His Princess (A Royal Romance)

She eyes me warily. “Oh. Okay. I don’t want to pig up your car here…”

“Don’t worry about that, Rose. The gods forged the 1968 Impala for eating fast food with a pretty girl.”

She flinches, color appearing on her pale cheeks, and turns to nibble at her first burger.

“Just eat it before it gets cold,” I sigh between stuffing nuggets in my mouth hole.

She gives me a guilty look then chows down.

It’s like when they feed the cow to the velociraptors in that movie. I’m impressed. After she finishes the first one she burps into her hand, shoots me an apologetic look, and eats the second one more slowly.

Leaning back in the seat, she says, “God, it’s been forever since I felt full.”

“I love to fill you up. Pass the shake.”

She giggles but stifles it as she passes it over and more slowly savors her burger.

“I can’t believe you don’t take the kids to McDonalds,” I say.

She swallows a bite and sighs. “I do, for a treat. I try to give them everything I can. I’ll eat ramen noodles if it means they get real food. Sometimes I can’t bring them here because they’ll insist Mommy eats too, I can’t just watch them. I can’t always spare the extra few bucks.”

“Let’s get them Happy Meals. Before I take you home.”

“Karen doesn’t get Happy Meals anymore.”

“She’ll get one if I tell her to get one,” I growl.

Rose laughs. Really laughs, coughs a little on a bite of burger, and keeps laughing.

“You’re a trip,” she says.

“Thanks, I guess.”

As she finishes the second Quarter Pounder and scrunches up the wrapper, she sighs. “I’m all bloated now.”

“Good, better bloated than starving.”

She tucks the trash into the bag and rolls it up.

“You know,” I say, “this is a bench seat.”

She blinks.

Then I sigh, lean over, hook my arm around her waist, and pull her across the seat.

She gaps in shock and her hands fall on my chest and stomach. Pressed up against me, she breathes hard. I can almost see her pulse trembling in her throat like a scared bird. I release my arm, resting it on the seat. She can pull away if she wants.

She looks a little scared.

“It’s not like that,” I murmur. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I haven’t forgiven you for the hose thing.”

“I haven’t forgiven you for unleashing your inner bitch on me five minutes after I got home.”

“I was trying to help you, you jerk,” she says, and plants her lips on mine.

Her kiss is almost clumsy, too eager. She tastes like cheeseburger and milkshake, and I pull her onto my lap as she kisses me hungrily, surprisingly so.

My surprise fades into a hunger of my own. Her legs spread over my body, straddling me, and she presses against my chest, her soft breasts pillowed against me. I run my hands up her side and she shudders, takes a break, and kisses me again, harder, with tongue this time. I like the feel of the sides of her tits, as they are squeezed against my chest.

She rolls her hips and groans, and her eyes flutter open. I’m hard as a rock, and she can feel it, and smiles. Her pink tongue wets her lips and she kisses me again.

I tug her blouse loose from her waist and she grabs my wrist, holding my hand in place. A full body shudder rolls through her and she lets go, and I more slowly tug the tucked fabric loose and slip my hand up her back.

“Cold.” She winces and kisses me again.

My hand grows warm in a hurry. I slip her skirt up, spread my fingers, and grab a big handful of her firm, big ass. She gasps, and then I squeeze again and give her a light smack on the butt. She jerks in my lap and squeaks, and laughs a little before I attack her with a kiss and swallow her giggles.

I start tugging her skirt farther up, bunching it around her stomach, just enough to get my hand in her underwear. They feel pretty skimpy, and I glance down and realize she’s wearing a black silk thong.

You naughty girl.

My finger slips into her tight, wet body, and she gasps, shuddering all over, and digs her nails into my chest through my shirt.

She’s too tight for two fingers. For now.

Rose writhes on my lap, riding my hand as I slowly slide my finger back and forth. My hand is quickly soaked and she paws me harder as my slow strokes inside her hit just the right spot, and her legs jerk, a little groan forced out from between her teeth.

I feel a sharp nip on my throat.

She bit me.

Rose looks almost apologetic, and mumbles, “Sorry.”

“This is what you get for that,” I say, and a second finger sinks inside her.

“Oh shit,” she blurts into my throat, “just like that.”

I hold her against me and feel her writhe as her quivering * grips my fingers.

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