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Falling back to the table, I choke on a whimper.
Then his tongue drags around my aching bud, around and around and around—
“Oh!” It’s a raspy sound that captures me. My hands suddenly flail for a moment, reaching down my body for him. All I can reach is his hair; I’m quick to grab on, and he growls in response.
I hold onto fistfuls of his hair tighter.
Waves of pleasure start to roll over me. Around and around and around.
Faintly, I’m aware of his fingers slipping inside my opening and curling against the walls of my heat. But it’s when he latches his mouth onto my clit andsucksthat I release his hair and throw my hands up to my face. Against my draped forearms, I let out a gutteral cry.
He doesn’t stop.
The sensations dazzle me. Specks twinkle in my eyes, like I’ve always imagined stars to look like, sparkling for only me.
My breaths are growing ragged.
My arms flap back onto the table, my body starting to squirm.
Fingernails cut into the table’s edge, marking the velveteen cover. But all I can focus on is the rise and rise and rise of that sweet, familiar ecstasy. My body feels like a pot of water on a fire pit, heating up and up and up—
Until it boils over.
I thrash on the table. The tray above my head rattles. It’s not the only sound to fill the parlour room.
Slapping my hands to my parted mouth, I cry into my palms. Shudders have sunk into my bones, and I’m trembling on the table, on the verge of a seizure. Legs kick over the prince’s shoulder, I twist and thrash, pressing my hands too firmly on my lips until my teeth ache.
And at my core, I feel a flood of pleasure that the prince’s tongue steals away.
I’m short of breath, in desperate need of air, but it isn’t until that one last shudder—when the prince plants a gentle, chaste kiss on my bud—that I can safely peel away my hands from my face. I suck in a chest-filling breath that arches my back off the table.
It’s all I can do before a chair falls over at my limp legs and the prince is standing between them. He reaches for me, looping his arms around my back, then hoisting me up. Limp, I slump forward, my forehead resting on the hardness of his pec.
Don’t touch him, a voice warns me.
But I’m so lost in these fading, numbing sensations to hear it properly.
I leave my head where it is. And for a moment, the prince allows it.
Then he pulls me out of my daze as his hand slides up my spine to the nape of my neck and he grips, hard, guiding my head back.
Wincing, I arch my back to move into his guidance and look up at him. My lashes hang low with the pull of pleasure still clinging to me.
A late shiver rolls through me and I loosen a blissful sigh.
The prince watches me closely. His eyes rinse over my face, drinking in every speck of flesh I have, every lash I wear, each amber dot hidden in the browns of my eyes. He takes in all of me.
Inching closer, he ghosts his mouth over mine and I can faintly taste myself on him.
Slowly, his lips start to move against mine, twisting into a faded grin. “What more would you do for the white powder?”
I release a heavy breath, one that glistens over the dampness on his lips. Still wearing his grin, he runs his tongue over the wetness as though it’s the remains of an elixir.
At my delayed answer, though, he squeezes the back of my neck.
I choke on a wince. “I would ... make a bargain,” I finally whisper, and the tension of the pleasure is still clutching the raspy remains of my breath.
His grin widens before a faint chuckle rumbles through him, all dark and hoarse—dangeroussounding, not terribly unlike what I would imagine a faraway beast’s growl would be like.
