Roughing the Princess

Chapter 8 - A Private Show

travis

Taylor 's throat made an adorable little squeaking noise. "You scared me half to death, travis!" But she didn't shove me off. Her breasts pressed against my chest, rising and falling with her accelerated breath.

I was breathing fast too. Excitement coursing through my veins. I knew we had a lot to talk about. But there was something I'd been dying to do for weeks. And I knew she'd been dying for it too.

Her sharp exhale made my dick stiffen. Just one touch and we were both already gone.

I moved my hand into her hair, tangling my fingers in the strands. "You're used to people worshipping you on stage," I said. I lightly tugged on her hair, exposing her neck to me.

I pressed a kiss against the side of her neck and she grabbed my shoulders, pulling me closer. She moaned as my lips traced down her throat.

"Is that what gets you off, Taylor ? A crowd of thousands cheering your name?" She didn't respond, but her fingers dug into the muscles of my back.

I couldn't even count how many times I'd chanted her name in my head with my hand wrapped around my cock. Picturing her lips around me instead of my hand. Or her legs spread for me. Her greedy pussy just begging for my

cock. I could give her exactly what she wanted. "You have no idea what it's like to be truly worshipped yet, princess."

I'd been waiting weeks to taste her. Years if I was being completely honest with myself. And I finally had her right where I wanted her. I was seconds away from getting on my knees and showing her I meant every word I'd said.

But then her lips traced my ear. "You're used to being worshipped too, travis." Her fingers fell to the waistband of my pants.

Fuck. Me. She wanted to wrap her lips around my cock and worship me. And I wondered how many times she'd had my name on her lips these past couple weeks. With her fingers tracing her wetness. Wishing it was me.

Maybe I had her pegged all wrong. She pretended to be a good girl. Maybe she usually was. But she wanted to be bad for me. All those flirty texts, buried between the more serious ones. That was the real her.

I could give her fucking both. I'd treat her better than anyone else ever had. Like the princess she was. And I'd be as rough with her as she wanted between the sheets. I wouldn't end up as a lyric in one of her new songs. She wouldn't be cursing my name. She'd be begging me for more.

"Dirty girl," I whispered against her lips.

She grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me down into a kiss.

God she tasted sweet. I grabbed her thighs and hoisted her legs around my waist. I slammed her back against the wall again, kissing her so hard I was sure I was bruising her soft lips. "Do you want to be a little slut for me, princess?"

She moaned into my mouth, her fingernails digging into my back so hard it almost hurt.

I couldn't stop kissing her. Touching her. We were still completely clothed, but my hands couldn't stop. I palmed her left breast through her t-shirt. I gripped her right ass cheek in my other hand.

"travis," she moaned. She pushed my jacket off my shoulders and grabbed the fabric of my t-shirt. She pulled the fabric up, her palms splayed against my back.

I reluctantly let my lips fall from hers and pulled my shirt the rest of the way off. And then I grabbed the hem of her t-shirt. I was about to pull it off, but she caught my hands to stop me.

"I swear I planned on buying you dinner first," I said. She laughed. "Sure you did."

And for a second we just stared at each other. The silence stretching between us. But just like when we texted, the pause wasn't awkward. It was like I'd known her my whole life. And maybe it was because I'd wanted to know her my whole life.