Black Keys (The Colorblind Trilogy #1) (51 page)

“What?” he asked, completely unaware of the reason why we were grinning so much.

“You have flour on your nose,” I giggled.

He quickly rubbed it off, but only managed to put more flour all over his nose and cheeks. It was seriously the most adorable thing I’d ever seen; he was a know-nothing, whether it came to cooking
or
rubbing off flour.

“All gone?” he asked.

“Perfect,” I gave him a thumb up, and Mona turned her back on him so she could hide her laughter.

“It’s all over my face, huh?”

I nodded, bursting out laughing at his reaction, and completely loving how easy spending a day in the kingdom had become, wishing I’d learned I could smile and laugh earlier than that. It would’ve saved me so much heartache.

Mona was really touched when I made her a plate. It made me smile to see how little things meant so much to her, and I kept it in mind to do more nice things for her later. She was such a sweet person.

What I enjoyed the most were the prince’s pleased humming as he ate the pancakes I’d made. I smiled with pride as he kept going on and on about how delicious they tasted, telling me that the ones he’d eaten in the UK weren’t at all the same, stroking my ego just the right way. I loved it.

We were sitting on the couch in our bedroom. I fed him a tiny slice of strawberry and smiled when he fed me a piece of his pancakes with his fork, trying to convince me it was the best in the whole world, as if it wasn’t the same thing I had on my plate.

It was all so good and sweet, until I saw a drop of syrup on his chin. Then it turned even
better
.

“You have syrup there,” I told him, pointing to my chin, the same place he had the syrup but, just like with the flour, he completely missed it.

I had to do it myself. With my lips. Because the idea sounded so good in my head. I just had no idea that the prince’s reaction to that would be catching my lips and locking them with his in a heated kiss that almost made me faint.

His lips were hot against mine, soft and tender, yet firm and demanding. It was sweet like any other kiss we’d shared, but this time there was something different. This time it was like he was hungry, thirsty, but not for food or a drink. For me. He wanted
me
, and that thought drove me insane, because I wanted him, too. So much, indeed.

His hand wrapped around my throat, his fingertips at the back of my neck and his thumb just under my chin, his fingers warm and his lips warmer, his touch gentle and his tongue gentler, his breath hot and his kisses even hotter. I was melting.

My hands found his hair and he groaned into my mouth for the first time when I pulled slightly at the hair on the back of his head. The second time he groaned was when I straddled his legs and sat on his lap, this time facing him, my body flush to his, and our lips embracing each other like long lost lovers.

I felt the heat spreading all over my body, starting from my cheeks and down to my core. I was vibrating from the inside out with need, desire and…and…
something
. Something was bursting inside of me like a wildfire, demanding my attention, telling me of new feelings I’d never felt before; uncontrollable emotions and sentiments that I was too distracted by our kiss to even care to think about.

His hands were all over my back, pulling, squeezing, stroking, driving me mad with undeniable lust. I wanted him to touch me more, and
everywhere
.

His lips pulled away from mine, both of us panting and flushed. But, just as I was about to start missing the feel of those lips, he started kissing my neck and then down to my collarbone, his breath fanning over my neck, and over the wet spots his tongue left as he tasted my skin. It felt so good that all I could do was to throw my head back to give him better access, moan breathlessly and tug more at his hair, at the same time holding his head in the place where I liked to feel his tongue the most, behind my ear.

It was heavenly good.

“Princess,” he breathed into my ear before kissing me right under it at the edge of my jawline. “Beautiful, beautiful Princess.” His whispers were as hot as his hands that I wanted to feel even more of. I wanted to feel him, all of him.

“What should I do to you, My Beautiful Princess? What should I do to you?”

Kiss me.

Hug me.

Touch me.

Oh, please, touch me
.

I could only moan in response. In the next moment, the prince’s hands were running over my sides, tightening a bit as he moved me slightly away from his lap. I was about to protest and demand the same closeness again, only to have him push me gently over onto my back, bringing his body to hover on top of mine, as our lips stayed busy with another burning kiss.

The feel of his body over mine was something I couldn’t describe. I already knew I’d never felt as safe or as protected as I felt in his arms, but this...this was
way
beyond feeling safety and protection. This felt as if I was outside on a rainy night in the cold and finally found shelter.

He was my safety. My comfort. My protection. And my shelter. My very secure and care-filled shelter.

His lips were on my neck again, kissing, licking and sucking tenderly, but with enough pressure to tell me exactly how much he desired me. Maybe just as much as I desired and wanted him, though his arousal that was grinding the slightest bit on my thigh was enough to make me aware of how turned on by me he really was.

My hand reached for the ends of his shirt and I pulled it up and over his head, wanting to touch more of him, and to feel his bare skin with my hands. He helped me with it and then threw it to the floor before returning to his sweet assault on my neck and collarbone.

I enjoyed the groans that he let out every time I moved my hand over his back, chest and abs. I enjoyed feeling him so close to me. I enjoyed hearing his whispers,
‘Princess, Princess, Princess.’
And I
loved
it when he panted,
‘My Princess.’
It made my stomach flutter, my heart beat faster, and my need for him grow stronger.

“Is this–” he panted, “Is this okay?” His hand was touching the top of my shoulder where he had pulled my dress aside a little to bare it a bit and taste it with his lips and tongue. Now he was tugging at the dress a little more, asking my permission first before going any further.

I let my eyes do all the talking before I finally confirmed it by nodding my head. It earned me a passionate kiss from him as his hand went to the side of my left breast, and I felt him fumbling a little before I realized that he was pulling down a thin zipper that I hadn’t even known was there, releasing it when it reached my side by the edge of my ribcage. His eyes were hungry and lustful as he looked down at my purple lace bra, which was doing very little to hide my erect nipples.

“So beautiful,” was all he said before his lips sucked on the skin at the swell of my breast, causing my eyes to roll back in my head. Then, when he pulled down my bra cup and his tongue touched my nipple, I just couldn’t control my moans any longer.

“Oh, God! Yes!” I gasped.

He swirled his tongue around my nipple before he sucked it into his mouth while his hand fondled my other breast, only leaving it to do the same to my other nipple, making me moan even louder. My hands pulled his head closer to my chest, arching my back to feel him even more–if that was possible. I brought my left leg up and put it around his back, because I couldn’t help but want to feel his arousal somewhere other than on my thigh and leg. This way, I had him right where I wanted him the most. Once he felt what I wanted him to feel, he grunted around my nipple and bit it, causing me to cry out in pleasure and to pull on his hair even more.

His hand found the side of my bare thigh, where my dress had ridden up when I put my leg over his back, and he started rubbing it softly, stroking my skin and kneading my flesh with his hand while spreading kisses all over my jawline. My nipples were over-sensitive from his assault on them and rubbing against his bare chest as he ground his arousal right over my center.

I was close. So close. And I didn’t want him to stop. Ever.

His hand touched the string of my thong over my hip, and he was just about to pull it down. He had it in his hand and everything, he only needed to tug a little and it’d be down my legs, but then his hand, his lips, his grinding...everything just stopped.

 He stopped. Just like that, he froze in place.

I opened my eyes to look at him, my vision unclear and my body calling to him, only to feel him lifting himself off of me, saying a word under his breath that I couldn’t understand because, though it was too quiet, I was sure it wasn’t even English. He sat back on the couch and looked down at me, his hair wild from my hands and his lips reddish from my own. His eyes held an expression I’d never seen in them before, or maybe I had. Was that
...guilt?

I sat up and held my open dress over my chest, covering myself. We were both still panting and our chests were heaving with the gasping breaths we took. My eyes questioned his own guilt- and shame-filled ones, but he only replied to me by completely removing himself from the couch after murmuring, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” That was about all he said before disappearing into the bathroom.

What the…?

I turned on the couch, touching my feet to the floor, with my hand still clutching the dress to my chest, my mouth agape, my eyes wide and mind confused. I stared at the closed bathroom door. For ages.

What on earth was that? We were–… And he was
–
… And I was just so
–
… What’s his problem?

When I felt like I’d wondered enough and there was no point in pondering it–even more because everything led to a dead end when I searched for an answer or an explanation for his actions–I got up, adjusting my bra back into place only to have my dress fall to form a pile around my feet, leaving me wearing only my bra and panties.

I was too pissed to care, to be honest, and just kicked the dress away and walked over to the bed, hiding under the covers and getting lost in my thoughts and feelings.

I felt...rejected, and I had no freaking clue why he’d just stopped that way, feeling all guilty, then apologizing before disappearing into the bathroom and taking his sweet time inside. It felt like it had been hours since he’d gone in there.

I lay on my side and stared straight ahead at the window. The night was dark, and the slight wind was ruffling the light curtains slowly.

I kept thinking of all of the possible reasons why he’d acted that way, coming up with one scenario after another to answer the questions in my head.

I thought that maybe he’d thought I wasn’t okay with it? But how could he think that way?
I
was the one who’d started it, I was the one who’d straddled his lap, and I was the one who gave him her ‘Yes’ when he asked for permission. How could he think that I didn’t want it, and that he needed to apologize for it? No, that couldn’t be it.