer edge of her pussy lips. “Beg. Tell me how much you want it.”

  She wanted to refuse, to tell him to fuck off. But her clit was aching so fucking badly, and she was so fucking desperate, and it was all because of him.

  Di
d he really know her body that well? Could he really bring her to this point with nothing more than his hands and that filthy fucking mouth?

  Apparently, yes, he could. So what else could he do?

  She thought of what he’d said before. If I put my mouth on your cunt, I’ll come. Could she do that to him?

  She wanted to. And she knew he’d meant it. She knew he wanted her that much, and nothing had ever made her feel more powerful, more lustful, in her life. So she fucking begged.

  “Please, Ruben. I need…” This was why she couldn’t let him turn the lights on. She wanted this, and she knew it, but even in the dark her cheeks burned and her words stuttered.

  But he was there, his voice firm, his dominance cutting through her hazy thoughts and leading her straight to truth. To her truth. “You need to come on my tongue.”

  “Yes. I need you to make me come.”

  “Good girl. Was that so fucking hard?”

  “Oh, fuck off.” She didn’t know if the words had escaped or if she’d set them free. One second she wanted to push, the next her veins were alight with lust-edged fear, her breath trapped in her lungs as she awaited his reaction. Would he deny her? Would he change his mind?

  He sank his teeth into the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, and she yelped. Then he pushed two fingers into her cunt, spreading them wide, stretching her. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he growled, “or I’ll put my cock in you. Understand?”

  She ignored the flare of arousal, the twisted desire to test him. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Good.” The rough slide of his fingers inside her disappeared. She almost whimpered at the sudden emptiness.

  Then he slid his hands under her arse, squeezing as he pushed her hips up, forcing her pussy closer to his face. She grabbed at the sheets, her fingers twisting the fabric in anticipation. His breath turned cool as he blew against her entrance, and she realised how wet she was. Ridiculously wet. Embarrassingly wet. But all she felt was desperate need.

  And then he kissed her.

  His lips were soft but firm, parting her folds with the same delicacy he’d use to kiss her mouth. His tongue snaked out to probe her entrance, lapping at her juices, and his fingers tightened around the globes of her arse. He groaned low in his throat, the sound raw and guttural. Then his lips left her and his tongue grew firmer, tracing a path of fire up the seam of her pussy until it reached her clit.

  He used the very tip of his tongue, stiff and firm and wet, to circle her swollen nub. She almost screamed. Round and round he went, until she jerked her hips in a desperate attempt to ride his face. It didn’t work. He pulled away completely and bit her thigh, a warning. She tried to stay still. Gritted her teeth. Pinched her own nipples, trying to feed the lustful hunger inside her.

  Apparently satisfied that she’d behave, he returned to her pussy. And finally, blessedly, his tongue pressed against her clit, rolling the needy flesh back and forth, just the way she needed it. Cherry sighed and spread her legs wider to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.

  He laughed, soft puffs of air hot against the wetness of her pussy. “You like that, love?”

  “Don’t stop.”

  “Demanding, aren’t you?” But he licked her again, and again, and then his finger eased inside her. It was thick and long and deliciously rough, but a single finger after the way he’d stretched her out felt like a tease and he knew it. That fucker. She was ready to scream until he turned his hand, palm up, and curled the pad of his finger against the upper wall of her pussy.

  He stroked that soft place inside her, the place that sent electricity sparking through her veins and white-hot fire up her spine, and all the while his tongue rolled at her clit. Then he sealed his lips around the swollen nub and sucked, so, so gently, his finger stroking her with firm confidence.

  She came. She came harder than she’d thought was possible, her body fracturing and falling apart and coming back together again, molten and liquid. She came so hard that breathing felt unnecessary, and if she’d had any sight in the darkness she probably would’ve lost it for a second. She came so hard that everything around her fell away until she just a body, floating on breeze of satisfaction.

  She didn’t realise that Ruben had moved until she felt him kiss her cheek. His lips were soft, but his stubbled jaw was sticky and he smelled deliciously filthy. He smelled like her. Fuck.

  “You okay, baby?”

  “Mmhm.” Apparently, she couldn’t speak.

  He laughed softly. “Good.” His fingers trailed over her lips, as if he were learning their shape. He kissed her again, on her forehead this time. “You tired?”

  “Mmhm.” If he’d stop talking, she’d already be asleep.

  “Okay. I should go.”

  That gave her pause. “Why?” She demanded.

  He caught one of her hands in his and dragged it down to his waist. Pressed it against the front of his pyjamas. The soft fabric was marred by a pretty significant wet spot.

  “Oh.”

  “I did tell you,” he murmured, his voice tinged with humour.

  “Yeah,” she chuckled, trying not to sound smug. “You did. Hey, where’s my knickers?”

  His voice, which had been playful as usual, became iron-hard again. “They’re mine now. Okay?”

  And even though her whole body felt worn-out, a spark of arousal flickered within her at his tone. “Okay.”

  He kissed her again, and then she felt the mattress shift as he got up. But she didn’t hear her bedroom door open and shut behind him. Instead, she pressed her face into the pillow as the bathroom light came on. Just a flash of brightness before he closed the door on it, plunging her into darkness again. There was the sound of running water, another flash of light, and then he sank back into bed beside her.

  She tried to remember why this was a bad idea, and failed.

  He gathered her up in his arms and his scent enveloped her, clean linen and spice with the sharp edge of arousal and sweat. She’d done that. She kissed him, and it felt like comfort.

  “Go to sleep, Cherry.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she mumbled.

  He laughed. She felt the vibrations in his chest. She slept.

  Chapter 21

  Ruben always woke up early, but he had the feeling that he’d slept later than usual.

  The sun fought its way through the gaps between Cherry’s curtains, bathing the room in gentle light. The first thing he felt was the warm weight of her leg, slung over him as if it belonged there. It certainly felt like it did. His hand was resting on her hip, and he realised with a jolt that his fingers were intertwined with hers.

  He’d never heard of people holding hands in their sleep. He liked it, though. The panic that usually clogged his throat at the thought of this kind of thing—this kind of casual intimacy—was nowhere to be found. Maybe Hans was right. Maybe he was in love with her.

  But he had this idea of falling in love that involved… earthquakes and fanfare and, frankly, disaster. This all felt very… normal. As if he’d been waiting his whole life to feel like this. To want someone like this. Shouldn’t love be tragic and fraught and all that shit? He wasn’t sure.

  Ruben looked at Cherry’s head, her hair all wrapped up in a pretty silk scarf. It was slightly wonky. He had a feeling that was his fault. Then he pulled back just a little bit, to see her face. He really fucking wanted to see her face.

  She looked the same as always: beautiful. Unusually beautiful. The kind of beauty that people noticed, that they stopped to look at, that they made fools of themselves over. Her face was relaxed in sleep, her full lips pouting slightly and her plump cheeks soft. But her skin was different.

  Her usually flawless complexion was interrupted by little marks, slightly darker than the rest of her skin. Like freckles, but bigger, softer, less frequent, scattered apart. Scars?

  He traced a thumb over a few of the marks, like a constellation across her cheekbone. Her skin felt like silk. He liked it; lik
ed touching her without the makeup she usually wore, the velvety powder or whatever the fuck it was.

  He wanted her to nudge her awake. He wanted to see her face when she came. But he should let her sleep.

  Of course, as soon as he thought that, she woke up.

  She let out a few soft sighs, fidgeting slightly, her lashes fluttering. He felt her hand tighten around his, and then her eyes opened all at once and she said, “Fuck.”

  Which didn’t sound good.

  “What?” He said.

  “You’re still here.”

  “Of course I’m still here.” He felt the soft, satisfied feeling in his chest drain away. “Did you want me to leave?”

  She frowned. “No. But…” Her eyes skittered away from his, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was blushing.

  He captured her cheek in the palm of her hand, pushed gently until she looked up at him. “What?” He asked softly. He didn’t know what to expect. Maybe karma had come knocking on his door, and she was about to give him a speech about how this wasn’t serious and she wasn’t ready for a relationship. But then, he hadn’t asked for a relationship, exactly. Yet.

  Plus, they were kind of in a relationship. They were engaged, for God’s sake.

  It occurred to him that he hadn’t given her a ring. He wanted suddenly, urgently, to give her one. Specifically, the one sitting in his room, in a drawer, beside an old photo album of his parents.

  He was in love with her. He was in love with her. Fuck.

  What the fuck was she going to say?

  Cherry bit her lip and whispered, as if they weren’t alone: “What if Agathe comes over?”

  Ruben blinked. “Well… She comes over every day. To make breakfast.”

  “Exactly! So she’ll notice that we’re in the same room!

  “Why would she notice that?”

  “You think she doesn’t watch you like a hawk?”

  He was trying not to laugh. Cherry looked genuinely worried. He didn’t think she’d be pleased if he laughed. “Okay,” he said slowly. “But why would she care?”