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“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered. “The hurricane was days ago. You’re not on edge.”
“It’s as raw as if it were yesterday,” I bit out.
“I’m not your charge,” she protested.
“Like hell you’re not. You’re perfect and you’re mine, Clara. Mine from the hair on the top of your head to the tip of your painted toenails. Fucking mine.”
She shook her head in denial, her chest rising and falling like an overactive bellows.
I gnashed my teeth at her. “Do you understand?”
Her wet, pink lips parted. Her eyes dilated with excitement and a bite of fear.
“No,” she denied.
Her teeth pressed down on the plump flesh of her bottom lip. She was testing me.
And I snapped.
Her palm made contact with my chest, but I pushed it down, crushing it between our bodies.
I slanted lips over hers. I curled my fingers around her jaw, forcing her mouth open. My tongue swept in like a marauding crusader and conquered her candy-tasting mouth.
Groaning, I inhaled her like she was my next breath.
Her crushed hand pressed into my solar plexus.
“Don’t,” she pleaded, breaking our third kiss.
I ignored her and swept in again. My tongue unearthed places unknown, like a discoverer staking a flag on new land. She tasted like pure sugar melting in the sunshine.
Our fourth kiss.
I was keeping count.
Moaning into my mouth, Clara went pliant beneath me. Her tongue tentatively sought mine. She was hesitant, and I hated that after the passionate kiss we’d shared yesterday. At the same time, her timid innocence was seductive. I restrained myself, giving her the space she needed to come back to me. With time, she grew bolder, becoming more daring with each swipe of her tongue.
A needy little mewl came out as she strained to get closer to me. Her breasts pressed into my chest, her hand was still caught between us. Her hips twitched against mine, rubbing against my cock. Her taste engulfed my brain, leaving me light-headed.
Suddenly, she ripped her mouth from mine.
Wiggling underneath me, she begged, “I’m a virgin.”
Of course, she was, but the fact that she felt the need to state it was equivalent to a confession. She knew where this was going as much as I did.
“Not for long,” I promised, dropping kisses along her jaw and down her throat. It wasn’t happening now, especially when I hadn’t even introduced her to my cock, but it was happening.
She stiffened underneath me and shoved hard. “No, it can never happen.”
Maintaining our closeness, I murmured against her lips, “What the hell are you talking about? You’ll get married one day.” To me. “You’ll have children.” Again, mine. “You’ll grow old with grandchildren.” Alongside me.
“You don’t understand,” she said, twisting her face away from mine. “I can never lose my virginity. Never marry. Never have children.”
I brought my head up. My brows furrowed. “You’re not making sense.”
Our society was based on family, if only to breed men for killing and women for bearing children. The idea of a princess like Clara never marrying was preposterous.
Pressing her lips together in a tight line, she shook her head in denial.
