Prince: Royal Romantic Suspense (Billionaires in Disguise: Maxence Book 5) by Blair Babylon (best books to read fiction txt) đź“•
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- Author: Blair Babylon
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Sitting on his lap was not a safe and secure feeling.
His height and muscular body caged her.
Her breath was shaky when she exhaled. Every stroke and crimp of his fingers sent shockwaves through her. He wasn’t pinching her hard, not too hard, but just on the edge of too much.
And then she realized that with those safe words, she’d taken the brakes off of Maxence.
He reached for her other breast, thumbing her nipple at first, and then pinching again. His lips found her shoulder and traced down the skin of her back.
Dree curled herself to kiss him, but he said, “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
She sat up straight on his leg as his hands roamed her body, pinching the sensitive spots of her nipples and the skin of her ass. “Will it always be like this? Me not moving, and you doing whatever you want to me?”
“Sometimes I’ll let you move, and sometimes I’ll tie you up so you can’t move. But all the time, I’ll be doing whatever I want to you.”
Heat rushed between her legs.
That was the moment when the good little girl who lived in Dree’s head, the one who judged everything she did against what a nun would think, realized that all the dark desires she’d ever had, all the dirty sexual things she’d read about but thought no good girl would ever do, were going to happen to her.
She didn’t have to admit she wanted them to.
She didn’t have to ask out loud for someone to do forbidden things to her.
She just had to not say no.
Dree closed her eyes.
Maxence’s hands roamed her body, his caresses getting rougher until she was gasping each time he grasped her flesh and squeezed.
He growled in her ear, “When I say face-down on the desk, I mean I want you lying face-down on the desk, your arms and legs spread, ready for me.”
She whispered, “Show me.”
Maxence steered her to stand up. She didn’t let herself flop like a ragdoll, but he evidently had some very specific things in mind.
He turned her to face the desk and, with his palm between her shoulder blades, firmly pressed her to bend from the waist until her forehead touched the green desk blotter. “Turn your head.”
She did, and she caught a glimpse of him standing over her. The lines of his face had hardened, almost like he was angry, but he wasn’t scowling.
He said, “Arms spread to the side, as wide as you can.”
She did.
“That’s for leverage and stability.”
She pressed her palms and fingers against the cool wood, hanging on with her fingertips.
“And spread your legs.”
Dree toe-heeled her feet wider, her toes scrunching into the high-heeled pumps. Because the heels on her pumps were so high and shifted her weight forward, her hip creases pressed against the desk. She almost couldn’t move.
He growled, “Don’t move your arms or your legs. You’re mine to play with.”
She nodded and stared at the books in the bookcase just beyond the edge of his desk. The bindings were maroon and black leather, and all the volumes were the same size.
The warmth of his hands touched her knees, and his big palms and fingers slid upward, shoving the tight stretchy fabric of her dress up and over her thighs until it was an elastic band around her waist and left her ass bare.
With one hand, he grasped her hip, while his other hand curved around the side of her ass cheek until he was holding the bottom of it. “Have I ever mentioned that you have the most beautiful bottom I think I’ve ever seen?”
Dree lifted her head and tried to look back over her shoulder. “I do?”
He pressed her face back against the green desk blotter. “No looking back. No talking.”
She laid her cheek on the felt blotter.
He stroked her ass with feathery touches at first, but then the petting turned to a massage of her ass cheeks and hips, reaching lower with each circular caress until one of his hands reached under her and between her legs, and he slowly rubbed the entrance to her channel.
Dree clawed with her fingertips, trying to stay still. She had no illusions that if she did the wrong thing, he was going to stop and leave her high and dry.
Well, not dry. She was sopping wet down there.
Maxence spread her wetness over the folds of her sex, barely grazing the sensitive nub he’d made her rub earlier.
When she was thoroughly slick, he began to press one of his fingers inside her, each stroke awakening sensation. When his finger was sliding through her flesh easily, each stroke a slow torture that wound her up but didn’t finish her, he added another finger and stretched her inside.
She couldn’t hold back a low moan at the pressure and friction rubbing inside and yet not forcing her over the edge.
When his two fingers slipped in easily all the way up to his hand, he very lightly twisted and rubbed his knuckles over her, enough to stimulate her so that her core and abs clenched but not enough to finish her off.
She was going to die. That was it. She was going to die because every time he did that, she gasped, but it felt like she couldn’t breathe. She was going to die.
He kept doing that, each twist of his wrist grinding his knuckles against her, and her body clenched so hard that it hurt.
His growl was even lower in his throat this time when he asked, “Should I keep giving you my finger, or should I take you?”
She thought she wouldn’t have to say this kind of stuff. That was the whole point of only having safe words, that she didn’t have to ask for it.
She didn’t answer.
He growled near her ear, “If you don’t tell me, I won’t let you come.”
Dree squeezed her eyes shut and
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