by Geneva Lee
“Mine.” I kissed each mark before spreading her open and dipping my mouth to run along her slick heat.
“Oh,” she gasped as my tongue plunged inside her. She tasted like heaven—or as close as a man like me would ever come. I continued to devour her but this time all I cared about was her pleasure. There was no pain except the lingering sting of her submission.
“X,” she called as her body continued to tremble, “I need you to fuck me. Please, I need your cock.”
It was hard to refuse, even if I wasn’t through with my plans for her, but I’d never been able to deny her that. I pushed to my feet and whipped my belt loose, opening my fly to free my cock. It fell heavily into my hand.
“Thank God for high heels,” I said as I moved behind her. She giggled, the sound settling like a melody over my heart. Leaning against her, I drew her hands over her and pinned them together in one of mine. “A little wider.”
She stepped to the side, allowing me better access, and I positioned my cock at her entrance, slipping the tip inside her.
“You asked nicely, but what did you do wrong, Poppet?” I had her at my mercy, which was the best opportunity for education.
“I spoke.” She sounded crestfallen by her mistake.
“When I told you not to.” I kissed her shoulder to give her some comfort. “You always have a voice with me, but when you submit to me, you only have one word.”
She nodded.
“Good girl,” I soothed her. “Now you have your voice back. What do you need to ask me?”
“To fuck me,” she said, the edge of desperation there. I could already feel her channel tightening against my tip. She wouldn’t last through one thrust. “Please will you fuck me?”
“Yes, Poppet.” I wanted to slam into her. Instead, I slid in inch-by-inch knowing it would dull her orgasm into a lingering ache that primed her for another.
She cried out as I tortured her with deliberation, enjoying each pulse squeezing my cock and drawing me toward my own release. Her breath turned to pants, shallow and near panic as the climax failed to diminish.
“Now you’re ready,” I whispered before thrusting into her. We moved together in a rhythm that belonged only to us— a symphony of pain and bliss we wrote together.
She went limp with a strangled cry, and I caught her quickly, keeping her on her feet. Her body sagged against me, her face turning up to give me her mouth. The last bit of her to claim. I captured it with my own and erased the rest of her world and replaced it with me.
* * *
We lingered in the gallery on a bench, her in my lap while I kissed her shoulders and waited for her to find her way back to the present. When she returned, I helped her into her dress, allowing her time to marvel at the lingering marks on her breasts. I would ask her later what she preferred, but I noted her pleasure at our newest discovery.
“Am I presentable?” she asked, coming out from the loo. I’d waited by the door, guarding her myself, unable to allow anyone else the responsibility for the moment.
“You’re not just presentable,” I said leaning to kiss her. “You’re fuckable.”
“That wasn’t what I was going for.” She pushed against me, “If we don’t go back now, we never will—and we might be missed.”
We strolled through the main hall, not bothering to smother our smiles. Rounding the corner, we met up with Edward who gawked at us.
“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for an hour!”
I examined my knuckles, remembering how I’d spent that hour. “Was it that long?”
Clara giggled, and that combined with her flushed face made it obvious how we’d spent that time.
“Obviously I need to separate you two in public places,” he said with a groan. “There’s a party and there’s a cake and a lot of people getting grumpy waiting to eat it.”
“By a lot of people—you mean Belle?” Clara guessed.
“Yes. Sarah wants the family to help her cut it.”
“You two go.” She held up a hand when he started to protest. “I need to sit down.”
“Are you sure about that?” I asked, keeping my voice casual enough that I hoped my brother didn’t pick up on the double meaning.
“Yes, go! I’m fine. I’ll find Belle.”
I refused to go ahead without her, finally parting with her only once we were back inside and in the sight of security.
As we approached the cake, my grandmother scrambled toward me. “We’ve been looking for you.” Her eyes darted to Edward. “We couldn’t find you.”
I took her gently by the shoulders worried by her disheveled appearance. I’d seen her when she and Henry had arrived, but now she looked ill. A thin sheen of sweat covered her brow and she clutched my arm.
“Why don’t you watch?” I suggested. “We’ll get you a chair.”
“Yes, a chair.” She pointed at Edward, handing off the task.
I heard him muttering something about getting punished for not shagging inside the V&A under his breath as he left.
“I need to talk to you,” she said. “It’s very important, I think.”
“We will,” I promised her, slightly unnerved. Glancing around I looked for Henry. “Let’s find Henry to sit with you while we cut the cake.”
“No! I need to speak with you now. I can feel it.”
“Mother?” Henry studied her with concern. “Are you quite alright?”
She released her hold on me, seeming to calm a little when she saw him. “Yes, I’m going to sit down.”
“That’s good.” He patted her hand. “Then we’ll have cake.”
She smiled, lifting one gloved hand to wipe her forehead. “Yes, cake.”
Edward reappeared with the chair and we placed it near the cake table.
“What was that about?” he muttered.
“I think she’s confused. Henry told me she’s been having difficulty with her memory.” It was something to look into. I didn’t want to be the one to tell her she had to stay home from the parties in the future, but if they were overwhelming her…
Sarah was waiting by the table cake server in hand and a sour expression on her face. “Can we do this? People are threatening to riot.”
“You don’t want me to make a speech like Dad used to?” I asked innocently.
She rolled her eyes, reminding me of all the birthdays we’d had before. “No, I—”
But her words were cut off as all hell broke loose.
Chapter 29
Clara
I sat down with Belle, taking my time, uncertain what to expect. But most of me was still numb—except my heart. It ached with fullness. My best friend regarded me with amusement, but kept her comments to herself in front of Smith.
I was sure she wouldn’t afford me that courtesy later. I expected her to drag me off to the bathroom so she could pressure me for details. But what had happened with Alexander was ours alone. I’d never been one to kiss and tell. Once I’d met him, it had been unnecessary, since what he’d done to me was written all over my face.
I felt it there now, warming my cheeks. I felt it other places, too.
Across the room, he joined his brother and sister to cut the cake. It was difficult to process that this was my family—this was my life. He’d given it to me and he’d never allow anyone to take it away.
They laughed, and I wondered at the private joke, thrilling to see them coming together. They were—
A shout cut across the room and then another. I stood as a chair was knocked over.
“Clara,” Belle called, but I was already heading to the cake table. The crowd had moved in front of me, blocking my view. When I reached it, forcing my way gracelessly through the people gathered around to help. I found Edward and Alexander on their knees. Alexander’s hands were on Mary’s chest, pumping life into her with so much force I heard a rib crack. Next to him, Edward was calling orders.
Looking up, I saw Sarah standing behind the cake, holding her mouth. It fel
t as though my body was floating up, detached from the scene before me. I acted on pure instinct. Moving to her, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dragged her away.
It would do no good for her to see this. She turned into my shoulder, covering her eyes now as she began to cry. There was nothing to say, but I tried anyway, each sentiment sounding more meaningless than the next. “Help is on the way. Alexander is trained. It will be fine.”
But it wouldn’t be. Mary had looked terrible the last time I saw her. She was approaching ninety. I was offering promises I couldn’t keep. I fell silent when I realized it.
It took longer than it should for the ambulance to arrive, but it always felt that way in the moment of death—like time had slowed down and forced you to savor every bitter bite. When the medics got there, the crowd parted for them, blocking us from seeing any more. That was for the best.
Spotting Norris, I beckoned him over with my free hand. He’d been absent most of the evening, no doubt checking every window in the place. He hurried over and we exchanged worried glances.
Neither of us said what we were thinking but this was becoming a habit.
“We should get her out of here,” I said.
He bobbed his head, ushering us through an emergency door. Sarah gulped down air when we were outside, but it only seemed to power her tears. Norris stepped to the side and called a car.
Carefully extricating myself from Sarah, I joined him and lowered my voice, my eyes still on her. “Where are they taking Mary?”
“St. James,” he said. “But…”
I closed my eyes, uncertain I was ready to deal with another wave of grief. Mary hadn’t been close with her grandchildren, but that carried a different kind of grief with it—one that coupled with doubt and anger in equal measure. Alexander and Edward were experienced in this kind, but Sarah…
“Should we take her?” I asked him. He pressed his ear, listening to some bit of information on his earpiece.
It was a difficult decision. The hospital would be chaotic and decisions would have to be made. I wasn’t sure how Sarah would handle that. It hit me just how little experience she had in this.
“Alexander and Edward are going with Mary. I don’t think that…”
Tonight we were fluent in broken sentences.
“Home?” I didn’t know what we do there but sit and wait.
“Should we ask her?” he suggested.
She didn’t seem capable of that kind of decision but I didn’t know what else to do. The certainty that had overtaken me earlier had abandoned me now and I was left with only doubt.
We moved toward Sarah, approaching her like she was a wild animal and completely unpredictable.
“Sarah,” I asked softly. “They’re taking her to the hospital. We can go there or we can go home.”
“Home,” she said with a broken voice.
I nodded and checked to see that Norris heard me. It was the most I could give her tonight.
The Range Rover pulled into the side lot and Norris helped her inside. Closing the door behind her, he circled around to speak with me before I could follow.
“I’ve let Alexander know. He wants me to come with you. Georgia is going to stay here.”
I didn’t know if this was because she was still mad at me or something more. If she couldn’t get over her anger in a moment of panic, then we needed to have a serious conversation.
Norris reached for the door handle, his eyes tightening for a moment on something behind him.
“What?” I asked, peering over my shoulder to look. “There’s nothing...”
I turned back to find him white-faced, still staring at the spot. His mouth opened and one word spilled from his mouth. “Blue.”
Followed by a lot of blood.
Blood that was red like the handkerchief that closed over my mouth. Blood that was red like the back of my eyelids the moment before they faded to…
Chapter 30
Alexander
The only thing to distract me was a stack of bloody magazines a few weeks old, most of which purported to have the secret details of my own life. Hospitals were my own personal hell. I paced the room, earning a reproachful look from my brother, who apparently found reading about his own life quite amusing. David had fallen asleep in the chair next to him. Henry was wearing a similar path across the room as my own.
Tuxedo jackets, vests, and ties were strewn about—all of us eventually divesting ourselves of everything but our shirts and pants. They sat in stark contrast to the blank white walls and sickly yellow chairs. I hated everything about this place, especially its memories.
I’d been brought here on my wedding day. I’d come here after the car accident. My mother had died behind these walls. The only good thing that had ever happened here was Elizabeth’s birth, but one life hardly seemed to balance all the death.
The door burst open, but it was only Georgia. She looked around the room. “Where’s Clara?”
“Norris took her home with Sarah,” I told her. It was best for them both to be away from this. My grandmother had been nothing but cruel to Clara, so I couldn’t ask her to be here, even if part of me selfishly wanted her to be. But it was more important for her to be with Sarah.
“It’s just like my grandmother to die on someone’s birthday,” I muttered.
“She’s not dead yet,” Henry said sharply.
It was cold of me to feel that way. I suspected he was as dependent on her as she was on him. He’d lived alone for so long, always the spare child until my father’s death. But he’d had too little time with his mother—just like me.
The doctor came in before I could apologize and it was obvious from his tired expression. It had been obvious to me when I’d tried to revive her at the museum. There could have been a miracle of course, but they were rare in these parts.
“I’m sorry,” he said, cutting to the chase. He paused and allowed Henry a moment to process this.
My uncle looked stricken himself and David jumped up to help him over to a chair.
“What happened?” I asked.
“A heart attack. There was nothing to be done. It was too much. We couldn’t reset the sinus rhythm. From the looks of it, she may have been suffering smaller attacks for several days.”
That was why she’d been acting so strangely. Guilt washed over me when I realized she’d been trying to tell me at the party, but why come to me?
“She seemed confused,” I said.
“That’s natural,” the doctor said. “She may have had trouble getting enough oxygen to her brain. Some patients experience memory loss or confusion.”
Memory loss. She’d come to me because she thought I was the King and she’d been cared for by one her whole life—and I’d failed her.
“She’s being examined now, but our toxicologist did notice some strange things. What medications was she on?”
“General ones,” Henry said. “She had one to help with her arrhythmia.”
“And she was taking it?” The doctor frowned.
“Yes. Well, she missed a few days when we returned to London. Clara had to pick some up at the chemist for her,” Henry said.
“Clara,” I said in surprise.
“She offered to help when I shared my concern. Your grandmother was insisting she didn’t need it. That she would see the doctor. Would missing a few days cause this problem?” Henry looked devastated. He hung his head. “I should have insisted.”
“Do you have the pills she was taking?” The doctor asked.
“They’re in her purse.” Henry gestured to the bag he’d carried in under his arm like a security blanket.
“May I?”
I nodded to the doctor, wondering why we were going to this much trouble. My grandmother was an old, bitter woman who’d lived too long a life.
The doctor retrieved the bottle and studied it for a moment. “I’d like to show these to the toxicologist.”
“Of course,” Henry said absently. Edward had move
d next to him and begun to talk quietly.
I followed the doctor in the hall. “Why do you need the pills?”
“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you that there are odd traces in your grandmother’s blood. It seems she may have been taking something she shouldn’t,” he said, shaking the bottle. “It would be useful to have her other medications.”
I nodded. “We’ll have them sent over. I’m not certain I understand, though. Was there a mistake? Was she taking the wrong medication? Did it cause the heart attack?”
This time he hesitated and the pause sent a shiver running up my spine. “It’s difficult to say. We don’t usually see this kind of thing in a simple heart attack.”
“What are you saying?” I demanded. “Was it a heart attack or not?”
“Yes,” he said firmly, “but it doesn’t appear to have happened naturally.”
“She was ninety,” I snapped before the meaning of his words sank in.
“And in optimal health during her physical six months ago,” he said.
“A lot can change in six months.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “but it’s our duty to look into this sort of thing—unless you ask us not to.”
He’d placed the decision on my table, waiting to see if I would take a bite. But there didn’t seem to be much of a choice. If there was a possibility that this wasn’t natural, then that meant foul play. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened to my family, and more proof that the Crown had cause for concern would only help my case with Parliament.
“Of course, you should investigate. We’ll cooperate in any way.”
“In that case, we will need to speak to anyone who handled her medication.”
“That would mostly be Henry,” I said, struggling to remember if my grandmother had another attendant she trusted with such matters. “I’ll ask my uncle for any other household staff that might have had access.”