Maybe I’ll just wait until Friday morning.
No, I’ll tell him sometime this evening, maybe after the Opera.
I agree with my self-banter and relax next to him.
This is going to be a great evening. Even if it ends up in an argument, I don’t care. I’m going to a fancy dinner and a fancy opera with my husband, our first real date. I’m so excited, I can hardly stand it.
CAITRIONA IS A SIGHT TO behold. I wasn’t lying when I said that every single man would look in her direction. Walking through the restaurant at dinner, every man’s head was turned, and at the Opera, the same. She was a vision the entire evening, and now that we’re headed home, she’s a vision who is tense and obviously worried about something.
I don’t say a word; I want to wait until we’re in our flat to broach whatever it is that has her completely and totally stressed out. I unlock the door and usher her inside. As soon as I walk through a doorway, I throw my keys down on the kitchen counter and I face her.
“What’s happened, then?” I ask.
She doesn’t bother denying that it’s something, because she and I both know that it is. We’re in this weird, fragile, limbo state, and there is a lot of tiptoeing. But there is obviously something up with her, and I aim to get to the bottom of it.
“I don’t think you’re going to like it,” she practically whispers.
“I don’t like a lot of things, yet I survive them. So what is it?” I ask, making my way toward her and cupping her cheek in my hand.
“I’m leaving for a month,” she blurts out.
I freeze. Dead frozen in my tracks like nothing else I’ve experienced before. I feel like I’m on the outside looking into this conversation, as though this cannot be real.
“Where will you go?” I ask, grinding my jaw together, clenching it so that I don’t say something out of heated anger.
“At tea this afternoon, your mother—she made a tentative tour schedule for me. I will be touring children’s hospitals and women’s shelter safe houses, bringing attention to the causes and also speaking with the people of the organization staff,” she explains.
My anger depreciates a bit and I look at her, really look at her. She’s apprehensive, but underneath all of that, she’s excited.
“You want this,” I whisper.
“I think it would be a great experience,” she says with a nod.
“Then you’ll go.”
“You’re not upset?” she asks, looking up at me with wide, scared eyes.
“Do I want you to stay here with me? Absolutely. Am I going to miss you? Naturally. Do I want you to be happy? Definitely,” I murmur running my nose alongside hers. “You’ll come home to me?”
“Of course, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Then you need to go,” I whisper before I press my lips to hers.
Henrik’s lips press against mine, and I swear the world rapidly spins beneath my feet. This evening has been magical, and then when I thought it would be destroyed, he surprised me.
He always surprises me.
He releases me and takes a step back, but I quickly wrap my arms around his neck and step forward, closing the distance he’s tried to create.
“Riona,” he practically chokes.
“I want you, Henny,” I whisper, my eyes completely focused on his sparkling green ones. “I’m leaving on Friday. I want you was often as I can get you until then,” I confess.
“Friday?” he chokes.
“Friday, so that I’m back in time for all of Philip and Beatrice’s wedding celebrations.”
“Mum has thought of it all, hasn’t she?” he asks with a humorless laugh.
I open my mouth to respond, but he doesn’t let me speak. He presses his lips to mine before he leans down and picks me up at the backs of my thighs, carrying me into our bedroom, my heart racing with each step he takes.
“You want me as often as you can have me before Friday. Prepare, precious, because I’m going to be inside of you for the next three fucking days,” he growls, sending shivers up my spine.
Without another word spoken, he peels my dress down my body, leaving me in my shoes, panties, and bra. I hold my breath when he breaks our kiss and takes a step back. His eyes scan my body, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip with a slight grin.
“Magnificent, precious,” he murmurs.
I watch with bated breath as he slowly removes his tuxedo. I wish I could do it for him, because watching him is making me anxious, making me want to rip it off of him in a hurry and take him inside of me.
“I had plans tonight. I was going to bring you pleasure then put you to bed, asking nothing in return,” he rasps as he steps out of his pants.
He’s now in nothing but his boxer briefs, and I can make the outline of his cock out from beneath the thin fabric. He’s hard and ready, waiting.
“But?” I ask on a wheeze as he grips his hard length in his palm.
“Now I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep without making you scream,” he announces with a shrug.
I want that.
I want to scream his name as I come.
I want him to make me come.
I want it all.
Henrik arranges me on the edge of the bed, my legs dangling with my feet still firmly planted in their red high heels. His finger grazes up my thigh and across the center of my panties to the other side of my thigh and down. I hear him hum before he grasps the edges of my panties and yanks them down my legs.
“Very pretty knickers, but very unneeded.” I shiver. “Take off your bra and show me your tits, Riona.”
I do as he commands, ready to do whatever he wishes. I watch him with wide eyes as he pulls his boxers down his legs, leaving us both naked—not touching any part of our bodies, but completely bared to each other.
Henrik lifts his chin to the bed and tells me to get in the middle, sitting with my back to the headboard. I do as he asks, bringing my knees to my chest to cover myself, though he’s already seen every inch of my body so I’m not sure why I feel the need to keep myself from him. He makes a clicking noise with his tongue before he crawls up, grasping onto my ankles and pulling my legs apart.
“Don’t ever keep yourself from me, Riona,” he rasps.
“Henny,” I whisper.
“Let me have a taste,” he rumbles.
I gasp when he lowers his mouth and his tongue thrusts inside of me. My hands automatically fly to his messy brown hair and tangle in his strands.
“Delicious, now ride my face,” he grunts as his hands wrap around my thighs and he widens them even more, fitting his broad shoulders between them.
I let my head fall back, hitting the wall behind me as I lift my hips, moving close to him as his lips wrap around my clit before moving back to my center, sliding inside as his fingers hold onto my thighs even firmer.
He feels so good, his mouth and tongue so damn warm against me. I can’t hold back. My body moves, and I’m unable to control it as his mouth takes over, consumes me, and as always—owns me.
“I’m close,” I whimper.
I climb higher toward my release and my hips jerk. He pulls back, leaving me on the edge, and I cry out in surprise and irritation.
“I’m going to take you, Riona,” he whispers.
I hold my breath as he moves closer to me, his dick easing inside of my center, filling my pussy and stretching it like only he can. His hands grab onto the headboard at either side of my face, his thighs pushing my knees even higher beside me, and his eyes focused completely on mine.
“Henrik,” I sigh.
“That’s not who I am to you,” he growls, as he gently eases out of me and then slams back inside with a hard, deep, fast, thrust of his hips.
“Henny,” I cry out, lifting my hands to his sides.
“Fuck. Yes.”
He buries his face in my neck, his lips pressing against my skin, his breathing heavy as he fucks me hard and fast. My legs start to shake, his pelvis
grinding against my clit with each down thrust of his hips.
My entire body is on edge, sweaty, and primed for its release. Then I feel his teeth against my neck, sinking into my skin, and I fall over the edge, my climax taking over as my nails dig into his sides.
“Fuck, yes,” he growls. “This cunt of yours, this perfect fucking cunt, makes my dick ache, precious,” he murmurs against the side of my neck as he wildly pounds inside of me.
His hips are moving jerkily, and I watch as he rears his head back with a long deep, groan, his eyes finding mine when he comes inside of me.
“Come again, for me,” he murmurs as he continues to slide in and out of me, his head tipped down to watch.
“Henny,” I whimper.
“Now, Riona, I want to watch you touch yourself,” he demands
I lift my hand and slide it between my legs, shivering at the feel of his cock’s lazy strokes. I’m still sensitive from my first orgasm, but I want him to have his pleasures as well, and I know how much he loves watching me touch myself and watching as he takes me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters. He starts moving a little faster, his hips moving with precision, a little harder with each thrust.
“More,” I beg as my finger furiously works between us.
I’m so close, on the edge again, needing something else to help me topple over.
One of his hands leaves the headboard and moves down to my breast, pinching my nipple, tugging on it, and repeating the move until I can’t hold back.
I come on a scream.
I beg him to stop, plead with him, but my words fall on deaf ears as he continues to take me, harder than before, through my orgasm and after. I move my fingers, my clit is so sensitive it’s painful to touch.
Henrik slaps the outside of my thigh and orders my hand between my legs again. I comply, tears welling in my eyes, knowing that it’s going to be too sensitive. I bite my bottom lip and I do as he’s ordered, and in just minutes, the pain is forgotten as I climb toward a third release.
“Yes, come for me again,” Henrik chants as he continues to pound into my body.
He’s sweating now. It’s dripping down his face and his chest, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve seen. I feel my legs quiver, and he grins, his eyes clashing with mine as he drives into my center, moving inside of me and filling me.
“Riona, precious,” he groans.
His groan reverberates throughout the room, and it’s then that I come. My body shakes uncontrollably, and I scream at the top of my lungs. I scream out his name as I sob, my body spent, wrung out, and completely exhausted.
“Fuck. Yes. Fuck,” Henrik roars, planting himself deep inside as he comes, again, filling my body with even more of his release.
I feel his cock twitch, then he collapses against me. His sweat soaked chest presses against mine, and I wrap my arms and legs around his body, holding him to me, needing his closeness.
“Are you okay, precious?” he asks as he nuzzles my neck, his arms reaching behind him to remove my shoes, which are still on my feet, and pressed against his lower back.
“I am. I truly am,” I murmur.
“I’m glad for it. I’ve missed my precious Riona,” he murmurs.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” I shamelessly admit as my fingers stroke his back.
“You’ll come back to me, and we’ll move forward when you do.”
He doesn’t ask me; he states it as a fact. That I will indeed come back to him and we’ll be past Nicoline and the relinquishing of his title. We’ll just be Henrik and Caitriona.
I close my eyes, hoping that his statement is correct, I want that; I want it more than anything. When we’re here, wrapped in each other’s arms, everything feels so damn right.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I want that.”
We take a long, hot shower together in silence. The evening feels uneasy, the foreboding of what the next few days will bring hanging over our heads like a dark shadowed cloud. When we finally dry off and crawl into bed, Henrik wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest his mouth at my neck.
“Four weeks is a long time,” he murmurs.
“It is,” I whisper, staring into the darkness of the room ahead of me.
“You do this, you don’t ever leave my side again.”
“Henny,” I say with a warning tone. He squeezes me before I can say another word.
“Non-negotiable. You’re my wife. Your place is in my bed, on my cock, and at my side,” he announces.
“Henrik,” I hiss, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. He only tightens against me to keep my body still.
“You know you like it, my precious girl, don’t act like you don’t. Now, get some sleep.”
I huff out a breath of annoyance, making him chuckle behind me. He’s right. I do like it, but he shouldn’t have said it out loud. Henrik owns me, every part of me, and I love it when I’m with him, including when he’s inside of me. That doesn’t mean that my only focus in life is his dick, though.
I like the fact that this trip will give me a chance to give back to the world, to do something that is for me, that doesn’t have to do with anybody but me wanting to bring awareness to these children, to visit with them, and to hopefully raise money for them in the future.
MY SUITCASE IS LAID OUT on the bed, and I’m finding it difficult to pack. I know that I need to leave, and I want to, but—Henrik. Leaving means being without him for a full month, and although I’m still very much hurt and upset with him, he’s still very much in the forefront of my mind.
I’m folding a pair of jeans when I hear his grunt come from the doorway.
“Yes?” I ask without looking in his direction.
“You’re really leaving.”
“I am,” I agree.
There’s a moment of silence as I continue to try to busy myself with packing, trying my very hardest not to look at him. If I do, I might not leave. I need this space and time away. I also need this experience. I pause when I feel his arm encircle my waist and his hand flatten against my stomach.
“I’m going to miss you, Riona,” he murmurs as his lips graze my neck.
Slowly, I straighten my back, still afraid to turn around and look into his eyes. Those green eyes of his, they capture me and hold me hostage.
“I’ll miss you, too,” I whisper, looking straight ahead.
“Say you’ll stay.”
“I can’t,” I sigh, closing my eyes.
It pains me to say it, to leave him, but it’s only for a few weeks—it’s not forever.
“When you come home, we’ll be good again?” he asks as his tongue snakes out and tastes my neck.
I shiver in his arms, and his hand tightens against my stomach when he feels it. He knows how he affects me. He keeps asking me if we’re going to be good as soon as I return. I keep telling him yes, to placate him; but in reality, I don’t know. I don’t know how I’m going to feel.
“I hope so,” I murmur.
My breath hitches when both of his hands shift and move to the outside of my thighs, dragging up my dress as they come to my waist. Then he wrenches my panties down my thighs in one swift move.
“Bend over,” he orders.
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply before letting it out and then doing as he’s demanded. I bend over. I’m leaving in a few hours, and selfishly, I want to feel him inside of me one last time before I go.
Without a word spoken, Henrik’s hand lands on my ass with a sting and a smack. I gasp, but before I can say anything—think anything—he pushes completely inside of me with one swift thrust.
“Henrik,” I squeak.
“I suppose you must need reminding of how you feel when I’m inside you, since you’re suddenly only hoping we’ll be good after your return,” he announces.
I’m not able to respond as he pulls out and then slams back inside of me with a punishing force. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow, but continues to fuck me with wild abandon. It’s
as if he’s branding me, marking me as his so that I won’t forget him—as if I ever could.
My climax erupts with no warning, my legs shaking and giving out simultaneously. Henrik doesn’t slow his rough, brute, force as I cry out with my release, not until he’s chased his own; and only then does he plant himself deep, freezing as he groans.
“Precious,” he murmurs, folding over me, his cock still completely inside of me, and his mouth hot against my ear. “Come back to me.”
His words are just above a whisper before he pulls out of my body and walks away. I’m left bent over my opened suitcase with his cum leaking down my thighs. I stand and hurry to the restroom to clean up. Once I’ve taken care of myself, I look in the mirror.
I’ve hurt him by using the word hope, as if I may not come back to him. He’s given up so much for me already, announced it to the world, and yet I’m not committing fully to him—not in the way that he wants me to. I’m not ready, though, and that is another issue.
I’m not ready to forget that my husband went on a date with another woman and was planning on keeping it a secret from me. I’m not ready to forget that he posed for the media with her, while I waited at home for him.
So, while I understand his insecurities and I comprehend why he’s upset, he’s going to have to be understanding with me, and with my feelings, as well.
I finish packing my bags, no longer questioning my decision to go on this trip. I need this, for my own sanity; and if Henrik can’t handle a few weeks of being apart, then he’s got bigger issues at hand that have nothing to do with me.
I need this time to reflect, and I aim to take it.
An hour later, I’m packed with my suitcase next to the front door. I’m still in the dress I wore earlier, a navy blue with white polka dot fabric. It’s sleeveless with a V-neckline and hugs my waist before it flares out to an A-line skirt and brushes the tops of my knees. It’s very fifties style, and paired with a white cardigan, I feel classy and demure in it.
Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale Page 21