“You know I do—-”
“But only as long as we’re lovers behind his back!”
“Yes. I do only want you that way, but at least I am not lying about it.”
Tension broke out between them, the silence only defeated by the sound of her still-ringing phone.
“If I do this,” she heard herself whisper, “—-will y-you really be able to promise it won’t...hurt?” Her voice caught in the end as an unexpected sob threatened to escape her throat.
The prince clenched and unclenched his fists. Goddamn you, Bennett. How could that asshole find it in him to hurt someone like Fawn? When her weary gaze sought his, the prince had to fight against the urge to simply haul her into his arms and tell her he was not giving her a choice. He would take care of her, fuck her, and kill Bennett for having the sheer audacity of hurting her. It wasn’t necessarily in that order, but those would be his top priorities.
The prince took a deep breath. “If you trust me, I can promise he won’t be able to hurt you anymore.” He offered her his hand. “Be my lover, parthena mou.”
She took it. “Yes.”
****
“Do we really need to have to do this?” Fawn asked uneasily ten minutes later. As soon as they had gotten back inside the prince’s limousine, the prince had automatically reached for her, saying that they had something to do before she could talk to Grant.
And by something, the prince meant that he wanted her on his lap, which was beyond embarrassing.
So of course she started to babble.
“I don’t think it’s proper. Or advisable. I mean, it might not have escaped your notice, but I’m not exactly light as a feather even though I’m stiff as a board. I could be too heavy—-”
“No.” The prince didn’t even look up as he spoke. “You’re not.” He was too busy arranging her limbs, and she found herself responding in a strangely docile manner as she allowed the prince to place her arms around his neck. After, he lifted her hips up and pulled her forward a few inches, causing her skirt to swirl as he pressed her down—-
Oh!
Her skirt settled around her, leaving Fawn’s bare legs to scrape against his pants as she found herself straddling his lap.
Holy sweet Jesus—-
And Fawn started babbling again.
“Y-you must be lying. I have to be heavier than what you’re used to. I’ve seen the girls you’ve taken to bed, and no offense, but they make Thumbelina look fat, and I don’t know if that’s like a fetish, or maybe you’ve got a Lolita complex—”
“Fawn.” When she stopped speaking mid-sentence, the prince said very pleasantly, “Shut up.”
“B-but—-”
“I’m not lying. We need to do this before you talk to Grant.”
“How can I talk to Grant,” she mumbled in protest, “when you made me turn my phone off?” She tried moving away, but the prince retaliated by pulling her more firmly against him. It caused her to slide forward on his lap, and she jerked when she felt something harden under her.
Her gaze flew to him.
Oh my God—-
It!
Was!
Still!
Getting!
Harder!
“Prince,” she gasped.
He raised a brow.
“Your—-” But she still couldn’t make herself say it.
“Are you talking about my co—-”
“Banana,” she snarled, cutting him off.
The prince smirked.
“It’s a banana. Okay?”
“No. It’s not okay. It’s not a banana. Rather, what you’re feeling—-”
Feeling like her world would end the moment she allowed him to say the word, she quickly covered his mouth, and the prince’s words ended up stifled.
“—-is my——mp.”
Ha! Victory! But it was a short-lived feeling, for in the next moment the prince had suddenly started licking the center of her palm—-
Oh my God!
Fawn yanked her hand away, trembling at the way her entire body had seemed to light up with an internal fire at the feel of his tongue on her skin. When she saw the prince’s eyes gleaming with amusement, she spat, “Gross! It’s gross!”
The amusement disappeared, and the prince asked in an ominously soft voice, “Did I not warn you about what would happen if you again used that word with me?”
Oops.
“I m-mean, how gross that no one’s ever licked my hand,” she stammered. “Like, seriously, I’ve always wanted to know how it would feel to have my hand licked like a dog—-” She stopped speaking when the prince’s gaze turned murderous.
Uh.
Oh.
Had she just ended up indirectly calling him...a dog?
The prince cupped her face.
This is it, Fawn thought miserably. I’m totally dead.
“I was planning to take it easy with you, you know.”
Her stomach twisted in fear. Yes, she was definitely going to die in the next thirty seconds.
“But since you’ve proved to be a very stubborn girl who deserves to be punished—-”
Fawn prepared herself for the worst.
The Prince of Darkness was made of Mafia stock, after all.
He could slap her, which would be a mercy, but he could also have her butchered into pieces, buried alive, hung—-
The prince clasped her hips.
Oh...my...God...here...it...came...
And then the prince slowly started sliding her up and down.
Fawn blinked.
And still, the movement continued in an almost lazily slow pace.
Unable to figure out what was happening, she raised her confused eyes to the prince—-
Almost on cue, the prince used the exact same moment to grind himself up against her crotch.
Oh!
Lust burned scorching hot inside of her, blazing into life like it was wildfire that had been allowed to simmer under the surface for an eternity. Her body began to shudder as the prince continued to grind his cock between her folds, and her hands on his shoulders tightened.
“For your punishment,” the prince purred, “you must say the word ‘cock.’”
Her eyes widened.
“If you say it, I’ll make you come. If you don’t—-” The prince suddenly lowered himself back to the seat while lifting her hips off his lap.
She cried out in shocked dismay, unable to believe how achingly empty the lack of contact between their bodies had left her.
A second later, he had pulled her back down, and she found herself doing the unthinkable, with
