Oh fuck me sideways on a stake.
She’s so tight.
Scorching hot.
And if I don’t focus on something else, I’m going to shoot off like a prepubescent teen.
My eyes roll up to the heavens as I work on counting stars.
My wrists are bound with a strip of fabric, the rough and tight texture digging into my skin. Cinder's body is hot against mine, her silky skin igniting a fire within me.
She rides me hard and fast as little sounds of pleasure escape her throat.
The controlled, placid Cinder is gone, replaced by something fiery, unquenchable and addictive.
Right now, I’m not the prince of Midnight, I’m not even a playboy down for an inventive roll in the hay. I am here solely for her release. I’m hers to use, to abuse, desperate to give her whatever she wants however she wants it.
I have a fleeting thought that I’m in real danger of letting her cover me in honey and spanking me with a tennis racket while a women’s knitting club watches us fuck isn’t out of bounds.
Not that I would say no to it. Sounds like an amazing story to recount at parties.
But it wouldn’t be for the novelty of it. It would be becauseshesimply wanted it.
Hell, she wouldn’t even have to ask. She’d only need to lift that one dark brow a mere fraction to indicate it’s what she’d want, and I’d hand her the tennis racket myself with an “if it pleases you, mistress.”
Just when I think it can’t get any more intense, Cinder shifts her body, her slick heat tightening around me, and I'm forced back into the moment where I’m painfully aware of every sensation.
Fucking fae lords, I need to focus that women’s knitting group, or I'm going to explode. Cinder's body is like a living, breathing inferno, consuming every inch of me.
As I struggle to keep myself in check, she picks up her pace, riding me harder and harder with each passing second. My hands clench the fabric, the makeshift ropes tightening as I grip them with all my strength, trying to keep some semblance of control. The world outside of this little corner of the gardens fades away, leaving only Cinder and me, lost in the primal dance of her taking what she needs from me.
I want to taste her, and knowing she won’t let my fangs near her pretty pussy infuses with me a desperate edge of frustration I’ve never known before.
It’s so easy to get what I want, but not with Cinder. Nothing is just given, and I can’t take it.
It has to be her decision.
My hips thrust up into her as best they can as I try to give her all I can.
Then she’s shuddering, clawing, and moaning as she comes on top of me.
My eyes roll into the back of my head as she milks me, beckoning me to go over the edge with her. But I refuse. I can’t just yet.
Cold air replaces her tight heat and a pathetic whimper slips out of me.
Real dignified, Charming.
“I need more,” she rasps. Cinder pulls me to my feet, and I almost fall over in a dizzy spell. My focus snaps to attention when Cinder bends over the edge of the bench. She lifts her dress, and I can see her perfect lower lips glistening with desire. Her legs spread a little more, allowing me a view that might kill me.
Prince Charming.
Came into this world a regal heir.
Taken out of this world by a human girl's derriere.
RIP me.
My arms are still tied and I’m gagged, but I understand the assignment.
