Page 24 of The Princess Tied

His large hand swished in her sodden hair, then he rubbed her ears, her face, her neck, venturing over and beneath the curves of her breasts.

There, it was so potently sexual.

She wondered what he was thinking.

His finger circled her belly button and her wondering fell apart in the face of this intimate touch.

“I think we are done. You’re definitely less muddy. Except… what is down here?” His fingers trailed even lower.

“Nothing.”

She closed her eyes and simply allowed him to do it. She would endure.

“Oh, you will not escape me so easily. Open your eyes. How can I humiliate you if you pretend I’m not here?”

When he grasped her jaw, fingers digging into her skin and bone, she glared.

“There you are!”

“Humiliate me? You are an oaf, a pervert, a vile vomiter of words I was taught never to say, and I do not trust you!”

“Then we are in a deadlock, for I do not trust you. Except there is one thing.” His open hand arrived on her upper thigh, his fingers splaying.

Her tongue tip slipped along the divide of her lips.

How close he was to where he must not go.

She met his eyes. It was as potent as a blow, seeing him looking back at her, with all her intimate secrets on display. Her throat closed in. She knew where this was going and feared it and wanted it, and her shivering was no longer simply from the cold.

She could not fend him off, and that too aroused her.

“Are you a bad princess?” he asked softly, eyelids lowering, his hand squeezing her thigh. Then he slipped his hand to where her legs squashed together. “Open yourself. Do I need to manhandle you? Or should that be princess-handle?”

He reached behind her, and she felt him gather her wet hair then twist it, until the sharpness of his hold pulled at her scalp and rendered her even less in control. He could do whatever he wished to.

“I know you like this. You say you do not lie. Then you should protest this. Tell me you hate it. Your very last chance.”

He kissed her then drew away, and she gasped, tried to shrug from the hold on her hair and could not budge. She stared at him, transfixed, fascinated by him as much as by herself.

He was right. She must… protest.

Yet, she could not keep herself from looking at his erect cock. It had veins and a cap on top, and it looked so undeniably odd yet enticing. What could that be like, inside her?

“Not talking?”

Almost, she spoke, mouth parting, but the words stuck far down in her throat when he shook her head with his fistful of hair.

“Look at you. Dumbstruck.”

Again she intended to speak, but he leaned in, whispering to her ear.

“I’m going to deflower you, Princess, while I have you like this. Tied, and with my rope marks showing on your tits.”

He kissed her, and she spluttered a wait, against his mouth quietly, and simply because she must, she must.

“Wait is not enough.”

His hand forced itself between her clamped thighs and found there, a fabled place only she had touched before. His fingers slid, slipped, circled the swelling nub above her cleft, before tracing along where her entrance lay, and her legs had opened without her saying to, and she was moaning into his kissing mouth, unsure whether to press herself against his fingers or go the other way.