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With a huff, she crosses her arms over her chest and turns her head to look down the hallway instead. “I didn’t mean to drench your shirt. This is so embarrassing. That’s never happened—"
I grab her chin and turn her head in my direction to cut her off, forgetting how delicate she is and jerking a little too hard. I can’t comprehend why she would feel anything other than proud to drown me in her sweet juices, but it’s clearly affecting her, and not in the way I’d hoped. However they’re fucking in Hyatt is clearly wrong if the princess feels ashamed in any way.
“Stop,” I say, cutting her off.
A clash of thoughts fights against the lust dulling my ability to think, and I struggle through a jumble of reassuring words.
“Don’t you dare,” I say, punctuating each word like a sentence, “feel bad about that.”
Without breaking our gaze, I reach for her hand and drag it slowly to the front of my pants, where my cock throbs beneath her touch. Precum has soaked through the material, making it sticky to the touch, and the tightness is getting unbearable.
“Do you see what that did to me?” I squeeze her hand against the swollen shaft and watch her eyes bulge. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Understand?”
Her cheeks turn a deeper shade of red and she nods, her hand still gripping my cock through my pants.
“Good. Now, do you want to do something about the thing in your hand, or do I have to walk back to my room with a throbbing hard on?”
Giving her the option seems more than fair, even though I don’t plan on going back to my room without getting off first. If I have to take her to the bedroom and finish what we started, she’s going to have my seed on her or in her. I don’t care which.
Tentatively, she nods.
She unclasps my pants with a flick of her fingers and shoves the material down to expose my erection. It bobs for a moment after finding freedom, before standing straight out from my body like a dark gray, meaty arrow.
I check the princess’s reaction and find her staring down at it wide eyed, her jaw slack, but she quickly recovers. She wraps a hand around the shaft, despite it being the same width and length as her forearm, and quickly adds the other. Slowly, she slides them up to the head and wets her fingers with precum before sliding them back down again.
I exhale shakily through gritted teeth at the pleasure her delicate fingers create. Placing my hands against the wall, one on either side of her head, I close my eyes and thrust my hips eagerly against her perfect strokes. Considering how long it’s been since I slept with anyone and how the tantalizing scent of her sex clings to every inch of me, wrecking my senses, it won’t take long. I can already feel the urge for release mounting.
She quickens her pace, rolling her fingers expertly over the delicate head and squeezing firmly as she gets toward the base. How she knows exactly what I like is beyond me, and my thoughts are too fuzzy to worry about it now. The faster her hands move, the hotter the fire in my veins burns, and it won’t be enough until I’m spilling my cum down her body.
I groan as I thrust against her hold, imagining it’s her tight pussy squeezing me instead of her hands, and my climax draws closer.
Bucking harder and faster, I find release with a long, panting groan, my warm seed spilling over the princess’s hands and dripping to the floor.
In the minute it takes me to regain my senses and adjust my pants, it feels like all the noise has been ripped out of the world. After the grunts and pants and moans, everything is too quiet. Too still.
The princess bends to collect her tattered clothes and her knife, balling it all up under one of her arms, and gestures casually for me to lead the way like she isn’t practically naked and like we didn’t just defile a hallway.
“Right,” I say, ripping my eyes away from her exposed lower half. Asking for another round is probably insensitive at this point. She needs to rest. Besides, there will be plenty of time for more rounds later. Right now, we need to get somewhere before we’re spotted. “This way.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Irissa
“Irissa, wake up,” Lizette coos as she nudges my leg. “It’s time to get up.”
I roll over, pulling the blanket up to my chin as I cling to fragments of an enticing dream. I don’t know where it was, but Nor was there, his amber eyes watching me with unreserved wonder. Did I do something? Was it impressive? Was it sexual?
As the questions roll through my mind, images from our hallway rendezvous last night come flooding back, and I bolt upright, adrenaline crashing through my veins. My wedding dress lays in tatters on the floor, and my thighs ache from being tossed onto Nor’s shoulders and pinned against the wall.
I remember the way my hands fit around his cock, stroking him without reservation or fear of being caught as I eagerly strived to make him come apart. All in the middle of a hallway.
Heat flushes my cheeks and I finally meet Lizette’s curious gaze. Her hair falls loosely around her shoulders and she’s wearing the all black, traditional Ulleh servant attire. Around her wrists are maroon bands, similar to the ones the minotaur servants wear on their horns. She looks well-rested and content, which is a huge relief after I worried so much during her absence.
“What happened here?” she asks, her eyes dancing to the pile of fabric on the floor.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I rub my hands over my face, wiping the sleep from my eyes, and look down to find my chest bare. Apparently, I managed to slip off the rest of my dress before collapsing onto the four-poster bed, but I don’t recall any of it.
The last thing I remember from the previous night is standing in the doorway to my room, watching as Nor disappeared down the hall without a goodbye. I hadn’t expected him to stay the night, but the lack of affection after our romp in the hall left me feeling deflated. It was a harsh, but needed, reminder that our relationship is strictly business. We’re both a means to an end, and despite our cordial conversations and intimate encounters, we can’t get attached.
