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“Yes?” I say innocently, batting my lashes.
“Someone might see you,” he says.
We haven’t seen another soul for weeks, except for the grocery delivery boy, who’s now taken to dropping the bags on the front door and taking his tip online. Occasionally, we run into Josephine, the market manager, but she’s been working less and less these days.
My pout makes Sigurd growl and drop the oars inside the boat with a loud clatter.
I shudder with anticipation at what’s about to happen.
But I have a surprise for him.
With a wicked look, I come up on my knees and rotate around, showing him my rump.
“What are you doing, Stasi?” Sigurd asks, rearing back.
To answer that, I wiggle my ass in the air, my back arched, my hands braced on the wooden bench in front of me.
“Are you sure?”
“You’re not going to break me, Your Highness. And before you even start to fuss, my knees are perfectly cushioned.”
I’m about to tell him my pregnancy hormones are making me rain day and night, ruining my knickers twice a day. But I don’t get that chance as Sigurd’s brawny, fuzzy chest is on me, splayed over my back, his arm hooked around my middle. His hard length grinds between our bodies.
His breath is hot in my ear as he rumbles, “You’re so fucking good to me, Stasi.”
Just him saying my name makes me crazy with need.
“Do what you want with me, baby. Don’t worry if someone sees me.”
“No one is going to see a fucking thing. You’re keeping that suit on. Not that it covers much.” He’s overheated, all gritted teeth and tense muscles, and I love it.
I look back when I hear the jingle of his belt and watch him unzip. My tongue darts out to wet my lips as he lifts his heavy cock out of his knickers, red and throbbing and ready.
I can’t hold back my moan at the sight of it. “I want it, baby. I want that monster in my hole.”
“You’re gonna fucking get it, baby girl,” he says.
He eases the gusset of my swim pants to the side and slips his giant cock between my warm, ready lips. “There you are, baby. There’s my wife.”
I squirm against him as he wets himself in my honey.
We don’t have a manual for this. I simply let him guide me. He knocks my legs apart, reaches around to rub my clit, running circles around it to make me wet.
I squeal with delight when he sinks one greedy wet finger into my ass. “Oh gods, Sigurd. Yes…”
“Good girl. Open up for me.”
My knees are already going weak, which isn’t a good sign. But his kiss sustains me. He paints kisses down my spine, over the small of my back, and all over each cheek. His lips travel slowly down into the valley until I feel the wet snake of his tongue in that place where it’s never been before. My body jerks as he lights up a thousand different nerve endings.
“You good, Stasi?”
“Good,” I rasp. “I’m ready.”
“You’re ready when I say you’re ready,” he reminds me.
I turn and gaze at him over my shoulder. His eyes are feral, with his pupils blown out so that I can barely make out the silver of his irises.
“Look at you,” I say, using the phrase he likes to use on me. “Look at my wild prince.”
