Anger, that spawned anger at her for losing him his brother.
“I’m not wrong.”
Fuck this, being nice. He should make her his, then sort out the consequences. If they survived.
When they survived.
“How can you be sure?” she asked.
His thoughts drowned him, blotted out sound. There was only her, him, and his carnal urges to screw with this princess until she went to her knees and begged him to take her. Right, wrong, who cared.
He did, should, might. He shut his eyes for a moment, feeling her small hands move on his. He was sure could sense the beat of her heart, and he smelled her with every breath he took. Not perfume—just her, nubile, sexy, fertile.
The problem was he’d never been a good man. He opened his eyes and realized he’d bared his teeth.
Gentler. Gentler, for now. Though he craved teaching her the many and varied ways a man could love a woman.
And the ways a woman could take a cock inside her.
“I’m not wrong. I’ll get us all out of here, safe. Give me three days for this caravan to get closer to Taritolla. Then we go.” He threaded his fingers through hers and slowly raised them until he’d pinned her hands to the canvas with weight alone—softly, and the canvas dented.
She was staring, waiting.
“This is different for you. Together we will get through this, but you have to trust me, and do as I say.”
And here he was imagining tying a rope around her eyes, spinning her, and fastening her to this tent and…
Trust was a dangerous word.
“Say yes.”
That wrinkle between her eyes was cute. He kissed her forehead and she sighed.
“John…”
“Mmm?”
“I don’t know.”
Simply hearing her say his name aroused him.
He had this bad.
Bad man, bad feelings, bad intentions. He was beginning to wonder if he was the hero or the villain.
He leaned in, pushed her hands harder into the taut canvas, making it bow, and he kissed her soft mouth. When she began to respond, opening, making gasps and sighs, he bit her lower lip once, carefully, then left her mouth to march more kisses down her jaw. Then to her neck, while he swapped one hand of hers to his other, until both were trapped under his left.
She squirmed against him, pushing forward, pressing against his erection.
Provocation.
“Bad princess,” he murmured, dragging down the neckline of her dress and her bra in one motion. She seemed shocked and only made a faint mewling noise. His princess liked playing the victim. His cock kicked up a notch on the scale of hardness.
John bent his knees and took a large mouthful of her that engulfed nipple and some of the surrounding breast. He sucked it all in while bestowing everywhere within reach with the swipe of his tongue. He sucked again, and with his hand cupped and pushed her whole breast upward, pressing it higher into his mouth.
Her muscles stiffened. For a long moment there was silence, no breathing, and he sucked and licked at her more, biting her delicately. Finally, she sobbed, breath catching. Her next sounds were fractured moans, broken by passion and his teeth on her skin.
That’s my princess.
When he was done, when he stepped away, he didn’t release her breast, or her hands, keeping her in place so he could observe.
Panting, she looked even more a temptation—wet of mouth and breast, skin shining where moonlight bathed her.
“You’re shaking, girl.”
“Girl…” she spat. “I’m not.” Said while her chest heaved as if she’d run a mile. She gulped.
How he relished calling her girl, and it might help her divorce herself from being the princess. There, that thought was his good side.
“I know it’s not because you’re nervous. Would my hand come away slick with wetness, if I pushed it between your legs?”
Not for one second did he cease studying her face.
“How dare you ask that. You apologized. Remember? Release me. I am your ruler, and perhaps it is best if I reveal myself to the prince.” For once she sounded hesitant.
“Reveal your body, yes. Try the other and I will gag you and spank you, and maybe spread your legs and slide myself inside you on that table in there. I swear… If I let you do that, you risk the lives of all of us. You will not. Understand?”
She blinked, licking her mouth.
“Tonight you cannot be my ruler. Or anyone’s.”
Then, with her pinned by gaze and hand, and with his fingers making dents in the flesh of her breast, at his own deliberate pace, he removed his hand from her breast and lifted her dress. He pushed it between her thighs. His fingers slid in her arousal. When his fingertip circled her entrance, her pussy squeezed in.
“Welcoming me in? Nice.”
She closed her eyes.
Savoring her reactions, her sounds, he pushed in small distance, wetting his finger to the depth of a knuckle. Her expression faltered when his finger paused inside her. He waited, watched. Po whimpered and lowered her head so that her hair swung and concealed her face. But not enough.
Her lips were open in an O he direly wanted to fuck; the woman writhed against his strength. Her lower body and legs strained as if to make him fuck her deeper.
Smiling grimly, he pulled away, then wiped his wet hand on her dress.
“This doesn’t lie. Your cunt.”
She shook her head. “Unfair. You know this. It’s just—”
“That you want me.”
Her mouth pinched in, and she shuddered. “No.”
“I fear the princess is a liar.”
Fuck this. Fuck being the polite brother, the one who apologized.
In that second his resolve became close to solid.
In three days, he could make her his whore—his princess, his slave.
“We will go back into
