The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy novel Chapter 879

Jackson’s mouth is hard against mine and I yield to him immediately, wanting him to take control, to take me any way he wants. Even as I kiss him back, meeting him at every pulse of my heart with my lips and my tongue, I consider that this is very different from our first time – when Jackson was slow and patient and deliberate.

No, this time I can tell that Jackson is a little lost in his want of me - and I absolutely love it.

A shudder passes through my body as Jackson snarls, moving his mouth from mine, pressing first his lips and then his tongue and then his teeth to my neck, dragging the sharp points of his canines there. He lifts his body for just a moment to shove hard at my stupid dress, pushing it down over my hips and my ass until it comes to settle somewhere down over my knees.

But we’re both too lost to care as my mate presses the length of his body to mine again, the feel of his warm skin bare against mine torturous and wonderful all at once. I groan, my head falling to the side as Jackson dips his head lower, kissing the dip of my throat and then my breast, his tongue licking hard and flat once over my nipple before he returns his face to mine, a palm flat on my cheek turning my head back so that he can kiss me again and again.

I lose sense of myself quickly, forgetting that I’m a Princess, that I have any responsibility at all. Any sense of who I am or who I was, my past and my future, just flies away. I’m only concerned here and now with the feel of Jackson pressing me down into this mat, a burning fucking flame searing me at every inch where his skin meets mine.

God, fuck but I want him. Right fucking now.

I jerk my knee up to the side, wanting to wrap my leg around his waist – his back –

But I snarl when something gets in my way.

“Fucking dress,” I growl, putting a hand against Jackson’s shoulder and giving a little shove as I look down, glaring hard at the mess of fabric.

Jackson turns on his side, allowing me the space I need even as he turns his attention and his mouth again to my neck in a way that makes my eyes want to flutter shut. But, quite determined, I sit up and untangle my legs from all the fabric, tossing it aside.

“Where is your underwear?” Jackson asks, a hand on my hip. I turn to see him frowning down at my naked hips.

“Atalaxian women don’t wear it!” I say, turning to him as my hands move fast to his own pants, my fingers working fast at his belt. “I know, right? You’d think that with such a conservative culture –“