“On the contrary, Your Highness, I am feeling very fuckin’ powerful right now. Get on your knees.”
I smile and slowly lower to my knees, no question, no argument. Nothing. The weightless feeling is new and thrilling, and most of all, it feels cathartic.
“All fours.”
“Are you going to spank my arse again?” I rest some weight on my palms and look up at him.
“Crawl to me.”
My coolness wavers for a split second, but hopefully not long enough for him to notice. He is simply trying to get a rise out of me. He wants the princess to object, to tell him she is better than crawling to a man on demand. Maybe she is. Yet she has an overwhelming craving to give Josh Jameson exactly what he wants, and he wants the princess to crawl to him. So I do. Slowly. Relishing in the sight of something growing beyond the fly of his jeans, and in the satisfaction on his face.
“Does this turn you on, sir?” I purr, steadily placing one palm in front of the other, leisurely making my way to him.
“You have no fuckin’ idea.” He crouches as I approach and takes my chin, holding me in place firmly as he pushes his lips to mine. “You are one sexy fuckin’ woman, Adeline Lockhart.”
I smile around his lips, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “I was beginning to think you were immune to my spell.”
He laughs a little, breaking the contact of our mouths, and he stares so deeply into my eyes, I’m sure he sees right through my false bravado. “I wish I was immune to your spell, ’cause I have a feeling you’re gonna curse me for life, woman.” One more hard kiss before he grabs me and hauls me up, directing my thighs around his waist. I grip him tightly and smash my mouth to his, feeling power surge into me. I’ve got him. Hook, line, and sinker, I’ve got him.
But then he tosses me on my bed, and before I can gather my bearings, he’s flipped me onto my front and trapped me on the mattress with his hard physique. “Remember this?” he asks, dropping something to the pillow beside my head. The pink handkerchief he gagged me with yesterday is in my line of sight, laughing at me.
“Fuck,” I exhale, feeling Josh’s hands move to my wrists and take a secure hold.
“Say that again.” He bites my earlobe, and I buck beneath him. “Say it.”
“Fuck,” I yell.
He stuffs the handkerchief into my mouth and flips me over, getting his face up close to mine. “Pink hanky has a friend.” Josh pulls his belt from his jeans and wraps it around his fist. “I’m thinking helpless will suit you well.”
I shake my head and Josh nods his, taking the black leather to my wrists and expertly wrapping it around before using the buckle to secure the ends. I jiggle my arms out of instinct. He did that far too swiftly and coolly to be a first time. I am his toy for tonight and tonight only. He’s had plenty more before me, of course he has, and there will plenty more to come.
“Now,” he muses, skating his gleaming blues down my naked form. “What am I going to do with you?” Reaching for my nipple, he tweaks it viciously, making me jerk under his harsh touch on a muffled yelp. He cocks his head, enjoying the fact that I am at his mercy. And, Lord, give me strength, so am I. My body is singing with need, every inch of my skin flaming under the power of his stare. “I think I’ll fuck you.” He walks his fingers across my stomach, down to the narrow strip of hair marking my entrance. I stiffen, working to breathe through my nose as best I can. “With my fingers first.” Brushing over my pulsing lips, he toys with me teasingly, and I whimper my despair, closing my eyes in search of some strength to carry me through. “And then with my cock.”
I groan, tossing my head from side to side as he plunges a finger inside of me. Everything in me constricts, gripping him harshly. I am so turned on. More turned on than I have ever been, my heart thumping with want, my body blazing with need. I have never felt so utterly consumed by a man, and I am certain it is doing me no favors in the long-term. Though the long-term is hard to think about in this moment, when I am being lavished and worshipped by this American god.
My useless wrists wriggle within the leather bounds, burning my flesh, the licks of pain delicious on my skin. Suddenly, my jaw is grabbed, and my eyes fly open, finding his face close as he slowly, so painfully slowly, pulls his finger free from inside me. Staring at me with too much satisfaction, he re-enters me with force, pushing me up the bed. I cry out, the sound muffled. Oh God, my blood is on fire as it races through my veins with only one end point possible. I can’t scream, can’t grab him. Josh’s constant smirk tells me he likes that. I try to close my legs to stem the intense beat in my clit and get nowhere, his knee forcing them apart again, his eyebrow hitching in warning. “What is it, Your Highness?” he whispers, low and smooth, doing nothing to cool down the burn in my body. “Feeling helpless?” Releasing my jaw, he pulls free of my dripping channel and grabs both of my wrists, yanking them up to the bedframe. I moan, unsure if it’s in protest or excitement, when he unbuckles the belt and refastens it around one of the gold posts, leaving my arms restrained above my head. Oh, the irony. A royal princess sleeps in this bed, the most famous princess in the world.
And now she is tied to it.
Helpless.
But loving it.
Sitting up, Josh straddles my stomach, placing his palms over my aching, heavy breasts. I breathe in as he molds, squeezes, and pinches my nipples, before lowering his mouth and licking across one of the bullets, sending a sharp flash of pleasure straight down between my thighs. My eyes roll, my face trying to hide in the crook of my extended arm. Jesus, his tongue, his mouth . . . his potency. He makes a feast of me, dividing his attention between my boobs equally, playing and fondling, licking and biting. I am out of my mind with want, moaning with every flash of pain, every part of me vibrating. “That good?” he asks, sucking my flesh into his mouth and rolling his tongue. My groans are broken, and then I jolt upward when he sinks his teeth in, clamping down hard and pulling until my nipple pops free. Fuck! I curse like a sailor in my head but breathe through the stab of pain. His laughing eyes both anger and delight me. “Time for me to get naked,” he declares, taking the hem of his T-shirt. “You ready?” I don’t know. Am I ready? Josh pulls the black material over his head, and the sight of his cut torso blurs my vision, every perfect bit of it calling for me to caress it, kiss it, lick it.
No. No, I definitely am not ready. He stands on the bed, his legs straddling my hips, and pops the button of his fly. I swallow on a hard gulp, my eyes crossing. I get a glimpse of some hair, short and neatly trimmed. No underwear? More swallows. Then he drags his jeans down, revealing inch after perfect inch of his assets. I sigh, relaxing a little, totally overcome by his long, smooth hardness. Every woman on the planet has seen this man’s body, but how many have seen his impressive manhood? Kicking his jeans off, he takes his position, straddling my waist again, and takes a firm, possessive hold of his dick at the root. My mouth is watering behind the stupid pink hanky gagging me, my hands struggling in the restraints of his belt. And when he starts to massage himself, breathing in deeply, I lose my mind completely, no longer in awe of him, but hating him for being so bloody cruel. I close my eyes, refusing to indulge in the sight.
“Open your eyes, Princess,” he orders through low pants. I shake my head, pleading silently for him to stop with the torture. “Open.” A nipple is squished savagely, and I buck hopelessly, barely moving him an inch, his solid body restraining me as effectively as his belt. My eyes spring open, wide and wild, falling straight to his fist pumping his erection. I whimper pathetically, but I can’t move my gaze, watching as beads of his pleasure gather at the tip and his fist increases in pace. His stomach, solid and chiseled, tenses and relaxes, causing a ripple effect up his torso. This is hell and heaven. His spare hand lands on my breast as he works himself, squeezing, his jaw tightening. He’s on his way to climax, his body rolling, his gaze glazed. I couldn’t close my eyes if I wanted to, the sight of him pleasuring himself now holding me rapt. His head drops back, his th
roat pulled taut, and he starts to mumble a jumble of incoherent words to the ceiling. Then on a yell, he moves forward on his knees, releasing his cock, and rests it between my boobs, clamping it between them by pushing my swollen mounds of flesh together. He starts to thrust his hips, both of us looking down at his cock sliding back and forth between by breasts. His quiet curse signifies his ending, followed by the flow of white liquid that shoots from the tip of his pulsing dick, spurting up my neck, some landing on my chin and around my mouth. My tongue fights behind the cloth in my mouth, desperate to taste him. But it’s trapped, so I’m forced to settle for the vision of Josh Jameson, the object of millions of women’s fantasies, sweating and heaving his way through his release as he straddles me. This is the best belated birthday present ever, despite a lack of release for me. This. This sight. This feeling.
“Wow,” he breathes, his cheeks blowing out. Releasing himself, he shuffles down a little and drops to his forearms, suspending himself above me, his face close to mine. His smile is otherworldly. Pulling the hanky from my mouth, he uses it to wipe me up before tossing it aside and resting his mouth on mine, not kissing or licking or biting. Just touching. “I feel honored.”
“Why?” I ask, thinking it is me who is the lucky one here, which is a claim I never thought I’d make, given the lack of my own orgasm.
“I just came all over the Princess of England. How many men can claim that?”
“None,” I answer truthfully, clearly delighting him. “Except you. That must please you.”
Beaming at me, he pushes his lips to mine. “It did, but not nearly as much as watching you come apart.”
“Are you finally going to fuck me?”
Josh laughs a little, like he’s privy to something that might shove my brashness clean away. “In time, Princess.” He reaches for my bedside table drawer.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a little panicked. “That drawer is private.”
He ignores me and pulls it opens, revealing the contents. “Well, what have we here?” He reaches in and pulls out my vibrator, and I close my eyes, not embarrassed, but more nervous. Especially when I hear the buzz kick in.
“That is mine,” I say as firmly as I can, with no hope that he will listen to me.
“How often do you pleasure yourself, Your Highness?” he asks, placing the tip on a nipple and swirling it slowly around. I groan, stretching out my body as best I can with him pinning me down. “Once a month? Once a week?” He trails it down to my tummy and drags it from side to side. “Once a day?”
“Josh, please.”
“What, Adeline? What do you want?” He scoots down my thighs, exposing my pussy, though my legs remain closed, and I am quietly grateful. Until he moves off me and spreads them. “Tell me.”
I pull at my bonds pointlessly. “Make me come.”
“With this?” He drops the buzzing silicone to the patch of hair framing me, and I choke on an inhale, fearing the condition I’ll be in if he moves south just a fraction. And the bastard knows it.
“Josh.” I level my wild eyes on his flawless face, pushing as much warning through the lust of my gaze as I can. He simply smiles and slides my vibrator between my legs, the pulsations catching my clit. I jolt like I could have had a million volts of electricity surge through me. “No.” Sweat instantly beads on my forehead and trickles down my temples. He removes the device and chuckles.
“What’s it worth?” he asks seriously. “If I bury my cock inside you and fuck you to orgasm, what will I get in return?”
Just the thought of his cock gracing my pussy tips me over the edge. “Anything,” I say desperately. Any caution I should have has been obliterated by my desperation. “Anything you want.”
“I want you.” Another teasing touch of the vibrating tip on my clit sends pleasure ripping through me, but just as quickly, he pulls it away, leaving me a panting, despairing mess.
“You have me,” I pant, yanking on my restraints to demonstrate.
“I mean again. And maybe again after that.”
I still, pleasure draining from me quickly, being replaced with caution. “What?”
He smiles a small smile. “You’re flighty.”
“Where have you heard that?” I ask, unreasonably indignant. I’m flighty because there’s no point getting attached.
He shrugs. “Rumors.”
“I’ve told you, rumors are rumors.”
“And I’m quickly figuring out that all rumors I’ve heard about Princess Adeline of England are true.”
“And your point is what?”
“I don’t have a point.”
“Then what is the bloody point?” I’m getting wound up, but not in a sexual way. I’m agitated. So what if I am flighty? What does it matter to Josh Jameson? I’m not necessarily flighty through choice. The King catches wind of me seeing someone and takes the necessary steps to halt it going further, whether it be blackmail or something else. I never ask, because I never want to see them again, anyway. I don’t get attached. And there is my point. From the moment Josh Jameson and I started sparring with words and chemistry, I knew I could quite easily get a little addicted to his disregard for who I am, his playfulness, his wickedness, and his ego. He is like nothing I’ve dealt with in the past. He’s not tiptoeing around me, treating me like a lady, bowing to me. He’s doing the exact opposite, and it is quite possibly the worst thing he could do. Because I like it. I like him. I like the fact that he’s keeping me in my place with his palm and a few leather bounds. I like the feeling of abandon when he takes charge. I’m always so hell-bent on being defiant and strong-willed; it’s a relief to hand the control over to someone who I actually want to have it. And all this is worrying. Very worrying, because when the King finds out, there will be no playing anymore. There will be no more Josh Jameson. It will be game over.
Josh studies me for a few quiet moments, the vibrator still buzzing in his hand. “The point is,” he whispers, dropping a gentle kiss on my lips. “I want you to agree to play with me again.”
“You call this playing?” I half laugh, despite very much enjoying myself.
“Don’t pretend you’re not having an amazing time.” He teases my clit with the tip of my vibrator again, and I stiffen everywhere as a result, gritting my teeth. “I’ll admit,” he goes on, “at first you were a challenge.”
I roll my eyes to myself. I already knew that. “Lucky me.”
“But now,” He gets his face close to mine, and I breathe in, waiting for what might come next. Now, what? “Now I’m thinking nailing it won’t be enough.” He smiles when I balk. “So, will you play with me again, Your Highness?”
Nailing it? The nerve. “Make me come.”
He pulls back, refocusing his attention further down my body. “I decide when your orgasms come. Not you.” One more tease of my clitoris increases my body temperature, as I lift my hips to try and seize the looming climax. But he pulls it away, a cocky eyebrow raised. “Say yes.”
“Before you make me come?”
“Yes.”
“No.” I slam my head back. “I’m not bargaining for an org . . . ohh.” My body locks up when the vibrator pushes firmly into my clit, pushing my simmering blood quickly back to boiling point. My hips flex against the pressure, savoring the sweet sensations.
“Agree,” he whispers in my ear, licking the sensitive spot beneath my lobe. “Agree to play with me again.”
“You sound desperate.”
“I am. I want you and me to be a rumor, Your Highness.”
“Okay,” I breathe, lost in ecstasy, vulnerable to his every demand. Right now, with pleasure drenching me, I would agree to anything. “Kiss me.”
His lips touch mine as he works me with the vibrator, my arms locked at the elbow. “Talk to me,” Josh demands. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Good.” I roll my tongue through his mouth, savoring the hint of Scotch mixed with his scent. “So good.”
Biting my bottom lip harshly, I get a hint
of the coppery taste of blood as he maneuvers quickly, pulling the vibrator away and replacing it with his mouth. Licking, sucking, biting, kissing. I’m done for. I tumble into an abyss of unspeakable pleasure, feeling totally weightless, my body trembling deliciously as the most satisfying orgasm rips through me. “Oh . . . my . . . God.” I arch my back, my arms going rigid against my restraints as Josh feasts on me, his whole mouth encasing me and sucking me dry.
“Hmm,” he mumbles in appreciation. His fingers claw into the flesh of my thighs until my body liquefies and goes lax beneath him. I keep my eyes closed, breathing shallow and low, willing my heartbeats back to a steady rhythm.
“Jesus,” I exhale, so unbelievably sated and relaxed.
“Royal pussy tastes as fine as I imagined.” Josh’s voice is husky as he pecks light kisses on my sensitive button of nerves, before moving his mouth to my thighs, and then working his way up my navel to my breasts, flicking his tongue across each nipple. “Fuckin’ delicious,” he declares, and I smile as his tongue makes it to mine and he wipes his lips across my mouth. Lifting his face, I catch the evidence of my release smeared around his lips, his tongue sweeping across them to clean up the remnants. Oh Jesus, I have never seen anything so erotic. “And now I’m keen to find out if your cunt around my cock will feel as good as I’ve imagined.”
His mouth is vulgar, yet just like that, I’m swimming with want all over again, my orgasm barely leaving my body, another building. “So you’re going to fuck me now?”
His grin is wicked. “Beg, Your Highness.”
“Please,” I whisper, caution completely and utterly thrown to the wind, my inner slave breaking free willingly. It’s alien territory but at the same time, so very natural. Especially when the gratification in his gaze at those words is almost blinding. “Please, sir, I beg you. Play with me. Lick me, bend me.” I lick my lips seductively. “Fuck me.”
“Oh, shit, Adeline Lockhart.” His lazy eyes scan my face, a small frown marring his perfect brow. “I have a very addictive nature, and that’s bad news for you.”
The Controversial Princess Page 8