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“My princess.”
No one has ever called me that. No one would ever look at me and think that word. I’m not poised, graceful, or stylish. I’m not from privilege, nor am I practiced in etiquette or manners. Some would say I’m hardly even feminine, having been barely raised by a man—though what my father did could hardly be considered “raising.”
And the only princess I know of, Princess Flora, is a force of nature. We’ve never met, but everyone knows her. She’s all those things a princess should be. Charming. Expressive. Extroverted. Beloved. Spirited but sweet and feminine.
I’m nothing like her. And yet, here I am. Being called a princess.
And I want to receive it. I want to believe it.
22
Jakob
I just have to go slowly. No matter how much she begs me to go hard.
“More.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“We did fine last night. I’m ready for more. Please.”
I push in gently, slowly, letting Jo adapt once again to my girth.
“Oh…”
“Am I hurting you?”
I’m halfway in, and it takes every fiber of my being to keep things under control, to keep my hips from rocking into her too quickly.
“No. It’s…so good, Jakob.”
“Relax your muscles, just like before…just like that…good girl…you’re such a good fucking girl, Jo.”
She sucks in a breath and gives a shuddering exhale, her muscles adjusting, taking in more of me.
She’s so fucking tight. So perfect. So…meant for me.
“You feel so good, Jakob. Do what you need to do. I want it. I love it. I love us together like this.”
Jo reaches up to cup my face, and my heart squeezes at her glassy-eyed expression.
She winces as I press on until I’m sheathed to the hilt inside her warm cunt.
“Baby?”
“Good…I’m so good, Jakob.” She wraps her legs around me, hooking her feet together at the small of my back. Our fingers are clasped, our forearms locked together above her head.
Jo’s gaze transforms from that faraway look to fierceness, She’s fully present with me now. Her hips start to move.
“I’m not gonna last long. It’s just…all day…being near you…I?—”
“You’re perfect,” she breathes. “You feel amazing.”
Slowly, I rock into her. Our movements are erratic and awkward at first, but eventually, we find our rhythm.
“Fuck me, Jakob!”
My mouth descends on hers in a devouring kiss one second before I try one firm, powerful thrust. I feel connected to her on all levels. Physical. Emotional. I’m going to take care of her for the rest of our lives. I made a promise when we were children, and I meant it. If anything, I’m more serious about that now than before. She’s mine. I was made for her.
