Page 37 of Lost Royal

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Leaning forward until she’s pressed against me, she touches her lips to mine and my resistance snaps.

My arms band around her, pulling her closer against me, and I kiss her like she’s all I need to breathe.

I'm acutely aware of everything about her. Her scent—sweet vanilla and honey—creeps up my nose and weakens my already precarious control. Her hands are on the back of the couch just inches from my head, and her tits press against me, but I restrain myself, making sure to keep my hands clasped around her waist.

Mostly, it's the heat coming from what I'm imagining is a seriously wet fucking pussy. I can't think of a better way to die than this, but fuck my life, I don't want to until I've at least had a taste of her. As delicious as her mouth is right now, I want to know what her pussy tastes like. I want to bury my tongue deep inside her and kiss her there just as I'm kissing her mouth.

My fingers curl tighter around her waist and without consciously thinking about it, I pull her closer, kiss her deeper, and moan a little louder from the feel of her all around me.

Faster and faster, V rubs against me like a cat needing release, and I'm the only asshole in this place with a conscience who refuses to touch her.

My dick hurts from how hard I am, from the friction of her all over me, from the need I won't allow myself to indulge. It all hurts. This fucking situation, this reality we have to live in, every fucking thing about this life sucks ass, and not in a good way.

Fuck, now I'm thinking about her ass and this is not good. Not fucking good at all.

"East, please."

Christ, how am I supposed to deny her? Her lips are gliding from one corner of my mouth to the other, her begging words a mere whisper across my kiss-swollen lips.

"I can't, V. I want to, but I can't."

If I thought she'd back off, maybe give me a little breathing room so I don't fucking come in my sweats, I was dead wrong. Instead, this little minx doesn’t relent and rubs even harder, her resolve a clear message.

She wants me to make her come.

Fine.

Just because I refuse to take advantage of her, doesn't mean she can't have pleasure, right?

Right?

With one hand at her waist holding her down and close to my aching cock, I bury my other in her hair, fisting her long, dark locks right at her nape. She's trapped in my grasp, my prisoner in this very precarious moment. Yet her breathing kicks up, her thighs squeeze mine, and her breaths against my mouth are shallow and quick.

All the signs are there—she wants me as much as I need her—but I will not be a selfish asshole, not for this.

Our mouths slam back together, our tongues fighting out our baser instincts. We are just lust and chemistry, our bodies calling one to the other while my mind tries to slam on the brakes to no avail.

"Please, East. I want you so bad."

Fuck my fucking life.

"I can't, V. I just… I can't." Jesus Christ, how did I get myself into this mess? This perfect, irresistible mess.

Instead of hearing my silent pleas, the universe decides to up the ante. Octavia fucking Royal doubles down and starts grinding my already painful cock like she's trying to get off on that alone.

My head is leaning against the back of the couch, her mouth no longer on mine, and when I open my eyes, the sight before me is nothing short of spectacular. The hand at her nape falls to her waist, and I watch in utter awe as she transforms into a full-blown woman with carnal needs.

Head thrown back—her throat deliciously exposed—her face bathed in pleasure as her clothed pussy rubs freely around the hard ridge of my dick. She looks every inch the queen I've always known she would become.

My resolve is holding on by a thin, frayed thread that could snap any second, but instead of doing the right thing and pushing her off of me, I lift my hips just a tiny bit and give her the pressure she needs. This is fine, right? I'm not technically doing anything wrong. She's getting herself off, I'm just the means to her own end.

Until, that is, she snaps her head back up, fists her hand in my black t-shirt, and rests her forehead on mine before she says the words that nearly break me.

"With or without your help, I'm gonna come very soon. Please, East, make me feel good."

Fuck. This. Shit.

V is every man's dirty little fantasy. My ultimate fantasy, wearing a schoolgirl uniform and begging to be fucked. How I'm resisting her is beyond my comprehension.


Tags: Lily Wildhart Romance