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“Stasi,” he grits out.
I can’t help myself. I moan softly against his kiss, aware of the dampness soaking at my core. If he says my name like that again, I’ll be leaving a trail of wetness on his lap.
“Anywhere you like. With anything you like.”
A growl vibrates against my palm that rests on his breastbone. I punctuate every thought in my head with a tonguing kiss against his corded throat, my fingers toying with his beard.
“Wherever you want to touch me…my legs…my jugs…my pussy…wherever you want to put your hands…your cock…your mouth…it’s fine with me, but I encourage it.”
The hand at the edge of my panties skims slowly upward, over top of the material, as if he’s memorizing every inch of me. As this happens, Sigurd keeps his gaze locked on mine, which is unsettlingly intimate and so exciting I can’t look away.
16
Sigurd
Stasi is fun, all wrapped up with a sexy bow, presented to me on a silver platter.
What she doesn’t know is I know once I get a taste of her…fun…my life will change. And hers, by extension.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to have fun?”
“Woman, you have no idea what I want to do to you.”
And then she clinches it. “Don’t you think you deserve it? Because you do. Fuck your ideas about power dynamics. I don’t give a fuck that you’re a prince, and I’m a commoner. If I cared about the roll of the dice that is what each of us was born into, then I’d be groveling at your feet. Which I will do if you’re into role-play. What I am going to do is rock your goddamn world.”
With that, I’m sunk.
I’m absolute toast.
No more talking. Only kissing, touching, rubbing, and sharing of heat.
My hand goes to the soft mound between her legs, and the heat there is unbelievable.
I knew it. I knew she was so warm and wet and ready.
Her kisses against my throat have revved me up for more. I need to make sure she’s extra ready to take me, so I fill my hand with her right breast, over her top, squeezing until her nipple pokes through the material.
Her sexy moan might kill me before I get where I want to go.
I want so badly to feel her soft breast against my face, but first, I only rub my cheek over her top, driving myself and her crazy with my mouth soaking the spot where her nipple begs for attention.
After I’m done torturing her, my mouth goes to her throat while my hand finds the hem of her shirt, the warmth of her round tummy making me ache.
I work my way up to her bare breast, the softest thing I’ve ever touched. I fill my hand with it, squeezing it and running my thumb over that nipple until it pebbles as I lick and nip at her tender throat.
Softly cursing, she throws off her tank top and bares herself to me.
And that’s when I see the truth—the reddened shoulders, the skin of her breasts.
Stopping all foreplay, I reach for the aloe, squirt some into my palms, and warm it with my body heat while Stasi squirms on my lap.
“Sigurd. Don’t stop. It doesn’t hurt, I promise.”
“Quiet. You need this,” I reply curtly as I spread the lotion over her pink breasts, one at a time, tenderly but surely covering every pink spot, including her rosy nipples. I try to block out her sexy moans, but it’s no use. All I do is grow stiffer by the second.
“Sit still,” I order.
“Yes, Daddy.”
