Good advice.
Like the sinner I am, I go down on my knees. I spread her legs with my hands, impatience making me rough, hooking her calf over my shoulder. And I kiss her, open-mouthed, between her legs. She feels so fucking soft against my lips, so hot and slippery against my tongue. And she’s sweet—like thick, melted sugar.
“Holy . . .” Ellie begins, but doesn’t finish. The words lost on a moan.
I suck on her, lap at her, eat her like a plump summer peach. I could do this forever; exist on her alone. Ellie slips down the throne, lifting her hips, offering herself up to my mouth. I thrust my tongue into her heat and she gasps, clenching around me. I grip her hips, slide her back and forth against me, fucking her with my mouth, scratching the tender skin of her thighs with the stubble on my jaw.
Then I drag my lips up to her clit—swollen and full. A hard, quivering, needy little bud. I open her with my fingers and kiss her there, love her there, rub my tongue against her in perfect, tight little circles, until her legs quiver and her hips jerk.
Ellie comes apart with a cry—wild and shameless—with her hand tugging on my hair as her hips gyrate against my mouth. I lick at her gently as the last spasms of pleasure float through her. I slide my sleeve across my mouth and place one soft, tender kiss on her smooth pelvis.
Then I stand and tear my shirt off. I yank her dainty dress up, because I need to feel her—skin on bare skin. I push my trousers down, just low enough to free my demanding cock, then I pick her up and take her place on the throne. Her legs straddle my hips, and her pussy—so wet and hot—hovers above my dick.
In one move, I push her down and thrust up, burying myself in her beautiful, gripping tightness. We both groan.
Ellie strokes my face, meeting my eyes with her languid, heavy-lidded gaze.
I slap her thigh, just hard enough to sting.
“Come on, lass,” I hiss. “Ride me. Make your dream come true.”
My filthy command wakes her right up. And her pelvis slides forward and back, stroking me from base to tip. Her breaths come hard, her chest heaving.
She rides me faster, finding her rhythm, taking her pleasure.
And she’s beautiful.
“I love your dick,” Ellie pants. “It’s so big, it fills me . . . so good . . . it’s so good.”
“My dick thinks you’re pretty grand too.”
We laugh together, in the secret, sultry way only lovers can.
But then there’s no more teasing. I grasp her arse, fingers digging into her flesh—helping her move. She rocks over me, harder, wilder. And the heat gathers, builds; my heavy balls tighten with the need to explode, my cock thickens with the desire to come, flood her, fill her.
“You’re coming with me, Ellie.” I groan. “Come with me.”
I latch on to her nipple, suckling relentlessly.
“Oh . . . oh . . . oh . . .” she moans.
And then she contracts around me, milking me, pulling my orgasm from deep inside my fucking soul.
Afterwards, we’re a bit silly with the satisfaction. Not tired or spent, but almost giddy. We stand, kissing and tickling, all gentle, teasing touches and soft smiles.
Ellie bends down to get her dress, and I’m so captivated by the view of her arse, I don’t realize the throne room door is opening until three people are walking through it.
Shirtless, with my trousers up but open, I spin around—holding Ellie behind me, blocking her from view.
“Logan?” Prince Nicholas asks, squinting like he’s seeing a ghost.
Lady Olivia and Prince Henry wear the same expressions.
Before I can formulate a response, Ellie peeks out from behind me.
“Hey guys . . . what’s up?”
“What were you thinking?”
I wasn’t. That’s the problem with letting your cock run things—he doesn’t think. Or, if he does, it’s only about just the one thing. Dumb bastard.
“Did you realize how reckless you were?”
Sure, I did. Afterwards.
After Olivia whisked Ellie away from the throne room for her own interrogation, I was brought here, to Nicholas’s office.
I nod. “It was stupid.”
So fucking stupid.
Behind Nicholas, Henry paces back and forth, with a large open book in his hands.
“Didn’t we used to have a dungeon downstairs?” the blond prince asks his older brother.
“Could’ve sworn I found it when I was six or seven. Gave me nightmares for a week.” He points at an image in the book and smiles manically. “That device looks like it hurts—we’ll order two.”
Huh. I thought I was just teasing Ellie about the dungeon.
Nicholas ignores his brother and pins me with damning eyes. “Anyone could have walked in on you, Logan. The staff, visitors . . . photographers.”
My stomach churns at the thought of sweet Ellie’s bare assets photographed without her consent—splashed across front pages for the whole world to consume. Jesus.
“Do we still hang people?” Henry asks, philosophically. When he doesn’t get an answer, he adds, “If not, I’m bringing hanging back.”
So that’s what Justin Timberlake would sound like if he were a serial killer.
Nicholas sighs, rubbing his forehead. “How long has this been going on?”
I lift my chin. “Depends on what you mean by ‘this,’ Sir.”
Henry snaps the books closed. “I didn’t like the way you looked at her at the wedding.” He braces his hands on the desk beside Nicholas—leaning over and glaring at me. “So, he means just how long have you been sticking it to the girl who’s like a little sister to us?”
I hold his furious gaze for a few seconds, breathing slowly. “That’s . . . a fairly recent development.”
Then my voice grows stronger. Because I’m not ashamed.
“But I have loved her for a long, long time.”
I didn’t mean to say it, didn’t mean to even think it . . . but it’s the truth. Simple and straight.
And the indignant wind goes out of Henry’s sails.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Nicholas says.
Lady Sarah steps in, wearing her nightclothes under a fluffy ivory robe and a chastising expression. Behind her glasses, her eyes narrow on Henry.
“So this is how it’s going to be, then? Married only a few days and I already have to search the palace to drag my husband to bed?”
Henry goes to Sarah, like an invisible rope is reeling him to her. “Dragging me to your bed is something you’ll never have to do, love. You can even tie me there whenever you like, and I’ll be happy to reciprocate.”
He kisses her mouth, as she blushes deep and bright.
She leans back. “Then why are you down here instead of up there with me?”
“There was an emergency.”
“What kind of an emergency?”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
“Try me.”
“Logan and Ellie are fucking.”
She automatically glances at me, and her cheeks deepen to a shade of crimson. “I’m sure there’s a more delicate way to word that, Henry.”
Henry nods, soberly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Let me try again: Logan and Ellie are humping, like insatiable randy bunnies, all over the palace.”