X: Command Me through Alexander's Eyes (Royals Saga)

by Geneva Lee

  “Does that make me Mrs. X for the day?” She claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening as she realizes what she said.

  She doesn’t expect my reaction. I don’t either.

  “I rather like the sound of that.” Too much, and I’m not sure why. I study her for a moment as if I might find the answer written across her face. Instead, I only see her nerves coupled with want, and for some reason, I need to reassure her, which is why I say the last thing I should. “Mrs. X. She sounds rather wicked.”

  Her tongue darts over her lips, and I’m reminded of one of the many fantasies I’ve entertained about what she might do with that perfect mouth.

  “Are you okay with that? With this arrangement, I mean.” I check myself before she gets the wrong idea and ignore that I seem to be getting the wrong idea myself.

  This can only end one way.

  With a number of mind-blowing orgasms over the course of a few days, a week, maybe longer. But whatever lines we cross, there’s one firm boundary I’ll make sure we both respect.

  “I hadn’t expected...”

  “A hotel?” I want to explain that it’s for the best. It’s harder to get attached to a temporary bed. A hotel offers an anonymity of heart that keeps things from getting complicated. It’s why I didn’t go home with her last night. It’s why I didn’t see her to the door. We’re here for one reason. A hotel is a reminder of what that is.

  It’s also protection against the paparazzi that are still stalking her flat. I don’t want her to have to fend them off. That’s my burden, and one she doesn’t need to bear.

  “Yes.” She doesn’t meet my eyes, and I realize she’s trembling.

  I don’t know if I’ve upset her or scared her or if it’s just nerves, but I need to. Taking her chin in my hands, I direct her gaze to mine and nearly lose myself in the gray ocean of her eyes. “I wanted to be certain that no one found out about this.”

  Clara wrenches away from me, turning toward the doors like she’s hoping they’ll open. What then? What did I say?

  “What is it?” I press closer, afraid that the lift will reach its destinations and I’ll finally lose her. “Why are you looking like I’ve got you in a corner?”

  “I have a little self-respect, you know.” She glares at me, and I try to keep my eyes on her face even as her nipples bead under her dress. Is she responding because she’s angry? Because that’s…fucking hot. My cock notices, too, and I shift my feet, trying to give it room in my slacks. “If you’re worried about being seen with me, perhaps it’s best that you let me off.”

  “I can’t.” I’m suddenly glad I chose this hotel and its private lift.

  She crosses her arms, covering the proof of her arousal. “Try.”

  “This lift only goes to the Presidential Suite. I can’t let you off until we reach it, but...” I press the red button she’d eyed a moment ago, calling her bluff. The lift shudders to a stop and she stumbles against me. “I think you’ve misunderstood me, and I’m not interested in taking a woman to bed who thinks I’m a liar.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “With pleasure.” If I have to spend the rest of the afternoon convincing her in this lift, then she’ll find I can be quite persuasive. “I was under the impression you wanted the paparazzi to leave you alone.”

  I pause and let this sink in. Clara shrugs her thin shoulders, unwilling to concede that she had wanted that only yesterday. Now I know one more thing: my girl is stubborn.

  “I wanted to respect your desire for privacy,” I push. “By now, you’ll have done your research on me.”

  She nods. Clara might not have known who I was when we first met, but that won’t be the case anymore. I have no doubt that we’ve both done our research. But while my intel is based on fact, I imagine what she’s read about me is a little more colorful.

  “Reporters love to take photos of me with women and speculate on our relationships. Old friends become new flames. Waitresses become flings.”

  “So you didn’t sleep with all those women?” she asks.

  I bite back a smile. There’s no need to lie. “Not all of them.”

  “Lovely.”

  “I believe you told me that you weren’t a hapless virgin.” She wants to run, but I won’t let her. I back her against the wall and cage her between my arms. I won’t force her to do something she doesn’t want to do, but I will make her listen. “I assume we can be open about our sex lives.”

  “We can.”

  “Good, because I want you to be open with me, Clara. I’ll have you either way, but you’ll enjoy it more if you aren’t busy thinking I’m a dick.”

  Her smile is a bit grudging but bright.

  “A smile. Now that’s lovely. I wonder if I’ll see that after you come when you’re still full of me.” She needs to remember why we’re here. She needs to remember why she came. It will be easier to remind her once she’s actually come. “So are we agreed?”

  “To share our sex lives?” she asks.

  We might as well get this out of the way. “I need to know the women I sleep with are discreet. That they use good...judgment.”

  She rolls her eyes, and I know it probably sounds ridiculous. “I’ve been with one guy. My college boyfriend. And I’m on The Pill.”

  So I was right about her sexual history. Mine is a bit more diversified.

  “What about you?” she presses.

  “More than one.” I don’t need to tell her how many. She won’t like it. “I’m always cautious, and I can assure you that I’m clean.”

  This earns me another frown. It’s cute, but I prefer the smile. “And that’s important because?”

  “I felt it should be addressed before I took you to bed, and because I don’t think I can wait until we reach the suite.” I can’t keep my hands off her for another minute. Pushing her against the lift’s mirrored wall, I show her exactly what she’s agreed to as I tug down the straps of her dress. A primal sensation rises inside me and escapes from my throat when I catch sight of delicate lace caging her full tits. “Your breasts are more perfect than I’d imagined.”

  She slumps against the wall a little, but true to form, she dares to ask me, “Should we do this in the elevator?”

  I brush my index finger over her lips, thinking of all the things I’d like to do to her in this lift. “Oh poppet, I know what’s worrying you. You’re worried that I’ll get my quick fuck in the elevator.”

  “I don’t want you to get bored with me before you even get me to the room.” Her voice is small, shrinking to hide from me.

  “That won’t be a problem.” I trace her collarbone. I’m ready to kiss her—to taste her skin. To taste every inch of her. She obviously needs to be reminded of that. “Your body was made to fuck, Clara. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  She barely manages to shake her head.

  “It is,” I say. Men at Oxford University must be bloody stupid. They should have been bowing down to this woman, not sticking their noses in books. “I find it very inspiring. I don’t know if there are enough flat surfaces to ride you on in the suite. But if it would make you feel better—” I continue to work her skirt up until it’s bunched at her hips. With my other hand, I slide a finger past the waist of her knickers lower and lower until I find what I seek. “—we can wait and go upstairs.”

  Her eyes slam shut as I circle her engorged clit. “We should...”

  I take it as a compliment that she can’t finish the sentence.

  “Perhaps I can offer a better solution.” I love listening to her little noises, but there’s something I want to do more. “I need to taste your sweet cunt, Clara. I’ve been thinking about it for days. Will you let me do that?”

  There’s a moan mixed with permission, and I don’t wait for her to change her mind. I need to taste her. I need her on my tongue. My fingers close over the band of her thong and rend it cleanly. It snaps with ease, as delicate and easily broken as I hope she will be.

  I drop
to my knees and brush my hands down her thighs. “Spread wider,” I order, groaning silently when she acquiesces. “Beautiful.”

  My hands move up, parting her so I can study her. Her skin there is silky and as soft as the delicate pink petals of a rosebud. I push a finger inside her, then another, enjoying the slick arousal I discover.

  “Are you always this wet?” Fuck, I hope so.

  I watch from between her legs as she shakes her head.

  “Do I do this to you?” Is that too much to hope for? Because I’ll gladly do this to her over and over.

  She nods, but it’s not enough. I want to hear her admit it. I want her to hand over that part of herself. “Say it, Clara.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what? What do I do to you?”

  “You make me wet.” She moans, and my control nearly slips. I won’t take her here. There will be time for that later. I might want to destroy the last shreds of her modesty, but one matter at a time.

  “Good girl,” I murmur. She deserves a reward, and I need to taste her. Leaning in, I find the rose-scent of her skin mingles sweetly on that delicate pink flesh as I draw my tongue over the swollen pink bud. Her hands splay against the wall as I lick her with slow deliberation. In this moment, she belongs to me.

  I need her to remember that, though. Her breath is already quickening, her hips are bucking toward me. “Not until I say, poppet.”

  Her whimper pushes me over the edge. I’ve been holding back, but I want to earn another moan, another little cry, another yes, please. I want to own Clara Bishop’s pleasure. I’m sure she’ll find I’m a generous master. But I need to prove it.

  “Come,” I command before covering her with my mouth again. Her taste floods my tongue as pleasure rolls through her. I pause for a split second before continuing. She unravels again, and now my cock is becoming painfully aware of the situation. But even though aftershocks rock through her, I continue to nibble her clit like it’s my own private, fucking feast.

  She comes twice. But that was with my mouth and hands. It feels like a challenge to take her over the edge again, especially with nothing more than my lips and tongue, but I’m game. I drag the orgasm from her, and her resistance makes it the most powerful.

  “Now you’re ready for me to fuck you.” And God, am I ready to fuck her.

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  There’s no doubt. No hesitation. She’s given herself to me. I can’t keep the pleased smile from my face.

  Chapter Six

  I step from the lift, shucking my suit jacket from my shoulders, and toss it on the sofa. It’s sad how comfortable I feel here, but it’s one of the few places where I can relax without running into a curtsying staffer. There’s enough room to spread, although my private quarters dwarf it. Still, it has one perk that Buckingham will never have: she’s here. I considered carrying her inside, but the gesture felt too romantic. My feelings for Clara are mixed up enough.

  A rose flush settles onto her cheeks as she stares out the window, her eyes wide. It’s been so long since I bothered to look out over London that I can’t imagine what’s caught her attention. Maybe it’s the dreamy distance in her eyes, but I’m almost jealous. I’ve never seen this city as anything other than a burden—a price I’ll one day pay for false power. Watching her, I want to see it as she does.

  Moving behind her, I peek over her shoulder, already distracted by the press of her soft body against mine. “Enjoying the view?”

  “I am. You?”

  “Very much. The city isn’t bad either.” It isn’t, actually. From here, it pulses with life, mirroring how I feel. The Eye can keep spinning, and the tourists can snap their photos. I’ll take a stolen afternoon away from the world.

  My lips find her neck, and I want to taste her again. My teeth graze her as I consider the possibilities, and then I give in with one small nip to her shoulder. She melts against me, and I note her response to the suggestion of pain. Clara Bishop doesn’t share my sexual tastes, but she keeps showing signs she might. The thought is enough to make me want her again. This whole city will be mine someday, but I only want her. Drawing her skirt up, I push the wadded fabric against her stomach and move her closer to the glass, exposing her bare cunt to the world below. She shivers like she realizes what I’m doing—showing her off like a trophy. Not that I would ever allow anyone to see her like this. For the time being, she belongs to me.

  “I’m going to fuck you in front of this window,” I promise her, stroking my hand along her until I feel her growing slick against my fingers. “I’m going to show the whole city that I take what I want.”

  Clara sucks back a gasp, widening her stance a little to grant me access.

  “I’m going to make you come in front of the busiest street in London.” I’m playing a long game with her clit, drawing her closer and closer and then pulling her back down before she can spill over. I want to make her come, but I enjoy the little noises she makes too much to do it yet.

  “Please,” she whimpers, pushing against my hand. Her hips move in welcome, and I have to force myself not to send her over. Clara might not be a virgin, but she’s never been with a man like me. I can feel how tight she is—which is reason enough to go slowly—despite the raw temptation.

  “Soon,” I whisper. “But not yet. I need to see how far I can take you. How much that beautiful cunt of yours can handle.”

  Her ass grinds into my groin before she says the one thing I can’t resist. “I can handle anything you give me.”

  I don’t think. She’s in my arms. I kick open the bedroom door and drop her on the mattress.

  There’s too much clothing. I want her naked and spread in front of me. I want to lick every inch of her skin. I want to see the prize I’ve won.

  “Take that off,” I demand.

  I suspect Clara is the type that waits until night to fuck—the girl who wants the lights off—because there’s just a delicious second of hesitation before she does as I command. She pushes up and lifts her dress over her head. The sight of Clara on her knees in that delicate lace bra and nothing else will be with me the rest of my life, burned into my brain.

  “I almost wish I hadn’t destroyed those panties.” Not that I want anything covering her, but now I wish I could rip them off again. “I’ll have to get you a new pair so I can fuck you in that sweet lace.”

  She bites her lip, and I can’t wait any longer. “Spread your legs.”

  Clara does as she’s told, watching me as I begin to undress. I’ve seen enough of her stubborn streak to assume she’s not always this obedient. Maybe it would get tiring to have her resisting me if we spent time together outside the bedroom, but knowing she would…I like that more than I care to admit. Because that means she’s giving me control—no matter what she said before. That means there’s hope that she might be exactly what I need.

  Confusion clouds her eyes for a moment when I don’t take off my undershirt. Later, I’ll tell her it’s the price of admission. I don’t owe her more explanation than that, but I’ll make up for any disappointment she feels now in other ways. Sliding my belt free, I consider what she would do if I looped it around her slender wrists. Or what she would do if I turned her over and…

  Clara stares at me as if she can guess what I’m thinking, and there’s a flash of fear.

  One thing at a time.

  Dropping it to the floor, I distract her with what I do have to offer now. Pushing my boxers to my ankles, I wait for the reaction I know to expect.

  Apprehension. That’s the inexperience looking at me.

  Excitement. That’s the woman looking back at me.

  Pure lust. That’s simply Clara.

  It radiates off her. It’s impossible that she could be so innocent and so wonton at the same time.

  I stroke my hand over my shaft, considering how first to take her. I can think of quite a few ways I’d like to fuck her, but I’m still a gentleman: her needs come first. Literally. “Since I’m not certain y
our tight little cunt can handle me, I think it’s best if we try a more...traditional style.”

  She giggles, and she looks as surprised by her reaction as I am.

  “Are you laughing at me?” I smirk. “Don’t be naughty, or I’ll have to take you over my knee.” Another test, but this time the apprehension tightens through her, so I plaster another smile on my face and push the desire to feel my palm against her backside deep inside me.

  I could consider how far she’ll let me go all afternoon, but I’m tired of waiting. Grabbing a rubber from the nightstand, I sheathe myself before I drop over her. I’m nearly ready when her hand slides under the hem of my undershirt. The reaction is as instantaneous as earlier, but this time it’s born of survival.

  I grab her wrist and nearly crush her as I lose my balance. “No.”

  There’s a moment of heavy silence before she begins to push at me. I can’t blame her for having this reaction, but I want her to understand it can’t be helped.

  “Clara, stop.”

  She takes this order too far, freezing in place underneath my body and glaring up at me.

  “This can stop now. We can stop now.” I need to tell her this, and she needs to hear it. I have no interest in forcing her. “But I don’t want it to, and I don’t think you do either.”

  “I think I do!”

  I’ll change her mind. “Let me say one thing, and then you can decide. If you say stop, that’s it.”

  “That’s it?” She sounds like she doesn’t believe me.

  “I only have one rule when it comes to sex.”

  “Only one?”

  I silence her with a single look. “I don’t take off my shirt, and before you ask, I don’t explain why.”

  “That’s your only rule?” Anger gives way to incredulity, at least temporarily.

  I can imagine the kind of rules Clara has in the bedroom—ones I’d willfully ignore. But I’m a knobhead, and she’s an angel—so I’m likely to get my way on both counts.

  “My only rule,” I continue. “I don’t like women to touch me there.”