“Geez, of course you did.”
I point at the nearest wall. “See these rivulets in the stone? Water would run down from the irrigation system upstairs, keeping the prisoners alive.”
She steps closer to the worn, stone wall. “Wow…”
“Have I scared you off yet?”
“No.” She grips my hand. “What kind of king do you think you would be, Liam?”
“Would be?”
“Will be. But would be, if you had all the power like those early kings.”
I shrug. “Probably a bored one. Have you ever heard of ennui?”
“I think I have, actually. It’s where rich people get bored, right? But I’m saying like, do you think you’d be good or bad: a good king or a bad one?”
I lift my shoulders. “What do you think?”
“You’d be good. I really think so.”
Her hand squeezes mine, then she lets me go and walks around behind me. I feel her fingers in my hair, and then she pulls the elastic band out. She runs her fingers through my too-long mane and steps around in front of me.
“Yep.”
“Yep what?”
She tilts her head. “I can tell you’re good at heart.”
“Because of my hair?” I’m smiling as I smash my hand over her face. Lucy takes it in her own small hands, then brings it to her mouth so she can kiss my palm. “You seem happier than earlier today,” she tells me as she looks into my eyes.
I want to ask her why she thought I wasn’t happy earlier, but it’s not smart to shift the conversation that way: to my unhappiness.
I make a mental note to practice better discretion, then I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go back upstairs,” I murmur, pulling her against me.
“Sold.” Her arms encircle my waist for a small moment. Then she tips her forehead against my chest and nuzzles me.
I usher Lucy up the stairs first. As she moves, I’m not sure where to look. Her ass is perfect. Her back is so small and narrow. Her neck is soft and smooth, her nape begging for my teeth and tongue.
She spends a few minutes looking around the study, running her hand over the spines of ancient books and leaning lightly against the back of a gigantic leather arm chair before wandering into my room.
We end up kissing, with her perched on the side of my bed and me standing between her legs. When she draws back to get her breath, I step in closer and pull her slender torso her up against me. “God, you’re beautiful.” My eyes close as I inhale near her neck. “I love having you close.”
I pause when the words come out. Did I really fucking say that?
“I like being close.” She kisses my throat. “Better to do this…” She kisses my cheek, and then my lips. I can feel myself reacting. Getting hard for her.
She rubs her hand over me. “Crown jewels,” she murmurs, smirking.
“Just me.”
“I like that better.”
We wind up tangled in my linens, Lucy’s hand in my pants, my eyes shut as I try to fuck her fingers.
“Oh shit…”
“I want to make you come like this,” she whispers. “Just a hand job…”
So that’s what she does.
I come in her hand and lie there with my eyes shut, feeling…strange. She’s in the wash room when I realize why.
It’s been a while since I fucked around with the same woman more than once or twice in a row. All summer, I avoided repeats. Because I knew I didn’t need entanglement.
But here I am, lying on my own bed, comfortable and sated, listening to the water run inside my bathroom, looking forward to seeing her step out of it.
I push myself up on my elbows, as if changing positions will make me feel less…off.
Lucy emerges from the bathroom at that moment, looking smug and happy.
“I haven’t had that much fun with my hands in quite a while.”
I can’t help smiling back at her. “Come here…”
She climbs up on my bed and sits cross-legged in front of me. I lean forward, reaching into her shirt so I can tease her nipple.
“Liam,” she gasps.
“Lie down, Lucille.”
Her breasts are perfect. Creamy and full, with sensitive nipples that peak as I run my tongue over them. I take my time sucking them both, then slide my hand inside her pants.
“Liam…” Her hand closes around my wrist. “I just worked out.”
“And?”
She can’t say more, because she’s panting when my fingers find her soft, slick folds.
I rub my thumb over her clit and push one finger, then another, into her hot cunt. I love the way her knees draw up and press against me, how she groans and lifts her hips.
“Oh God…”
“That’s right.”
I see the color rising in her cheeks… The way she tips her head back. God, I want to kiss her throat. Instead I give her what I know she really needs, pumping in and out while Lucy thrusts against me, then comes as she screams my name.
She sits up, laughing, before I draw my hand out of her pants.
“What’s funny?”
She grins, looking radiant. “I’ve never been so loud! You make me crazy.”
“I like you that way.”
I move off her and she clamps her legs together. “God. It’s so true.” She shuts her eyes and curls up on her side. She yawns. “I need to get up…”
Instead she falls asleep. I run a bath for her and drape a sheet over her body, buzzing downstairs for some bath salts before I text Heath.
Still having people over?
Hell yea
What time?
8 or 9
Usual suspects?
Yeah. Don’t worry, I got the staff prepped.
Ha, not worried.
It’s been for fucking ever since Heath threw a big bash. He gets into these modes where he likes being around people all the damn time, and it takes him forever to run himself into the ground. After the polo wins, he wants to cut loose. More so than his usual. Our usual. Because it’s usually me too, isn’t it?
It doesn’t seem as appealing with Lucy here.
I think over the guest list, from the polo team to the many women who will flock here later tonight, trying to think if anyone will cause trouble. Not just for me, but for Lucy, too.
I wonder if I should take her somewhere else for the night. Somewhere it can be just the two of us. I pull on my robe just as Beth knocks on my door, handing me the bath salts when I answer. I see her gaze flit to the bed, and Lucy, still curled up asleep. I’m surprised when she looks back at me with a knowing smile. I can’t help scowling.
What does she know?
“Lucy…” I shake her shoulder.
She jumps up with a gasp.
“Hey…” I smile. “It’s just me.”
“Holy hell!” She covers her eyes. “I was dreaming about prairie dogs.”
I can’t help a roar of laughter. “Prairie dogs?”
“Yes! They’re so cute and little but they have these teeth…” She shudders, draws the sheet around herself.
I pinch her arm. “Little biting teeth?”
“Yes.” She draws up in a ball. “Don’t bite me with prairie dog teeth.” I chuckle, and she yawns.
I throw her over my shoulder and carry her into the bathroom.
“You think I’m dirty?”
“Oh, I know you are.”
I set her down in the tub, and Lucy sinks into the bubbles, stirring tendrils of steam. With her dark hair waving around her shoulders, she looks like a goddess—or a witch.