Page 27 of Crowned In Sin

“Hold tight to me, my little whore. If you fall while I’m fucking you, everyone will see what you’ve let me do to you. Your skirts will be filthy, and your face and your hair will be a mess. They’ll all talk about how you spread your thighs for me in the garden.”

Unable to catch my breath, I sink my teeth into my lower lip and then close my eyes as he fucks me. His thrust is ruthless. His lips are on mine with gentle nips and kisses as he fucks me ruthlessly, bringing me closer and closer to climax.

Then his hands are on my hips, as he thrusts up into me at the same time. If I was not so filled with pleasure, I would be in awe of how he manages it. I cannot imagine holding another person’s weight against a wall and fucking them at the same time. I cannot fathom how he does it. But I cannot think of it for long, because the sensation is so different from being taken on my back or on my stomach in bed. I can feel my own weight driving down on him. The prince seems enthralled with it, too. He does not take his eyes from mine, but his brow furrows as he thrusts. It seems that every muscle in his body must be part of this task. There is no part of him that is not concentrating on me.

It is the same for me. I keep my arms around his shoulders and do my best to let him control my hips. It is easier when I do so, but if I try, I can find enough of the rhythm to move them with him so that I slide down harder on his cock.

“Come for me, my little whore,” he murmurs, and he does not sound breathless. He does not sound as if he is nearing the end of his strength at all, and that makes me tighten and get closer to my release. I moan, my grip slipping from the headiness of the pleasure that rocks through me. “That is not all you can give me. Let me see you come.”

I shake my head, my teeth still dug in my bottom lip to keep from crying out so loudly that we’re caught.

“A whore, refusing me?” he scolds, and I’ve never been hotter. With a shift in his stance, he slips deeper inside of me and I swear I nearly let the strangled cry out. My body caves inward as he fucks me harder and deeper than ever before.

“Please,” I beg, “I’m so close.”

“Come on my cock, Princess. Do as you’re fucking told.”

As he speaks, more pleasure builds. I will not be able to help myself soon, and that is too much. It is too much to decide for myself. There will be consequences if we let this go too far, and I already feel that we are nearly there, and real nerves threaten to stifle my orgasm.

“Don’t fret, little whore. I’m here.”

Then Prince Jasper covers my mouth with his hand, using his other arm to keep me braced. I let out the sounds of my orgasm into his hand. It seems to go on for quite some time, with many waves before it finally releases me. Prince Jasper comes too, lifting his hips up and up so that he is as deep within me as he can be while we are upright.

Still inside me, he looks over his shoulder again.

He cannot be thinking he will make me come again.

Can he?

“Now we don’t have long at all,” he murmurs, and works his hand between my legs. “Don’t hold back, or we’ll run out of time. Think of how rough you like it, Princess. Think of how much you love being my little whore. That’s all you want to be, isn’t it? Then be a good little whore and come again for me.”

Chapter 12

Cora

Shock has its grip on me more so than the afterglow of my orgasm.

Fifteen minutes ago—or was it ten?—I was being fucked up against the wall less than twenty feet from the shaded table where I sit with Prince Jasper, the tea service arranged between us as if this is completely normal.

My thighs still tremble, and I ache in a way that’s all too familiar now. And yet I politely smile as I stir sugar into my tea. It’s far too sweet, but my body is moving without thinking, far too aware that the squire is present although he keeps his gaze on the back wall.

I resist the urge to touch my hair. As soon as I came on Prince Jasper’s half-hard cock, he lowered me to my feet, pulled me away from the wall, and rearranged my skirts. He brushed at my back, making sure there was no sign I had been held against the wall, and tucked a lock of my hair back behind my ear. Then he swiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

He did up his own laces, then ran his hands through his hair, and did not look as if he’d licked and fucked a woman in the garden at all.

He’s handsome as ever and polished just as he was this morning for breakfast, too, sitting across from me at the table. It is a miracle that I am not sweating, or at least I am not sweating so much that beads run down my temples.

I feel as if I could be sweating that much. I’m overheated from the inside out and can hardly bear to sip my tea.

The first sip soothes my throat, though not my flushed face. It makes me feel slightly less unsteady. How can being fucked so well feel like such a dream the moment it is over? With the tea not aiding my state, I fan myself lightly with one laid out on the table.

With almost certainty, the squire is out of the range of hearing. He is, unless we use particularly loud voices.

What topics are we meant to discuss now that Prince Jasper has fucked me against the garden wall? I’m still mentally reeling from the fact that I have now slept with two men. I’ve no idea what my lover will think and yet again, I’m a mix of emotions. He hasn’t even told me his name.

More than that though, I fear what Prince Jasper might say. I fear who he might tell. The idea that I am in debt to him for his secrecy is something I’ve never prepared myself for.

Slowly, my heart adjusts to a normal beat and I try a sip of my tea again, finding it far too sweet.