by Leslie North
She gave him a sideways glance. He was enjoying himself, she could tell, but something was different. Something had been different between them ever since she’d given him head. She appreciated him letting her try something new on him, letting her prove to herself that she could have an intense sexual connection with a man if she let herself. She’d wanted a repeat event tonight, just to make sure she got in some extra practice—she always had been an overachiever—but he’d wanted to take her out instead. And even though she was having a good time, she was a little worried he thought he had to use this date to pay her back for the blowjob.
This nerd date, she reminded herself, not a date-date. Because they weren’t dating. Even though she was starting to catch herself wishing they were. Dating Eric for real would be impossible; they were too different, and even if he truly thought she was as beautiful as he claimed, he’d had plenty of experience with beautiful women before. She was nothing new.
But still, the wanting was there—the wish for a real relationship. It was dangerous, and she pushed it out of her mind before it could settle.
“You don’t have to pay me back for anything, you know,” she told Eric, interrupting the GPS’s description of Ursa Major.
He smiled over at her, but it looked a little forced. “I’m not,” he said, then put the car in gear. “Wait til you see what I’ve got planned next. You’re going to love it.”
She buckled her seatbelt back up, frowning as she glanced at the time on the dashboard. “Just how long is this nerd-date?” she asked. “We’re already hours from the city—are you going to be awake enough to drive back tonight?”
“We’re not driving back,” he said mysteriously, pulling out onto the main road.
Half an hour later, she saw what he meant. “Whoa,” she said, standing in the lobby of the most fantastic bed and breakfast she’d ever seen. It was decorated like an old-time night club, but everything was in black, white, and varying shades of gray. She felt like she was in an old movie—and then she recognized the piano and the bar, and realized that was exactly how she was supposed to feel. “Is this… Casablanca?” she asked in awe.
“Yep,” said Eric proudly. “This B&B is one of the best in the country, ranked at five stars. Every room’s décor is inspired by a different great love story.”
She spun in a circle, taking it all in. Holy moly—this place was incredible. “Which one is ours?”
“All of them.”
She stopped spinning and blinked at him. “What?”
“All of them,” he repeated. “I rented the whole place for the night. You want Romeo and Juliet? You got ‘em. Prefer Pride and Prejudice? Second room on the left.”
She gaped down the hall, unable to form words for a moment. Over the last few weeks, Eric had been simply Eric to her: a generous lover and tutor, sweet and funny, gentle and sexy. But at moments like these, she remembered that she was with Prince Eric, one of the country’s favorite royals, who had enough money and connections to rent an entire five-star B&B for the night with only a few days’ notice. And he’d done it all for her.
To pay you back for the blowjob, whispered a little voice inside her. She wanted to shut it up, but she was nothing if not rational, so she forced herself to consider whether that might truly be his only motivation. Because if it was, she couldn’t accept it. She’d given him pleasure the other day because she wanted to, because she’d wanted the experience and also just because she’d wanted to give him this gift, but if he viewed it as a pay-for-play situation she didn’t know if she could continue to learn from him.
She scanned him carefully, taking in all the details. He stood with his hands in his pockets, a pose that always made her want to lick him like a lollipop, but his normal grin looked a little uncertain, and he held his shoulders a bit stiffer than normal. He was uneasy. He was paying her back.
But then she remembered something she’d overheard yesterday from Anderson, who loved to gossip. He’d said that Eric had gotten in trouble with some members of Parliament for skipping a meeting with them after his plane had landed—because he’d chosen to be with her instead that day. And he hadn’t even truly had a reason to come to the lab right then. He had all the memos, all the updates already. He could easily have waited another day or two, but he’d blown off important senators because he’d wanted to see her more.
She remembered something he’d written in one of his first memos: were I attracted to you I might find excuses to be around you…I’d focus on you to the exclusion of other people around me who might merit my attention more.
A smile spread across her face. He might think he was paying her back with the stargazing and the B&B and the whole thoughtful nerd-date thing, but in reality, he was thrown off his game by the growing attraction between them. He felt it too, the way things had changed, the way the two of them together was suddenly all that was important in the world, and it scared him as much as it scared her. And somehow, that made her fear disappear completely.
She took his hand, smiling softly, a thrill running through her. Eric wanted her. He really did think she was beautiful, and amazing, and all those things he’d told her. He didn’t care that she was inexperienced, he didn’t think she was too serious or intense, he wasn’t scared off by her confidence in her professional life. The way he accepted her, the way he looked at her like he saw her—it was everything she’d never known she’d always wanted.
“Come with me,” she said, and opened the first door she came to. It was decorated in Renaissance-era paintings and furniture, romantic in its soft hues and artistic furniture. The lights were on a dimmer, and when she flicked them on, they cast the room in a warm golden glow.
“What are we doing?” Eric asked, trailing behind her.
She turned. She took his hands in hers, and looked him in the eyes. “I want you to make love to me,” she told him. “I want you to be my first time. Not as my tutor. As my lover.”
Stunned, his head tilted back. “Anna,” he said, his voice heavy with wanting and uncertainty. “I…Are you sure?”
“I know you were trying to pay me back with tonight,” she said, and when he started to shake his head she leveled a look at him. Sheepish, he shrugged. “But it’s not necessary,” she continued. “Because what we did in the lab the other day, I did that because I wanted to. And I enjoyed it too. But the truth is, it changed something between us, and you know it as well as I do. I want to explore whatever that thing is. Together.” Her newfound confidence faded suddenly, and she swallowed. “That is, if you want to.”
He lifted her hands and kissed the left, then the right. His lips lingered, brushing across her skin, making her shiver. “Anna,” he said, “There is nothing I want more.”
“You’ll have to take the lead,” she whispered, her eyes still on his mouth. She licked her own lips, which felt full and swollen with her need for him.
He stepped in close, pulled her neatly tucked-in shirt free, and slowly unbuttoned it. His fingers brushed against her stomach, her chest, her neck. When he undid the last button at the hollow of her throat, he dipped his head and kissed the spot, and she caught her breath. His hands wandered, finding her bra—lacy white this time, somehow perfect for tonight, which felt pure and new—and sliding torturously against her nipples. His hands went lower, to her flowing skirt. His fingers whispered across her waist, her thigh. He pulled the fabric up, slipped his hands beneath it, followed her thong around and down until he was cupping her ass. “So perfect,” he murmured, squeezing lightly.
Overwhelmed by her need to feel him on her, she tried to press herself against him to hurry him along, but he pushed her back against the bed’s footboard, caught her wrists and put her hands on the wood. “No,” he said, “this is special. I want it to be worth remembering. I want to take it slow.”
She didn’t want to take it slow. She wanted him inside her, right now, but when she tried to move he pinned her wrists against the bedpost again.
“Don’t make me g
o find the yarn,” he said, a twinkle in his eye, and she acquiesced.
His hands moved below her skirt to her ass again, cupping, squeezing—and then his fingers dipped lower, moving her panties aside and brushing against the spot that was already wet for him. She gasped and spread her legs wider, giving him access as he rubbed her, right there, traced his fingers across her and lightly dipped the tiniest bit inside. She moaned at the way it felt: just the right angle, just the right pressure, just the right feeling of naughtiness to drive her mad in the best way possible.
“You like that?” he said, dipping his head to sear her neck with a kiss.
“Yes.” She had to focus on the word, push it out.
He moved one hand, pushed her shirt open until her chest was bared to him, tugged the fabric of her bra down and suckled her. The bedpost creaked under her grip as his fingers kept rubbing her, teasing her, while his mouth worked at her nipple. “How about that?” he asked.
“God, Eric, yes. I…I need…”
“Tell me what you need.”
She shuddered all over at the feel of him. That was what she needed—him, all of him, right now. She moved her hands off the bedpost and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He cooperated, letting her tug it off, baring that gorgeous chest for her again. She ran a hand, and then her lips, across his griffin tattoo. She splayed a hand across his abs the way she’d wanted to ever since she saw him in the MRI machine, marveling at the dips and ridges. Then she unbuckled his pants. His cock was stiff already, just waiting for her, and she reached for his boxers.
He moved before she could, though, and pulled her shirt and bra the rest of the way off. He slid a hand to the back of her skirt, unzipped it and let it fall to the ground. Then he hooked a finger under her panties and they were gone too, and she stood naked before him.
He stepped back, giving her a long once-over. The awe-struck expression on his face when his eyes met hers again was like wine, intoxicating, addictive. She’d thought she would be shy when this moment finally came, but she’d never felt bolder in her life. She advanced on him and pulled his boxers off, her hands lingering as she pulled the fabric over his cock.
Eric groaned and then, fast as a flash, had her pinned to the wall, his lips hard on hers. She opened her mouth to him eagerly, lifted her knee so his length rubbed against her need. The friction was amazing, better than anything she could’ve dreamed of on her own. She lifted her other leg too, wrapped them both around Eric’s ass, ground herself against him. He groaned again and carried her to the bed. With one hand, he yanked his pants from the foot of the bed, dug in his pocket, and found a condom. He rolled it on with a quick movement and then they were exactly where she wanted them to be—her legs spread wide, more than ready for him as he hovered over her, his powerful biceps bunched from holding his weight, his heavy cock pressing at her entrance. She gasped and squirmed, desperate for him.
He hesitated. “Anna, sometimes…the first time, it might hurt.”
She shook her head. “I’ve ridden horses for years,” she whispered, her throat thick, her mind barely able to process speech. “It won’t hurt.”
Relief eased his features. He framed her face with one hand and kissed her. “Are you ready?” he asked, trembling with the strain of holding himself back.
“I want you inside me,” she answered, squirming against him again, “right now, Eric, right now. Do it.”
He finally moved then and his cock pressed against her folds, then slid into her. She exhaled sharply and then moaned at the sensation of fullness, at the way he eased into her inch by inch, at the feeling of being somehow compete and needing so much more, so much harder, so much faster. He went still, giving her a moment to accommodate his length. “Fuck, Anna,” he gasped, dropping his head, “you’re so wet, so tight, so perfect.” He reached down, found her clit, rubbed it between his fingers the way he had that day on the pool table. She wrapped her arms around him, held on tight, arching her back and impaling herself as deep as she could on his hard length, reveling in the feel of his cock and his fingers right where she wanted them.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes, this is it, this is exactly…exactly…” And then she couldn’t speak anymore, because he started moving inside her. He pulled nearly all the way out and then slid back in even deeper, moving one hand to her ass, lifting it to just the right angle as he plunged balls-deep into her again. He started moving faster, unable to help himself, whispering her name over and over as he took her. She dug her heels into the bed, mindless, needing more, and slung one leg over his ass again. There, right there, it was perfect. Her hands tightened on his back as his hand gripped her ass more roughly, holding her in place against him as his thrusts got harder, faster.
“Cum for me,” he ground out, watching her face as she bucked and moaned. “I want to see it. I want to see you cum on me.”
“Eric,” she shouted, pushing herself against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Yes! Eric, harder, oh God, harder—this is…I can’t…” Pressure built in her core and she shouted wordlessly, tensing all over, arching helplessly against him as she tightened and shuddered around his cock, pleasure breaking over her in waves that she rode out until she could barely breathe. And then he was shouting too, his pace becoming relentless as he pumped himself out inside her.
When it was over, he rested his head on the crook of her shoulder, and they just breathed. The world looked new to Anna; she felt new, remade together with Eric. And at that moment she knew without a doubt that this, exactly here, with this incredible man, was where she wanted she wanted to stay forever.
11
Eric woke up feeling like he was winning at life. Last night had been mind-blowing, and then afterwards, he and Anna had just sat and talked. That had never been something he’d been particularly keen to do after lovemaking before, but with Anna it had felt almost as intimate as the sex. He’d asked her about her vintage swearing habit, and she’d laughingly admitted that she’d always been impressed by “those badass women” who could curse like sailors but was too embarrassed to try many real curse words herself. He’d refused to accept that and had immediately given her a cursing tutorial, which she had passed with flying colors. Her newfound dirty mouth had left both of them turned on all over again, and after another session of amazing lovemaking, he’d been too wired to fall asleep. To repay him for the swearing lesson, Anna had decided to teach him how to relax properly before bed, and had dug through the B&B’s cupboards and dressers until she came up with ten different varieties of herbal tea for him to try and some brand-new flannel pajamas in his size. He decided he loved the surprisingly comfy pjs, hated chamomile, and actually enjoyed peppermint tea. They’d fallen asleep side by side near dawn, with Eric feeling closer to her than he’d ever felt to anyone.
Between his newfound maybe-relationship—the details had been fuzzy, but he was pretty sure last night had meant there was more between them than seduction lessons now—and how well the research was coming along, he felt like a million bucks today. He did wish the research would move a little more quickly, since they’d fallen a bit behind schedule lately, but that was small potatoes compared to how well everything else was going.
He was whistling as he walked into his breakfast meeting with Simon. His cousin looked up, surprised, then narrowed his eyes. “You look…” he started, a suspicious note in his voice.
“Devilishly handsome? Roguishly charming?” Eric supplied helpfully.
“…tired,” Simon finished.
“Well, that’s a letdown,” Eric commented, taking a seat.
“But still weirdly glow-y,” Simon went on, waving a hand at him vaguely. “You look like the cat that got the cream. What have you been up to?”
“None of your business,” Eric said with a wink, and Simon gave a longsuffering sigh and rolled his eyes. Eric pulled out his notepad. “So we’re doing a soft count for our support in Parliament today, right?” he asked. “Did you get the meeting set up?”
“Of course. We’re having lunch with two of the senators who are on the fence this afternoon. They’re senior members, so their support could potentially swing more votes our way from their junior fellows.”
“Great,” Eric said, and jotted down a note.
The door opened behind him and his mother swept in, looking regal as ever. “Have you seen this?” she said without prelude, and dropped a newspaper on the table in front of him.
“Good morning to you too, mother dearest,” he said, but foreboding filled him at the look on her face. He picked up the paper and scanned the page she’d given him. It was an article about his healthcare bill, and it wasn’t promising. It made it sound like the palace could do better and even got in a dig at Eric himself, saying he “spent all his time distracting the head researcher,” causing slower results. He grimaced—the basic facts were true, even if the reasoning wasn’t. Or at least, he was pretty sure it wasn’t. Sometimes research just got behind schedule, that was all.
But the quote at the end was damning. Apparently Anna had told the reporter that fun was what Eric did best, and the reporter surmised that Eric was still good for a good time but wasn’t the best horse to back for getting a bill through Parliament.
Eric tossed the paper onto the table, reeling. That day when Anna had asked him for rugby lessons, she said she’d gotten sucked into unexpected small talk at the gate. Had she accidentally gone to the gate that was reserved for the press and not realized she was actually talking to a reporter? He shook his head, his good mood evaporated. Now, instead of convincing the two senior Parliament members to support them today, Simon and Eric would be hard-pressed to do damage control.