She stills, her lips pressed together for a long moment, until I think I made a mistake. That I misjudged what she wants and that I should apologize and leave.
But then her lips part. A small sound escapes her, lost in the fusion of our mouths, and her hands come up to tangle in my hair, dragging me closer.
Fuck, yeah. Finally I’m tasting her mouth, and it’s like her, burning hot and sugar sweet. I slide my hand to the back of her head, controlling the kiss, thrusting into her mouth, sliding my other hand around her shoulders, pulling her against me.
She’s trembling. When I pull her leg over my thigh, she rocks. I doubt she realizes she’s doing it. Her eyes have fallen shut, and she’s whimpering.
Breaking the kiss, I kiss a line to her neck, and whisper in the fine shell of her ear, “I’m gonna make you come, Princess.”
“Oh God…” She’s panting, and it’s like little sobs. “I shouldn’t. I have a plan. I shouldn’t…”
I trail my hand down, over her tits, and she gasps. “Shall I stop?”
“God, no.” Her eyes are feverish. “I mean, I don’t know. I was supposed to… supposed to save myself.”
I shift on the sofa, so hard I ache. “I won’t fuck you, Princess, if that’s what you want, though I bet my big cock inside your pussy will make you come like nothing else. But there are other ways…”
She bites her lower lip, face crimson. “How?”
She feels so right in my arms. I kiss her again. I shouldn’t. But I want her.
And I want to see her come apart from pleasure. I wanna see her come so hard she forgets herself and her hang-ups, those ancient ideas of saving her cherry for a prince, and give herself to me.
“Let me show you.”
***
I lower her down on the sofa, on her back, smirking at her wide-eyed look. With her curls tumbling around her, her tits almost spilling from her Disney princess dress, she looks…cute.
Fuckable.
Perfect.
I push up the long dress, revealing her long legs, and take in my hands her feet, encased in those blue high-heeled shoes, so sexy and yet childish.
Another powerful combo. It’s like she’s made of beautiful contradictions.
I stroke her legs, and she shivers. The fabric of her dress is flimsy, light, and I push it up higher, until I get a look of her panties.
Pink. Lace. With bows.
Jesus Fuck.
“Rid…” Panicking. Her feet jerk in my hands, almost nailing me in the nuts. “I can’t…”
“Shhh.” I put her feet on the sofa and kneel between her legs, then brace one hand beside her head and bend over her. “I just wanna touch you. That okay?”
After a moment, she nods. Swallows. Nods again.
“Good girl.” I trail my free hand between her legs, over the pink panties. Heat seeps through the lace as I stroke my thumb down her seam. Again. And again. And again, until she moans and lifts her hips off the sofa, pressing into my hand.
“God,” she whispers. “God, Rid…”
I kiss her. I lick at her lips, thrust my tongue inside her mouth, suck and nibble and groan when the sensations shoot to my dick until it’s hot and heavy inside my jeans.
Her moans are growing desperate. I draw back, breaking the kiss, wanting to hear them as I keep rubbing my thumb over the lace, feeling it grow damp.
She lifts her head and our lips meet again.