The Princess Who Burned Her Crown.

One Body

His tongue swept possessively inside my mouth, claiming me with a hunger that left me breathless. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the heat between us, every rational thought dissolving into pure sensation. He kissed me deeply, his lips devouring mine with a desperation that erased any lingering doubt—he loved the ring, loved the way it marked me as his.

His clever fingers made quick work of my blouse, slipping each button free with agonizing slowness before pushing the fabric down my shoulders. The cool air against my skin made me shiver, but then his hands were there, warm and demanding. With a practiced flick, my bra clasp gave way, and suddenly I was bare before him, his gaze burning like a brand.

His lips traced my jaw and down my neck. My bra slipped down my arms, and my breasts were free. Then he moved to my pants, fighting with the zipper and pushing them past my hips. He didn’t stop until I was just as naked as he was.

Without further preamble, he gripped my hips, dragging me to the edge of the bed to meet his waiting mouth. And yes—my legs were spread, wide open. With his head in the way, they had no other choice. The sensation of his hot, eager mouth on my p***y… there were no words. Or at least, none good enough to sum this up.

“f**k. Tomás.”

My back arched, my head pressing into the mattress. The pleasure was bigger than my body could contain. Every shred of my awareness zeroed in on the increasingly rapid vibrations between my legs. My heels dug into his back.

He wrapped his arms around my thighs, holding me to him—as if I might escape. His tongue dragged over my p***y, lips sucking, teeth almost biting. Wherever he went, his facial hair followed, making my nerve endings spark and my stomach clench. Too much and not enough and give me more. Every so often, he’d bite a warning into some sensitive spot, like the delicate join of my thigh, as if I needed a reminder of who was in charge.

Who was doing what to whom.

He buried his face in me, devouring me, wild, and it felt f*****g incredible. Mind-blowing, breath-stealing. Everything. He owned me now.

Holy s**t. Too many sensations, way too many, and all I could do was take them. The man was a f*****g expert, but I didn’t want to think about how many women he’d practiced on. Forget it. Only now mattered.

I was so f*****g wet. He slid two fingers inside me, working in and out. My whole body tensed unbearably, until it felt like I might shatter—just explode into a mess of chaos and love. Then his tongue swiped over my c**t, pausing to suck a few times, lips sealing around my swollen, overstimulated p***y.

I couldn’t take it anymore. My whole body detonated.

I came with a cry, eyes open but seeing nothing. It painted my world in sparks—a riot of tiny, bright lights flooding my mind and setting me on fire. I just floated, lost in the chemical haze of good sensations he’d induced. The mediocre-to-bad s*x I’d had in my wild, stupid youth didn’t even compare.

His lips brushed mine, his tongue licking along my jaw, my neck, as he pushed his c**k into me. His arms cradled my head, his beautiful face so close, his rough cheek resting against mine, teeth nipping my ear. Now that I was so much wetter, things were smoother. But still—he wasn’t a small man. It felt good, but… considerable. Thick. It might take time to get used to him.

There weren’t enough words to explain how badly I wanted to get used to him—in every way.

“Wait—” I writhed beneath him, tilting my hips to take him deeper. “Oh God, yes. Just like that.”

“Like this?” He thrust forward, filling me, pinning me to the mattress with his hips. I gasped, and he groaned, his pelvis grinding relentlessly against me.

“Yes.”

“f**k, you feel so good,” he muttered, his face buried in my hair. “So f*****g good.”

I flexed my thighs, tightening my grip on him. Given the chance, I’d never let him go. In response, he growled, pulling back only to push in again, slow and steady. The motion was smooth, precise. Tomás f****d me so sweetly, driving himself deeper with each sure, measured stroke. I was adjusting to his presence. His body trembled with effort, sweat dripping from his brow.

I’d never experienced anything as perfect as being in bed with him—being the center of his undivided attention.

It was like we’d been transported to another world. Nothing existed beyond this bed.

His mouth captured mine as his hand slid down between us, exploring where we were joined. His fingers brushed the stretched lips of my s*x, just above my oversensitive c**t. I let out a choked cry, and he smirked, adjusting his angle slightly so he rubbed against it. Then he f****d me harder, pushing deeper and deeper until I was hurtling toward climax again.

His arms tensed, caging me, keeping me safe. One hand slid under my ass, then traveled up my leg, gliding over my sweat-slick skin. He gripped my thigh with firm fingers. The familiar, rising tension spread through me, consuming me. It spiraled out of control—everything about s*x with Tomás was out of control. The way his firm torso rubbed against my breasts, the way he watched me intently, gauging every reaction. His big body covering mine, his c**k filling me. Pleasure was the only possible response.

I came, shuddering, biting into his shoulder. I trembled, shook, and he held me tighter. He drove himself deeper and found his own release, one hand in my hair, the other still wrapped around my thigh.