CHAPTER SIX
Nikolai
I BURY MY fingers into her thick coil of auburn hair and pull, not hard, but enough to deepen our kiss. Kate’s tears place me on unfamiliar ground. The story of her loss threatens to undo my expertly built defenses. I don’t know how to tell her this, but in some ways, I understand her pain. Once upon a time, many years ago, a car accident changed my own world. She and I share an unexpected connection, both forever marked by a tragedy that changed the course of our lives.
Damn it. My pulse thunders in my ears. I don’t want to be curious about Kate, to be interested in her as a person and not another notch in my belt. I channel my frustration into tangling my tongue with hers, demanding more, demanding everything, and she moans into my open mouth, offering herself freely.
My chest tightens like a vise. I gasp a mumbled curse. This kiss is taking over, filling my veins, replacing the blood. Slow the fuck down. Keep it physical. Remember that’s my MO—making women cry out my name and wanting nothing more in return than my own physical release. I reach down to circle my thumbs over her peaked nipples, hard nubs against her wet, silky top. She moans again. Louder.
I tear away, one foot in heaven and one in hell. It’s time to get a grip, to calm myself and focus. After all, getting a woman off is what I do best. My uncertainty fades as I take charge, increasing the pressure. Not much, just enough to turn that moan into a gasp, followed by a soft squeak. I break our kiss and nip her plump lower lip, tasting the hint of cherry lip balm. Then I continue my leisurely torment down her jaw to the sensitive place on her neck, relishing her rapid pulse and trace of perfume that wasn’t washed away in the river. Chanel No. 5.
She is killing me in the best of ways.
“God, you smell brilliant.” I give her a soft bite. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough that I’ve got her full attention. She moans. All women enjoy a little domination in the bedroom. “Like that?”
“Mmmmm,” she purrs.
I bite again, wiping away the sting with the flat of my tongue. “I asked you a question. I am your prince. I expect you to respond.” My tone is authoritative, yet teasing. I want control, but I also want her to know she’s safe—safe from the river, from the painful memories she buries. I’ll erase it all with a swipe of my tongue. Another nip of teeth.
She presses her hips against me. “Feels so good,” she murmurs. “If X wasn’t close, I’d be on my knees filling my mouth with your cock.”
So my prim-and-proper ice queen likes to talk dirty. Blood sings through my veins, a pounding chorus, as I thicken in an instant. “Good thing X took a drive.”
She stills. “He’s gone?”
“I heard him leave while we walked toward the bridge.”
She frowns. “He knew you’d seduce me?”
I shrug. “Maybe he wanted a croissant?”
She slides away. My body aches at the gap, and for a moment, I falter. Who is really in control here?
“You seduce many women, don’t you, Sire?”
No point lying. “Nikolai,” I remind her, my voice firm. I want my name dripping off her lips in a torrent of pleasure. “Call me by my name.” Might as well admit there is more to wanting to hear her say it than a simple, sexual ego booster. Every cell in my being craves her closer, wanting to rub against her and smooth away my ragged edges, to see if she is the one who possesses whatever the fuck I need to be made whole.
Good God. I’m pussy drunk.
“You seduce many women, don’t you, Nikolai?” She bites her bottom lip, and my cock strains against my jeans, but I force my voice to remain steady.
“Yes,” I say simply. I’m Mr. Right Now. Not Mr. Right.
“A bad boy.”
I crook my lips into an arrogant smile, the mask that she expects her future ruler to wear. I have a rakehell reputation to uphold. “That seems to be the general opinion.”
She shakes her head. “Why not give in?” she murmurs, more to herself than me. “Live dangerously for once in my life.” She refocuses her gaze on me. “We can do whatever it is we are about to do and still remain professional.”
My brows rise. “Your mouth sheathing my cock is professional?” I swallow hard, and she notices, grinning, no doubt, at the effect she has on me.
She narrows her gaze as if to size me up. “Yes. Once I know what you like, I’ll be that much better positioned to find it for you.”
“I can think of many positions I’d like to find you in.”
She purses her lips. Then a flicker of uncertainty passes over her face. “Tell me how you like it.”
“Pardon?” My own eyes widen. “How I like getting sucked off?” She wants a lesson?
“Yes, tell me in thorough detail. If you teach me well, perhaps you’ll get a handsome reward.” She palms me over the wet denim of my jeans. “I’m a quick study and also quite good at taking direction.”
I decide right then and there that despite what she’s been hired to do—and how much I detest the thought of finding a bride—I love being around this most surprising woman.
Wait...love? The word doesn’t belong anywhere in my vocabulary. This is no good. My heart better go sit its ass in a corner. I clear my throat. “You want to know how to suck a dick? Very well. First, the woman in question needs to crave it. I want her to approach my cock like it’s a chocolate fucking fudge sundae and she hasn’t eaten in a week.”
Her lids flutter. “Go on.”
Shit. I can talk dirty in five languages, but I’ve never given an explicit lesson in the art of performing a blow job. And believe me—it is a goddamn art. “I need some encouragement,” I tell her, my voice growing hoarse with need. “A little inspiration.”
She arches a brow. “And how can I do that?”
I pretend to think it over. “Are you wearing a matching set?”
She nods with a shy smile. “I do own the bra to match my pink lace panties,” she says, then licks her lips. “But I didn’t wear it today.”
My throat thickens. And if it’s at all possible, my cock grows even harder, and I want nothing more than for her to rip my jeans from my legs. Mission accomplished, Miss Winter. The image of what lies beneath her drenched clothing will inspire me for days and nights to come.
What can I say? Kate Winter is my fucking muse. Literally.
“Shall we continue with the lesson?” I ask.
“Please,” she says. “It’s been a while since—well, I think I mentioned yesterday that it’s been a while. Period.”
I bury the surge of jealousy at the thought of her mouth on any other man and decide to give her exactly what she’s asking for—so that she may give it to me.
“Outside of a sixty-nine, I prefer to stand,” I tell her, already imagining her kneeling before me. “Gives me good control and a great view. Hands are important. Use them. I love a mouth on me, but touch is a must. Stroke my shaft. Massage my sac. Gradually increase the tempo. That’s when I’ll need some tongue on the tip, swirling and sucking like I’m your favorite flavor of Popsicle.”
She rolls her eyes. “Cool it with the food references. You’re making me hungry.” Her tone is teasing, but I can tell from the way her pupils dilate that she is soaked.
“Never use your teeth. Simply lick and swirl until you’re ready.”
“For what?” She sounds drugged.
“To take me as deep as you can go. A gentleman never crams his cock into a lady’s throat. He waits, patiently, but what he wants is for her to suck him down. And all the while, hold eye contact. Trust me on this. A guy loves it when you take it all and let him see how much you love every inch.”
She runs a hand over her hair. “And for the end?”
“Swallow,” I say bluntly and shrug. She asked, so I might as well give her the truth.
“I’ve never done that,” she whispers. “I’ve always been too intimidated.”
“Well, you don’t have to,” I tell her quickly. Again it comes, that inexplicable need to make her feel safe. “It’s just...you asked what’s the best. That is the best, Pet. Nothing like it.”
She stays quiet for a long moment. Long enough that I start to wonder if I’ve pissed her off—or even worse, scared her from even wanting to try.
“Stand, Sire,” she finally says, and I obey without question. She stands too, stepping forward to close the narrow distance between us, all the while keeping her gaze locked to my face.
Then she sinks to her goddamn knees.
“I’ve never mixed business and pleasure.” She reaches to undo my fly. “But this is my most important job yet, so perhaps I should ensure you get the royal treatment.”
My hands fist in her hair, and I know from the determined look in her eyes that I’m about to be destroyed.
Kate
His jeans are snug against his hard, muscled thighs, and despite them being soaked in the river, it only takes me seconds to pull them to his ankles.
My nipples peak against my cold, wet top, and I wonder if he knows how close to the edge I already am. Just from his words. It was never like this with Jean-Luc, and as soon as the thought enters my mind, I’m awash in a wave of guilt. How dare I compare what I’m about to do to a man I met yesterday to a man I’d planned to be with for the rest of my life?
And yet it’s the truth.
I loved my fiancé, but I can’t recall wanting him with this sort of hunger. I’d always felt performing oral sex to be more of an obligation than anything else. And he had always finished so quickly that I never knew what he really liked.
But I want to taste Nikolai so badly that my pulse throbs between my legs.
I start by placing a soft kiss on his inner thigh, then shift my heavy gaze to his.
“More,” he says, and my core tightens at the command.
I kiss his other thigh, this time a little higher up, and I have to grab his backside to steady myself.
He lets out a groan.
“Hands,” he says, his voice tight, and I do believe I’ve made it difficult for my prince to speak.
I look up at him and grin, releasing his ass with my right hand so I can cup his balls. Then, without warning, I swirl my tongue over his tip, the precum salty on my taste buds. We both moan.
His hands tug at my hair, and I move my own to join my mouth, taking him deeper as he slides slick through my palm.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Yes, Pet. More. Goddamn, I need more.”
My clit swells at the sound of his need, a delicious, aching pulse between my thighs, and I can’t hold back a whimper as he sinks deeper into my mouth, as I let the taste of him fill me.
Deeper and faster, my hand grips his throbbing shaft, and I feel his thighs begin to shake. I hold his gaze as I bury him to the hilt, and for the brief moment when he begins to teeter over the edge, I see past the facade to a brokenness that draws me further into his orbit.
He shudders and growls. I swallow his release, an intimate connection I never knew was possible. I back away, ready to force my trembling limbs to stand, but he collapses to his knees in front of me.
His hands cup my cheeks, and he stares into my eyes. Without a word he kisses me so hard and deep I can barely catch my breath. He lowers me to the ground, wordless still, his lips never leaving mine. His hand slides beneath my blouse, and I buck against him as he pinches my sensitive peak.
We are animals, communicating with nothing other than our shared savage need, and I need this. I need his hands on me, in me—I need Nikolai Lorentz everywhere. And because we speak the same language, he knows, and I find him wrenching my pants from my hips, down to my knees, all the while his tongue tangling with mine.
Finally, when two fingers plunge inside me, immediately hitting the right spot, I call out his name in an overwhelming torrent of sensation.
“Nikolai!”
And then I finally close my eyes and see nothing but stars.
* * *
I’m nothing short of a mess when we make our way to the road and find X waiting outside the Rolls. Nikolai, despite his dip in the river as well, looks nothing short of spectacular. Or maybe that’s all I can see after what he’s done to me.
What has he done? I feel satiated yet hungry. Remade but ruined.
X opens the door as we approach, not once letting his impassive gaze give away that he knew Nikolai had planned to seduce me. But when I look inside the car and see my scones and fruit replaced by a small platter of croissants, I can’t help but burst into a fit of laughter.
Nikolai’s brows pull together, and it takes every ounce of control for me to simply motion toward the open door and say, “Look.”
He does, and as soon as he sees the pastries, he’s laughing too, and I am surprised the way my heart surges to hear such a sound—a genuine emotion from Prince Nikolai, and I get to bear witness.
X clears his throat and raises a brow.
“Your Highness. Miss Winter—I thought you might have worked up an appetite.”
I decide not to deny it because damn—I am starving. So I reach inside the car and grab a chocolate croissant, tearing off a piece and shoving it into a surprised Nikolai’s mouth before tearing into the rest of it with my teeth.
“You’re right,” I say, mouth full, hair tangled and probably full of sand, clothes still wet and plastered to my body. “I’m famished.”
X nods. “Your Highness, I take it there are supplies to collect from the bridge?”
Nikolai swallows his bite of croissant. “Yes, thank you. One fishing pole, the bucket of bait and Miss Winter’s dossier. You can throw the trout I caught back into the river.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” he says, not questioning why we are short one fishing pole.
Once X is out of earshot, I point at Nikolai with my half-eaten croissant.
“Hey, I thought you said tonight’s royal meal depended on what I caught on our little fishing expedition.”
He shrugs and gives me a sheepish grin, another expression I don’t expect, and it disarms me completely.
“I despise seafood, actually,” he says. “But I was hoping to enjoy putting you through the wringer.”
I open my mouth at an attempt to unleash my fury on him, but he silences me with a kiss, and I’m caught so off guard that I simply melt into it.
“How about a truce?” he says against me, and I squeak out my answer, the momentary fury dissolving into dust.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay,” he says.
“But this cannot happen again, Your Highness. We have—I mean I have a job to do.”
He nods. “Of course. Never again, Miss Winter. You have my word.”
I sigh. I know he’s soon to be my king, that my job is to find him a queen, but right now I don’t believe his word for one tiny second. And that impish grin on his face tells me that neither does he.