A Bride For The Playboy Prince: The perfect royal romance to celebrate Harry and Meghan’s wedding. Sandra Marton
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He kissed her until she cried out his name. Until she circled her hips over his with a familiar restlessness which made him slide his hand underneath the hem of her silver dress. His heart pounded. Her legs were bare and her thighs were cool and he could hear the silent scream of his conscience as his fingertips began their inevitable ascent. He thought about all the reasons why this shouldn’t happen, but he was too hot to heed caution and this was too easy. As easy as breathing. He swallowed. With her it always had been that way.
She gave a shuddering little moan as he reached her panties and the sound only fuelled his own hunger.
‘Luc,’ she gasped.
But he didn’t answer. He was too busy sliding the panties aside to provide access for his finger. Too busy reacquainting himself with her moist and eager flesh. He teased her clitoris until she bucked with pleasure and he could smell the earthy scent of sex in the air.
‘Hell, you’re responsive,’ he ground out.
‘Are you surprised when you touch me like...that?’
Her hands were reaching blindly for his zip and Luc held his breath as she eased it down. His trousers concertinaed to the ground like those of a schoolboy in an alley, and her dextrous hands were now dealing with his boxer shorts—peeling them down until his buttocks were bare. She was cupping his balls and scraping her fingernails gently over their soft swell and in response he reached down and tore her panties apart with a savage rip of the delicate material. Her low laugh reminded him of how much she liked to be dominated in the bedroom and, although his conscience made one last attempt to tell him this was wrong, ruthlessly, he erased it from his mind. Halting her just long enough to remove a condom from his pocket, he tore open the foil with unsteady fingers before sheathing himself.
And then it was happening and there didn’t seem to be a damned thing he could do about it. It was as if he were on a speeding train with no idea how to stop. He cupped her bottom so that she could wrap her legs around his hips. Her lips were parted against his cheek and her breasts were flattened against his chest.
‘Are you sure you want this?’ he whispered, his tip grazing provocatively against her slick flesh.
Her words came out as gasps. ‘Are you?’
‘I’ll give you three guesses,’ he murmured and drove deep into her.
His thrusts were urgent and her cries so loud that he had to kiss them silent. It was mindless and passionate and it was over very quickly. She came almost instantly and so did he, hot seed spurting into the rubber and making his body convulse helplessly. He pressed his head against her neck and, as one of her curls attached itself to his lips, he wished it hadn’t been so brief. Why the hell hadn’t he taken his time? Undressed her slowly and tantalised them both, while demonstrating his legendary control?
He cupped his hand over her pulsating mound, feeling the damp curls tangling in his fingers and enjoying the last few spasms as they died away. Already he could feel himself growing hard and knew from experience that Lisa would like nothing better than to do it all over again. But he couldn’t stay for a repeat performance. No way. He needed to get out of there, and fast. To forget this had ever happened and put it to the back of his mind. To get on with his future instead of stupidly allowing himself to be dragged back into the past. He bent down and tugged his trousers back up, struggling to slide the zip over his growing erection, before glancing around the cramped hallway.
‘Bedroom?’ he questioned succinctly.
She swallowed. ‘Third door along.’
It wasn’t difficult to find in such a small apartment, and he thought the room was unremarkable except for the rich fabric which covered a sagging armchair and a small vase of fragrant purple flowers on the windowsill. Luc drew the curtains and snapped on a small lamp, intending just to see her safely in bed. To kiss her goodbye and tell her she was lovely—maybe even cover her up with a duvet and suggest she get some sleep. But somehow it didn’t quite work out that way. Because once inside her bedroom it seemed a crime not to pull the quicksilver dress over her head and feast his eyes on her body. And an even bigger crime not to enjoy the visual fantasy of her lying on top of the duvet, wearing nothing but an emerald-green bra and a pair of sexy high-heeled shoes.
‘Lisa,’ he said, thinking how hollow his voice sounded.
In the soft lamplight he could see the bright gleam of her eyes.
She wriggled a little, her thighs parting fractionally in invitation. ‘Mmm...?’
Luc knew she was teasing him and that this was even more dangerous. He told himself he didn’t want to get back into that special shorthand of lovers or remind himself how good this part of their relationship had always been. Yet somehow his body was refusing to heed the voice of reason as he took her hand and guided her fingers to the rocky hardness at his groin.
‘Seems like I want you again,’ he drawled.
She laughed as her fingers dipped beneath the waistband and circled his aroused flesh. ‘No kidding?’
‘What do you think we ought to do about it?’ he questioned silkily.
Her voice grew husky as she mimicked his voice. ‘I’ll give you three guesses.’
His mouth was dry as he undressed them both, impatiently pushing their discarded clothing onto the floor as he reacquainted himself with her curves. He groaned as she caressed the tense muscles of his thighs with those beautiful long fingers. Her curls tickled him as she bent to slide her tongue down over the hollow of his belly. But when she reached the tip of his aching shaft, he grabbed a thick rope of curls.
‘No,’ he said unsteadily.
‘But you like—’
‘I like everything you do to me, Lisa, I always did. But this time I want to take it a bit more slowly.’ He groaned as he pushed her back against the mattress and leaned over her, his eyes suddenly narrowing. ‘But you do realise that this changes nothing? I’m still not in a position to offer you any kind of future.’
Her smile was brittle. ‘Don’t make this all about you, Luc,’ she said. ‘It’s supposed to be about mutual pleasure.’
A spear of jealousy ran through him. ‘And have you had many other lovers?’ he questioned. ‘A stream of men lying just like this on your bed?’”
‘You have no right to ask me something like that.’
‘Is that a yes?’
She shook her head but now her voice was shaking with indignation.
‘If you must know, there’s been nobody since you,’ she declared. ‘And before you start reading anything into that—don’t bother. There hasn’t been time for sex, that’s all. I’ve been juggling too many balls and trying to keep my business afloat.’
But Lisa knew she wasn’t being completely honest as she heard his low laugh of triumph. Of course there hadn’t been anybody else—because who could compare to the arrogant Prince? Who else could make her feel all the stuff that Luc did? But he didn’t want feelings—he wasn’t in the market for that and he never had been. Hadn’t he just emphasised that very fact? So pretend you don’t