Delayed by Nathan Kingsly (the false prince TXT) 📗

Despite the tension in the air, I laugh. “You’re not paying to stay here, but I have to?”

“Most definitely.” Her hands glide down my arm, and gooseflesh follow her curious fingers.

“Then I better start proving my worth. I won’t stop until your legs shake from release, and we get at least one noise complaint.”

“Don't’ tease me with such a tall order.” She says with a sweet tone.

Grabbing her shirt at the hem, I bring it up past her white lace bra. The curves of her breasts are a plush temptation and my mouth waters. Her fingers brush mine away before she takes over the job, and her shirt lands somewhere on the floor.

Her breast fits perfectly in my palm. With my index finger, I glide it across where the swell meets fabric, so soft. “You don’t think I will fill it?” I ask.

“No, but you should at least try.” My eyes snap to hers, her devilish smile asking me to prove her wrong, and my hand flexes. She gasps and arches into my harsh grip.

If she wanted it rough, all she needed to do was ask.

“Such a smart mouth,” I growl. “I was going to taste you, but I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.” Standing, I grip her side and flip her over. Her gasp of surprise, or maybe in anticipation, spurs me on. I grab her leggings and rip them down—no underwear in sight.

“Dirty girl,” I whisper as I smooth a hand over her bare bottom.

“I like to be comfortable,” she pants.

“I like your definition.” My fingers slide down between her cheeks, where she’s the warmest, and cup her sex. “Fuck, Emma, you’re already so wet.”

A moan tears from her throat as I dip a finger inside. So smooth, warm, and I bet she would taste amazing on my tongue. A part of me wishes to be on my knees, but we both have to wait to find out if I’m right. When I slide two fingers in and rub her clit with my thumb, she whimpers.

“Please.” She pants.

“Please what?”

She lifts herself up with her forearms and twists to look back. “You know what I want.”

Raising an eyebrow, I can feel my smirk. “Do I?” I take my fingers out and lick them clean. She tastes like I should already be inside her. Her eyes darken.

She lays flat, grips either side of her ass, and spreads herself so wide nothing hides from me—all the blood races into my painfully aware erection. For a beat, I'm dizzy, my dick pulsing with wanting to be inside that slick hole that is artfully displayed.

“Fuck me, Liam. I need you inside me.”

Feeling like a teenager, I unbutton my jeans, rip them down my thighs, not bothering to take the zipper down. Pushing my boxers only to the point of cradling my balls, I push in.

We both release a noise of pleasure as I sink inch by inch until I disappear inside her heat.

“Mother of Christ, Emma, your pussy is tight.”

For an answer, her insides clench around me, and I grunt, knowing I can no longer stay still. Gripping her shoulders, I pump myself inside her, a satisfying slap reverberating in the room with every rejoining of our bodies. Her words are incoherent as I push myself to go even faster, and her release tightens around my cock as she lets out a rattled groan.

“L-L-Liam.” She calls. Pulling out, she whimpers, but I’m hardly done with her.

“Take off your bra.” Leaning forward, I unsnap it for her.

Her limbs are slow and lazy as she takes one arm out and then the other.  The bra falls away.

“On your knees.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be so commanding in bed.” I smack her ass, and she squeaks.

“We’re not all as predictable as you think.” But I am predictable. There’s something about her that gets under my skin, pokes, and prods at things that usually stay sleeping. “I said, get on your knees.”

“Ohhh, Liam.” She moans, and I grip her hips harder. “You shouldn’t feel this good.”

“No?” Reaching around, I grip her throat, and she comes willingly. Her back pressing against my front; her hands grip my forearm for balance. With two fingers, I turn her head and kiss her. Whispering against her lips, I demand. “Describe it.”

“I-I-I don’t know if I can.” She breathes, her warm breath against my cheek.

My hips are no longer pounding, and she meets me with every measured thrust. There’s a gasp for every time we connect as I reach deeper and further into her sweet, tight hole.

“Try.”

“It’s like…mhhhh, not knowing how full I could feel until now.” Her pussy constricts around me as if to emphasize her word. "Something sweet and tangy against my skin, almost acidic in the air, but only enough to balance out the sugar aftertaste. Every time you touch me, it intoxicates my bloodstream, keeping me drunk and sated. It’s been that way ever since I brushed your arm on the train.”

Pushing her down onto the bed, my hand grips her bun that's still wet from the rain. I bite my lip as she gasps as I fill her on a forceful thrust. “If writing poetry isn’t what you do for a living, you’re in the wrong profession.” I could not have put this feeling into words, yet it’s how I know it to be. Intoxicatingly full, saturating my veins until drunk.

The room fills with our sounds of passion, no longer needing words, as that familiar feeling of no return tingles at the base of my spine. Pushing her even farther into the mattress, I ride her till release.

Catching my breath, I pull out of her. Heading to the bathroom, I grab a washcloth and run it under warm water. I return to her, her lazy smile filling me with pride. I’ve still got it.

She holds out her hand to take the washcloth, but I bypass her and clean her myself. Tossing it in the direction of the bathroom, I pick up a limp