Vicious Prince (Royal Elite #5) by Rina Kent

“Unbutton me, belle. Make it good.”

“And if I don’t want to?” I whisper the question.

“Then I might tie you down.”

My eyes widen. “No. You read my file — it’s my hard no.”

“Then start unbuttoning.”

I stare at him for one second.

Two.

Three.

He reaches for me. “We’ll go with my plan.”

“I’ll do it.” My voice quivers as my shaking fingers undo his belt then the button of his trousers.

The fact that he plans and will go through with his threats pushes me into a different state of mind.

It’s like going through a dark forest, but instead of being afraid of its ghosts, I’m slightly eager to meet them, see them.

Touch them.

He releases my chin and strokes my hair out of my face — to get a better view of me, I suppose.

I pause once his trousers slide down his muscular thighs and pool around his legs. He remains in dark blue boxers that mould around his tight skin. I’ve seen his thighs before at games and in his extravagant selfies, but it’s the first time I want them on me. I don’t care how, but I want those thighs to crush me between them, to find out if they’re as strong as they look.

“Pull my dick out.” His voice wrenches me out of my fucked-up thoughts.

I will my fingers to stop trembling as I do just that.

Oh, God.

Ronan always — always — brags about how big he is, and I kind of hoped it was because he had some sort of a complex issue and was trying to hide his dick’s true size.

Well, the evidence is right in front of me.

He’s big, so big a shiver of fear goes through me. I’m no virgin, but this thing will hurt.

It’ll hurt so much.

Why the hell are my thighs clenching at the thought?

“I-I’ve never given a blowjob.” I don’t know why I say it, but I want it out there.

Yet I don’t meet his gaze as I say that.

Something is definitely wrong with me.

“Who said anything about a blowjob?” He grips my chin, once again forcing me to be trapped by his glimmering gaze. “I’m going to fuck your mouth, belle.”

My core becomes slick with arousal and my pulse roars in my ears.

Holy shit.

I might need my therapist after this.

No sane person would feel this turned on by those words, right?

Before I can react, he grabs his cock with one hand and gathers my hair in a short ponytail with the other then pushes the tip against my lips.

The first thing I taste is the distinctive salty pre-cum, then him, then I’m gone. I don’t even wait for his order before I open my mouth.

In return, he doesn’t pretend to take it slow.

The first thrust hits the back of my throat — all the way in. I choke on my own spit and my air supply vanishes.

I place both hands on his thighs, nails scratching his skin in an instinctive attempt to push him away.

He forces my head down with my hair, suffocating me. Tears fall on my cheeks as I beg for air. I don’t cry; these are different tears. Lust tears.

“Drop your hands,” he orders.

I do. I just do. I don’t stop to think about it anymore. The moment my limp hands hit the floor, he pulls out, allowing me a large gulp of air before he pounds in again and again, stealing my breath and my sanity, too.

My chest tightens, my core tingles, and the need to come hits me again.

He’s turned me into a nymphomaniac. I can’t stop thinking about coming, and about the fact that I’m about to make him come, too.

I’m bringing him pleasure, as he brought it to me.

“That’s it,” he grunts, trapping his bottom lip under his teeth. “Make my dick nice and wet so I can slide it inside that tight cunt of yours. That cunt wants my dick, doesn’t it, belle?”

A sob tears the air, and I realise it’s mine as I nod. I don’t mean to, but I’m nodding. I can’t stop nodding.

He’s ruining me, corrupting me, and I’m enjoying every second of it.

This is different from any of my fantasies.

This is the best fantasy I could’ve had.

“Today, when you walked in on me and that girl, I wasn’t hard for her. I was hard for you.” Thrust. “I wanted to fuck you.” Thrust. “Ruin you.” Thrust. “Own you.”

I’m so glad his cock is blocking my mouth or I would be screaming right now.

When I’m with him, I let go of all of my inhibitions as if they were never there, as if all those chains and walls are of my own making.

He’s setting me free in ways I never thought possible.

And I hate him for it.

I hate that it’s him, of all people, who’s making me feel this type of strange belonging and absolute abandon.

He’s my enemy.

He should be my enemy.

But as he fucks my mouth, uses it, brutalises it, I can’t help asking for more, wanting more.

I would never get on my knees for anyone. It’s a humiliating position and a symbol of weakness, but with him, it doesn’t feel like one.

With him, it feels like a position of power where I’m giving him as much pleasure as he’s giving me.

He says he owns me, but I’m owning him as much as he owns me.

With every thrust into my mouth, he steals a part of me, and I steal a part of him too.