Page 7 of His Savage Sweet

Her fingers working frantically against her nub, she blurted my name—and I loved that it was “Wulf” rather than “Yer Highness.” I loved that she was meeting me head-on, taking as much pleasure from me as I was from her. I stared at her fingers, where they disappeared into her curls right above where my cock was sliding in and out of her, and I knew I’d never seen anything so goddamn erotic in my life.

When her hand suddenly stilled, her muscles contracted around me and I knew she was coming. I pumped twice more, feeling her pussy tighten, and then she arched her back and screamed my name again.

“Wulf!”

And I lost what little control I had.

I never came in a woman, not wanting the consequences to come back and bite me in the arse.

I never came in a woman.

But I damn well came in her, and to hell with the consequences. Dimly, in the part of my brain not currently going gray and gooey from the pleasure of release, I thought I might not mind her consequences biting my arse.

I came so hard, I went numb. I bellowed wordlessly.

My toes curled and she wrapped her legs around me, urging me deeper. It felt like she was draining me, sucking at my cock until I didn’t have anything left, while she bucked under me, totally engrossed in her own pleasure.

Excuse me, but what in the everloving shite is this?

The best orgasm of my life, in a freezing coldroom, fully dressed? What in holy fook had happened to me?

It took a massive effort to push away from her, to break the pull she seemed to have on me, to stumble away from her. All the while part of me was yelling What the hell are ye doing, dobber? Get back in there! Fook her again!

At the thought my cock twitched again, not quite as empty as I’d thought.

But I shook my head, confused and drained. That had been incredible. I’d never spent like that, so long or so hard. And she was still lying there on the table, mewling and panting, my seed dripping out of her and onto the table like some kind of icing on a deliciously sweet cake.

I wanted to devour her, but I had never been confused like this, and my reaction to her—sudden and absolute—was confusing as hell.

What the fook had she done to me? I had taken one look at her and known I had to have her. I was a prince, for fook’s sake. I was used to getting what I wanted! But this time I hadn’t even stopped to ask politely.

It was as if the beast side of me had taken over.

But what was really mind-bending was that she didn’t seem to mind; she’d met me head on, thrust for thrust…and we’d both craved it.

I shook my head as I fumbled to tuck myself back into my trousers. I knew my voice was trembling a little when I finally managed to awkwardly say, “I suppose asking what kind of jam ye used doesnae matter so much anymore.”

Shite. I hate feeling awkward.

She’d quit squirming, but her chest—her glorious tits, which I hadn’t even managed to reveal!—still heaved with exertion. She hadn’t moved from her place on the table where I’d fooked her, but was watching me with eyes still dulled by pleasure.

“Fig,” she said breathlessly.

“What?”

“Blue cheese and fig. It’s my favorite combination.”

And just like that, I remembered the taste of her skin, which was my new favorite flavor. I’d never be able to taste cinnamon sugar without thinking of her.

I stumbled for the back door, confused and angry that I was so thrown by her. I’d fooked her and was just leaving her? Apparently.

Princes could do that sort of thing.

I dinnae like being a prince.

Right before I climbed the steps up to the courtyard, I looked back at her. Anna was lying there right where I’d left her, her hand still resting atop her mound and my spend still dripping from her.

But she was looking right at me, and her gaze wasn’t fogged with passion this time. This time those dark green eyes were following my every move, and didn’t look angry or disappointed or accepting or anything. She was just looking at me.