Chapter 17

Stasi

Sigurd freezes. Just stares me down.

Did I push him too hard?

Did I scare him?

Am I being too needy?

The questions swirl through my head. At the same time, one fact outweighs everything. He has a giant hog down there, and I need that vitamin D more than I need sunshine.

"I didn't bring any condoms. I left in a rush and didn't think about it…"

"It's okay."

"The last thing I expected was to find my…"

I blink at him and shift on the bed, "Your what?"

"Nothing, I…"

"I'm on the pill."

"Are you sure?"

"You're a prince. You get tested, don't you?"

He grunts a "yes."

Secretly, I know that as a matter of health and safety, the so-called Reckless Royal siblings get tested regularly for all communicable diseases, whether sexually active or not. Keeping up with the minutiae of the royals is a spectator sport in Gravenland.

"Same," I say truthfully. The only question now is, does he trust me? So I add, "After my last boyfriend cheated on me, I went and got tested for everything under the sun, and I'm clean as a whistle."

"Good. I mean, I trust you. You don't have to explain."

"I babble when I'm nervous."

"We have that in common."

I give him my slow blink, and his eyes darken. "I like it when you ramble. It's sexy and adorable and makes me imagine how I can help you relax."

"Oh? Like what?" A smile begins to pull at his top lip.

I crawl over to his lap and climb on, straddling his legs. His heated gaze is doing wonderful things to my insides.

"Like…giving you full permission to go absolutely wild on me like I know you want to," I say, accenting my words with a licking kiss to the base of his throat. "Like letting you toss me around the bed like a rag doll until you're completely worn out. Like squeezing you so hard, I'll make you whimper."

Through gritted teeth, he rumbles, "Take it out, then. Take it in your hand and decide if that's what you want."

With pleasure.

I lick my lips and get to work.

I slide back on his legs while he gets to work unzipping his trousers. I lean in and, holding my breath, reach my hand inside his underwear, taking the hard length in my hand.

For his part, Sigurd shoves his trousers and underwear down around his hips in one go, revealing the sight of my hand wrapped around a cock so big that my fingers don't meet. Not even close.

"Oh…wow," I breathe, salivating.

I hold it in my hand and examine the length of it, from its hairy root to its throbbing shaft to its deep pink crown, glistening with precum. I trace the dark veins with my thumb tip. The prince sucks in a sharp breath and says something incomprehensible.

"Hm?" I ask, fluttering my lashes up to meet his gaze.

"Your…fingers…too soft…I can't…"

"Oh, you want my mouth instead?"

His only response is to growl and loll his head back, his chest heaving in effort.

I slide off his lap and kneel on the floor before the bed, eye level with his cock. I pull back the foreskin to reveal the glistening, angry red tip, the sight of which sets off a spasm of every muscle between my legs.

Without hesitation, I lean forward and take the tip into my mouth, licking off the salty droplets.

I don't get any further than this bare taste before he pulls me back, his hands fisting my hair.

His throat is dry, his face tight as he levels me with his gaze. "Stop messing around with your soft mouth. I need to fuck. Can you take it into your hole or not?"

I bite my lip and give him my bravest, most daring look. "Yes, Your Highness."

"Then get up here," he rasps, fisting his cock with his free hand.

I'm trembling by the time he's completely kicked off his trousers and underwear, allowing complete skin-on-skin contact as I climb on top of him. I'd like to rend his white tee shirt in half, but he opts for letting me watch him tug it off.

With one hand guiding him in, my pussy lips wet the tip, gauging my body's reaction. My hand on his shoulder squeezes his thick trap muscle, tense with anticipation.

I guide it slowly to my entrance and take some.

"More?" I ask.

"Careful. I don't want to hurt you."

Honestly, I do not care if he's too big.

I take more of him in, lowering down, letting my muscles adapt to the girth.

Something lets go in him. His shoulders relax under my touch, and he locks his gaze onto mine. His breath shudders.

"Fuck. Baby, you're so tight. You feel too good. I'm not going to last, Stasi."

I thread my fingers through his silky locks. "You let go whenever you need to let go."

This somehow gets him out of his head and back into the moment.

And despite my bravado, the man might actually be too big. I bite back a wince, but he sees it.

"Do I need to back out?"

I will die if this man doesn't finish inside me. Absolutely die.

"No," I say sharply, then soften my voice. "Please, don't back out. I can do this," I whisper. You know what I need."

His eyes turn to liquid silver, his pupils blown out with arousal. He knows.

He swats my hand away from my breast while reaching between our bodies. Sigurd's thick, rough thumb meets my clit and rubs.

Ten minutes ago, I was climbing out of my skin in my aftershocks from his mouth down there; now, it's a new arousal tightening and coiling around that overheated, overstimulated spot.

"Yes…yes!"

I slide down another inch, unable to keep the tension out of my face in response to the delicious sting as he stretches me.

"You can do this, good girl. Daddy's gonna take such good care of you."

And that's all it takes for me to leak all over him. His sensuous touches and sweet words turn me into jelly, and I am on him. I am all over him. My body swallows him whole from root to tip.

Sigurd roars through his teeth.

"Yes…fuck yes…you take it so good, baby girl."

He feels so right inside me I almost cry. But let's not ruin the moment with emotions. "You're so big, my prince. So big and hard and…unghh." I grunt as I begin to rock my hips forward, riding him.

"That's it. You take it and ride it."

I'll do more than that. I'll squeeze it and ride it until he blacks out. The Wild Prince won't remember anyone else after that.

I know I won't be satisfied by anyone or anything after this ride.

I bear down on him, and the more his eyes roll back, the wetter I become.

"Am I doing a good job for you, Your Highness?"

He growls and abruptly adjusts his hands so they cage my hips. "Faster," he heaves.

A subtle sheen of sweat beads on his forehead. "Yes, sir," I say, feeling his cock kick inside me at my words.

The reaction is so gratifying I almost come right then and there, but I hold my shit together and just work him with my body.

As I roll forward and back, I let his digging fingers guide my speed. My clit enjoys the friction, too, and I can feel the coiled heat stretching, stretching until the near-breaking point.

I pump and squeeze with every movement, milking him as thoroughly as possible.

Finally, when we're both covered with sweat and gasping for breath, the Wild Prince explodes inside me, filling me with his release.

"Stasi! Fuck!" Sigurd shouts. "Yes, Stasi."

Every explosive word seems to be punctuated with a hot jet of cum. He splashes into me in hot bursts, filling me so completely that it leaks out again, our combined arousal making a mess on the bed.

And still, I roll and thrust, not letting up. His orgasm recedes slowly, leaving him shuddering, watching me with dark-eyed fascination as I continue to ride, letting the friction build my pleasure bit by aching bit.

"That's it, baby. Get yourself off on me. I love watching you come, Stasi."

There's that L word.

He says the L word, and I come. Hard. All over him, all over his lap. I squeeze my eyes shut and shout his name amid a hundred yeses, every moment opening the door to that word. Love. The love and tenderness that I desperately want and need in my life. And so I pretend he's saying much more than he loves watching me come. I pretend he's saying he loves me.

Just for this moment.

But when I open my eyes, the prince's unearthly gaze matches the wonder that is his still-hard cock.

I should leap off and run away. But with him, something takes hold, and I don't feel any of that doubt or fear.

I only feel trust. Look at his face. Look at his dark gaze. This man wants to wife me. I feel it in his touch, too. And in the fierce surge of his seed. And in every gentle way he tends to me.

This is turning into something beyond just fucking.

And so, I start again, massaging every tight ridge with the sore but still greedy walls of my sex.

He said the L word. It was only sexy banter, but it sends my imagination running wild.

I wish I weren't on the pill. I wish he was pumping his seed into me to make me pregnant.

I want to stay here in the woods with him until we make a baby.

But I can't say anything without him thinking I'm a social climber, can I?

I'm not a climber but look at my circumstances. I wouldn't say no to all the privileges of being a queen.

Surely, he knows that.

I trust him with my body, but do I trust him to know I'm in this for a one-way ticket to the palace and a life of riches?

With the help of his scarred knuckles—gods, I love this man's rough hands—I come again, this time with a keening cry, verbalizing nothing in particular but feeling the beginning of something bigger than the both of us. Letting myself feel the glimmer of hope.

"There she is. There's my girl."

I have nothing left to say, so I reply hoarsely, "Yes."

"That's right. You're my girl, Stasi. Mine."