“At this moment, I want you to focus more on the things going in my mouth.”
And my breath whistles out of me.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, sliding my hand into her hair, gripping a bit, just tight enough for her to feel it.
“Yeah.” Ellie licks her lips. “Big, hard things.”
I scrape my teeth on my lower lip, the way I want to scratch them across her soft, pale breast—the way I will, very soon.
“That so?”
She nods. And then my girl grins—cheekily.
“Do you ever think about this?” she asks. “Me doing this to you?”
My lips drag up into the smile I know she loves. “It’s my very favorite thing to think on.”
I grasp my stiffening flesh and trace her lips with the head of my cock. “This, love? Is this what you want?”
And she fucking moans. I feel it against me. “Yeah, I want that, so much.” She keeps her eyes on mine, slipping her little tongue out—licking, just the tip. I stroke my cock back and forth against her tongue, grazing it with every pass, wet and warm.
It feels incredible and looks fantastic.
Then fantastic gets even better.
Ellie opens that pink, pouty mouth—but holds back. She lines us up and waits . . . waits for me to lead. And I’m all about indulging her. So I push the wide crown past the ring of her lips and thrust up into the wet sucking heat of her mouth.
And her eyes roll closed, like it’s the most blissful thing she’s ever tasted.
Christ, she’s trying to kill me.
When the tip of my cock nudges the narrow back of her throat, I stop. And Ellie eagerly takes over. Wrapping her hand around the thick shaft, working her mouth up and down, taking as much of my length into the heaven of her mouth as she can.
It’s wet and sloppy and beautiful.
She worships my cock. Devours it. Hums around it, kisses and adores it with every suck and slide of her perfect lips.
Ellie licks my cock like a lollipop and palms my balls like they’re her new favorite toy. My heart races and my breath pounds.
“Ellie . . .” I warn, because I feel the tightening, the liquid heat racing and ready to surge. “Ellie . . .”
She moves faster, pumps harder, sucks tighter, wringing the pleasure from me. My hips circle and lift, pushing up into her mouth as she moans around me. And I’m utterly wrecked.
“. . . fuck . . . fuck . . .”
With a broken groan I come in her mouth, down her throat, pumping again and again. It feels like I’m flying and sounds like I’m dying.
When it’s over, after the haze of pleasure clears from my vision, I grab my beautiful girl and hoist her up my body. With one thought in my mind—the same thought, coincidentally, that I also had that day, long ago, in the museum: I like to give as good as I get.
Sunlight peeks over the horizon, cutting a golden swath across the floor, creeping until it finds Ellie’s face. With my chest pressed to her back, I lean up, over her, watching her eyes scrunch, her nose wrinkle, as she awakens slowly, blinking at the brightening sky streaming through. Then my face is buried against her hair and the soft crook of her neck. She smells like sex and sweat and me. Ellie rolls over, pushing me on my back, blocking the window with her tempting little body and raining kisses down on my cheeks, my eyelids—eager and soft.
“It’s a dream. Go back to sleep. It’s not morning yet.” She presses her cheek against my chest—holding, hugging, clinging. “Don’t leave me.”
And the way she says it tugs at my gut—because it doesn’t feel at all like teasing.
I tilt her face up to me so I can see her eyes. “What’s that about, now?”
“Tell me we’re going to be together. Like this,” she pleads.
And I don’t hesitate. “We’re going to be together. Every day and every night, just like this.” I reach up and kiss her, sealing the words.
Then I add, “But I need to speak with Prince Nicholas, before anyone else knows. Even before you tell your sister.”
“But—”
“He’s like an older brother to me, Elle—his opinion matters. I don’t want him to think I disrespected you or took advantage. I want to be clear about my intentions and I want him to hear it from me, first. He trusts me—I won’t have him believing I’m like all the other arseholes who’ve let him down or betrayed him.”
She thinks about it, her eyes warm and light—almost silver. “Do you think he’ll be mad?”
“I don’t think he, or any of them will be happy.” My knuckle brushes the apple of her cheek—so pretty. “They had plans for you.”
“Will you get in trouble?”
“Depends on your definition of trouble.” I shrug, teasing. “They might throw me in the dungeon, for fucking above my class.” My hands find her arse, squeezing. “But, oh, it was worth it.”
Ellie bites my arm.
“Don’t worry.” I take her hand in mine, threading our fingers together. “Everything will be fine, I promise.”
Turns out, sometimes I lie—and don’t even know it.
I PLAN ON SPEAKING TO Nicholas about Ellie the very same day, but he’s scheduled to give a speech for a children’s charity that requires him to travel in the helicopter, and there’s no chance for us to chat alone. The next day, Olivia’s feeling poorly, and she and the Prince spend the whole day sequestered in their bedroom.
And that’s how it goes, for the next day and one more after that—I try to take him aside, to find him alone for a moment, but, as it often does, shit keeps getting in the way.
But nothing gets in the way of me and Ellie. I would obliterate anything or anyone who tried. We keep our distance when we’re around others, acting friendly—normal.
Then, I go to her room at night—or when I can’t, she comes to me. She leaves word for her sister that she’s going to the cinema and I volunteer to guard her. But instead, we go to my house, where we don’t have to mind our groans and shouts and cursing gasps. We’re mad for each other. Insatiable. And it’s all so good . . . so easy.
On the fourth day, they’re together at breakfast—Ellie, Olivia, Nicholas, Henry and Lady Sarah. Ellie sends a warm, secret smile my way, and I’m determined to tell the prince today.
I clear my throat. “Prince Nicholas—”
“A present arrived for you, Lady Olivia. Looks like it’s for the little ones.” Sylvie, the new kitchen maid, places a square box on the table in front of Olivia, wrapped in pink and blue paper with a white bow.
“Thank you, Sylvie.”
Olivia gazes at the gift for a moment, then begins to tear the paper, revealing a worn, brown cardboard box underneath, with a folded note taped to the side. And something about it rubs me all kinds of wrong. It doesn’t seem like something any acquaintance of the royal family would send.
I move forward, putting my arm in front of Olivia to stop her from opening it.
“Has this been through security?” I ask the maid.
Her eyes are wide. “No, it was just delivered at the rear entrance. I thought I’d bring it right in.”