Free Asteria In Love with the Prince by Tanya Korval Page B

hands around to my front and pushed it down there as well, so that my breasts in their black bra were on show. He began tugging the skirt up, each pull exposing another few inches of leg. I swallowed: he actually planned to take me right there, on the desk. I glanced behind me, at the huge windows. It was dark in the room, and the driveway was brightly lit. No one could see us. Probably.
    My dress was up to my thighs now. His leg was between them, thick and hard with muscle, but the fabric was too tight, the dress still too low for my thighs to open. He kissed me on the mouth again, his tongue slipping inside, and suddenly he couldn’t wait any longer: he removed his knee and slid his hand up between my thighs instead. I nearly came right there, as I felt him cup my sex through my thin panties. His other hand was tugging the dress up further and I lifted my ass to help him. The hand between my legs was stroking over my lips, then pushing the fabric aside and feeling my moisture. I gasped as two fingers slid inside me. Then the dress was finally high enough and he shoved my knees apart, stepping between them. He gripped the waistband of my panties and pulled. There was a harsh little ripping sound and he held the shredded silk in his hand, my slickened lips throbbing in the cool air.
    He didn’t even lower his pants; just opened his fly and freed himself, hard and ready. The sight of it as he rolled the condom on was enough to make me gasp: the thought of that thick head spreading me. He pulled me to the very edge of the desk, so that I was balanced precariously, and plunged into me.
    That first stroke took him almost all the way inside me and I threw back my head and let out a near-silent groan, terrified of making a noise. He had no such fears, his breath coming in hard, short pants as he thrust into me again and again, the slap of his body against mine loud in the silent room.
    The position meant that he was tight up against me, our bodies molded together. My arms came up and wrapped around his back, feeling the smooth muscles there. His pecs were huge and warm through the thin dress shirt, mashing against my breasts.
    I was reminded again of an animal; the huge size of him, looming over me, my body a mere toy to him as he thrust into me. His hands scooped under my thighs and raised my legs to wrap around his waist, until he was supporting most of my weight and only my ass was on the edge of the desk. I locked my ankles behind him, gasping as he plunged deeper.
    His tuxedo pants rasped against my stocking tops; his breath hot on my neck. My breasts were pillowed against him, nipples stroking his chest through my bra. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to leave marks and he started to pound me. It wasn’t slow, measured lovemaking: it was quick and dirty, knowing we might be caught at any time, and I loved it.
    “Lucy,” he said tightly, then again, “Lucy!” and the words were thick in his throat. The heat inside me was building in pace with our frantic coupling, the liquid friction of him inside me lifting me higher and higher with each stroke. I’d been silent until that point, but as I felt it spiral up inside me, as my eyes fluttered closed and I knew I was about to come, I let out a shrill little cry and dug my nails into his shoulders.
    “I love you,” he gasped, and it was such a shock to hear him speak in English that it took a few seconds to sink in.
    I could feel myself spasming, clutching at him inside me, and then he gave a final hard thrust and I could feel the shudders of his body as he came, too. I let myself fall backwards on the desk, dragging him down with me, until I was lying flat on my back. I stared out of the windows, seeing upside-down Ferraris and Lamborghinis in the moonlight as the orgasm washed over me. Jagor kissed down the length of my body, all the way to my feet.
    I pushed myself up on my elbows. “I love you too,” I told him in English.
    “I love you,” he said very