Chapter 19
Nineteen
AURELIA
I yelp as the prince’s arms go tighter around me, and he stands without much struggle at all, even with my added weight clinging to him. He nudges the handle on the door with his elbow, stepping into the hallway.
“Friedrich! I’m practically naked,” I squeak.
His laugh rumbles through me. “No one is up here, and besides, all they would see is your back.” He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “And maybe a little side boob.”
I bury my face in the crook of his neck to hide my embarrassment. His bedroom is a few doors down, and he deals with that door just as easily, kicking it closed behind us before setting me gently on the bed.
We study each other for a moment, and I can’t find it in myself to be shy that he’s staring at my breasts when he just had his mouth all over them.
My eyes wander his exposed chest, too. It’s a fine sight to behold; a sprinkle of chest hair graces pectorals that are defined but not super muscular, just like the rest of him.
I know he’s a runner, but he must spend a little time lifting to get the kind of carefully defined abs and lithe arms that have no trouble carrying me around.
I trace the lines of his abdominal muscles, trailing my fingers down and down into the line of hair running from his belly button and then hiding beneath the grey sweats he changed into after our dash through the rain. There’s a very prominent tent in those pants that I can’t ignore.
“Can I take these off?” I ask as I caress along the waistband.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his expression drawn tight as if he’s having to concentrate on something as he nods.
I drag his pants down ever so slowly, my breath catching when I see there’s nothing else underneath, and his penis springs free.
I’ve never seen an adult man fully naked before, and I think I stop breathing altogether when I sit back to take in Prince Friedrich in all his thick, veiny, slightly curved glory.
Anatomy class did not prepare me for this. This thing between his legs, it’s…
“It’s so big,” I manage when my lungs start to work again.
He huffs a laugh. “I’d take that as a compliment, but I’m not sure what you’re comparing it to.”
“I guess I don’t have a frame of reference really, but this…” I cock my head to the side to see it from another angle. I know where it’s supposed to go, but how? I lift my hand but stop myself. “Can I touch you?”
He takes in a long breath. “Hell yes,” he says on the exhale.
I reach out with one finger, following a vein all the way down to the patch of neatly trimmed dark hair at the base. He hums as I do, and my whole body tingles with the need to make him react again.
I gaze up at him. From my sitting position on the edge of the bed, he towers over me. His hand goes to my face, his thumb stroking the arch of my cheek. The blue in his eyes is almost completely covered by wide, blown pupils.
“Show me.”
“Fuck,” he groans.
Taking my wrist in his hand, he guides my palm to the thick shaft and moves his hand over mine, pressing my fingers down to curl around him.
My thumb and middle finger barely meet. The flesh is soft and warm, but underneath is hard as stone.
His hand is still on top of mine as he guides me all the way to the tip of him and then back down again.
He leads me through a few strokes, and I flick my gaze between his agonized face and the work I’m doing much lower.
“Just like that.” His voice is strained, and I see tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he drops his hold on me.
“Slow like this?” I ask, hating myself a little for being so unsure about something that seems so elementary.
“Fast. Slow. Whatever the fuck you want.”
The desperation in his voice makes me bold, and I start to move my hand again, a bit faster this time. Something like pride wells in me as he mutters out strings of profanity-laced praise.
Thick, clear liquid beads at the tip, and this new brazen part of me wants to know it too. I swipe my thumb through it. I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but I lift my thumb to my mouth and taste.
“Okay, that’s fucking enough,” Friedrich growls, lifting me under my arms and tossing me further back in the oversized bed. “These are done.” He pulls my borrowed pajama bottoms down by the ankles, sliding the back of my panties down a bit too.
Then he’s over me, holding his larger frame up on his forearms, our bodies still pressed together.
The hair on his chest is beautiful friction on my exposed breasts.
His kiss is wild and frantic, his tongue swirling with mine like he must consume all of me.
I almost whimper when his mouth leaves mine, but then his lips are on my neck, my clavicle, briefly back on one breast and then the other.
He’s taking his time with my body, and it’s both wonderful in how very good he makes me feel and infuriating in how badly I want him to get a move on.
As if reading my mind, Friedrich resumes his oral exploration. A shudder rolls through me as he reaches the tender skin below my belly button.
“Careful, I’m ticklish.”
“Is that so?” He shoots me a mischievous grin and wiggles his fingers at my sides.
“Oh, no! Please no!” I wiggle and squirm beneath him as he grabs my sides and gives a little squeeze, which just makes me squeal.
He sits up, his heated eyes sending warmth straight to my core. “Hmm, I wonder what else makes you squirm like that.” My skin sparks where he traces a finger along the top band of my panties. “May I?”
Every nerve in my body is screaming for more, and the part of my brain that should be the voice of reason is dead silent. So, I put my hands over his and push them down, dragging the last bit of my clothing along.
He sucks his lips, and there might be a flash of hesitation in his eyes as he kneels between my legs.
At least I had the forethought to do a little trim work of my own this time.
His jaw is clenched tight, and he flexes his fingers on my lower thighs.
Slowly, slowly, he slides a hand up my leg, following the curve of my thigh until he’s nearly at the place crying out for his touch. Just freaking touch me already!
And then he finally does, and my insides go haywire. His fingers are feather light against my sensitive skin, my breaths coming in short puffs as he once again traces a finger down, parting my lips and gathering the wetness there.
“So sweet,” he groans as he sucks the digit into his mouth, and this time, I don’t blush; it doesn’t make me cringe to watch him lick my wetness from his fingers. It makes me… Jeez, it makes me feel like I’m on fire.
His hands are slow and methodical, reverent as he explores the places he has only gotten to touch but not see. I wonder if he’s filing away all the little sounds I make as he touches me. Does he like those sounds? Am I doing it right?
“Aurelia,” he says, now lying flat on his stomach on the bed, his face so tantalizingly near the center of my need. Why does he look so sexy with his arms curled underneath my legs and his head tilted up between them? His electrifying eyes are locked hard on mine.
“Hmm?”
“I can hear you thinking.” He rubs his cheek on the inside of my leg, tickling me in the best way with his gorgeous beard.
“Is that a problem?” I stammer.
“Yes.” His lips are firm at the crease of my leg. “Stop.” He slides his tongue up the outside of one swollen lip, and my racing thoughts screech to a halt.
I try to mumble out something. Some sort of confirmation that I’m good and he’s good and oh, dear, please just do it already, but my mouth is so dry, and my brain is pure mush at this point.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathes against my aching mound.
He’s watching me through his impossibly long eyelashes.
I think my lip is going to be permanently marked from the way I’ve chewed on it today.
He shivers as I slide my fingers through his hair, caressing my nails over his scalp.
I don’t think I can make words, but I need him.
I need to know what his mouth feels like on me.
I never knew my body could need something so badly. Biting hard on my lower lip, I nod.
“I need verbal confirmation, princess.”
“Friedrich,” I breathe. “Please.”
His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he crashes his mouth like a starving man to my clitoris.
I don’t have time to be self-conscious of the cry that escapes me.
It’s too much and not enough all at once as he swirls his tongue on that bundle of nerves.
My hands are cramping from how tightly I’m fisting the sheets around me.
But I’ve got to hold on to something because I’m afraid I might launch into space as his tongue parts my folds and teases at my entrance, and I’m all of the sudden very aware that I want something else in its place.
I’ve never wanted that in my life, never imagined myself in such a position as this, never had the urge to do any more than a little heavy petting.
But what Friedrich is doing to me now, if it feels this good, how amazing would the rest of it be?
“Oh, god,” I groan when he returns his attention to my clit. My legs tremble and shake while he licks and lathes and sucks and—
“Fritz, oh my god!” I keen as all my nerves start to shoot off at once when he slips a finger into me.
He curls his finger inside my channel, and my thighs clamp tight around his head, seeking any kind of grounding, any inch of control over my body.
I don’t even try to contain my cries as he coaxes me nearer and nearer to climax.
This is not my body, this is not my brain, this is not my life because nothing in my existence could feel this flipping incredible.