He wraps his hand around my wrist and tugs it away from my body. Pushing me back, gently but firmly, to the ground, holding my wrist above my head.
“Henny,” I gasp.
His cock fills me with one swift move, and we both groan.
“Lift your legs, tuck them high against my ribs, precious,” he orders. I quickly do as he demands, feeling him slip inside of me a bit deeper. “I’m going to fuck my gorgeous wife now.”
“Okay,” I whisper, looking into his eyes, unable to look away even if I wanted to.
Henrik rears back and then pounds back inside of me, his pelvis hitting my clit at just the right angle. His cock slams inside of me, hitting the most perfect spot with every thrust.
The second time I lose my breath, and I wrap my free hand around his neck to hold on. He doesn’t stop. He thrusts inside of me with long, deep, hard strokes. I whimper as I climb closer toward my release, knowing its coming and just bracing myself for it.
“Fucking hell, Riona, my precious—fucking hell,” he grinds out as beads of sweat form on his brow.
“I need to come,” I practically cry.
“Yeah, you do,” he grunts before he starts to erratically pump in and out of me.
The jerky, sudden movements mixed with the heat and fire in his eyes sends me over the edge. I feel myself clamp down around him, squeezing and pulsing against his dick.
“Fuck,” he curses before he plants himself deep.
He buries his sweat soaked face in my neck with a long groan as his hips continue to thrust in and out of my pussy.
“Henny,” I rasp.
“I never want to leave your perfect cunt,” he whispers against my neck before he lifts his head with a smile.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I whisper with a grin.
“Yes, it was,” he says, his smile growing. “Let’s get off the floor and get in bed.”
I do as he suggests, quickly curling into his side and draping half of my body against his chest and side.
“Tomorrow is tea with mum and Bea?” he asks, changing the subject.
I’M WEARING A LAVENDER SHIRT dress. Purple isn’t my favorite color, but it always looks so nice against my skin, along with my dark hair. I secure the brown belt around my waist, highlighting my natural hourglass figure, the way Sarah instructed me to do.
Then I slide my feet into the nude high heels I’ve become particularly fond of, mainly because I know that I can literally wear them with anything and they match.
I’ve curled my hair with a curling iron, something I’ve never done before; but with the Brazilian Blowout treatment that I’ve had done, it’s now possible. The curls are loose and pretty. I look at my face, noting that I have more makeup on than usual, and I hope that I applied it all the right way.
I walk around the apartment but I can’t find Henrik, so I start to look room by room and find him in his weight room. He’s lifting weights, concentrating on his reflection in the mirror, his tongue poking out slightly as he does.
“Stunning,” Henrik announces as his eyes shift to mine in the mirror.
“I could say the same,” I breathe. “I’m leaving for tea.”
“Not yet. Come here,” he says. I watch as his eyes darken slightly.
I walk over to where he is on the bench and turn to face him when I arrive. He scoots forward to the edge and I suck in a breath when his fingertips skim up the outside of my thighs.
“Henny, I don’t want to be late,” I whisper.
“I’ll be quick,” he rumbles. “Turn around.”
“Henrik, we talked about this,” I whisper lamely as my body breaks out with goosebumps from his touch.
“Riona,” he says in what sounds like a warning.
My entire body shivers, I want him, and I shouldn’t. I should walk away from him right now, but I don’t. I turn around, my heart racing as I do. I see myself in the mirror, his hands under my dress. He then tugs my panties down my legs and taps my ankles so I lift each one, my eyes skirting down as he tosses my panties to the side.
“Unbutton your dress. I want to see all of you,” he rasps.
I bite the corner of my bottom lip as I unbutton my dress and unbuckle my belt, sliding them off and setting them down to the side. Then I unhook my bra without him telling me to, only to have him groan from behind me.
My body trembles as he slides his hands up my body and cups my breasts, lightly pinching my nipples before he skims his fingertips back down to my hips.
“I want to watch you in the mirror. I want to watch you take my cock, and I want to watch your tits bounce as my fingers play your clit just the way I know you like,” he rumbles.
“Henny,” I whisper.
Turning my head slightly to see that he’s completely naked, his sweaty gym clothes thrown to the side and his cock hard, and waiting.
I back up, widening my legs before I start to slowly sink down. I straddle his lap, but I don’t take him inside of me. He widens his thighs beneath me. I look at his reflection in the mirror in surprise.
“I want to play for a minute,” he rasps as his lips touch my shoulder.
I watch as Henrik’s hands move from my hips, sliding to my belly. Then one slides up my chest while the other glides down to cup my pussy.
“Henny,” I whisper.
“You’ll ride my hand first, then my cock,” he declares as he slips two fingers inside of me.
I let my head fall back against his shoulder as he pumps his fingers inside of me, his other hand playing gently with my breast, kneading it and then plucking my hard nipple before switching to the other side.
“Look at yourself, Riona. Look at how fucking stunning you are,” he demands.
I lift my head and I look at myself in the mirror. I don’t know that I’m stunning, but my cheeks are flushed and his tanned arms are around me, his fingers inside of me.
When I glance at the way he’s watching me, I suddenly feel absolutely beautiful.
“You feel so good,” I admit on a whisper.
“You ready for my cock, precious?”
“Yes, so ready,” I say with a shiver.
He grins as he slips his fingers from my body and swirls them around my clit before he taps my thigh. I lift slightly, watching as he positions his cock at my entrance.
Then I watch myself sink down on him, taking him inside of me completely, his cock disappearing into my body.
“Do you see just how amazing that is, Riona?” he asks.
I lift my eyes to meet his in the mirror and I nod with a jerk of my head.
“You’re my gorgeous wife. No other woman could make me feel the way you do, precious,” he murmurs.
His hand returns to my pussy and he starts to stroke my clit. He pinches my nipple, instructing me to move. I start to move on his cock, my eyes slowly drifting from his to our connection.
I lick my lips at the sight of his glistening cock as it disappears and reappears over and over again inside of my body. It’s amazing and stunning, just as he’s said it to be. My pussy flutters as I climb closer toward my release. The constant strum of his fingers against my clit, making it impossible to hold off at all.
“Henny, I’m close,” I rasp.
“Yeah, precious, I know,” he grunts. “Get there so I can fill you up.”
I throw back my head as his fingers stroke me harder, and faster. I come with a long moan, my body tensing, and then shaking, with my climax.
Henrik’s hands move to my hips and he guides me as he lifts my hips, fucking me with all of his strength until I watch his jaw clench and his head fall forward against my shoulder with his own groan. His release does just as he promised, filling me with every jerk of his cock.
“I need to get dressed,” he mutters against my back.
“Why?” I ask my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath.
“I wanted to escort you to tea. The paparazzi have been dying to get your take on the situation, and I don’t want them to bombard you.
I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed.”
I blink my eyes at him in surprise. He’s taking care of me, and that thought alone makes me smile. He places a sweet kiss against the side of my neck as he slides out of me. I gather our things and we hurry to the bedroom. I redress and fix myself, as Henrik showers quickly and gets dressed himself.
A few minutes later, we look pressed, prim, and proper as he wraps his hand around mine and together we walk silently out of our apartment and toward the elevator.
“I have tickets to an Opera this evening. Would you care to join me?” he asks as he presses the button that takes us to the lobby.
“I… I’ve never been,” I admit.
“Say you’ll join me. It’s a date that requires one of your evening gowns,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against my temple as the car travels down.
“Really?” I breathe.
“Yes, Riona, really.”
“Okay.”
“I may not be available to bring you home from tea, but Hugh will escort you. However, this evening, I will pick you up at five for an early dinner, and then we’ll head to the Opera House,” he announces.
I nod in agreement, but my breath is simply stolen from my body as we walk toward the front doors of our building. The mass number of paparazzi are more than I have ever witnessed.
“Henny,” I whisper.
“I have you, Riona. I have you,” he murmurs, sliding his hand around my waist.
Together, we walk toward the door, and Hugh is there with a serious look on his face, parting the throngs of people as we try to walk toward the curb where the car waits for us.
People are shouting, but I don’t hear what they’re saying, what they’re asking. The blood is rushing through me and pounding in my ears so loudly that I couldn’t hear a siren if it were next to me at this exact moment.
Henrik helps me into the backseat of the car, and I slide to the other side while he climbs in behind me. I tell myself to breathe, to take in deep breaths and then release them. I have to, or I’ll stop altogether.
“I’m sorry it was crazy. It will die down, eventually,” he shrugs.
“That was the worst I’ve ever seen it,” I murmur.
“It’s a big deal, me renouncing my title and telling the world the way I did,” he offers, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“I know,” I nod.
I don’t say what I want to. I don’t ask him why he’s done all of this for me—just little me. He could find a beautiful Lady, Duchess, Princess or whatever to be at his side, and all of this drama, it would be gone. But he wants me; he says that he’s wholly devoted to me, and I still don’t understand it.
I know why I’m drawn to him. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met. He oozes charm, sophistication, and confidence. His confidence alone simply astounds me. He’s also kind and caring in a way that I’ve never had before. He messed up, but none of it was to intentionally hurt me, not really.
“We’re here, my worrier,” Henrik chuckles before he gets out of the car and then helps me out as well.
I look around, thankful for the fact that there are no paparazzi hiding. I’m so lost in my own thoughts, I don’t need to worry about them, too. Then it registers that Henrik has just called me his worrier.
“Do you really think I’m a worrier?” I ask as I follow him up the walk to the door.
“I know that you are, Riona. That’s okay, though. I’m typically not much of one, so we balance each other.”
“Typically?” I ask, tipping my head back to look into his eyes.
“I’ve been worried I’ll lose you since day one. It’s the first time I’ve felt such a way, and it’s hard for me to completely comprehend it,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to mine in a whisper of a kiss.
“You have been?” I ask, though I should know the answer, because I’ve almost left him twice now.
“You know it to be true. But I’m not going to let you leave me, not ever,” he rumbles.
Just as he presses his lips to mine, there’s a sound of somebody clearing their throat. We break apart like two teenagers caught making out on the front porch.
“Madam is ready for tea with the ladies?” Jasper asks, arching a brow.
“Yeah, right,” Henrik mutters, cleaning his own throat.
“If I’m not here to pick her up, please ring Hugh to escort Mrs. Stuart home,” Henrik instructs.
Jasper nods. Then Henrik turns to me and cups my cheek in his palm, his thumb skirting over my bottom lip.
“Be good today. I’ll see you this evening for dinner,” he rumbles. Then he turns and leaves.
I unabashedly watch him go, enjoying the view his straight leg slacks offer me of his ass. I bite the corner of my lip thinking about last night, thinking about the way he held my arm down and fucked me hard on the floor. I swore we weren’t going to have sex again anytime soon, but we did, and it was completely fantastic.
“Are you ready, Madam?” Jasper asks, interrupting the ogling of my own husband.
“I am,” I sigh.
I follow Jasper inside and then toward the same receiving room where I was berated by the elder of the Stuart family. I hold my breath as I walk into the room, but the only people I see are Helena and Beatrice. They’re sitting separately, Helena on the sofa, and Beatrice in a chair, but they’re both offering me kind smiles as I enter the room.
“Welcome,” Helena says as she stands and walks over to me, embracing me in a warm hug. “Beatrice has told me of your plans for charity work, and I am so excited.”
“Oh, I’m glad,” I mutter as she clasps her hand around mine and pulls me toward the sofa to sit down next to her. “I’m also thrilled you aren’t letting my son walk all over you,” she announces, arching one of her brows at me.
“He’s very charming,” I mutter.
“Indeed, he is.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon talking, not only about the charity work that Helena has brought for me, but also about the family, and then about Beatrice’s wedding. I’m told it’s a two-week affair, and there will be activities and parties for days. It sounds like fun and hell all at the same time.
“So I’ve thought, perhaps, we can put together a tour for you,” Helena suggests.
“A tour?”
“I thought you might need some time away, away from it all. If you don’t, that’s okay too; we can just come up with something else,” she says.
“Oh, actually I kind of like that idea. How long would it be for?”
“Only a month. You’d be touring different children’s hospitals and women’s shelter safe houses; it would give exposure, and you’d be able to meet people, talk to the people that run it about needs. The news outlets would be all over it, which would bring awareness to the charities,” Helena explains.
I’m instantly in love with the idea. Henrik won’t be thrilled with it, but maybe Helena is on to something. Maybe I need the space to breathe. Four weeks isn’t that long, not in the big picture, and I know where my heart lies.
I know that I would come home to Henrik no matter what. But we’ve been through so much in our extremely short time together that it would be nice to think and focus on something else for a time.
“I’ll do it,” I affirm.
“You don’t want to talk to Henrik?” Beatrice asks.
“No, I don’t think I will. Please, Helena, I love the concept, and I really want to go forward,” I say, looking at my mother-in-law in the eye.
“You’ll be leaving this Friday,” she warns.
“I’ll be home for the wedding festivities?”
“You will,” she confirms.
“Then yes, let’s do it.”
I leave tea late in the afternoon. I’m thankful when Hugh rushes me home to get ready. I have thirty minutes to look Opera ready. I don’t know if I can pull it off, but I plan on trying.
I grasp the pale pink shimmery gown that’s hanging in my wardrobe and smile. I hope that it looks as good as
I remember it looking in the dressing room when Sarah and I found it, and that Henrik likes it.
I slip it over my body and shift slightly to look at the absence of the gown’s back in the mirror. It dips well below my lower back, leaving me entirely bare from neck to just above my ass, except for across my middle back, where my bra line is. That is covered with fabric, as it’s a strapless dress.
I hope and pray that it all stays in place for the evening. I’ve never worn a strapless gown, other than the tiny dress Madison poured me into the evening I married Henrik in Vegas.
“Riona, are you ready, precious?” Henrik calls out.
I take one last look in the mirror and I nod to myself, my dress is so pale pink I look almost nude in the mirror, my red shoes standing out, the only competition being the fact that every move I make causes my dress to shimmer in the light.
My high heels click on the hard floor and Henrik looks up before his mouth gapes open slightly at the sight of me. I probably look at him the exact same way, as he’s wearing a tuxedo and he looks fantastic.
“Go back in there and put a rubbish bag on,” he mumbles as I step in front of him.
“Absolutely not,” I laugh.
“You look completely stunning,” he whispers as his hand slides around my back. It freezes and he hauls me into his chest as his eyes peer down my back.
“What’s happened to your dress? It’s missing,” he announces.
“It’s made that way,” I grin.
“Un-fucking-bloody-believable,” he curses.
“Do you really hate it?” I ask, feeling self-conscious.
“No, it’s stunning, as I’ve said. It’s just sexy, and now I know for certain that every man will have his eyes on you,” he grunts before pressing his lips to mine.
“You’re jealous?” I ask, arching a brow.
“Of every single man that looks in your direction. All of you is mine, and nobody else should even look.”
“That’s absurd. Do you know how many women ogle you?” I ask as we walk toward the elevator.
“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs.
“Well, I feel the same. Doesn’t matter,” I shrug back at him.
He smiles but doesn’t respond. I wonder if there will be a good time this evening to tell him of my plans to leave for four-weeks on Friday. I don’t think there will ever be a good time to tell him that. I’m nervous and scared.
Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale Page 20