Princely Bastard Read Online Free Page A

way,” he answers, while pointing down the street, with tears still in his eyes—something he tries to rub away but can’t do fully.
    “All right,” I tell him, and we slowly head that way.
    “Just don’t expect much from me,” he goes on.
    “Don’t expect anything from me,” I reply.
    Suddenly, we stop, and I don’t know why. So, I ask him.
    “This is my building,” he states.
    “Oh,” I mumble.
    “You don’t have to, you know. You can go. I’ll be all right.”
    “But I won’t be.”
    I then reach up toward him, and he leans down to kiss me—and he takes me into his arms. And he spins me around.
    Afterward, I climb up onto his big shoulders and wrap my arms around his massive neck—and I whisper into his ear: “Pretend you love me. Just for tonight. And I’ll do the same. I swear I will.”
    THERE’S NO ELEVATOR in Mark’s building, so we have to walk up step after step, with my legs beginning to throb. They throb so much that I have to stop.
    “What?” he asks.
    “I can’t,” I answer, while rubbing my knees.
    He responds by lifting me off my feet and carrying me up the stairs—carrying me like some knight in a fairy tale.
    I also feel like a character in a fairy tale—so much so that I rest my head on his chest like some fair maiden, and I close my eyes.
    And I smile.
    WE TUMBLE INSIDE his apartment—one partially lit from all the stores and restaurants outside—and we land hard on the floor.
    I know I should be scared right now, as I’ve only done what we’re about to do once before—and it was not only horrible but the cause of my ongoing nightmare. But I’m not scared, and it’s not just because of all the liquor. It’s because I want to negate that horrible time. I also want to negate me and everything about me.
    Slowly, we roll over each other past the tiny foyer, onto the creaky wood flooring of his living room, without even closing the front door. Then we come to a stop, with me mostly on top of him—and he yanks open my jacket. And, after fumbling awhile with my shirt, he rips it apart, tearing it as if the fabric were just a handful of threads.
    I gasp at this, and I pull my hands through the sleeves of the jacket so I can unclasp my bra. Which causes the jacket to fall to the floor—along with my backpack.
    For some reason, though, I can’t get the bra off, and he can’t wait. So, he just pushes it up and puts my left breast in his mouth. My nipple’s entirely inside him, with his teeth applying just the right pressure—not too hard, not too soft.
    This causes me to squeal like some crazed animal—and I keep squealing as I try to tear his shirt. But I just don’t have his strength. So he does it himself. He shreds the cloth in two and I can feel his muscles—on his chest and abs, and they’re like stone—unlike anything I ever touched or thought about touching.
    Abruptly, he switches to my right breast. It’s almost down his fucking throat, and I’m in a frenzy. I’m in such a frenzy that I pull down his pants, and reach my hands inside his boxers—and I claw at his cheeks with my nails—cheeks that are almost as hard as his chest.
    He responds to this by ripping my jeans and panties below my knees—in one quick thrust. Then, as I frantically remove them and my sneakers, he turns me onto my back, and his head moves slowly downward, with his tongue gliding along my belly—sending shivers I can feel in my fingers and toes. I also whimper, over and over and over, and I whimper even louder when his mouth reaches its target.
    Wildly, he’s swishing his tongue inside me—around and around—lapping at me, and my whole body is shaking and spinning out of control. I can barely think. I can only rejoice.
    Eimi Xaipe . That’s my name.
    I think of this as I make sounds I’ve never made—sounds I’ve never even heard, while clutching his hair, and practically ripping it from his scalp.
    He could do anything he wants to me. Anything. I wouldn’t stop him. But