At his words, I come so hard that the edges of my vision blur and I press my face into the mattress to muffle my screams.
Only when my quaking has begun to subside does he push me forward on the bed and climb on behind me, lining up his cock with my entrance.
“Ask for it,” he commands, and my body responds with another gush of wetness.
I can’t find the words.
“Ask for it,” he says again, his voice sharper, the head of his cock insistent at my slit.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please, fuck me. Please. Please. I beg you.”
Only when I’m crying out for it does Alec thrust his hips forward, filling me to the hilt in a single stroke.
I come again right away, my muscles clenching around the incredible thickness of him. Despite all the hours we’ve spent in bed since we met, my body still has to adjust to his size, and as it does I can feel every ridge, every vein.
He stays embedded deep inside me, a hand on the back of my neck, holding my head down, until my hips start to writhe again, and then he draws himself out slowly. He stops when just the head of his cock remains inside of me, and I can’t take it. I want him back inside of me, I have to have him, I need it now, now, now.
My frantic attempts to push myself back onto his length are met with the sexiest laugh I’ve ever heard, and then he humors me by slamming in again.
He’s driving me wild.
Alec fucks me right to the edge of another intense orgasm, and then—when I’m right there—he ups the ante, taking his hands from my waist and sliding them down to my ass, spreading my cheeks even wider. He presses his cock in another inch, then licks a finger…
…and presses it right against my asshole.
I gasp, but I don’t fight it, so lost in him, so filled by him, that arguing doesn’t even cross my mind.
“Let me in,” he says, his voice soft but filled with authority.
“How?” I breathe, almost unable to speak.
“Relax.”
At this order, I feel every muscle in my body loosen. Alec presses his finger inside my ass up to his first knuckle, and the sensation is so intense, so unfamiliar, so dirty, that I cry out.
“Let it happen,” he says gently, and I let a breath out, trying to relax, trying to do as he says.
He drills his finger in farther. It feels huge, he’s stretching me out and going so deep. I want to wriggle my hips, but I stay still, because pleasing him in this moment is all I want to do…
He pushes in, in, in as I let out little whimpers, little cries of pleasure and pain, and after a minute my asshole is clenching around the full length of his finger.
Then comes the master stroke.
Alec reaches around with his other hand and puts one finger on my clit, then drags his cock out of my pussy again, inch by inch.
“Ready?” he says, lust lacing his voice.
“Yes, yes, yes.” I am so far gone that my words come in threes.
In the same moment he drives his cock home, he swirls his finger over my clit, his finger held firmly in my ass.
The blinding orgasm that engulfs me assails all my senses and consumes my entire being. It overwhelms me. Ruins me.
Saves me.
Chapter Eighteen
Alec
We’re twenty minutes in to a skull-numbingly boring meeting about goddamn public relations strategy and a trip I’m supposed to take to a local school next week when my father abruptly changes the topic.
“Have you sent the girl home, Alexander?”
The girl.
Jesus.
There is no way on earth that she could ever go back to being just “the girl.” Not after the conversation we had at dinner three days ago.
I learned something about her during our dinner date that I’m certain I would never have known otherwise. Jessica doesn’t seem like the type to wear past hardships on her sleeve—she’s too confident, too self-assured for that—but clearly she wanted me to know that the boundary she set on our first “date” wasn’t something she pulled out of thin air. She had her reasons.
I only wish we’d had more time to talk about the things that matter.
Instead, I’ve spent the last two days attending events all over the capitol city and throughout the rest of the country. It’s media appearance after media appearance. I know it’s part of being a prince, but the scheduling has been oddly heavy. I bet it’s to keep me away from Jessica.
That girl.
Aside from that, my father is the fucking King of Saintland. He doesn’t need to ask me this question. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s had people keeping tabs on her since we arrived.
I look at him as he sits across from me at his desk and choose, at the last moment, not to make a snide comment. “No,” I answer.