by Geneva Lee
And then I let her go. Belle unraveled around me with a strangled cry, her limbs seizing and then delicately shuddering to a tremble like butterfly wings.
I gave her a moment before I took the next orgasm from her. By the time we were nearing the third, she was gasping and straining.
“Something wrong, beautiful?” I asked smugly.
“I want your cock.” The request fell so wantonly from her lips—I had to grant it.
I withdrew my hand, earning an amusing pout from her. I ignored it and unhooked her from the armoire.
Sex was trickier these days, but not impossible—and I loved a challenge. Guiding her to the bed, her hands still tied, I bent her over it, arms stretched above her head. Her fingers grabbed the bed cover. I loved it when she braced for impact.
“Fuck me, sir,” she said as I moved between her legs, biting out the addition.
“That feels like an order.” I rubbed the tip of my cock along her swollen sex. She was already near the point of climax. One touch would push her over the edge. I backed away and she cried out.
“Do you feel how ready you are?” I asked. “I could blow on your clit and you would come. You only get one chance to get this right, beautiful. One brush of my finger or my tongue? A kiss? How do you want me to break you?”
“Give me your cock,” she begged, “sir.”
“Fuck, I could never deny you that.”
I resisted the urge to slam inside her. I was so ready to feel her milking my dick that it took more than a fair amount of self-control. I wanted to enjoy every moment of her climax. I stood behind her stroking my shaft. Her head shifted, straining to see what I was doing.
“I want to come with you,” I told her, moving so she could watch me jack off. I jerked my dick slowly but roughly until a bead of ejaculation formed. Belle whimpered, knowing she was about to get what she wanted, and I couldn’t help myself.
I brushed it off with my thumb, leaned over, and offered it to her. She took it, sucking it clean with wild eyes. If I wasn’t about to come that would have been all I needed. I grabbed her hips, guiding my throbbing dick inside her. She began to come as soon as I breached her and so I took my time, giving her pleasure inch by inch until she burst as I buried myself inside her and released.
This was how it was with us. I wanted her like it was the first time—everytime. I took her like it was the last time—everytime.
After, I laid awake and watched her sleep again. It was becoming a bad habit, but I couldn’t ignore the dread I felt every time I closed my eyes—every time I took my eyes off her.
8
Belle
The baby was never coming out of me. I was going to be the first woman in history to be pregnant for years. Despite Smith’s ambitious lovemaking, I hadn’t felt so much as a contraction yet. The doctor had been no help. She simply told me what the internet did: walk, have sex, wait. So I pulled past the gates of Buckingham, parked my car in the farthest space from the living quarters and heaved myself out of the seat of my Mercedes. Smith was put out that I wouldn’t take the Range Rover, but I would be consigned to it soon enough. I wanted to enjoy the last little freedoms of life as long as I could. The sight of me huffing my way towards the palace, temporarily stunned a Beefeater in the middle of a ceremonial shift change enough that he stopped in his tracks before remembering his duty and snapping back to attention. I didn’t know whether to be offended that I’d managed to distract a trained guard or proud.
Georgia met me at the entrance of Buckingham with a smile, which I immediately found suspicious. She’d been getting along a lot better with Clara, but that friendliness hadn’t exactly carried over to our relationship. I couldn’t help feeling that somehow she disapproved of Smith marrying me, although I had no idea why. I was the best thing that ever happened to him. I considered telling her this, but settled for a simple, breathless, “Hello.”
“Should I get a wheelchair or something?”
“Hilarious,” I said in a flat tone. “I’m trying to get some exercise in, so this diva will get the hell out of me. And that’s pretty impossible since I’m not allowed to go anywhere thanks to you.”
“Me?” She snorted, flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder as she led me towards Clara’s private residence. “That’s all your husband, sweetheart.”
“You’re enabling him,” I said grumpily. I’d thought Smith handled the situation at the baby shower better than expected—until the following morning when I discovered Brexton Miles was my new shadow. It could be worse. He was funny and sweet and built like a tank. But any hopes I had of scurrying around London, enjoying my last hurrah, were dashed by his presence. I felt like I had a babysitter.
“You lucked out. You got Brex. Your best friend is stuck with me,” Georgia said as she opened the door.
“It’s terrible,” Clara called from her sitting room. William was on her lap, gurgling happily. She’d put him in a pair of short pants that matched his blue eyes. A sweep of black hair stuck up on top of his head, making him look more like his father everyday. “She doesn’t even like to shop.”
“Neither do you,” I reminded Clara. She really had changed. It hit me every day that I came here, and I’d been here most days since our return from Sussex. Not only did she live in the heart of London and wave from the balcony for state events and host garden parties on the lawn, she was a wife and a mother.
“I like buying tiny baby things,” she admitted with a wink. “I can’t help it. It makes me happy.”
Happiness was something that seemed to be in perpetually short supply around here of late. Clara and Alexander adored each other—anyone could see that. But their love came with its own problems. Loving him had proven to be nearly deadly for her in more ways than one. Little William, sitting on her lap now the picture of health, had already required surgery for a heart defect in his short life. Money and power might have bought them guards and security, but it couldn’t protect them from fate. Nothing could.
Clara stood, lifting William higher on her shoulder, and nodded toward the nursery.
“That’s my cue,” Georgia said, holding up a tabloid. “I’ll be in here, learning the Royal Family’s most devastating secret.”
“Be sure to let me know what it is later,” Clara told her, and they shared a laugh. I did my best not to stare at them like they were aliens. Something twisted in my chest, and it took a moment for me to recognize what it was: jealousy.
They’d bonded. Of course, they had after everything Clara had been through and how much time they spent together. It wasn't that I wanted to be closer to Georgia. Somehow I was certain we’d always lock horns. But I missed the days of living with Clara, gossiping over too much wine, thinking the biggest decision I had to face was what flowers to carry for my wedding. That had been before Alexander and Smith and the insane world we found ourselves in now.
As soon as we entered William’s room, Elizabeth rushed over, grabbed my hand, and dragged me down to her own room. “I have a new tea set.”
She still lisped as she spoke and my heart leapt. I didn’t bother to remind her that I had given her the tea set for her birthday a month ago. It hardly seemed important. Elizabeth pretended to pour both of us cups, and I took mine, sipping daintily to her delight. A few years from now, she’d be here with my daughter, playing together. I almost couldn’t wait.
If Smith didn’t keep us locked away in Sussex, that was.
She laid a tiny warm hand on my stomach, scrunched her nose, and said, “Kick!”
“I’m not sure she’ll do it on command, darling,” I warned her.
She turned a look so purely Alexander on me that I couldn’t help but giggle, which resulted in a kick, after all.
After a few minutes, I finally managed to convince Elizabeth to return to William’s room.
“My room is more interesting,” she informed me, only missing about half the syllables as she spoke. “We should stay here.”
“I want to see your brother
, too.” I suspected she might be a little jealous herself.
“Fine.” She shrugged. “But he’s boring.”
Judging from the scene that greeted me when we finally made our way back into the nursery, William had ceased being boring and finally done something interesting.
“Clever boy,” Clara cooed, camera trained at him while he stuck his toes in his mouth.
We stepped inside and his head turned, sensing the movement—and then he rolled over.
“Oh!” I clapped, feeling as though I’d won the lottery. Elizabeth looked up at me before joining in. I guessed even she was impressed by this milestone.
Clara straightened up, letting Wills do his tummy time, and smiled but I caught her eyes wandering over me like she expected I might burst any moment. “I wasn’t sure we’d see you today.”
“I’m going to serve the baby a vacate notice.” I waddled over to the chair across from her and lowered into it, feeling instant relief. “I feel as big as a house.”
“You look gorgeous.” I could tell she meant it, which made the compliment stick even if I was feeling about as attractive as hippopotamus.
“I’m just ready to meet this little one.” I rubbed the spot where she’d been kicking me moments earlier.
Clara looked at her phone, her eyes flickering over the video. I heard myself exclaim and clap. She swiped something and sighed.
It was clear she’d sent the video to her husband, but that wasn’t who she was thinking of. I knew because I’d been worrying about Edward, too. “You should send it to him.”
“Alexander hates missing this stuff.”
“You know what I meant.” I’d seen the pain in her eyes when she’d realized he wasn’t coming to the baby shower last week. I’d nearly called him the next day to give him a piece of my mind, upset that he’d missed it, especially since Alexander hadn’t been there. I’d had to remind myself that I needed to give him the space to heal, even if I wanted to mother him until he felt better.
“Have you spoken with him?” she asked with some hesitation.
“For a few minutes.” I’d only seen him once since we came back to London, and no part of me wanted to relay to her the things he’d said that day. I knew that if I told her we’d lunched together, she would ask and I would have to lie more. Edward had asked me not to tell her how much he was struggling with his feelings toward his family. I needed to respect that as much as I could. “He called to tell me he was going to Italy.”
“Italy?” She did a decent job of looking surprised, but Edward had been running away as often as possible from the city. I didn’t have the heart to tell her he planned to be gone for the holidays, as well.
“He said he’s eating all the pasta and getting fat.” He had, in fact, used those exact words.
But Clara’s voice was distant, lost to guilt, when she responded, “He’s never going to forgive me.”
“It’s not you that he has to forgive,” I said gently. “He needs time to process what David did and what…”
I stopped before I brought up Alexander. Truthfully, I was sure he’d had a choice. I knew what Smith would have done in the same situation. He’d kill anyone that hurt his family without hesitation—even if it was someone he cared about. But that didn’t make David’s death or how it happened any easier to swallow. We could only hope that someday the brothers would find a way to move past the tragedy.
“He’ll come back,” I said, needing to believe it. Everyone deserved a second chance. No matter what they’d done. “Send him the video.”
She thought about it a moment before she pulled up the video and sent it. When she was done, she laid the phone on a side table and reached down to pick up Wills, who’d begun to fuss on the floor. “So, no induction?”
“I asked,” I said, feeling my frustration creep back up. “She said it’s not recommended without medical necessity. I told her I was going crazy but, apparently, that’s not enough of a reason.”
“Trust me, you don’t want a c-section,” Clara said, smiling in a way I’d come to expect from a mother who’d already experienced the blessed event of childbirth. “Maybe there’s something you and Smith could do…”
“Believe me, we’ve tried.”
“I figured,” she said sympathetically.
“Of course, he’s treating me like I’m fragile. Maybe that’s why it’s not working.”
Clara bit her lower lip, glancing over at Elizabeth who was busily pulling books of William’s shelves. “Prefer something a bit darker?”
“Rougher, at least.” I rolled my eyes. “I could really use a break, but I think he’s worried that he’ll take things too far.”
“That’s what safe words are for.”
I flinched in surprise. Clara and I had danced around the particulars of our sex lives for years now, but we both knew we were dealing with dominant men. Still, given that she’d once blushed at the mention of missionary position, I couldn’t help being a bit shocked to hear using a term like that.
“Don’t look shocked,” she said. “I found a collar in your closet once.”
I sighed at the reminder of how much things had changed.
“Tell him you want it like that,” she advised me, seeing the disappointment on my face. “Remind him that a little kink isn’t going to hurt the baby.”
“I just need a break,” I admitted to her.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” she asked gently.
Talking wasn't going to solve this. I'd tried that already, but I couldn't deny Smith had a right to be worried. “There’s nothing to talk about. I have six feet of imposing black man following me around.”
“Brex is sweet though,” she said, “and hot.”
“I knew you thought he was hot,” a deep voice cut in. Clara’s eyes closed tightly, embarrassed to be caught by her husband. “He’ll be so pleased.”
She swiveled in her seat like a top, a look of horror dashing across her face. “You are not going to tell him!”
“I won’t,” he said with a smirk. “But I’m not the one he’s babysitting these days.”
Clara turned pleading eyes on me. “Don’t tell him.”
“No promises,” I said, laughing despite myself.
“What are you doing here?” Clara demanded. “Sneaking up on me? Shouldn’t you be running the country?”
“Apparently, I should be concerned that my wife finds one of my best friends hot.” But, for once, he looked anything but. The truth was that Clara only had eyes for him, and he only had eyes for her. As different as my marriage was from theirs, I recognized the total adoration they had for one another. I’d experienced it myself.
“Go back to being king. This is girl time.”
“I came to do this.” He leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on her mouth that lasted just long enough that I found myself staring. When he broke away, she gazed wistfully at him as he leaned down to kiss Wills on the forehead. “And to tell my son, I was proud of him. But now I have to get back. Very busy running the country and such.”
“Sure,” Clara said dryly.
“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Alexander said huskily, and a knot inside me tightened. I really was going to have to push Smith to be a little more demanding tonight.
When he finally left, Clara watched the door for a few seconds before clearing her throat. “What were we talking about?”
“My hot bodyguard,” I reminded her, and she winced.
“New subject,” she said. “Not that it matters, because he’s completely in love with Georgia.”
“Georgia?” I repeated.
Clara looked as though this was old news. “Head over heels. I think she loves him, too, but she won’t let herself be with him.”
I thought of Smith and how broken he was when we first met. “Maybe she just needs time.”
But we both knew it wasn’t a matter of time. We’d both had whirlwind romances when we’d found the right person. Suddenly, I found myself f
eeling sad for Brex, who’d put up with all my sass and brought me a chocolate biscuit for breakfast. And Clara was right, he was hot. “What exactly is she waiting for? I don’t think guys get more perfect.”
“I think love is a lot like finding the right key,” Clara said as though she’d given this some thought. “When it comes to the heart, more than one key might fit, but only the right one unlocks it.” She shook herself out of her dreamy haze, frowning when she saw my pout. “What?”
I sighed before sheepishly confessing, “Now, I’m just thinking about handcuffs.”
9
Smith
I showed myself into the King’s study, knowing full-well that it would likely be enough to have my security clearance revoked. Taking a seat in an upholstered wingback, I had to admit I appreciated Buckingham’s sense of tradition where comfort was concerned. The fire flickering in the hearth made the room feel rather homey. It certainly lessened the sense of formality and occasion that accompanied more public meetings with the young King. I had been here a number of times and knew my way around the space. I also knew that Alexander would be returning from his audience with the Prime Minister shortly. I’d been working with Alexander up until a few weeks ago. It wasn’t that we were on poor terms. Our relationship was almost entirely transactional and always had been. I’d come to him with information regarding his father’s death. At the time, I’d only wanted to see Hammond put behind bars, so I could finally claim my life as my own. But the situation had proven more complicated than either of us had foreseen.
Alexander paused in the doorway, his clear eyes narrowing dangerously when he spotted me sitting next to his fire. He closed the door to his office, moving to his desk without so much as a word.
“I asked for a meeting,” I said by way of explanation.
“One usually waits for said meeting to be scheduled.” He shuffled a few papers around before giving up the ruse of being too busy to join me. Still, his lips turned down as he walked over to a brass cart and poured himself a bourbon. He held up the crystal decanter in offering.