Just as vigorously, she licked and sucked his balls, first one then the other, surrounding them with the hot, wet pressure of her mouth, sending a bolt of raw pleasure up his spine. I’m going to come like a boy with no control.
“Back to the cock,” he ordered harshly. “Now.”
She took him all the way in again and sucked.
He gritted his teeth at the intense, exquisite pressure of her mouth and the explosive orgasm building inside him. “Are you going to swallow?”
“Mm-hmm,” she moaned around him, increasing her pace.
He’d lost all control when she swallowed the head of his cock against her throat, triggering his climax.
“Coming.” He threw his head back, the cordons of his neck bulging, as his balls drew up, and he came with an inarticulate shout, his cum spurting as ecstatic release held him in its savage grip.
Again and again, he came, thrusting into her mouth, fisting her hair in his hand, as she never stopped, keeping up the fierce assault on his senses until at last he had nothing left.
“Mein Gott,” he groaned, stunned, resting his head on the seat. Looking up at the sky, he struggled to comprehend how what should have been merely a pleasant trip back to his house had become an experience he was unlikely to ever forget.
18
“Aragon is bracing for a possible second round of mass anti-government protests next Sunday. As we previously reported, last Sunday huge rallies across the kingdom led to clashes in which dozens were arrested. We have the Democracy for Aragon Movement’s leader and opposition figurehead, Josep Baldoquinos with us here, calling for Aragonese to mobilize again in what is being widely dubbed as the mother of all marches,” said the eight o’clock news reporter. “Señor Baldoquinos, can you tell us...”
“Tell them your lies and propaganda,” Valantín said, sneering at the screen.
“We are the voice of those ignored by government and on behalf of and in solidarity with those affected by poverty and unemployment, we are going to make a peaceful protest.” Baldoquinos raised his fist and the crowd behind him cheered, raising their own fists and shouting the revolutionary slogans that were spray-painted on the palace wall, Sack the royals and Republic now were written. “Yet, this is the 21st century and royalty is outdated. Aragon needs to step up to its tradition and be a leader in the EU and not a godforsaken country still living in the middle ages. Same place, same time. We are—”
“Que te den por culo,” mumbled Valantín as he turned off the TV and then repeated to the black screen, “Fuck you.”
“Language,” Anchela warned her stepson, though she felt the same way. She was devastated at what Aragon had become because of these rebels—and because of her late husband being more interested in frolicking with women all over the world than in ruling.
“What do we need to do to stop them from protesting?” Maria asked softly, concern etched on her face. “What do we need to do to make them like us again?”
Valantín swore again, this time not loud enough for anyone else to hear.
All he wanted was peace for his home country, to restore it to its original glory as it had been for generations. He wanted for his people to walk the streets once more, worried only about not arriving home late for dinner, and not about whether they might lose the job they’d just left, or the unrest of Aragon. “We are trying, Maria.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But it’s not enough.”
Valantín was inclined to agree. It was never enough.
Ludwig’s hunger for Angelica was insatiable. The drive back to his place was almost pure torture despite the unexpected and exquisite release. It had just left him wanting more. But his ardor immediately cooled when he entered his home and Charles said, “Your Highness, Lord Friedrich is waiting for you in the TV room. It seems to be urgent.”
“I’ll take a shower and catch up on my emails,” said Angelica, giving Ludwig privacy to talk with his brother.
As soon as Ludwig entered the TV room, Friedrich didn’t waste any time and said, “I’ve come to warn you, Brother.”
Ludwig looked at him, his amusement fading. “From what?”
Friedrich drew in a breath. “There is a man outside your place, watching you and Angelica.”
“The same as before?”
“No. This one is from Aragon.”
“How did you find out?”
“I have my ways, as you do,” Frederick replied, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m worried, Ludwig. For your safety. And hers.”
“I am fine,” Ludwig tamped down his worry, yet his mind was already whirling at how he would keep Angelica safe. She would be safe in his house, in his arms. “And she is safe in Lektenstaten.” With me. “Are you suggesting that she go home before the press starts rumors?”
A short laugh escaped his brother. “Hardly. I’m far too entertained by what’s going on with you and your little princess.”
He scowled, as much at the unexpected turn of conversation as at the remembrance of Angelica in his arms. She’d been slender, supple, and light. So easy to hold. And then she had been bold and so feminine as she took him in her wet and warm mouth, her long black hair held in his hand. “What are you talking about?”
His brother’s smile deepened. “It’s hardly a secret, is it? You’re obsessed with her. Taking her to your fave project, to Django’s great-granddaughter’s wedding, going shopping, for fuck’s sake. You have all the signs of a man whose life has been upended by a set of pretty tits and a wet cunt. Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you to fall so far, so fast.”
Gossip was the currency of life but even so, Ludwig was a tad surprised—and a lot annoyed—by the extent of Frierich’s knowledge of his private life. He made a mental note to talk to Charles about keeping his personal affairs…private.
“You’ve been misinformed. It’s nothing like that at all.” Coldly, he said, “I’m astonished that you have taken such an interest in my activities.”
Friedrich shrugged. “It’s more of a morbid fascination. You’re so aloof, so…controlled. But it’s only a matter of time before someone finds the chink in your armor. I’m betting on the sweet, feisty princess.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “She is just that: a princess in need of some R&R, that I gladly provided. Nothing more.”
“If you say so.” His laughter was at once mocking and heartfelt.
“I do,” Ludwig announced.
They looked at each other and burst out laughing at the irony of his words, matching those in a wedding ceremony.
Friedrich shook his head. “You have it badly, Brother. I just hope that you can still make good decisions and not cloud them with your feelings for her.”
Come home.
The two words blinking on her iPhone screen told Angelica she could not keep ignoring her computer as she had done for the last few days. She twisted a towel around her wet hair, and sitting on the couch in front of the TV in Ludwig’s bedroom, she opened her backpack and took out her laptop. It took her a moment and a deep sigh to open it and turn it on.
Chills went down her spine as she read an email from Aragon’s political advisor, Lluís Cébrian.
The grand show of power in front of the palace had been too much. It was making much more than a nuisance, it was making a statement, and a rather loud one at that.
In another message, there was an article spouting how the new radicals were becoming something larger and giving the people what they wanted to hear.
Angelica knew she couldn’t hide out any longer. As much as she was enjoying herself, there was business to be taken care of back home. Her family, her country, needed her and she was truly being selfish in staying in Lektenstaten.
Anxious to ensure that everything was okay, she found herself dialing her half-brother’s number.
“Angelica,” he answered, with an audible sigh of relief.
“Valantín.” She could hear his resignation through the phone. “I saw that our palace
has been vandalized and some crazy radicals have left us strong messages scrawled on the walls.”
“It was all over the news, Angel. Your mother is distraught, worried that violence will erupt at any moment and we must be there to calm the crowds. We must take on these radicals and show them that they are not going to win.”
“I will fly back tomorrow, I swear it.” Angelica nibbled on her lower lip, the new revelation putting a damper on her cause to stay. She could not live in her happy little bubble any longer. The thought of leaving Ludwig made her chest ache unbearably. “Tomorrow evening, I mean. I need a few more hours.”
She just wanted to hold it off a little longer, to pretend that no one had told her what was happening in the outside world. Once she did go back, there would be endless meetings, endless discussions on politics and what to do.
“Only tomorrow evening? So be it. You are not going to change your mind about this, are you?”
“No,” she said softly, hearing the sadness in his voice. “I’ll come and help with this situation.”
“I am happy to hear that. We need you here,” he stated rather harshly.
Angelica blew out a breath and shook her head, though no one was there to see it. “I will be there. Send me the jet tomorrow evening.”
“I will. And I will be sending Ms. Alfarro, too. Things are tumultuous here. I don’t want you without your bodyguard,” he told her, concern clear in the serious tone of his voice. “Please let me know when you land safely.”
He hung up on her then, the dial tone flooding her ear.
“Is there something wrong?”
Angelica set the phone in her lap as she looked up at Ludwig.
“No,” she forced out, her voice trembling a little with each word. “There’s nothing wrong.”
But her ill-concealed agitation told him that something was. He took her hand and pulled her up from the couch, against his body. Looking into her beautiful chocolate eyes, he breathed, “Don’t go.”
19
Zoned and half asleep, Ludwig wandered into the downstairs kitchen as the sun began to stretch its rays over the navy-blue of the night.
He frowned as he watched from the window, wondering what the hell the man out there could find so interesting, staring from across the street like that.
Sometimes they got tourists in the area, fascinated by the architecture of the buildings, but this man had yet to pull out a camera or a map, and he was making Ludwig curious as to why he would be out there.
“Something wrong, sir?”
Ludwig jumped, startled, and turned to see Charles Jacques, his butler entering the kitchen. When he looked out again, the man had disappeared. Giving him a small shake of his head, he said, “No, I believe I am just seeing things outside.”
“If I may say, sir, a beautiful woman can make you see all sorts of things.”
Ludwig laughed. “I’d better get a bit more sleep.”
Charles inclined his head. “Sir.”
Charles was correct. Angelica was making him see all sorts of things; things he hadn’t truly thought he would ever see in his life, not to mention how he felt. She made him, well, happy.
And he was afraid that at any moment, it was going to be gone, poof, like a child popping a bubble.
They spent the day devoting as much time as they could to worshipping one another’s bodies.
She could walk across the room and he would want to make love to her. Each and every time he went to her, she would blink in surprise that he could want her again. But he did want her and he took her. After stiffening, followed by a moment of weak incoherent protest, she melted easily into his arms each time.
In the past, he’d never restrained himself when it came to seeking physical pleasures. But the women he’d been with had been experienced and understood what he wanted.
Meine Kätzchen is still so innocent.
He’d seen the way she reacted that first time, so willing and eager, but so hesitant. That awkwardness decreased with each moment they spent together.
Now that she trusted him, he didn’t want to risk sending her off just because he had the urge to bend her over the dining room table, spank her, and then take her wildly from behind in a pleasure-pain frenzy.
Or because he wanted her to tie him up, blindfolded, and take her pleasure from his flesh as she saw fit. No, not yet. Be gentle.
Not that gentle was bad. He just knew the other, rougher play could hold amazing climatic rewards.
But for tonight, he had something else in mind. He knew their time together was drawing to an end. He didn’t want that. Passionately, with every bone in his body. That thought alone astounded him. How can I be so drawn to a woman like this?
A slow smile crossed his lips, thinking about how she might react to his next request as he finished his shower.
But first, dinner.
“How is your fish?”
Angelica looked up at Ludwig, feeling her chest cave at the thought that she would be leaving him after tonight. She didn’t want to leave this happiness. “It’s not flopping on my plate.”
He grinned, spearing a corner of his filet before popping it in his mouth. “That’s always a positive, unless you like sushi.”
Angelica wrinkled her nose. “I do not like anything raw. Please tell me you don’t.”
“I like it all; raw, cooked, it doesn’t matter to me.”
Angelica sat back in her chair, her fingers on her wine glass. “But what if it kills you?”
He gave her a little shrug. “Then I shall die happy.”
Laughter erupted from her. “I can think of better ways to die, truly. Like eating chocolate. Do you know you can die from eating chocolate?”
Ludwig took a swallow of his wine, his brows knitting together. “You’re making that up.”
Angelica shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. This was what she was going to miss. This easy conversation with someone who didn’t look at her like she had two heads just because of her title. “I’m not. I read it on the internet. You can die from consuming too much chocolate.”
She watched as he wiped his mouth, settling back in his chair with his wine glass nearly empty. “I can think of better ways to die.”
Angelica was almost scared to ask but she did so anyway. “What would be your preference then?”
He cleared his throat, that sensual grin on his lips that had her blood heating in her veins. “In the arms of a beautiful woman.”
She burst into laughter, unable to help it. “How often has that line worked?”
His expression was one of innocence. “What line? It’s the truth, I swear it.”
Angelica shook her head, her heart light and her happiness nearly bubbling over. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow, about leaving him.
She wanted this night to go on forever.
“Well, I have only used it on one person,” he continued, his voice dropping a notch.
“And?” she asked, arching a brow. “Did it work?”
His grin was nearly feral as he looked at her, his gaze intense. “I don’t know, did it?”
Angelica paused for only a second before she doubled over in laughter, laughing until she had tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Y-you are too much,” she giggled, eyeing his wonderful smile. How was she going to walk away in the morning? How was she going to move through her life without having him to help her?
It was too much to think that they could remain together after she walked out. He would likely be upset after she left without a goodbye.
But she was tired of sad. She wanted laughter, love, friendship.
Most of all, she wanted Ludwig for just a little while longer.
But for now, she would drink and dine and laugh like tomorrow wasn’t a possibility.
Ludwig watched Angelica in silence. They had spent the evening chatting about non-important things until she got quiet. It made him curious to discover everything about her and at the same time perfectl
y content to know nothing.
Somehow, he knew full well this wasn’t the real Angelica Rafela di Castella y Aragon. The real woman beneath that glorious golden skin was a much more complex and intense creature.
She had a quick wit, an open laugh, and a smile that curled easily on her beautiful lips. Her bold chocolate eyes shone in constant mischief, even when she did nothing.
And she was beautiful—not enhanced beautiful, but natural woman beautiful. Looking at her in one of his white button-up shirts and nothing else, he much preferred the natural. Her dark nipples shadowed the white of his shirt and her leg propped on the chair, letting him sneak a peek at her nether dark hair and pink of her lips.
His cock surged and hardened. He would never dress for work in the morning again, dispassionately going through the motions. A white dress shirt would always stir erotic memories.
Yet, she seemed completely unaware of the effect she was having on him, as she placed a berry in her mouth and licked absently at her fingers.
He poured them more wine and handed her glass to her. “Are you ready for bed?”
Aragon
On the outskirts of San José
“Mierda.” When Abelardo finally parked in front of his house, police inspector Alixandre Balaguer, a sturdy man in his fifties, was waiting for him, leaning on his old, battered Peugeot 106.
“Good evening, Señor Gutiérrez.” His time in the Guardia Civil had taught Inspector Balaguer to never ignore his instincts. And his instincts screamed of trouble where he might otherwise find only irritation when Abelardo Gutiérrez was involved.
“To what do I owe the displeasure this time?” On bad days, Abelardo considered Inspector Balaguer his personal hellhound—doggedly, obsessively pursuing him for a crime he didn’t commit—yet. On better ones, he thought of Inspector Balaguer as stubborn and wrongheaded, a cop who refused to consider that the lack of evidence might equal innocence. “Not that your attention has ever been warranted previously.”
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