Peasants and Kings

by Emma Slate

  It was as if Hadrian knew how I was feeling because when he climbed in next to me, he placed his hand on my thigh. I could feel his touch through the designer jeans I was wearing, his body warm and solid next to me.

  The door closed and then Hadrian whispered, “Easy.”

  I felt like a spooked horse, but when Hadrian wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me toward him, I gave up the fight of appearing sure of myself and my convictions. I leaned against him, pressed my nose to the collar of his shirt, and closed my eyes, attempting to battle back the feelings of what-the-fuckery.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” His voice was sinful velvet, a caress in the dark.

  I kept my cheek to his chest but managed to look out the window. I thought of how to answer him. I wasn’t having second thoughts. Not at all. I was afraid of what he made me feel. I settled for giving him something truthful. Something that wouldn’t cost me a lot.

  “I’ve never been out of the country.”

  “Never?”

  I shook my head.

  “Ah, now I understand. That was the real reason you said yes to me. You want to be an international woman of mystery.”

  A companionable silence fell between us as we drove out of the city. He didn’t seem inclined to want me to move, and at the moment I was comforted by his strength.

  We arrived directly on the airport tarmac and my breath caught in my throat when I saw a private jet that was sleek, powerful, and the epitome of wealth.

  “Okay, that’s twice the size of the one I flew on to get to the city.” I gaped.

  “It’s even more impressive on the inside,” he assured me. “It took two years to build, but it was worth the wait.”

  I gawked at him. “This is your jet? Yours. This one isn’t from a charter service?”

  “I only charter jets for people when I’m not flying with them. Otherwise we take mine.”

  I swallowed. “A million dollars really isn’t anything to you, is it?”

  “Does that mean you’re impressed?”

  “Impressed? No. Overwhelmed, yes.”

  We got out of the car and he escorted me toward the jet’s stairs, his hand riding my hip. I gripped the railing and boarded the plane. When I got inside, I held my breath. It was light wood and white leather, very much the opposite of old-world luxury. It was modern and utilitarian. I suddenly understood something about Hadrian. Though he was wealthy and money was no object, his taste wasn’t flashy or gaudy.

  Immediately up the stairs was a station for the flight crew. Past that was a small dining area with a sophisticated table on each side of the aisle and chairs across from one another, one facing forward, and one facing rearward so that people were seated as though they were having dinner at a fine dining restaurant.

  I stepped toward the first section of the plane.

  “Take this one,” he said softly, gesturing to an elegant white leather seat near one of the windows. “You can look out as we fly.”

  I glanced at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

  He took the seat across from me on the other side of the table and pressed a button to raise the sun slats over our windows.

  While we were getting situated, a flight attendant approached from the front of the aircraft.

  “Good morning, Mr. Rhys,” she greeted. Her gaze slid to mine and she smiled. “Good morning, Ms. Smith.”

  “Good morning,” I murmured.

  She was beautiful. A glossy haired brunette with an hourglass figure wearing a vintage blue dress with white piping and pumps. It added to her femininity. Her smile was kind and genuine when she asked, “What can I get you to drink, ma’am?”

  “Sparkling water, please.”

  “And for you, sir?”

  “I’ll have the same. Thank you.”

  She nodded and went to fix our drinks, and then returned a few minutes later to set our glasses and two cloth napkins embroidered with ‘H.R.’ on the table between us. Hadrian and I sat in silence as we sipped our sparkling waters. I stared out the window and watched airport crew moving next to the plane, inspecting everything to ensure we were ready for departure.

  The pilot came to personally speak to Hadrian. “Sir, we’re on schedule and are clear for takeoff. Would you like to depart?”

  Hadrian reached over and made sure my seatbelt was buckled tight, letting his hands linger for a moment. He smiled slightly and then settled back into his luxurious leather seat before looking at the pilot and saying, “Aye.”

  I glanced out the window as the engines whined and we taxied away from the gate, excitement bubbling in my stomach. A few minutes after takeoff, the pilot announced that we’d hit altitude and could travel around the cabin.

  Hadrian unbuckled his seat belt and stood. “Come on, I want to show you the jet.”

  We left the dining area and I followed Hadrian down the aisle to the rear of the plane. We passed two additional sections. One area sat four people close together and the other was a work and entertainment area with a large television and a small, stylish desk. When we got to the end of the aisle there was a wall with a small door between it and the rear of the plane marked ‘Private’. Hadrian pushed open the door to reveal a tasteful bedroom, and an aircraft-sized, well-designed bathroom.

  “It’s not as big as some,” he said with a wry grin. “But I use the plane mostly for business. And a little bit of pleasure.”

  I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. “Pleasure?”

  Hadrian gently urged me into the bedroom and quickly followed. He shut the door behind him.

  “Get on the bed,” he ordered, his voice steel.

  I looked away from the king-sized bed with beautiful slate gray satin sheets and light wood accents to stare at him. “You want me on the bed?”

  “The bed,” he commanded again.

  “You don’t really want me to…with a flight attendant up front?”

  “Eden,” he said, voice low. “Get on the bed.”

  It was clear Hadrian did not like my hesitation. He waited, silently commanding me. I settled myself in the middle of it, on my back, and peered at him.

  He remained by the door, his body taut. “Unbutton your jeans.”

  My fingers fumbled with the button of my pants.

  “Unzip them.”

  I unzipped.

  “Touch yourself.”

  My eyes widened. “While you watch?”

  “You did it the night we spent at The Mansion,” he reminded me. “Why are you shy now?”

  “That was different,” I protested.

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” I admitted. “And that was only for a few seconds before you—”

  “What about when you’re alone? Don’t you touch yourself when you’re alone?” he asked, his mouth turning up at the corners.

  “Of course I touch myself,” I exclaimed. “But I’ve never done it in front of someone…”

  “It’s the first of many new things we’ll do together, Eden. Now touch yourself. And make yourself come. I want to see you.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Close your eyes,” he said. “Pretend I’m not watching you. Make me the center of your fantasy.”

  His eyes were stormy with want.

  I kicked off my boots and shimmied my jeans down my legs, tossing them aside. Hadrian’s eyes roved hungrily over my bare legs and lace.

  Black. French. Taunting.

  “Close your eyes,” he said again.

  I shut my eyes and skimmed my fingers up and down my upper thighs before resting my hand on the seam of my body. I slowly began to play with myself over my underwear, enjoying the tease of my fingers through the lace.

  I pretended my fingers were Hadrian’s, rougher, blunter, more commanding than I could ever be. I finally slipped inside my underwear and touched myself.

  Skin to skin.

  I ached with the desire to be filled. I spread my legs wider and heard his
breath catch. Could he see that I was wet through the fabric? Wet for him? Could he see what this was doing to me? Could he see how much I desired him even though he wasn’t even touching me?

  I slid my fingers into my body, my thumb stroking the bundle of nerves between my legs.

  “Hadrian,” I whispered, my eyes opening.

  Our gazes locked; his cheeks were heightened with color and I could see the rise and fall of his chest.

  “Keep going,” he orchestrated.

  My free hand ventured underneath my sweater to pluck my hardened nipple.

  “I want you to touch me,” I gasped.

  “Not yet,” he said ruthlessly, his jaw clenched.

  I closed my eyes and pleasured myself, knowing he watched, knowing he enjoyed the scene of me writhing on his bed.

  I thought about how much better it would be if he was the one inside me, his fingers taking away the empty feeling. Pleasure bloomed between my legs and I shamelessly rode out my orgasm, my eyes shooting open to stare at him.

  I’d barely made a sound when I came, my mouth open in a silent scream. No sooner had I removed my fingers than Hadrian unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants down including his boxers. He sprang free, large, ready—so damn appetizing, I wanted my mouth all over him.

  But he didn’t give me time to ask for what I wanted. Before I knew it, he was on me, spreading me wider and impaling me to the hilt.

  I was primed and ready and another orgasm quaked. His lips took mine in a savage kiss, his hands gripping my hair as he pounded into me. Fervent, intense, it was like he was trying to purge everything that he was.

  We were two animals in a mindless frenzy, and I realized there was never going to be a moment of embarrassment with this man. He would fulfill all my deepest, darkest fantasies, and be the cause of new ones.

  Our bodies were battlefields of desire. To be taken and pleasured, dominated and touched, and suddenly the contract no longer mattered, because I knew what was really between us.

  Hadrian gripped the back of my neck and pulled me close, angling his pelvis against me at that primal spot that only he seemed to be able to find.

  I came hard and furious, clamping around him. He muttered something against my lips, something I couldn’t understand, and then he came.

  Hadrian stilled over me, not moving his heavy body from mine, but he lifted himself up to stare into my eyes, his hands cradling my face. He swept his thumbs against the apples of my cheeks and kissed me so deep I felt him all the way down to my marrow.

  “You should get some sleep,” he said. “I have some work to do. I’ll wake you in a bit.” He gently eased out of me and went into the bathroom to clean up.

  I thought about asking him to stay with me, but I didn’t want to come across as needy or insecure, especially after everything we’d just shared.

  He kept his eyes on me as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers. Hadrian leaned over and kissed me quickly before leaving me alone in the bedroom.

  I waited until the bedroom door closed before getting up and tending to myself. We hadn’t used protection—there had been no need for it. I was on birth control and for the next six months we were exclusive.

  Dreamily floating back to bed, I thought about what our next time together would be like. I pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. Snuggling into the pillow, my mind was blissfully clear. I conked out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Eden. Eden, wake up.”

  I rolled over feeling groggy and exhausted, my body languid from the attention Hadrian had paid it earlier.

  I stretched and yawned. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “About three hours.”

  “Three hours!” My eyes shot open. “How am I supposed to adjust to the time change if you let me sleep three hours?”

  His eyes gleamed. “I have a few ideas about how to exhaust you later.”

  My body perked up at the thought.

  “Splash some cold water on your face,” he suggested. “I’ll see you out there.”

  The door shut and I flung off the covers. I slowly got dressed and then went into the bathroom and washed off my makeup. After patting my face dry, I looked in the mirror. The nap had given me some natural color in my cheeks.

  My stomach growled. I quickly slipped on my boots and then left the safety of the bedroom.

  Hadrian looked up when I approached, setting aside his phone and closing his laptop. He smiled.

  “What?” I asked, unable to stop the grin from stretching across my face.

  “I like you with no makeup. You look…vulnerable.”

  My smile slipped. I didn’t like the idea of being vulnerable around Hadrian. My body wanted him; I could accept that, but vulnerability led to other things—like intimacy.

  I took the empty seat next to him, not knowing how to reply. When I tightened the seatbelt, my stomach rumbled again.

  “Hungry?” he asked with a wry grin.

  My gaze dropped to his lips. “Yes.”

  He laughed and pressed the button over his head. A moment later, the flight attendant in her smart, navy-blue uniform appeared.

  “Sir?” she asked.

  “We’re ready for lunch,” he said. “Thank you.”

  She nodded and then disappeared up front to her private domain.

  “How long is the flight?” I asked.

  “About twelve and a half hours. Shetland is farther north than the mainland of Scotland.” He picked up his phone, tapped a few buttons, and then showed me a map across the screen.

  “Lerwick is here,” he pointed to the town along the eastern coast.

  “You live in Lerwick?” I asked. He paused and I looked away from the screen to his face. “Hadrian?”

  Hadrian cleared his throat. “No. I don’t live in Lerwick. I live on an island which is a few hours away by yacht. About ten minutes by helicopter.”

  “Are we taking a boat or a helicopter?”

  “Depends,” he said with a wry smile. “Have you ever been on a yacht?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t been on a helicopter, either.”

  “We’ll take my yacht. The view from deck when we come into the harbor is…well, you’ll see.”

  “What’s it like?” I asked. “Your home.”

  “It overlooks the ocean. It’s built partly into the side of a mountain.”

  “Sounds like a fortress,” I said lightly.

  He peered at me and then nodded. “That’s exactly what it is.”

  I swallowed a bout of nerves that fluttered in my belly. I looked out the window so I could stare into the clouds, so Hadrian couldn’t see the confusion I was feeling.

  Who was Hadrian Rhys…and why did he need a fortress?

  The hours of travel bled together. I dozed a few more times, only to wake up and find Hadrian studying me. When he wasn’t engaging me in conversation, he was on his phone.

  The man never seemed to tire. He got up long enough to stretch his legs and make a private phone call before returning to his seat.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I queried.

  “Sure.”

  “The first night we were together…”

  “Aye?”

  “You spoke in a foreign language when you were…”

  He smiled softly. “When I was what?”

  “Coming,” I finished, wondering at my bout of sudden shyness.

  Shyness should have no place between a courtesan and her lover.

  “It was Norwegian,” he answered.

  “You speak Norwegian?”

  “Fluently. Along with French, Italian, and Shetlandic. Do you speak any languages?

  “French and Italian,” I admitted. “Shetlandic? I’ve never even heard of that.”

  “Shetland has both Scottish and Norse influence. So, the language is made up of Scot dialect and the Norn language—which is now extinct.” He shrugged.

  Shrugged. Like it was nothing.

  I looked at him in awe. �
�You’re not just a pretty face, are you Hadrian Rhys?”

  “No more than you are, Eden Smith.”

  I saw Lerwick from the back of a Mercedes that drove us to the marina where Hadrian’s yacht waited for us. It was past dinner time and my stomach growled in protest.

  “I haven’t forgotten to feed you,” he assured me with a grin. “I just wanted to wait until we were on my yacht. Can you wait a few more minutes?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you like lobster?” he asked.

  “I think so,” I said.

  “You think so? Have you never had lobster?”

  I shrugged and looked out the window again into the night sky. “There wasn’t a lot of money growing up to have lobster.”

  The admittance tumbled out of my mouth and my heart pounded with sudden nerves. I hoped Hadrian didn’t drag me down a lane of my past, asking questions about me.

  He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’ll try the lobster—and if you love it, I’ll make sure you have it whenever you want.”

  “You really won’t spare any expense, will you?”

  “If something makes you happy and I can provide it, then I will.”

  The car stopped in front of the marina and a man in a stretch golf cart greeted us.

  “Mr. Rhys. Right this way.”

  The car driver placed our luggage on the back of the cart and then we were off, headed through a small gate down to the illuminated docks. We drove for a minute or two and then the golf cart came to a stop in front of a massive yacht. It was lit from above and below with well-placed nautical lighting. I could see the hulls through the water at the rear of the yacht.

  My mouth gaped. “This is yours?”

  “It’s a power catamaran, and yes, it’s mine.”

  Hadrian took my hand and guided me onto the steps at the stern of his yacht on the right-hand side. As we stepped up onto the vessel, my chest tightened when I was confronted with the magnitude of opulence. Even though I’d just been on his private jet, this…this was something else. I could rationalize a private jet. It was for travel, for business.

  But a yacht?

  A yacht was supreme luxury, a toy for the elite.