by Nicole Snow
I don't realize I'm clutching the sheets, nearly ripping holes through them, until he moves away from my quivering legs.
Silas comes up wiping his face, his smile more sexy than ever. Of course, that also means more arrogant.
“Hope you liked your first wedding present, love,” he says, slowly taking down the restraints. “We'll get back to these later. But I want your legs wrapped all the way around me when we fuck. I want you to pull my dick so deep I don't see a drop of come slipping out when it's over.”
There's that heat again. Impossible, as it is incredible.
“You're the King,” I tell him.
“Not officially,” he says, slowly undoing his belt. “That won't happen until we're home, and I'm formally crowned. You'd better believe it doesn't matter in this bed. I'm fucking like a god, love. Like I own every single inch of you because we both know I do.”
I'm about to mouth off, try to deny it, when he drops his pants. That huge, magnificent cock coming into view always silences me.
It's a thing of awe. And it's about to be mine, as soon as it's inside me, pumping its way to a few more earthshaking climaxes.
He's completely naked, on top of me, dragging my legs up over his shoulders. Our eyes lock fierce while my chest rises and falls.
I want him more right now than any woman should. I want my Playboy Prince, my bastard, my husband.
I want to fuck him today, and then every day for the rest of my life.
“Oh, God,” I moan, just as he starts rubbing his swollen cock against my pussy. “Go, Silas. Please. Fuck me.”
“What's that, love? Didn't hear the magic word.”
He's going to make me say it. I try to hold out as long as I can, stroke by stroke. But when he starts to dip the very tip of his cock into me, pulling away before I get his fullness, I'm helpless.
I surrender, and then some.
“Please.” My eyes pinch shut as he gives me another inch. “Yes, fuck, please!”
My legs shake harder on his shoulders. He grabs them, holds them still, and gives me another feral look.
“I'm in a giving mood today. Must be that hot, tight married pussy wrapped around my cock.”
He thrusts deeper. Sweet heaven.
At last, Silas fucks me. It's a slow building storm, strengthening one stroke at a time, lifting me a little higher each time he pushes into me. His hips crash into mine each time he pulls back and glides forward.
“Harder,” I grunt, teasing him.
“Harder?” He pauses, grabs my nipples, and pinches them tight. “Like this?”
He almost pulls all the way out. Then he slams himself into me so hard my breasts shake in his hands. I'm moaning again, enraptured.
His wife.
His Princess.
His whore.
He's taken what I said like a challenge, and I'm in trouble now. The most decadent, tantalizing kind of trouble a woman can get herself into.
His cock slams into me so fast and hard I can feel his balls slapping my ass. Silas' hold on my legs tightens, and he's growling, fucking me over the edge.
“That's right, love. You'd better come for me again. I'm not giving it up until you're begging me to stop.”
Oh, shit. Hell!
I'm screaming. Clawing at his chest. My pussy pinches his cock so hard the stars return, beautiful as they are scary. Coming shouldn't feel this good.
My heart shouldn't throb this intensely for any man. But it does, and it will forever with my Prince.
Our fucking becomes hotter, so swift and fiery, it's blinding. I'm deep in my zone, locked when he reaches between my legs, thumbs my clit, and lets his hand go berserk while he power fucks me into the next century.
Coming! Yes, it's insane, but it's happening again.
Somehow, I hear him growling his words in between his thrusts, savage and forceful. He's whispering in my ear, driving deeper with every word, beating his balls against my ass.
“Knew I'd make you mine the second we made that deal, Princess. Fucking knew it. Good thing you love it.”
I do. And he isn't done.
His hips piston faster. I've barely recovered from the last orgasm before he starts on a new one, jackhammering his cock into me. It's bigger, hotter, and faster than ever before. My pussy tingles for his come, totally engulfed in flames, praying for the only thing that can put them out.
“Silas!”
He grabs my chin and pushes his lips on mine, holding my face. Crazy doesn't even describe what I'm feeling anymore.
“You think it's hot now? Just wait, love. I'll be making you sing when we're so old and gray they're printing us on the kingdom's money. I'm going to keep fucking you. Going to keep owning every beautiful piece of who you are. Going to put a baby in your belly soon, Erin. Then another, and another, and another...”
Oh...fuck! I grab him so hard I probably scratch his shoulders.
Neither of us care. Thinking about him planting his seed deep drives me over the edge.
My hips go wild, joining his in the frenzy, bucking back at his length as hard as I'm grunting. His cock drives deep, just to the edge of my womb, and swells.
Coming! Coming! This time together, fused together, twitching as one.
“Fuck!” Silas cries out, losing himself in me.
His cock heaves everything from his balls deep inside me, flooding me with his heat, his essence. My eyes roll back in my head. It's so intense I can't even breathe, let alone scream.
Time flies like mad. Soon, I'll be off the birth control, letting him own me in the most primal way a man can for real.
For now, this is great practice.
“Christ, I needed that. Every second of you, love,” he whispers, drowning me in tender kisses.
I'm still coming down from my climax. Very slowly, he softens, and then pulls out.
Laying on his chest, he holds me in his huge, tattooed arms. We're spent, at least for a few minutes, and it's marvelous.
“Did you really mean what you said about how you knew the first time?” I ask, letting my eyes feast on his perfect body. Every contour, every muscle, is smooth and strong as steel, like God himself reached down with a chisel and sculpted him for me.
“Don't think I'm allowed to wear the royal crest on my skin if I didn't believe in destiny.” He smiles, resting his forehead on mine. “Fate. There's something to it, after all.”
His smile is contagious. We kiss again, only breaking away when his hand gently cups my cheek.
“You're meant to be my Princess forever, babe. Mine, with more benefits than I dared imagine. Love you, Erin. Love you like nothing else in the world, like nothing any money or power will ever buy. Love you so fucking hard and real it's never changing. Never fading. Never going anywhere. Not in this lifetime, or the next.”
“Silas...I love you, too.” My heart flutters.
He's right about the benefits – more than he knows.
It's amazing where life takes a woman. I never thought I'd wind up married to a Prince, shaking off the best sex of my life, surrounded by a gorgeous kingdom I've just started to explore and understand.
Incredible as it is, it's nothing compared to how his words have changed, down to their very roots.
'Princess with benefits' used to make me want to slap the smugness off his face.
Now? It's the magic phrase that sends my lips to his like magnets.
We kiss. Long and sweet. Tender as our love itself.
This stopped being pretend a long time ago. It's real, and I'm proud to belong to my Prince with benefits forever.
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Nicole Snow
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SEXY SAMPLES: MARRY ME AGAIN
I: Love At First Tease (Kara)
The first time I see him – drinking him in with my puppy love eyes – he makes me bleed.
“Ow!” Pulling my finger up from the staples I'd been pulling in daddy's office, I survey the damage.
Two neat little pinpricks. A worthwhile flesh wound for the long, secret peek I snuck through the tiny window leading out to the garage, where the hottest boy alive is working on a Mustang from the seventies, raised with its metal underbelly sticking out.
It's a one way spy job.
He hasn't spotted me in here. Even if he had, why would he take a second glance?
There's barely time to suck my finger before daddy bursts in, his booming voice ringing out behind me. “Peanut, I need you to finish up in here, get home for dinner, and get cracking on your homework. I'll pay you for the extra half hour you're missing on the clock, so don't worry.”
Swiveling around in his office chair, I smile with a quirk on my lips, quickly folding my arms to hide my injured finger. “I finished everything for school this morning before I came in. What's happening out there that makes you want to kick me out early?”
Daddy opens his mouth, but before he gets in a word, the loudest F-bomb I've ever heard shakes the whole building.
For a second, he's frozen, turning red and glaring through his open door. It's Mickey, one of his thirty-something full timers. He's sitting on a crate, massaging his knee, grinning up at his co-worker Jack, who just belted him in the arm.
“What the hell's the matter with you?” We hear him blubber.
“Man, I'm just doing you a favor. Worrying about the pain in your arm's gonna take your mind off that bum knee.”
With a heavy grunt of disapproval, daddy kicks his door shut behind him. We both share a look.
I put my hands out, lifting my eyebrows. “Don't worry about it. Really. I've heard worse in the halls at school and –“
“Kara, no. I promised your ma I'd bring you here to work, not learn to cuss like a sailor. You're only fourteen, for Christ's sake. Hey, what happened to your hand?”
I can't hide anything from him. Daddy grabs my wounded hand, holds it in between his thick calloused palms, and takes a good long look.
“Poked myself pulling staples. Nothing serious.”
“How did that happen?” His eyes search mine, as if they can't believe I'm less than perfect.
I shrug, refusing to tell him anything. Because that would involve confessing my crush on his newest, hottest employee. The boy who rarely smiles, and always makes up for it with a body that looks like it's been put on Earth to make every girl in a hundred miles break out their fans.
Daddy pushes past me, reaching into the cabinet overhead. He holds out a small Band-Aid and ruffles my hair a second later. “Put that on before you head out. I ought to make you cover your ears, too, but now I'm more worried about catching hell at home because I let you get hurt.”
“Please. It was my fault. I wasn't paying attention.” I roll my eyes. “Daddy, you worry too much. I'm not a –“
“You're my little girl, peanut, and that's the way it's gonna stay. Now go. Save me a spot at the table for dinner.”
Defeated, I smile. There's no arguing with him, even if he can be as overprotective as a mother hen sometimes. “You know I will.”
Turning, I make my way out the office, fixing the little bandage to my hand. I take a second outside before I head for the back exit, listening to the banter between Jack and Mickey. They're still ribbing each other with a dozen expletives packed into half as many sentences.
Then I look past them, and see him. He's reaching up underneath the Mustang, a wrench in his hand, his jaw clenched tight as he goes to work, flexing muscles no boy under twenty should have.
What the hell did this town do to deserve Ryan Caspian?
Easily Split Harbor High's hottest eligible bachelor. The boy every girl in every class swoons over.
The walking question mark who showed up in town without a history. The one who aces every test and put the Greenthorne gang in their place his first day at school.
That's right. Everybody still talks about how Devon Greenthorne, the senior ringleader with the mohawk, got in Ryan's face and backed him into a corner with his goons. It lasted all of sixty seconds before Devon hit the ground, nursing a broken nose.
The bullies brought their heavy, sloppy strength to fight a lion. I only have to stop and stare to see Ryan's refined strength.
His oil spattered shirt clings tight while he's standing underneath the Mustang, his arms high over his head, biceps bulging like he's been lifting since he hit puberty. Only, no one at school has ever seen him in the weight room.
The very edge of his shirt rides up, exposing his abs. Until Ryan, I never knew what washboard meant.
Now, I understand. I see it in every rolling crease of his six pack, every time his skin ripples while he grunts, turning a bolt on the underside of the car, muscles bristling from head to toe. He's working, lost in his own world, completely oblivious to the older, rowdier men cursing and laughing like chimpanzees around him.
God. Eyeballing him too long starts to burn, no different than gazing at the sun. I have to get home before he sees me.
I'm about to move, when Ryan's wrench slips, and he brings it down against his thigh with a resounding slap. His face tilts toward me as he steadies himself. Then our eyes lock, and my heart forgets how to beat.
Eek. Holding my squeak in, I try to hide my blush and head for the exit, just as his voice rings out – deeper than it should be for a young man.
“Hold up, there's crap all over the –“
Too late. I'm practically running when I hit the oil slick. The world turns into black ice beneath my sneakers. I slide at least five feet before I hit the wall, spin around, and crash elbows first on the hard concrete.
As luck would have it, elbows first into the edge of the same grimy slick that took me down. The shame hits before I realize I'm already screaming.
The men around me aren't screwing around anymore. My voice echoes through Bart's Auto, alone and scared. Everything goes quiet in the garage except for Zeppelin banging away on the radio. Somebody grabs me under my arms, pulls me up, and tips my beet red face to theirs.
It's Ryan. I think I'm about to die on the spot.
Too many chemicals explode simultaneously in my brain to
drink him in, up close and personal. I can't appreciate his eyes, as royal blue as Lake Superior's shores, or the little wave in his thick, dark hair. Not even the perfect dusting of stubble across his jawline – the kind that would surely make any girl lucky enough to kiss him burn for more.
I can't take in our resident Adonis because I'm too busy shaking, the hot, prickly shame overwhelming me in waves.
“Are you okay?” he asks, digging his fingers into my shoulders reassuringly.
“Okay?” It's a whine.
Are you kidding? That's what I think, but I can't form words, much less fire sarcasm his way.
It doesn't matter. Before I can say anything, he's got his arm around me, leading us to the little work bench in the back where the boys keep towels and rags to clean themselves up.
I'm still speechless when he starts cleaning me, very gently, slowly soaking up the oil splattered on my arms. I don't know whether to shut down or say thanks.
He probably thinks there's something wrong with me because I haven't said a word since I all but tumbled into his arms. There's just that worn towel in his hands gliding across my skin, him stealing concerned glances every time he brushes the grime away.
It's almost a brotherly look. Ugh.
The last look in the world I want from our local hottie. It's a cheap one, too. I can get big brother eyes anytime from Matt, when he isn't getting after me for taking too much time in the bathroom we share at home.
“What the hell's happening out here?” Daddy's booming voice rings out above us, and my anxious haze breaks.
“I fell,” I tell him, my eyes on the floor while heat lashes my cheeks. I'm about three seconds from going up in a puff of smoke once the shame hits combustion level. “I wasn't looking, and there was oil on the floor.”
“It's my fault, sir.” Ryan stands, stepping in front of me, almost like he's offering protection. “We should've had a sign up. I saw her at the last second, and yelled out a few seconds too late. There's no excuse. It's company policy to have the warning signs up, and I didn't do my job. Never thought anybody else would be walking through here on a Sunday.”