Chapter Nine #3
He kissed her again. ‘Working on it,’ he said.
Then levered off her and walked into the adjoining bathroom, gloriously naked, the erection bobbing boldly, his muscular butt a sight to behold.
When he returned seconds later, he had a foil package in his hand.
He ripped it open and rolled it on the thick length while she watched, her trepidation almost as exhilarating as the thought of having the desperate yearning inside her finally filled.
Climbing back onto the bed, he caged her in with muscular arms, the sensual smile now replaced with desperation. He cupped her cheek, ran his thumb over her lips. ‘Are you still sure about this, Freya? Because once we do this thing, there’s no going back.’
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, the intent in his eyes making her momentarily wary. Why did this have to mean anything? Other than the pursuit of pleasure? He had made no promises, no demands and neither had she, nor would she.
But the rush of desire was too great for coherent thought, so she dismissed the prickle of panic at the strange expression on his face and nodded.
He clasped her hips in sure hands, settled his large body in the lee of hers. Grasping her knees, he drew them up to position her. The erection pushed against her sex, still swollen and slick from her climax.
He thrust, with a sureness, a certainty that took her breath away and had her gasping. The full, stretched feeling was too much and yet not enough, the penetration impossibly deep.
‘You’re so tight,’ he murmured against her neck. ‘Has it been a while?’
She clung to his shoulders, nodded again, robbed of words, not wanting to lie, but not wanting him to stop.
He rocked his hips, out, then back, easing deeper, until the immense pressure turned to discomfort. Too full. Too firm. Too much.
She groaned, a raw guttural sound, as the soreness became a sharp pain.
Suddenly he was lodged so deep, she could feel him everywhere—each sensation acute.
Not just the raw pulse of her sex, but also the rasps of her breathing, the heady buzz in her breasts as her nipples rubbed against the coarse hair on his chest. She inhaled the rich, earthy scent of him.
Everywhere their bodies touched felt raw and strange and new. She drifted, the pain turning to discomfort, then a fullness so immense his possession of her heightened every sound, every touch, every shattered emotion.
He swore in Greek. Then lifted his head, his fingers caressing her hips, even as his gaze sharpened, and something akin to horror crossed his face.
‘Am I your first?’ he said, the tone cracking with shock or concern, she couldn’t be sure.
She wanted to lie in that moment, because he did not look happy at the prospect, but somehow the feel of him so large and firm inside her robbed her of the ability to deny the truth. ‘Yes…’
He swore again and dropped his forehead to hers.
‘I-I have to move. Am I hurting you?’ That he would ask made her heart swell even as her panic increased.
‘No, not any more.’
He found the place where their bodies joined and brushed over her tender clit.
Her body contracted, the rush of pleasure fierce and full as her sex clamped around that thick intrusion.
He began to move. Slowly, carefully at first, with infinite patience.
Dragging out, thrusting back, finding a rhythm that made her writhe—caught on the hook of her own pleasure.
The climax that had been so far away moments before began to build and swell again.
She clutched his shoulders to lift into those punishing thrusts, taking more of him, taking all.
They moved together in sinuous, frantic rhythm, giddy seduction turning to furious elemental need.
‘Come for me, dammit,’ he growled, his voice low with urgency.
The conflagration burst inside her, as if by his command, terrifying and beautiful in its intensity—soaring through her aching flesh to torch everything it touched, like fireworks on a winter night—vivid, vibrant and free.
She coasted on the wave and plummeted into the abyss.
And heard him shout his own release as he plummeted behind her.
What the fuck just happened?
Theo dragged his aching cock free, managing through sheer force of will to keep his arms braced long enough to stop himself from crushing the woman he’d just pounded into the mattress like a madman.
He rolled onto his back, still struggling to even his breathing, his heart racing like a runaway train, the raging hunger not fully sated, even though he’d just had an out-of-body experience… And easily the most shattering orgasm of his entire life.
He threw his arm over his face as shame washed through him. It was a shame he recognised but hadn’t had to acknowledge in a long time.
Dammit, she’d been a virgin. And yet he hadn’t been able to stop. She was a princess—and he’d treated her like a whore.
Not that he’d ever paid for sex, but he’d seen the poor creatures who had worked the docks, and the men who used them in the shadows.
Sex to him had always been light, pleasurable, a recreational sport that he enjoyed. He prided himself on always giving the women he dated, however briefly, a good time, before moving on. But this already felt like more. Like too much.
‘Theo, is everything okay?’
The quiet question from the woman—no, the girl—beside him made his gut knot, even as his cock twitched with renewed vigour.
He turned to see her flushed face, her arm covering those glorious breasts, the low cabin lighting turning her skin to gold.
The shame rolled over in his gut, but right behind it was the fear that he’d let her see the feral kid who lurked beneath the man.
The person he had always kept hidden from everyone.
The boy he’d thought was long gone. Until he’d made the dumb decision to seduce a princess.
He reached out and tucked a sweaty curl behind her ear. Dragged his finger across her lips, reddened from his kisses.
Nothing was okay. Not one damn thing. Because he still wanted her, with a force and fury that defied reason. And that scared him. But he forced himself to keep the tangle of emotions he didn’t want to feel off his face.
Pull yourself together, Caras.
‘Shouldn’t that be my line, Freya?’ he murmured, annoyed now by how adrift and untethered he was. How the hell had a simple seduction become so potent and provocative?
Especially as she had never done this before.
The surge of possessiveness at that realisation only annoyed him more. He was not the possessive type.
Perhaps it was just because he was her first. She’d given him a responsibility he’d never had before with any other woman.
A responsibility he didn’t…shouldn’t want.
And now he felt bound to her in ways he didn’t like.
Ways he had never intended, and which would complicate the marriage proposal he’d been considering.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.
Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Tell you what?’ she asked, the sheen of surprise not convincing anyone, especially not a cynic like him.
He leaned over her, propped himself on his elbow to stare at her. She squirmed, and the guilty flush turning her cheeks to a dusky pink told him all he needed to know.
‘You know damn well what. Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?’
Damn, had she planned this? Had he just been hoisted by his own petard.
It would almost be funny—given the way he’d always used women in the past—that he had been bested by a virgin, and a rich, sheltered royal one at that—if it weren’t making the hole in his gut grow so huge it felt as if it might swallow him whole.
Instead of answering his perfectly reasonable question, she scooted out from under him. Grabbing the sheet, she shot off the bed, to stand in the narrow space between the bed and the cabin’s luxury sideboards while hastily covering her nakedness.
‘Why do you care, when you climaxed, too?’ she asked.
Because I didn’t just come, I practically exploded.
He ground his teeth. No way was he telling her that.
But worse was the knowledge it wasn’t just the intensity of his orgasm, or even her virginity that had freaked him out the most…
It was the vicious surge of possessiveness, the hunger still humming in his gut, and the fear that he’d just taken a step he couldn’t un-take.
He’d assumed that seducing Freya would take the edge off, so he could concentrate on getting what he wanted out of this liaison—which wasn’t sex!
But now he wasn’t so sure, because he couldn’t think straight while staring at her barely concealed curves and inhaling the musky scent of sex which filled the air.
‘I’m not angry,’ he lied. ‘I just want to know what you’re expecting here. Because I don’t do romance, Freya. So, if you’ve got some dumb notion I’m your hero—you may need to reassess.’
Her eyebrows shot up her forehead this time, but then, to his absolute astonishment, she laughed. No, not laughed, it was more like an incredulous scoffing sound.
‘Are you actually serious?’ she asked. But before he could get the spurt of temper under control—and the flicker of hurt that made no sense, because he had never allowed any woman to get close enough to hurt him—she continued.
‘Do I look like an idiot to you? You kidnapped me…twice. And lied to me. If I was looking for a hero, I’d pick one less tarnished than you. And anyway, I’m not anyone’s damsel in distress. I don’t need to be saved. Because I can save myself.’
‘Oh yeah?’ he all but snarled, aggravated more by the hurt than the derogatory assessment of his character, which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely unjustified.
‘Then how come you’ve never slept with another man before me?
’ He rose off the bed, grabbing the quilt to wrap around his waist and hide the annoyingly persistent erection, which would not quit.
‘And if I’m such a disappointment, why did you choose me as your first? ’
The flush spread across her collarbone, but she didn’t break eye contact as the deep emerald green sparkled with belligerent fury.
‘I didn’t pick you. You’re just the first man I’ve ever been alone with who I desired.’
His own cheeks heated. Another first. Because now he wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or flattered by the bold statement delivered like a slap.
‘Good to know,’ he growled, deciding to go with insulted, because it felt safer.
The plane chose that precise moment to dip slightly, throwing them both off balance, and he found himself reaching for her. She pitched forward and they tumbled back onto the bed together just as a knock sounded on the door.
‘Mr Caras, we have started our descent into Helsinki. The pilot suggests getting strapped in as there may be some turbulence, sir.’
‘Thanks,’ he shouted, his arms now full of indignant princess. ‘Stop wriggling,’ he whispered into her hair.
‘I want to get up,’ she replied, still wriggling, which wasn’t doing anything to deflate the semi in his lap. ‘I need to shower and change before we arrive.’
He inhaled the scent of roses and sex. The urge to close his arms around her only disturbed him more, so he forced himself to release her. The plane had levelled off.
Two seconds later she had disappeared into the cabin’s bathroom. The click of the lock made his temper snap.
What was she so annoyed about? He was the one who had been tricked into a commitment he didn’t want.
He dragged on his shorts and marched into the plane’s other bathroom, royally pissed now himself.
Damn Her Royal Highness to hell and back, because that was where he was going to be for the next two weeks.