Page 50 of The Princess Tied

More, please. Thoughts did not help.

But she could not ask. That would be absolutely wrong.

At the wagon, John helped her in and then followed. “I’ll put this rolled blanket in the middle. Go to sleep. In the morning I will check your ass for bruises.”

That was it? Stunned she watched him roll over. Within a few minutes, he was breathing like one who has slipped into sleep. She nearly pinched him but instead she lay down on her side and stared at the back of his head. Too dark in here to see much detail. The pillows smelled of horses. And she dearly wanted to put her hand on herself and make herself orgasm.

No.

No. He might wake and catch her in the middle of touching herself. For some strange reason, that terrified her. She shut her eyes, and fell asleep dreaming of John looking at her butt and tsking as he smoothed his hand lower…

CHAPTER ELEVEN

woke to feel the sheets slipping from her body, going a long way down, until a breeze riffled across her skin. Her face was stuffed into her pillow. She turned her head, popped open one eye and saw bleary brightness.

Morning then.

“Good morning,” John sang, but soft and low, as if he feared waking her, but she was awake, and he was…

Po swallowed, shut her eye. He was pulling down her underwear, the ones she’d dressed in late last night, after she’d walked back here nude and craving him.

“What are you doing?” she edged out through a constricting throat. As if she didn’t know.

“Checking your pretty ass for bruises.” He sighed and laid his large hand on one cheek, then he lifted his palm and trailed fingers across her skin, livening her, creating flurries of gorgeous feathery bliss.

She wriggled, just the smallest amount, sure he would see but unable to stop—it pressed her clit against the bedding, and for the first time she was glad of the firmness of the mattress.

“There are some small ones,” he added matter-of-factly. “Beautiful.”

She wasn’t sure if that compliment was for her ass or the bruises but didn’t care. Knowing he stared at her down there was doing all the right and wrong things to her.

Her legs were together so he wouldn’t see much. What if she opened them a smidgen? That would be obscene.

Sex. She hadn’t really done it.

She needed to. And lacked the right language. A princess did not ask a stranger to fuck her, and John was still that in many ways.

To fuck. She inhaled and held the breath in for a long while, as she rolled that word around in her mind. Her body felt alive.

If only he would do something without her asking. She did not protest. Was that not enough?

His fingers trailed to the other side of her butt, shifting her night shift higher, exposing her more. He drew a line down the divide of her ass, only to stop before delving toward her sex.

Po let out a small noise of exasperation.

He laughed, quietly. “Want something, girl?”

Girl. She blinked against her pillow.

“You want something, you have to say it. Just once, and I will take it from there. Flowers.” He pinched her ass, moved on and pinched again, travelling closer to her intimate place. “A walk in the rain.” Pinch.

She groaned into the pillow and did, actually, part her legs, just a little, enough that he must see what she did. Why could he not just do it?!

“Me putting my cock in you.”

God.

Po stiffened, and John slipped onto the bed beside her, his fingers tangling in her hair as he burrowed his face into her hair and nipped at her neck. Not hard though. Nowhere near hard enough. And still she could not say it. But she turned onto her side and felt him slip into place behind her, spooning.