Rise of the Lost Prince (MF)
They fight to protect those who would never welcome them into the human world...
Petúr always knew he and his brothers-in-arms were different. Something more. Something not human. Yet, he never expected to find out the truth of their origins, nor fall for a human woman whose father was set to destroy Neverland.
Ever since she was a child, Wyndi dreamed of an angel with eyes of the purest gold, although she never really believed such a man existed until she met the hauntingly beautiful Petúr of the lost boys.
With a prophecy to fulfill, a woman to protect, a portal to find, and evil darklings out for blood, will Petúr be strong enough to rise up and claim what’s rightfully his, or lose everything to a long-time nemesis, Grapple the Dark?
Her tongue darted out, licking her lips. Was she nervous? Well, he’d be the balm to soothe those nerves. He focused on her mouth. Those delicious lips were kiss swollen and moist, making his cock strain even more against the constraint of his pants.
“Okay,” she said in a small, breathy voice, the lids covering her blue eyes at half-mast.
He reached for the hem of the too big nightshirt covering the body he had to see, lifting until he revealed her little white panties and lacy bra covered breasts. Blood raced through his veins. He wanted to do everything with her. To her. Touch all over. Taste every inch of her. Put his fingers and cock into the tight, warm sheath he knew was awaiting him.
Take her. Hell yeah. Those two words became a chant within his mind. He wanted to take his woman in every position he could imagine and then some. His woman? Yes. Yes she was his, or would be. Slow your roll. You don’t want to scare her. He had to maintain. He couldn’t go at her like some out of control beast.
Leaning down, he kissed between the creamy mounds of her cleavage, skimmed his cheek across the apex of her right breast, watching goose bumps scatter across her flesh in a wanton invitation. Unable to stop himself from licking her, he lapped at her in one, long, lingering stroke, from the top edge of the bra, up her collarbone, only stopping because the material he’d lifted hindered his progress being bunched around her neck.
“Oh, hell,” he muttered. “You taste so good.”
She shook, and he wanted her shakes.
“Yes,” he answered, feeling her warm palms slide down his biceps. Even that tantalized him. “I’m already addicted.” He went to his elbows, slid his hands under her shoulder blades, arching her up, dropped his head, grabbed the flimsy middle of her bra with his teeth, bit, and tugged, ripping it free.
“Oh!” she uttered.
Moving the material aside with his nose, he pulled back enough to see her, soaking every bit of her pink and white flesh in with his eyes, before flicking a rosebud nipple with the tip of his tongue.
“Petúr.” He reveled in the sound of his name falling from her lips, and sucked the nipple he’d been teasing into his mouth. “Mm…We should stop.” He lightly bit. Swirled his tongue around the aroused nub. “Oh…Never mind. Don’t stop,” she uttered, as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Never stop. No.” He sounded like a Neanderthal, but just then, when Wyndi pressed herself into his erection, he didn’t care.