“Yes. You feel so good.”

Johan made an ungainly sound and he somehow grew harder against her. She opened her eyes to see that his eyes were closed, his expression almost one of pain. She remembered him teasing her about talking dirty as he’d guided her out of the reception; maybe he hadn’t been entirely joking.

Maybe that was what he liked. What he wanted for himself.

“Do you like when I tell you how it feels, Phoko? Do you want me to, um”—her voice trembled on the next whispered two words—“talk dirty?”

He dragged in a breath. “Ouay.”

She felt it all through her body, the power in that word and how he was handing it to her. She felt his need, too, and surprisingly, she felt her own. She wanted to give him pleasure. She wanted to make him groan like that, again and again.

The only problem was she had never spoken dirty before.

“I like the sensation of you on top of me. You are heavy and strong and your weight feels good. Your muscles are very firm.”

Oh god, what kind of dirty talk is this?

She expected him to burst out laughing, but he kissed her temples, her ears, her hair as he allowed a bit more of his weight to press down on her. As he ground against her, sending a shock of pleasure through her that made her toes splay.

She slid one of her hands down his muscled back, then up into his disheveled hair, and tugged lightly. His eyes squeezed shut more tightly as he growled and thrust harder against her, then they opened, storm dark and hot and pleading.

“Your thing . . .” It seemed she could still feel embarrassment even as pleasure tingled through her and her heart hammered in her chest. She couldn’t say the word she wanted to, but she kept talking. “You feel so good moving against me. Your . . . eggplant emoji is hot and hard and long.”

He released a muffled mixture of laughter and pleasure.

“Nya. Are you trying to kill me?” His grip on her tightened, and his grinding sped up. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body, and his hair was damp and curling beneath her palm.

“Yes.” She moaned as he rubbed against her with just the right pressure. “Johan, I’ve imagined you touching me, and the reality is so much better. Goddess.”

He didn’t say anything, but his hand tightened on the back of her head, repositioning her face so that his greedy mouth found hers easily. Now he moved with a bucking, thrusting motion that mirrored what they could have been doing if they were naked and she was ready.

This is what he wants to do to you.

The thought sent her over the edge. She moaned into his mouth, once quick and low, then longer, then a yip that broke sharply into a surprised shout as an orgasm surged through her, sending tingling pleasure from her head to her toes.

Johan went rigid above her, all but his hips, which thrust a few more times before a tremor ran through his body and he collapsed on top of her, his face nestled into her braids.

His breathing was harsh when, after a long moment, he rasped out, “Why do I feel like I’m the one who’s been debauched? Thank you, Sugar Bubble.”

Nya didn’t know what she was supposed to do at this point, so she did what she wanted.

“You’re welcome. I think we both did well.” She lightly punched his arm. “Way to go.”

He laughed into her neck and kissed her there, sending a fresh spark of pleasure through her. She ran her hand through his hair.

Friends, she reminded herself. With benefits.

Eventually they broke apart to visit their respective bathrooms, and she arrived back to the bed before he did. She picked up her phone.

ONE TRUE PRINCE, TEXT MESSAGE FROM: HANJO

What does the ache in my chest mean? Love, Nya. I think it means love.

She put the phone down on the bedside table.

Johan walked in, shirtless, hair tousled and damp, and came over to her side of the giant bed. His gaze skipped to her phone just before the screen went dark, then back to her, before he slid under the duvet beside her.

“You never answered my question on the jet,” he said, voice almost hesitant. She was confused, and then she smiled and pushed him to his side, throwing an arm over his shoulder as she curled around him from behind.

“Big spoon,” she said, and then they fell asleep.

Chapter 12

Although there has been no official confirmation from Castle von Braustein yet, Jo-Jo has indeed returned home in the lead-up to the historic vote for Liechtienbourg’s future with a woman on his arm. Not much is known about Nya Jerami, but former classmates and coworkers describe her as “shy,” “a good girl,” and “way too good for that kind of man.” What’s known about her father, who currently resides in Thesolo’s maximum security prison, is a different matter (click here for more). She arrived at Liechtienbourg Airport in Sommetstaad, the country’s capital, looking quite happy at Jo-Jo’s side.

—The Looking Glass Daily, Royal Beat

The country of Liechtienbourg was often described as a town masquerading as a kingdom, and the traditional response from Liechtienbourgers was e blade deguisee als bottermesser—“a blade disguised as a butter knife.” As they sat in the king’s royal parlor, Johan couldn’t help but think the same of Nya. Her deceptive softness could mask desire so sharp that he was still bleeding from just a graze of it. All he’d been able to think about on their flight from Njaza was making her cry out again, but there were no bedrooms on the commercial flight they’d taken, and they’d both slept most of the way there.