"I choose truth."
"How many guys have you been with?"
I frown a little.
"You can pick the dare."
As much as I want to see what he will demand I do, I shrug. "None. I am a virgin."
He blinks. "What, really?"
"Yes. That's two questions—"
"I'm glad you told me."
I blink. "Why?"
He touches my arms, and I stare at his inhumanly beautiful body.
"I don't want to hurt you when we make love."
"Who says I'll let you?"
He smirks. "You were begging for it the other night. I can tell you want me now. You're all red, Princess, and your hands are shaking. I think if you're not paying attention, you'll start groping me."
I grope him anyway and pay full attention.
"Dare me," he says.
"I dare you to take off your jeans."
"I'll give you my shoes and socks for free."
He takes them all off. When he pushes his jeans down, he mercifully leaves his shorts up. If he pulled them down too, I would lose control. I watch him bend and stand up, his long legs flexing with powerful muscles. His shorts barely hold on, the waistband just above the base of his cock.
"Truth or dare."
"I got you in here, but you have me at a disadvantage. Lose the shirt."
I slip out of his hoodie, then slowly pull my shirt over my head. Jason's eyes focus on me intently, and his already-half-hard cock stiffens fully in his boxers as he sees my bare body, even though I still have a bra on.
"If you keep daring me, I'm going to be naked."
"Maybe I want you naked," I say, smirking. "I like having you at a disadvantage."
"My turn. What do you want me to do?"
My throat tightens with excitement.
"Boxers" is all I can manage.
He was already holding the waistband. He doesn't bend, just shoves them down. They fall to his feet and his cock stands up, hard and ready, and my eyes lock on it. I can't look away.
"M-my turn," I stammer.
"I dare you to suck my cock."
My eyes widen. I can't stop staring at it, at him. He's amazing. I want to get my hands on him, my mouth, all over.
"Dare accepted," I tell him and stride forward.
I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him. He touches my bare sides lightly, then rests his hands on my back. They're gentle, but his skin is rough and coarse from gripping steel bars and throwing footballs, from hard work. I move closer and feel his erection against my stomach as I kiss and kiss and kiss him, and he kisses me back.
He takes hold of my braid in his hand and gives it a very light pull, bending my head back as he bends over me, kissing me. He's so big. Big all over. His arms are huge. I rest my hands on his biceps and my fingers are almost flat, they're so enormous.
"I dare you," he says, breaking from the kiss.
"I told you I'd do it. I did not say when. Remember when you kissed me all over before you used your mouth on me?"
"Yes. I definitely remember that."
"Now it's my turn."
"You want me to lie down?"
I think for a moment. Then I shimmy out of my jeans. I will keep my underwear on for now.
"You're wearing granny panties."
I look down and pluck at the waistband. "They're all I have."
He reaches for me, and I slap his hand down.
"No touching. That wasn't part of the dare. Stand still. Stay standing. I like to look at you."
Jason
I've never been this hard in my life.
Standing here buck-ass naked while Ana circles me, it takes everything I have to hold still, and that's even with all the blood in my body rushing to my dick. I feel like I'm going to explode, every fiber of my being bundled with nervous energy. I'm shaking, I'm so excited.
I can't tear my eyes off her. She's wearing the most unflattering underwear ever, high-waisted panties. That somehow makes her more irresistible. Her lacy black bra cups her full breasts, and I want to tear it off her and get my hands on them. The white cotton hugs her waist and clings to her ass, so when she walks around me, I can see the muscles flexing.
God she's perfect. I want to lick every inch of her and start over, feel her stomach and breasts and legs under my hands, run my fingers through her hair, and kiss her, kiss her, kiss her. For hours. Suck her nipples, eat her pussy, hold her down while she comes and make her climax over and over and over until her eyes roll back in her head.
I want to fuck her. I want to bend her over the bed and knot my fingers in her hair and thrust into her to the hilt again and again until I explode and keep doing it as long as I'm hard, until she's exhausted and I'm spent, then just lie on her with my cock in her and feel her heat. I can still feel how tight and hot her pussy was from the last time.
She circles me like a shark circling prey, and the more she looks at my cock, the harder I get until my erection is bordering on painful. I can feel my balls boiling, my whole body throbbing with desire for her. When she licks her lips, the image of her taking me in her mouth fills my head. I want to see her soft lips pressed around my shaft, feel her soft tongue on my cock, watch her eyes as my cum slides down her throat.
I want to fucking own her. She plucks at her bra strap to tease me and circles me again.
Every ounce of my willpower bends to keeping my mouth shut. I don't want to ruin this. She touches me with more confidence than before, her hands sliding over my chest, her nails running lightly down my stomach. Her hands ghost over the length of my cock without touching, and my hips jerk forward, reaching for her like my dick has taken on a mind of its own.
This is torture.
Just as I start to really shake, she walks behind me, and I feel her hands on my shoulders, and her tongue right between my shoulder blades.
Oh fuck.
Ana
He twitches when I step behind him and run my hands down his back, and squeeze his ass. His magnificent, muscular ass. I can't help it; I lick the middle of his back, right between his shoulder blades.
"What are you doing?"
"You licked my back," I remind him. "If you want a blowing job, stay still."
"It's blowjob, honey."
"Oh. Right."
I forget all that when I touch him, his skin warm under my hands, and smooth and soft.
I let my bra and underwear fall. I can't stand to be bound by them anymore.
I rub my cheek against his back, and he tenses as my breasts brush his skin. I press closer and slip my arms around him, running them up and down his sides, his chest.
My hand glides down his stomach, and I take hold of his cock. I do only what feels natural. I touch it, feel it, listen to his heart beat faster when I let its rigid firmness slide through my fingers. I want to lie on his back and soak in his heat.
"Your hand is still cold."
"You seem to like it well enough," I tell him as I cup his balls in my hand.
I stroke him slowly, kissing along his shoulders, his arms. He jerks when I sniff at his armpits.
"What are you doing?"
"I like the smell."
I work my way around his front, watching his reaction as he looks down at me. I run my hands up over his broad shoulders and kiss his chest, and he immediately tenses with a sucked-in breath when I kiss him again, this time lower, just an inch, so close it could almost be the same spot.
"Please," he says.
I look up at him, and his arms jerk. He wants to touch me, but I told him no, and he's listening.
Pressing my lips against his hard stomach, I taste his skin, run my tongue over it.
"Do you want me to kneel?" I whisper.
"I'll lie down if you—"
"Do you want me to kneel?" I ask.
Before he answers, I trap his cock against my chest and let the underside of his shaft slide over my body as I stand up and press against him.
"Yes," he blurts out. "I want to watch
you get on your knees and suck me off."
"That's the truth," I murmur and sink to my knees.
I take him in both hands and work myself up. I want to do it, I do want to, but it's such a strange thing. I feel almost giddy, excited by the idea. At first I only have the courage to tip forward and touch my lips to the head of his cock.
They spread over the head, and he groans. I don't yet truly take him into my mouth. I look up and watch his reaction. His entire body tenses, turning marble to steel as his muscles go rigid under his skin.
"Sit down," I tell him.
He backs to the bed and sits. I move toward him on my knees, and his eyes drink my body, like the promise of fingers on my skin, my lips, my breasts.
"Don't lie down. Sit up. Touch me."
I'm not sure what I expect, but his legs close against my arms and he leans forward, stroking my hair and my chin as I take him in my mouth. I suck the head first, then take him deeper. He's just too huge to take in entirely. Too long at this and my jaw will ache, but the taste has me enthralled, the heat of him filling my mouth like a kiss, but more raw, more sexual, more lustful.
"This is so fucking hot," he groans, pulling me to him.
I use my hands and mouth on him, and he starts to shake.
Pulling back, I lightly stroke him in my hands and look up at him.
"Are we still playing Truth or Dare?"
He nods, apparently at a loss for words.
"I'm going to make you come in my mouth, and I dare you to kiss me."
I dip forward before he can answer and throw myself at it. Whether I am any good, I do not know. I make up for lack of practice with enthusiasm. This is not a degradation at all. I feel powerful. I own him. He's giving himself to me. When he grunts and jerks back and his legs tighten around me, it's an embrace. When his cock throbs and fills my mouth with a burst of hot seed, I gulp it down hungrily, eager to have him inside me, to be his.
I need not repeat my dare. He hooks his hands under my arms and yanks me up and kisses me hard, driving his tongue into my mouth. Before I can even break the kiss, he rolls me onto the bed and pins me down with his weight, and he kisses me even harder, like he wants to swallow me.
His finger enters my throbbing pussy easily. I'm so wet I can feel it on my thighs. He pumps his hand, stroking me inside, using his thumb to caress me outside, circling my clit. Under him, pinned down, I moan into his mouth. He stops kissing me just long enough for me to catch my breath and then kisses me again, swallowing my shuddering moans and cries of ecstasy. A second finger enters me easily.
I don't want his finger, I want his cock. I want him in me, on me, pinning me down, thrusting into me, filling me with that heat the way I swallowed it. I want him in every fiber and ounce of my being. No longer do I know if I swallowed him, or he swallowed me.
He's so huge, so powerful, so controlling. I thought I was strong, but I am nothing before him, and I surrender instantly. I feel air on my back as he lifts me bodily from the bed, fucking me with his hand. My legs jerk and curl up, and I dig my fingers into his flesh and drag my lips and tongue over his skin.
Now, now, now, I need it now, oh God….
I arch under him as he pins me down, my body trapped between him and the bed, the explosion of pleasure rocking through my body in relentless waves, curling my toes, clenching my teeth.
My legs fall still first, then my arms go limp and the tension eases out of my muscles. Slack-jawed and bleary-eyed, I let my arms slide off his body to fall where they will on the bed.
My eyes open halfway when I feel his mouth on my chest. He's tasting my sweat. When he sniffs at my armpits, I giggle.
"Stinky pits," he says and tickles me.
It's too much. I pull his hands away, groaning.
"Let me lie for a moment. Puh-please."
He pulls me close to him, and I lie in his arms, taking shallow breaths.
"I dare you to fuck me," I demand, embracing him.
"Truth. Pick a truth."
"You don't want to?"
He strokes my hair and touches my cheek.
"I do. Very badly. I need… you deserve more than this. More than the heat of the moment. I don't want to rut with you. I want your first time to mean something. I want to show you what you mean to me."
"I want to lie with you a little longer."
"You can lie with me as long as you want."
I roll over in his arms and tuck myself against him. I could sleep like this forever, swaddled in his arms, pillowed on his shoulder, pressed against his skin.
When he starts to snore, I sit up and gather my clothes. I dress slowly, not caring that the sweat will soak through. I take down his hoodie and put it on, and sniff it, and breathe him in.
He wakes as I dress, and watches me.
"I want to wake up next to you every day."
The words land on me like a blow.
You can, I think. For a time.
Then they'll take you away from me.
"I need to get home. Tomorrow. After class. Yes?"
"It's going to be harder to get away."
"I know. It will have to be after dark. We will not have much time."
"We'll have enough," he says as he stands and dresses. "I know I can't walk you back. Let me take you to the door."
We repack everything in a single overstuffed bag, and I carefully keep the lingerie out of his sight. Carrying one overstuffed bag that pulls at my fingers, I kiss him on the lips and dart away from the house, back to mine, and clamber through my window.
I sit on the floor and lean back against the wall. If I keep him, I lose him.
"I don't want to be a princess anymore," I tell no one in particular.
Chapter Ten
Anastasia
I arrive early to my first Monday morning class, American History. My bodyguards stop at the door to the lecture hall, scanning the room for threats even though I am alone.
Alone with Professor Grandolf.
She looks at me the way she might look at a particularly loathsome insect she has discovered despoiling her pantry. I start toward my customary seat and find her approaching me.
"Good morning, Miss De Vries," she says, purposely denying me my royal style.
If only she knew how much I want to get rid of it.
She lowers her voice.
"I don't know how you got your hooks in him, you little slut, but you're going to pay."
When I turn to look at her in shock, she steps back, grinning.
"So I hope we can reach an understanding about that," she says cheerily as students begin to file in.
I see Jason enter at the top of the hall. I look at my usual seat, within glaring range of the professor. I can't be near her, but I can't flee. She knows.
What will she do with that knowledge?
Jason looks at me, beckons me. I cross the aisle and sit away from him, and text him using my computer rather than my phone. At least I can type in complete sentences.
Anastasia: I want to sit with you so badly. Grandolf frightened me.
Jason: What?
Anstasia: She said, "I don't know how you got your hooks in him, you little slut, but you're going to pay." What does she mean?
I look back and shift in my seat, watching him type.
Jason: She said that to you?
Anastasia: Yes!
Jason: Stay calm. Don't react. Pretend you don't know what she means.
Grandolf starts her usual sardonic greeting and sends the assistants out with the papers. I take mine back, dreading that I received an F-, no matter what I actually did. To my surprise, it's been fairly graded a B+, with points off for grammar. Foolishly, I never let Jason proofread it for me.
I tuck it away and sink into my seat. I want this class over with desperately.
This is torture. I want to sit with my…
My boyfriend. I want to be like the others. I want to be normal. I want him to protect me from her. He can, I know he can. I am surrounded by gu
ards, held in a gilded cage, and yet my protector is held at arm’s length. I can’t stop myself from looking back at him.
Every time I look back, I see Grandolf glaring, something vicious in her eyes, a wolfish cast to her grin. When I first began taking her classes, I was envious of her. I thought she was pretty, even beautiful. Now all I can see is some venomous creature.
Class drags on. It feels like she goes a minute over on purpose. I look down and my notes are sparse. I will have to rely on Jason to help me, but I don’t want to waste our time with such things as this.
My phone jumps in my pocket.
Jason: Tonight. Dark. I’ll come for you. Outside fence.
I am nervous and fidgety for the rest of the day, distracted and vacant. My knowledge of economics carries me through that class, as usual. The tedium grows unbearable. When the day finally ends, I rush home, threatening to break into a run at every moment.
Still, I must do my homework. I have been reading analyses and papers on The Great Gatsby trying to understand what it means, thinking of Jason's soft, compelling narration. I have a good enough grasp on the history work for the moment. I would have Dee proof it for me, but it would come back with more errors and probably more stains from pizza cheese.
When it is done, it is not yet dark.
There is a knock on the doorframe. When I acknowledge him, Thorlief inclines his head in respect.
"Yes? Speak freely."
"Princess, that is why I have come." He steps into the study. "Might I close the door? I would rather not risk that Bjorn hear."
Tensing, I nod, a bare twitch of my chin.
He closes the door and sits down on a side chair. All at once, he looks very old, like he could be my father or grandfather. He looks past me at something that has long since faded away.
"I know about the boy," he says, his voice heavy with regret.
I go as still as though I were carved from ice. I say nothing for a time, waiting. What will he do? What will he say?
"If you say something to Mother—"
"You worry that I had."
Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance) Page 16