Nellie

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“Wha—what are you talking about?” I managed to blurt the question out. He managed to erase it away with another simple kiss... and then a second one that was way less simple; all tongue, teeth, and tremors.

His cock slid across my slit, making it hard to focus. “I want to make you my wife, Nell.”

“That's insane,” I said, my voice losing its edge. He was breaking me. It must have been intoxicating for him—his prick hardened impossibly further, teasing my labia as he rubbed over them.

“You're beyond gorgeous,” he purred in my ear. “I also saw how sweet and kind you are. How strong, the way you stood up to Iris. You're perfect... this is perfect.”

The ridge of his shaft bumped over my clit; I couldn't see straight, my moan ragged.

“Listen to yourself,” he said, each syllable punctuated by his grin. “Think about it—how good this all feels. I want to make you groan my name, I want to fill you up, give you everything. And I'm going to.”

Delirious with pleasure, I stopped trying to argue. I didn't know what I was even arguing about. Bishop was right on the mark; this felt amazing and I didn't want it to end. All forms of reason evaporated, replaced in my blood stream by blossoms of lust.

I wanted to fuck this man.

I wanted to be fucked.

Forgetting that he was a prince meant to marry someone special and powerful and not me in every sense was easy with his cock spreading me open.

His arm circled under my thigh, lifting one leg higher. He exposed me to the humid air, water pelting my tummy, my clit. With his thumb of his free hand he pulled my clit-hood back, rubbing me in lazy circles, still inching his cock deeper inside.

He was taking his time impaling me. Each time I thought he was fully in, he'd shift and give me more. “Fuck,” I gasped, and my voice echoed back to me in the shower.

“Good,” he whispered, playing with my swollen clit. He sank into my tight walls another inch. “You're crushing me, fucking hell—you feel so good.”

“Bishop! I... I can't...”

“Don't tell me you can't fit me, I know you can, baby girl.”

“No,” I said quickly, staring up at him. “I can't handle waiting. Go all the way, stop torturing me.”

He was startled; then he laughed, fingertips squeezing into my soft ass-cheeks. In one grand thrust that resounded in the air, he slammed his cock into the hilt. Both of us gasped, and I inhaled more of the steam.

I tasted him as he kissed me.

And I tasted my own defeat.

I knew I was going to let him come inside of me. I couldn't imagine ending this moment, back off the edge and giving up this kind of pleasure. It was otherworldly... and I was greedy. Too many bad things had happened to me lately, and this was the first real, amazing, rejuvenating experience and I fucking deserved this.

Again, he thrust into me, his thumb circling my clit faster. He let my leg down but I wrapped both around his waist, clinging on, never letting the kiss end. Fiercely, he shifted so he could hold my thighs, bouncing me in the air on his cock.

He wasn't rubbing my clit any longer but he didn't need to; his hard stomach ground against me, each motion hitting me inside and out. Hot, massive tingles shook me. They raced over my brain, through my heart, down into my pussy until it was all I could feel... all that I was.

Like an animal in heat I fucked this man I barely knew. I rode him desperately, moaning without shame, feeling truly fearless. It was intoxicating... and I wondered if I could become addicted to a human being.

“I'm coming,” I whimpered.

“I know,” he panted, leaning on the tile, shielding me once more from the shower. His cock was stretching me out, swelling as I thrummed on top of it. My orgasm left me weak, breathless, and I didn't know if I could blame the lack of air among the steam.

Bishop pushed my feet to the floor. Bracing against me, he threw his head back. I looked up to see his hard-cut jaw, my body one big rush of excitement at the sight of his muscles... his pure manliness.

Suddenly he looked at me. I jumped, forgetting for half a second that he was fucking me at all. We were reading each other, trying to understand the moment... to tell if we both felt the same. Then it all vanished; he gripped my wet hair, forcing my head to the side so he could kiss my neck. His shaft swelled once, twice, and something hotter than I already was spilled inside of my pussy.

Bishop was mumbling against my skin, things like, “Yes, so fucking amazing.” And once... I think he moaned my name.

He'd done it. He'd come inside of me.

I'd let him do it.

How reckless was I? If I was pregnant... my life would change... and it might not be all good. I didn't know Bishop; what if he abandoned me, what if he stayed and was as awful as my ex? What if what if what if... What if I'd asked these questions before letting him fuck me?

Stepping backwards, I watched the water swirl down the drain. More and more replaced it, the stream never ending. Each drop was replaced by a new one. None of them were unique... none of them mattered when you could replace them.

“Fun fact,” he said, his voice still rough. “Shower sex is great because you can wash off without having to walk anywhere.”

Ignoring him, I opened the glass door and set foot on the rug. Towels hung on the walls; I snatched one down, binding it tight around my body. “This was stupid,” I mumbled. “What was I thinking?”

Bishop turned the water off. “Hey, what's wrong?”

Shooting a look at him, I said, “You're playing with me. You don't know me, you don't love me, so how can you want to make a baby with me?” Flaring with righteous anger, I faced him fully. I felt a million feet tall, my ex's face flashing in my mind. “You're just another playboy asshole in my life, something I was trying to avoid repeating.”

His face twisted up; had I hurt him? “This isn't about love.” His voice was cold as a frozen lake. “It's about making you swell with a little royal baby. How can you hate that idea? Didn't you see all those women clamoring for me to pick them?”

That put me over the edge. Grabbing my clothes, trying to ignore how acutely I could recall the way he'd peeled each piece off of me, I left the room. The fucking nerve of him! I thought, stomping on my heels into the hall. Was he expecting me to jump up and down at the idea of him blessing me with his fucking jizz? Did he think his sperm wore little gold crowns and would change my life if they got up inside my womb?

Ugh.

Just ugh.

“Bishop?” The voice warbled up the staircase. “Are you home?”

A bolt of terror turned my legs into noodles. His mom! If she caught me as I was—naked in her house—what would she do? Fire me, at best. Shit. Whipping my head side to side, I ducked into the first door on my right.

The room was gigantic, much like every room in this over-the-top mansion. Bishop's bedroom, I realized, spotting some of his clothes hanging in the open closet. The bed could fit five people, the blanket a shiny emerald color. At least he doesn't use accent pillows. I mean, what did you even do with those when you were trying to sleep? Did you toss them on the ground? It was a small thing, but it made me smile.

Another noise came from the hall; gently, I shut the door, hurrying to put my clothes on. A second later the brass knob twitched. My heart was on the verge of exploding until Bishop's face appeared, not his mom's.

He was dressed in just a towel around his middle. His hair was slicked back, he hadn't taken the time to dry it, he'd rushed to chase after me. “Nell,” he said, stepping my way. “You have to listen to me. I'm explaining everything all wrong.”

“Oh no,” I snorted, buttoning my jeans. “You explained it perfectly. Your favorite word, isn't it? 'Perfect?'”

Bishop didn't slow down, he came my way like a living shadow made from sin. There were huge windows on the far wall, and still, the sunlight didn't touch him. A scent hit me; the salty-musk of what we'd done. The shower couldn't wash away the fact we'd fucked. My body was responding to the memory, muscles tensing, blood racing.

I didn't know I'd backed up until I hit the wall near his bedside. Bishop cupped my neck, bare chest rubbing over my shirt and making the clothing pointless. “You're looking at this all wrong,” he said softly. “You said you needed this job. That means you're tight on money.”

Staring at his lips as they made alluring shapes, I said, “That doesn't mean I want a relationship with a stranger. I'm not a prostitute.”

He laughed warmly and I shivered. How was he so damn sexy? “If you go along with what I'm asking and make a baby with me, you'll be set. The power, the cash, you'd have it all... no strings attached.”

“I think a kid with you is sort of a huge mother fucking string, Bishop.”

He leaned down, kissing the sensitive skin just behind my ear. The rush of pleasure had my brain swirling in my skull. “Make a prince... or a cute princess... with me. You won't have to walk another dog.”

“Maybe... maybe I like dogs.” I swallowed. “They're more trustworthy than men like you.”

Again he chuckled; my knees bent, his strong arm holding me against the wall. Or maybe it was the pressure of his body against mine. I didn't know anymore. “Men like me? Men who offer you an amazing shot at security? You don't have to love me, Nell. I don't care if you don't.”

An unexpected forest of thorns grew up from my middle. I tried to smooth it away, but his words... they hurt. He's honest, that's good. That's... what matters. Didn't it?

His hand cupped my stomach. The touch was intimate, it stole my breath away. It was too easy to imagine a future where an adorable baby would fit in my arms. I could even see Jaws and Cujo licking its face.

It was sweet... and exciting... and it crushed my heart up until I just wanted to run away and never look back. A baby? Now? Ever?

“I need air,” I gasped, pushing around him. “I... I need to think about this.” Gripping the door frame, I looked back at him. His eyes were dark; brooding. I wanted to read his mind, but maybe seeing his true thoughts would confuse me more.

Maybe I'd learn my uncertainty was actually hurting him.

No way, impossible. Guys like Bishop had less emotional capacity than a chunk of dirt. It was easy to try and flatter me by saying I was beautiful or gorgeous or... Kind, he called me kind. No one had ever said that to me before.

Gnawing at the corner of my mouth, I hesitated. He was still watching me, waiting to see what I'd do next. He was curious—but I was the one with a thousand questions.

“Bishop.”

His eyebrows shifted up. “Yeah?”

“Is that offer for breakfast still on the table?”

There; the light was back in his eyes. “I know a great cafe. Best mimosas around.”

“I'll go on one condition. Two, really.” I inched the door open. “You'll explain everything that's going on with this baby stuff, and also, you're going to have to sneak me out of here Black Ops style.” I peered into the hall. “I don't want to explain our wet hair to your mother.”