Praise Me: Princess (Praise Me Daily)
Praise Me: Princess: Chapter 6

If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was having a fucking heart attack.

She reminds me of her intention to marry a prince while I’m on top of her, seconds from kissing her mouth for the first time? Jealousy is causing my blood to pump at a rate that rivals the speed of sound, along with the need to kill. I can’t be blamed when her mouth is a masterpiece up close. An honest to God masterpiece. It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt against my lips and I could have lain there on her pliant body, teasing and testing it for hours. Days. Weeks.

And it’s more than her mouth.

More than her luscious body.

Her perseverance and self-sacrifice and honesty has untied something in my chest.

I’m almost disoriented by the flood of emotions she unleashes in me.

For the first time in a long time, I’m uncertain of what to do. What the future holds. I am the highest ranking of soldier, but I am not a prince. Not a royal. At the moment, I’m a glorified bodyguard, and that ranks far below princess, for god’s sakes.

She’s the future queen.

On top of that, I’ve been rude to her since making her acquaintance. Rude is my default. I don’t know how to be anything other than an asshole. Still, she’s making me want to…try and be a little nicer? See if I can make her…smile? Be happy?

What the fuck are you trying to do? Woo a princess?

The thought of it—and the potential of failure being so high—is making me sweat.

“Are you all right, Commander?” Greta asks when I lift her out of the SUV by the waist, settling her in front of me. “You seemed upset.”

“I’m not upset,” I snap.

“Oh.” Her eyes are drawn to the perspiration at my hairline. “Are you sure?”

This is her first time leaving the palace grounds since her kidnapping—and torture— and she’s worried about me. “Did you think I’d be able to lie on top of you for so long without…reacting?”

She blinks up at me innocently. “Reacting?”

The princess is a goddamn virgin.

Of course she is. As though I need another reason to feel viciously protective of her.

“Never mind me, Greta,” I say, forcing my voice to soften, despite the aching dick in my pants. Despite the sudden awareness that I like her very much and she’s not available to me. “How are you?”

“A little nervous.”

“Yeah?”

“A lot nervous.”

“Okay, we’re going to work on that.” Without thinking, I smooth back these little curls at her temple, humbled by the way she leans into my touch. “What would you normally do at the ranch?”

She breathes deeply and lets it out. “Well. I’d start with a ride around the paddock to exercise my horse, then I’d brush her down and feed her. Sometimes, after that, I bring a picnic out into the pasture and enjoy the sunshine.”

“A picnic,” I repeat, not sure if I’ve ever said that word out loud.

“Yes, a picnic.” She looks at my mouth, her cheeks flushing pink, then looks away just as fast, as if embarrassed for slipping. “You could join me, if you wanted.”

And there I am, suddenly eager for a picnic. “I guess.”

“You guess?” The rapid cooling of her expression tells me that was the wrong thing to say. “Never mind,” she says, sniffing, and then she’s sailing past me toward the barn. Thank God I’m fast. I turn with her on a heel, keeping her shielded on the way to the large, red and white structure, scanning the immediate area, looking for glints of sunlight on reflective surfaces in the distance. Possible snipers.

Anything that could be a threat to my princess.

“I want to do the picnic,” I say in a low rush.

“That’s not what you said.”

“Come on, Greta. It takes a man a minute to get used to the idea of doing something outside of his comfort zone.” We’ve entered the barn now and the protection allows me some relief, but I don’t let my guard down, my gaze sweeping the rafters, the individual stalls as we pass, my fingertips on the small of her back, in case I need to move her out of harm’s way at a moment’s notice. “What are we going to do on this picnic?”

“Eat and chat.”

“I can do that.” I clear my throat. “I’d like to eat and chat with you.”

She shrugs daintily. “I’ll think about it.”

There is no way to quell the growl that climbs my throat. “We’re going to have a very hard time if you get yourself in a huff every time I don’t say the right thing. I usually say whatever the fuck I want, Greta. In the space of twenty-four hours, you’ve got me wanting to say whatever makes you happy with me. You know how fucking scary that is?”

At the entrance to one of the stalls, she turns to me with an expression of awe. “Being annoyed with you has caused me to forget my fears, Commander.”

“Great,” I say dryly. “Are we doing this picnic or not?”

She shrugs, giving me a prim, teasing look on her way into the stall. “I guess.”

Christ. I’ve never needed to fuck so badly in my life. I’m turned on by the abrupt detours in our conversation. Her calling me out when I didn’t give her the response she deserved. Add backbone to her ever-growing list of qualities. I want this woman in ways that I’ve never wanted anything. Not even my own freedom.

Stepping into the stall doorway, I watch her coo to a gray horse with white splotches on his flanks and I become almost too absorbed by her voice and gentleness with the creature that I don’t notice the man approaching the stall right away, but I wheel around to face him, hand on my gun, when he appears to my right.

“Who are you?” I bark.

“I’m Huck,” he says, steps slowing, probably out of fear. Of me. Good. “I train the horses.”

“Hello, Huck,” calls the princess, before looking at me. “I’ve known him for years. Don’t worry, he’s not a threat.”

There’s a growl rumbling in my throat as the young man scoots past me, doffing his hat as soon as he sees Greta. “Princess.” He executes a sweeping now. “It’s been too long. Ghost has missed you terribly, as have I.”

“I have missed you, as well,” she says cheerfully, coming forward to kiss his cheek.

Wringing his hat in his hands, Huck’s face turns the color of a tomato.

He would die for her. There’s no doubt.

I’ve seen more than enough.

“The princess will begin her ride now,” I say, moving in between them, looking Huck in the eye when I say, “She and I are going on a picnic afterward.”

Suck on that.

If I’m not mistaken, Greta is trying not to laugh as I escort her to the paddock, watching her mount the horse and give it a rub on the neck, before setting into a canter around the perimeter of the enclosure. I’m doing my best to remain locked in on her surroundings, but Jesus, I’m quickly distracted by the way her body moves atop the horse.

Her hips give a rolling thrust forward, her butt lifting off the saddle in a rhythm that has my shirt sticking to my body by her third revolution around the paddock. I don’t know what thickens my cock faster, the fact that she rides the horse much in the same way she’d ride a man, with tight, little bounces, or the way her tits are being jostled up and down inside of her blouse. It’s borderline inappropriate.

And I’m not the only one who notices.

Huck is mooning at her from the entrance to the barn, breathing far too quickly for my liking. A few members of the security team are in the same predicament as me, trying mightily to focus on their job, but replaceing it impossible when there’s a young beauty for the ages mimicking a vigorous fuck not twenty yards away, her hips pumping and pumping, her hair coming loose of its braid, strands being carried in the wind around her flushed, exerted face, her enjoyment clear.

It’s everything I can do not to press my stiff cock up against the wooden post in front of me and allow it some friction.

Goddamn. She’s magnificent.

And now she’s riding faster, hips bucking, ass slapping up and down on the saddle.

Someone groans nearby, however, and my anger, my possessiveness breaks my trance. Mark my words, this is the final time she rides with other men present.

“Picnic time,” I shout.