“When did you know that your husband was different?”
Rose’s voice was careful when she said, “Different?”
“Like, that things would be different with him. That he wasn’t like anyone else you’d ever wanted. That he was special.”
“Ah.” Rose sounded vaguely amused. “I see.” For a moment, she was quiet. But then she said, “I think the first sign was the fact that… I started asking questions like the one you’re asking now. First to myself, then my friends, my mother. He turned my mind towards the issue of forever. Of trust, of togetherness. No-one had made me think about things like that before. Not really.”
“Right.” Cherry nodded, as if Rose could see that. Then, remembering herself, she added, “That makes sense.” And it really did.
“Are you sure? Because I thought it sounded like utter rubbish.”
Cherry chuckled. “No, I liked it. And I got the point.”
“Oh, good. Now, tell me; what’s it like being a princess?”
“I’m not a princess, Rose.”
“You might as well be. Is it awfully glamorous? Tell me, or I’ll torture you with stories of your replacement.”
Cherry winced. “Is it bad?”
“It’s bloody awful. She doesn’t have the sense God gave a goat. Chris insisted we hire her; I don’t know what he was thinking.”
For the next half an hour, Rose regaled Cherry with tales of Rosewood Academy’s admin floor, and Cherry tried to come up with stories interesting enough to entertain her slightly high-maintenance friend.
And when they eventually hung up, Cherry headed to the bathroom and washed her face.
“It’s been a hell of a day. Get some rest.”
Ruben rolled his eyes. “Aye aye, Captain.” Then he tried to stay on his feet as Hans whacked him on the back with one brick-like hand.
“I mean it, Your Highness. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Which would be even worse, since they’d spend half the day travelling and the other half with Harald. Fan-fucking-tastic. Ruben’s already foul mood sank further into the murky depths as he waved Hans away and let himself into the house.
Then he remembered, all at once, who was waiting for him. And just like that, he felt himself smile.
He was headed upstairs when he saw the library door ajar, light spilling out like a golden trail. Ruben’s heart thudded against his rib cage as he stepped towards the little room, pushing the door open. All of the dark thoughts that had spent the day chasing him were destroyed, set aflame by those snatches of light. There was nothing left in him but hungry anticipation.
She was waiting for him. So he’d better make the wait worthwhile.
Cherry lay curled up on the love seat in the centre of the little, book-filled room they called the library, a paperback in her lap. Her hair was piled up on top of her head the way he liked it, and in the low lamplight, he could see the T-shirt whose soft, worn cotton he’d once pushed aside in the dark.
“Dolly Parton? Really?”
She looked up with a start, a little smile curving her lips. “You’re back.”
“And you’re not in bed.”
She put the book she was reading aside. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Right.” He moved closer, felt himself prowling the room like a predator but couldn’t stop. He could see the outline of her nipples, through that T-shirt, dark and thick, dragging his mind into dangerous places. Her legs were bare, and only her soft, blue underwear hid her pussy from his gaze.
It was very thin underwear. The kind he could rip right off her, if he really wanted to.
His cock went from interested to painfully hard in the space of a second.
She gazed up at him with eyes turned obsidian in the low light. “You look…”
“What?” He choked out. His voice was almost a growl, but he didn’t care. There was no hiding his feelings now, if he’d ever managed to.
Cherry shook her head. “It’s late. We should go upstairs.” She started to rise, but Ruben pressed a hand to her chest and pushed until she sank back down onto the love seat. He pushed off his suit jacket and dropped it onto the floor, rolling up his shirt sleeves. Then he sat down beside her and picked up the book she’d abandoned.
“Devil’s Embrace,” he read out. “Sounds… Actually, I’m really not sure how that sounds.”
Cherry grinned, snatching the book out of his hands and putting it down on the floor. “It’s a real bodice-ripper. Very dramatic. Very old-fashioned. I don’t know how I feel about it.”
“You found that in here?” He put her legs in his lap and she allowed it, relaxing into him. Forgetting to be self-conscious. Her toes were painted the same pink as her nails.
“I did. I think Agathe—“
“I really need you not to finish that sentence.”
She laughed. “Fair enough.” Then she shifted in his lap, and her laughter faded, her eyes widening slightly as her bare foot nudged the unmistakable swell of his erection. He tried not to moan at the contact, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from sliding shut or his hips from jerking towards her.
He was more on-edge that he’d thought. He needed her more than he’d thought. No surprise there.
But it was a surprise to feel her come to him. It was a surprise when she rose up onto her knees, when she put her hands on his shoulders and straddled his thighs. Ruben opened his eyes to find Cherry gazing at him as she settled into his lap, watching him with that dark, endless gaze.
He leaned forward and kissed her, quick and gentle. Just a taste of her sweetness, his tongue feathering along her lower lip until she moaned softly, rolling her hips.
He caught the hem of her T-shirt in his hand and whispered, “Let me see you. Please.”
She let her forehead rest against his for a moment. Then she straightened up and pulled the fabric away from his fingers.
She took it off on her own.
He didn’t look. He couldn’t. He kept his gaze on her face as she shifted against him, fiddling with something he couldn’t see. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to take off my underwear.”
Ruben slid his hands down the smooth plane of her back until it curved into her arse. She had dimples everywhere, it turned out. He grabbed her underwear in both hands and tore.
She gave a little yelp, then looked down. He wanted to look down too, but he thought he might die if he did.
“You know,” she said, “I think you have to tear both sides.”
He moved his hands around her hips until he came to the front of her body. Caught the fabric there. Tore.
“That better?” He rasped out.
She smiled. Then she reached between her legs and produced the remnants of her underwear, waving it around like a flag. “Very efficient.”
He slid his palm down over her mound, his middle finger easing between her swollen folds. All he could say was, “You’re wet.”
Her hand cupped his jaw, and he felt like he belonged. “I was waiting for you.”
“Good.” Ruben pushed his finger into her, revelled in the clench of her walls around him, stroked until the tightness eased and his skin was soaked in her desire. Then he slid out of her velvet cunt and rubbed his slick finger over her clit, massaging the stiff nub in a slow, easy circle.
She clutched his shoulders and moaned for him. Her hands floated to the buttons of his shirt. He let her undo the first, the second, before he captured her wrist in his spare hand and said, “No.” He stopped touching her clit.
“Why?” She demanded, frustration in her eyes.
“You’re not in charge, sweetheart. Remember that.”
With a little growl, she caught his face in her hands and kissed him. He allowed himself to enjoy her lush mouth, her hot, searching tongue for a few seconds before he pushed her away. Then he brought his palm down against her arse. Hard.
She bit her lip on a moan, grinding her pussy against his erection, through his clothes, and he spanked her again.<
br />
“You’re going to mess up my suit, love.”
“Fuck you.”
Another slap. Before she could react, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back, his grip just tight enough to stop her moving. “Don’t push me, Cherry.”
She laughed, the sound breathy and hoarse. “But that’s what I do. I push.”
His hands couldn’t stop roaming over the cool silk of her flesh, but they might as well still be in the dark, because he still hadn’t looked down. Her face was devastating enough, beautifully bare, her lust impossible to miss.
That animalistic voice in his head, the one that had come to life the moment he’d first set eyes on this woman, chanted in time with his ratcheting pulse: Take her. Now.
He’d wanted all of her. Now he could have it.
“Stand up,” he ordered, sounding as desperate as he felt. So much for fucking control. “Let me see you.”
Her tongue slid out to wet her lips, and he imagined the way her mouth would feel on his cock. He wanted that. Then she eased off his lap, and he released her hair, and she stood. And he couldn’t look away.
At the sight of her naked body, his mouth went dry and his mind went fucking blank.
Jesus Christ.
Fully clothed, Cherry was already a walking fantasy. Naked, she became something unimaginable. However hard he tried, Ruben could never have dreamt this up.
His eyes followed the curves of her body, from those wide hips to that soft, rounded belly, to the gentle sag of her heavy breasts with their thick, dark nipples. She was like a rose in full bloom, delicately decadent.
She trailed a hand down her stomach, towards the apex of her thighs. “You better have condoms.”
“I have fucking condoms.” He reached down to fist his cock through his clothes, squeezing hard until the pain of his own grip took the edge off of his savage desire. He wasn’t about to shove his dick in her like a fucking animal, but that’s what his balls were demanding.
All at once, he stood, intending to get the damn condoms from the suit jacket he’d discarded. But it turned out he was physically incapable of walking past her at that moment. When he tried, his feet refused to move, and his hands brought her to him. Ruben clung to his control as if it were a cliff’s edge, clung to her as if she were sanity. And he kissed her, and kissed her, and wondered how the hell he could want one woman more than anything in the world.
Chapter 24
Cherry arched into Ruben’s powerful body, the press of her nakedness against his clothes strangely erotic. His kiss was hard and unrefined, his hands roaming over her body as if he’d never felt it before, grabbing at her arse, her thighs, her belly, her breasts. As if he were hungry. As if he were desperate.
But slowly, gradually, something changed. Shifted. His kiss softened, his tongue sliding over her lips as if he were tasting her, savouring her. He slid a hand into her hair, angling her head back until the line of her throat was exposed. When he dragged his lips down that sensitive column until his mouth settled over her pulse, she felt his hot tongue as if it were between her legs.
Then he kissed lower, trailing over her chest. He pushed one of her breasts up towards his face and sucked the aching nipple into his mouth. She moaned, the sound ragged and uncontrolled, and he looked up at her with that infuriatingly sexy smile in place, completely at odds with the lust in his eyes. “I like it when you moan for me,” he growled. He caught her other nipple between finger and thumb, rolling the tight nub. “You like this, my love?”
“You know I do,” she panted.
“But I want to hear you say it. I need to hear you say it.” Before she could think about that too hard, he pulled her nipple into his mouth again, suckling her, each pull somehow tugging at her clit at well as her breast. Fuck.
His hand slid down her body, tracing the contours of her waist, her hips, as if he couldn’t stop touching her. As if he had to remind himself that she was still there, that she was real. The feather-light touch of his fingers felt like the sweetest torture, an electric charge ratcheting up with every second, skating across her nerve-endings.
Then, as suddenly as he’d started his erotic torture, he pulled away. Her eyes slid open to find him staring down at her, his jaw set, something dangerous in his dark gaze. “Come here,” he said, and the command in his voice sent a thrill through her. He settled a hand against the back of her neck, led her to face the love seat they’d just left.
“On your knees,” he ordered, his voice sharp as a whip.
She knelt on the plush, velvet cushions, her hands settling automatically on the love seat’s high back.
He stood behind her and reached between her thighs, his big hand cupping her, warm and intimate. Then he bent over her and whispered in her ear, “Spread your legs, love. As wide as you can. I want to see everything.”
Cherry shivered as his breath skated over the sensitive skin just below her earlobe, as his hand cupped her firmly, intimately. The touch was so casual and yet so complete, as if the space between her legs was his to use as he wished.
She had given him this. She’d given him control. And he knew how to use it.
“Good girl,” he said, his voice so deep, so rough, almost a growl. The only indication that he was losing it, just like she was. She liked the idea of them both unravelling together. If he felt the way she did right now…
She felt the slide of his shirt against her back as he sank to his knees behind her. Then the hand between her legs disappeared, leaving her oddly cold. A second later, she felt it again, pushing her forwards this time, so that her breasts pressed against the back of the love seat. And now, on her knees, her legs spread wide, her body arched like a bow, she was completely exposed.
She could feel her folds parting, her hot, wet entrance sensitive to the cool air. Her breath stuttered and her heart pounded as anticipation rose. Raw desire suffocated her like sultry heat on the hottest summer day.
His voice was hoarse when he said, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She swallowed. Tried not to strain towards the source of that sound—towards his mouth, the mouth that she already knew was capable of wonderful things.
Fuck, what she wouldn’t give for his tongue right now.
“So pretty,” he whispered. She could feel his breath against her pussy, and she was so desperate for him that the warm, barely-there air felt like a touch. Then he said, “I want to see your cunt stretched out around my cock.”
She moaned.
“And you do too,” he said. She could hear the smirk in his voice. His fingers, long and thick and rough, traced her folds, so light she barely felt it. “You’re so wet, you’re dripping. Did you know that, love?” He pressed a kiss to the small of her back, then another, lower, and another. Creating a burning trail down her spine. He spread her arse with both hands and kept going, his lips brushing along the sensitive cleft.
And then, all of a sudden, he disappeared.
Cherry couldn’t stop herself from growling out her protest, the sound mindless and raw. He laughed. “Don’t worry love. I’m coming back.”
She fucking hated him. Almost as much as she wanted him. If he didn’t fuck her soon, she’d hate him more.
But every moment of torture drove her higher, tightening the knot of desire at her core, increasing the need that coursed through her body.
When he came back, he’d changed his position, turned around. He must be sitting on the floor, because he slid his face between her thighs and she felt the soft brush of his hair against her clit, like a whisper, his breath against her entrance.
She almost screamed when his tongue slid over her folds, broad and hot and so fucking good. Her clit ached, but he didn’t touch it. Instead, he lapped at her entrance, growling low in the back of his throat. “I love the way you taste,” he murmured. “You’re always so wet for me, sweetheart. You’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.” He licked her again, then eased his fingers into her pussy, parting her swollen,
sensitive folds. And finally, finally, his tongue flicked at her clit.
Again and again he licked the tight little bud, his fingers fucking her harder as she opened up to him. Cherry threw her head back and dug her fingers into the love seat and rolled her hips against his tongue, riding his face, fucking herself back on his hand, unable to care about anything but the delicious sensations he created between her thighs.
He worked her swollen, fevered flesh until it became almost unbearable, her clit breathlessly sensitive, and her hips bucked away from the rapid, unyielding rhythm of his tongue. He wrapped an arm around her, pinned her to him, fucked her harder, licked her faster, until she shattered. Completely, utterly, helplessly.
Her cries rang out in the little room, almost loud enough to bring her to her senses—but not quite. Because he kept licking, kept stroking, and the pleasure swelled like waves crashing against the shore. By the time he let her go and eased back, Cherry was shattered.
She sighed and let her head fall forward as he slid out from between her thighs. Exhaustion and satiation created a heady cocktail.
But then she felt the cushions shift slightly as he covered her body with his own. She looked down to see him sink his foot into the love seat beside her knee, his powerful thigh, thick and dusted with dark hair, bracketing her body. His arm snaked over her torso like an iron band, holding her steady, his hand grabbing hold of her breast. His other hand came to rest beside hers on the back of the love seat. His lips pressed against her neck, his chest warmed her back, and his hard cock pressed against her entrance.
Fuck.
His voice rumbled low in her ear. “Put me inside you.”
She closed her eyes, biting down back the whimper those four words teased out of her.
Ruben kissed the sensitive spot beneath her earlobe, his tongue flicking out to tease her skin. Then he said, “I know how desperate you are to be fucked, love. I’ll give it to you. I know what you need. But I want you to put my cock inside your pretty cunt, to feel the way I stretch you wide. I want you to touch yourself, to touch me, and know how your pussy feels when it’s filled with my cock. So don’t make me tell you twice.”
The Princess Trap Page 17
