The Reluctant Princess Read online

  “Samira.” He rolled the name around his tongue. “Pretty.” He smiled and gestured to the chairs by the fire. “Would you like to sit?”

  My stomach bubbled with nerves. If I tried to have a polite conversation with him, I’d end up saying something stupid. I wanted him to rip my clothes off and fuck me hard so that I didn’t have a chance to say anything and screw it all up.

  I decided to be myself, and speak my mind. “I didn’t think you’d invited me here to talk.”

  Again he glanced at Malik, then back at me. He gave me a lazy smile. “No, maybe not.”

  He moved closer. I had the feeling he knew very well how to use his height and strength to overwhelm and impress. Power oozed from him, along with a sexiness born from complete confidence in how attractive he was to women—and men, probably. Did his tastes lean that way? Malik’s words had suggested they might. I knew that idea would disgust many people, but the image of him taking both men and women into his bed made me weak at the knees.

  The Prince’s gaze rested on my mouth. “Did Malik explain what I require from a companion?” He walked around me, not touching me, but I felt his gaze trailing across the skin of my neck and shoulders like a red hot iron. “Did he warn you?”

  I was breathing quickly now. Malik hadn’t really told me anything, but he’d implied the Prince’s taste were…unusual. I could only guess what that meant. “Yes.”

  He finished his circling and stood in front of me again. “You still wish to stay?” His eyes surveyed me, intense, interested, and maybe even a little hopeful.

  For a brief moment, I felt my future pivot on the words that would leave my mouth. What did he want from me? I was happy to be tied up, or to do the tying up. I didn’t mind oral or anal sex, and although I’d never gone to bed with more than one man, the thought excited me.

  But was he into violent behavior? I didn’t mind rough sex or the occasional fun slap on the behind, but I wasn’t a big fan of pain, and the notion of it made me feel queasy. Was he a cruel man? He didn’t look it, but then some of the men I’d had the misfortune to meet hadn’t looked it either. If he wanted to hurt me, could any of his slaves stop him? Would they dare?

  I looked at Malik, standing patiently to one side. He must have seen my fear because, to my surprise, he winked at me.

  That small gesture reassured me more than any words could have.

  I tipped back my head and looked into the Prince’s eyes. “I don’t care which of your slaves fucks me with you,” I said huskily, “or how they do it. I just know that if I don’t feel your lips on mine before the candles burn down tonight, I’m going to explode.”

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  About the Author

  Carly writes short, sweet, (and hot!) fantasy romances about sexy alpha princes and the princesses who love them.

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