Prince Of Lust (Princes Of Sin: The Seven Deadly Sins series Book 1)
Prince Of Lust: Chapter 12

I couldn’t catch my breath.

Sitri sank down to the floor, the door to the hall wide open to whoever lived in the only other apartment on this level. His eyes never left my face, but his hands smoothed down my waist, then down my thighs over the long, soft skirt.

His hands bunched the material, and the hem rose up to expose my knees.

“Sirti, please not here.” I pushed his shoulders away, but he was immovable.

“Not here?” He smiled, but it felt like a threat.

The first few buttons of his shirt were usually undone, but at this angle, I could see the dark ink across his chest. His blue eyes held darker intentions, but the excitement in my stomach told me to not be frightened.

His hands cupped the backs of my thighs, and in one motion, he lifted me, wrapped my legs around his hips, and got to his feet. I flung my arms around his neck, and the next thing I knew, I was inside his apartment. He hadn’t bothered to take me down the hall or through the door. He’d opted to step us through the void and into his bedroom.

“Does this room feel proper?” His deep voice rumbled against my chest, which was pressed against his.

I pulled back to look at him fully, not wanting to break this moment or for him to put me down and storm off again. So I did the one thing I’d wanted to do since my first night staying with him and Ezequiel.

I kissed him.

His lips were hard and unyielding. I hadn’t had much practice in this area, but the white-hot sting of embarrassment shot through me when I pulled away to search his face for any trace of emotion. I would have taken anger if it meant he wasn’t so indifferent to my attempt at connection.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but he pulled me close and reciprocated. His lips crashed over mine, and his tongue stroked and coaxed the fire in my blood. This kiss was everything I’d hoped for and more. Where Ezequiel kissed me softly and meaningfully, Sitri was desperate. Hungry. Starved and ready to consume me.

He trailed his lips over my jaw then down my chest.

“On your knees,” he said gruffly and dropped me to my feet.

I looked up at him. The demanding tone came unexpectedly, but I wanted more.

He unclasped his belt then pulled the zipper down to reveal his hard, thick cock. He was bigger than Ezequiel. I worried he might be too big.

“My knees?” I whimpered.

“Now.”

He took off his shirt and fisted his cock, waiting for me to obey or run. I knew if I refused, he wouldn’t come after me or fault me, but I didn’t want to disappoint him. I lowered myself to the floor and rolled my eyes up his body. The head of his cock was engorged, and a bead of clear liquid squeezed from the tip.

I licked my lips and opened wide and expectantly.

My lips wrapped around his shaft as he eased inside. He tasted salty, but the feel of him over my tongue and the roof of my mouth produced a satisfied hum from my throat.

He pulled back just a little, and I sucked over the ridge of his head and bobbed over it. His mouth opened and let out a ragged, hitched groan, then cursed my name.

I placed one hand on his leg and the other on the base of him to bring him farther into my mouth.

“That’s a good little Reaper. Swallow down my cock like the little slut you are.”

The warm nerves between my legs throbbed. I wanted all of him all at once and to hear him make those demands that sent my heart racing. The pleasure in his voice was intoxicating and luscious, and it sent a warmth through me that settled in my lower stomach. I sucked harder and took him deeper. His breath became heavier, and his knees sagged the deeper I went.

My jaw ached, but I didn’t want to stop. I sucked over the head and stroked his shaft. The muscles of his stomach clenched in a show of pleasure that rolled over him with every movement of my tongue. His body reacting to me, his thick black tattoos, and the scar on his arm were sights to behold.

“Stand up,” he demanded, pulling at the collar of my shirt until it was over my head.

In a feverish hurry, his lips met mine. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of my skirt and pulled it down, leaving me in the lace set that Ezequiel had picked out for me at the beginning of the night.

Sitri took no time stripping me and leaving me bare to him. His hands roved over my hips, belly, and breasts as if he were trying to memorize me as fast as he could.

He turned me to face the bed and pushed my shoulders down so that I was resting on my forearms over the bed linens.

“I want to hear you scream, Dabria. But you’ll address me as your prince. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I answered right away and received a smack on my ass.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, my prince.”

My prince.

He lined himself up with my entrance, only giving me a quick moment before pushing deep inside, drawing a gasp and a cry from my lips.

“That’s a good little Reaper. You can take all of me, can’t you?”

He drew out his hips then slammed back in, making my knees weak as pleasure flooded my belly. When I didn’t answer fast enough, he gave my other cheek a swift swat, making me throb.

“I need all of you, my prince. Please.”

He thrust deeper, harder, faster. The building pressure threatened to burst at any moment as I approached climax. His fingers gripped my hips tight, and our skin slapped together. The sound of flesh on flesh echoed around the room to join the chorus of heavy grunts, moans, and curses with every dive of his cock inside of me.

“Come for me, Reaper,” he rasped out.

Another demand that my body obeyed with a shuddering crash.

“That’s it,” he purred. “Come undone for me.”

Parts of my anatomy convulsed, tightening and then relaxing through jolts of heat and electricity. The ecstasy reached my limbs and made them weak.

“Oh fuck, my prince!”

My arms came out from under me, and I rode out the rest of my orgasm with my body limp on the bed.

His cock twitched as he pulled out of me. If he’d climaxed as well, it hadn’t slowed him down like it had Ezequiel.

When my senses and strength came back to me, I rolled over and looked around for Sitri. He was standing at the bathroom sink with the water running. He’d gotten a bottle of alcohol from somewhere and was taking long pulls from it.

“Do you want to shower in here or in the guest bathroom?” he shouted over his shoulder, a coldness in his tone.

A rock of unease and confusion settled firmly in my stomach.

“I can shower by myself.”

I gathered my clothes and left without saying another word.

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