“Good chérie,” he told her.
His thumb roughened on her, and her back arched.
His finger in her ass pushed deeper, filling her there, too. Its presence pushed down his fingers inside her channel, pressing them against her front wall. The sensation was so intense that it felt like he was holding her entire clit—the part that ran all the way inside of her—in his hand and gently squeezing it with pulses.
Her whole sex was sensitive, every rub filling her with pleasure, every pulse driving deeper.
Maxence whispered, “My finger is deep in your ass, all the way up to my fist.”
Dree moaned, every subtle movement a torture of pleasure.
He growled, “Next time, it’ll be my cock, and I’ll come in your ass. I’ll take every part of you because you belong to me. Every part of you, mine.”
Dree pushed back with her hands, trying to get him to be rougher, just a little bit more, to let her come.
He said, “I’ll make you like it. I’ll make you beg for it. I’ll make you love something hard in your ass.”
“I already do,” she whimpered.
A growl rumbled from his throat, and he crammed what must have been three fingers inside her, a fullness to the point of pain and his thumb on the nub outside, and in two rubs the white fire consumed her, a blaze from within and without.
She was flying, and Dree realized that he had lifted her in his arms, and she was face-down on the bed, legs dangling and toes just touching the floor. Her legs and ass cheeks were spread and open where Max’s hands had thrust inside her.
Oh, he was going to—
She tried to relax her asshole because he was going to rip her apart, but he slid deep inside her, slipping on her wetness and shoving against the tissues already swollen with release.
He grabbed a handful of her hair and shoved her face into the white duvet and mattress, the softness suffocating her.
Her own breath filled her mouth and lungs.
And again.
Colors flickered at the edge of Dree’s vision as he pounded into her, rubbing the overly sensitive strip inside, and blood roared in her ears as she tightened, her body straining for release again and air.
He slammed into her, a breach of herself and her soul.
The colors behind her closed eyes whirled and exploded, and her scream was lost in the bed’s feathers and silk.
His fist in her hair wrenched her head to the side.
Cold air hit her face, and Dree gulped oxygen and sweet life.
With his other hand, he grabbed her other shoulder, using her whole body, and euphoria blasted through her again, filling her soul and the universe until she disappeared.
Maxence’s breath rushing on the back of her neck was the first thing Dree felt as her mind rose out of the darkness, then his hands sliding off her shoulders, then his massive weight resting on her back.
Her cheek pressed against the silk of the duvet, and the lamp on the bedside table dazzled her vision.
His lips touched where her neck met her shoulder and then her temple, and he sighed.
He toppled off of Dree and collapsed beside her on the bed, bending the mattress toward him. His body was covered in their sweat. Beads rolled down the crevices between his abdominal ripples as he gasped air.
He stared at the thick, red velvet canopy above the bed, his hands clenching the thick silk of the comforter in his fists.
Dree was still panting. “You were so rough.”
He nodded, still not looking at her.
“Like an animal.”
He swallowed hard, his breath pumping the bellows of his body.
She pushed herself up on her elbows. “You scared me.”
Maxence squeezed his eyes shut and pressed one fist to his forehead.
Dree leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Do it again.”
His eyes flew open, and he turned his head to stare at her.
She smiled, and her smile turned into a laugh.
Maxence grabbed her elbow and rolled her over him and then underneath himself. “You’re all right?”
Dree cradled his cheek in her hand. “That was beyond anything I ever imagined, and I’m really sad about my lack of imagination right now. I need to imagine more of everything.”
His lips curved upward, and he scrutinized her face as if he thought she was messing with him. “I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”
She laughed and settled her arm around his shoulders. “But, maybe, ‘do it again’ tomorrow. I’m sore, man.”
Maxence laughed and kissed her temple. “Ma petite chérie, we have all the time in the world.”
He carried her to his shower—an enormous glassed-in affair of caramel marble—and washed her like she was his dirty plaything to clean, and then he held her in his arms for hours while they slept with their legs intertwined.
Dree opened her eyes.
Morning sunlight streamed in the window from a much higher angle than she had expected.
She snatched at her phone lying on the table beside the bed.
The numbers on the front began with a nine.
Dree flapped her arm across the bed. “Max, Max! Wake up! We overslept. Really a lot. We need to get up now!”
Maxence lay in the bed beside her, sprawled with one arm hanging off the edge where the monsters could totally have gotten it. He blinked, his dark eyelashes fluttering, and he squinted up at her. “It’s going to be a long day. The Sea Change Gala is tonight. That’ll run past midnight.”
Dree opened the project management app the palace used. “You have appointments starting in fifteen minutes. I didn’t think you had any meetings this early today, but somebody’s booked right now.”
Maxence stretched, his ridiculously long arms and legs taking over the entire, enormous bed. “They’ll wait.”
Dree scrambled out of bed and grabbed her dress from last night. “Geez, Max! I can’t be late! I’ll get fired!”
“Yeah, I hear your boss is a real jerk. If you’re late to the office, he’ll probably punish you. Probably a bare-bottom spanking.”
“There are policies in place. I have to check in when I start working.” Dree shoved her skirt down her thighs and inserted her toes into her shoes. “You can’t circumvent palace policies.”
“Yes, I can.” Maxence sat up on the other side of the bed and yawned, stretching one musclebound arm above his head.
Dree paused for a moment to watch his musculature roll under the skin of his arm and his back, rippling the black tattoo of destroyed angel wings inked there.
She didn’t like that someone had picked out that tattoo for him, a suggestion that he was a fallen angel, and so he was the Devil. Max had said his best friend had designed it for him, but that guy must not know Maxence at all. He liked things a little rough, sure, but he wasn’t sadistic. He wasn’t evil.
And maybe it was her baloney barometer, but even the passion that ran through him so strongly that it might destroy one or both of them felt like desperation to Dree.
She said, “I need to get ready for work.”
And she bolted out of his bedroom.
Dree finger-combed her hair back and trotted through the palace corridors, just another admin wearing business-formal and hurrying somewhere important.
Living in the palace felt like having a room in a combination apartment building and office complex, where the business was so important that people needed to live beneath the same roof as their jobs. Crowds of people wearing suits strolled through every corridor on their way to do something important, while liveried servants took care of the housekeeping.
Back in her dorm-sized room, Dree showered and slapped make-up on as quickly as she could, donning a dress of a similar dark color in case somebody had seen her hurrying back from Maxence’s apartment and questioned why she had changed clothes mid-morning. She managed to get to Maxence’s office by nine forty-five, where the receptionist sitting outside whispered, “His first appointment is a
lready in there. You need to take notes to deposit in the archives. His Highness would not allow anyone else in but you.”
Dree stood straighter and smoothed her skirt. Holding her computer tablet against her chest, she knocked and swept into Maxence’s office.
Inside, Maxence stood behind his desk, his arms braced on the desktop and leaning forward, his head down.
The man standing in front of Maxence turned, his long black cassock swishing as he moved. He tilted his head to the side, smiling a cherubic smile, but his cottony eyebrows rose at seeing Dree. “Miss Andrea Clark? What are you doing here?”
Father Moses held his two hands out in front of himself, palms up.
“Oh, my goodness! It’s so good to see you!” Dree crossed the room, slid her tablet onto Maxence’s desk, and took both of the old priest’s hands. “How are you? Is everything okay in Paris? Are you assigned here now?”
Father Moses glanced back at Maxence, who raised his head and looked at Dree. His dark eyes were weary, like a boxer who should have been pulled out of the ring two rounds ago.
Dree dropped her hands and looked between Father Moses and Maxence. “What’s going on?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Temptation
Maxence
The papal order was everything Maxence had been working toward for a decade, and yet he could not breathe.
His hands curled on his desk, blunt fingernails straining on the wood.
He had spent hours on his knees in front of that antique crucifix, begging for a sign that would direct him either to the priesthood or to the world and praying for a miracle. He’d interpreted the utter emptiness he’d felt as a signal he should embrace Dree and go out into the world to do his work, that the Church held no place for him.
And now?
And now.
Father Moses repeated to Dree what he had already informed Maxence of just moments before, the words Max once would have laid down his life to hear but now speared him to his soul.
The old Jesuit said in a voice that was gravelly with age but could sing in a clear baritone, “I come bearing good news. His Holiness, Pope Emeritus Celestine VI has relented and directed me to bring Maxence to Rome to receive Holy Orders as a presbyter immediately. He is to be ordained as a priest this afternoon by Pope Celestine, himself.”
A puff of air escaped Max’s lips, a wordless breath for what he could not express.
Father Moses said, “Isn’t this wonderful, Maxence? His Holiness has relented his orders that you are not to be ordained. He called me on the telephone last night himself and insisted I tell you in person and then immediately bring you to St. Peter’s Basilica for your ordination.”
Dree’s voice, tentative and rising at the end, asked, “Max?”
Father Moses continued, “You will be given the sacrament of Holy Orders and can immediately begin your tertianship in the Society of Jesus.” Father Moses turned to Dree. “Jesuits have the longest formation process of any of the orders. Since Maxence has served his novitiate and regency, and he’s already obtained a Doctorate in Theology, His Holiness felt it appropriate to commence upon his tertianship, the final stage of formation, immediately. In nine months, he can take his final vows as a Jesuit.” Father Moses turned back to Max, his dark eyes full of joy. “Welcome to the Society of Jesus, brother.”
Maxence sipped air, trying to pull oxygen into his lungs because his body was convulsing like he had been gut-punched.
Dree said, her soft voice beginning to strain with panic, “Max, shouldn’t you tell Father Moses what you decided?”
Father Moses said, “You might want to pack a few things, a toothbrush, perhaps. His Holiness assured me they would have vestments for the sacrament. After that, you can decide where to do your tertianship placement and retreat for the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises.” From the top of his vision, Max saw Father Moses’s black robe pivot toward Dree. “The Ignatian Spiritual Exercises are a month of silent, solitary contemplation.”
Dree’s voice was higher. “Max, they want to ordain you as a priest and then lock you up in solitary for a month. Say something.”
How could he speak when the world was crushing him?
She said, “Max, tell him what you said to me last night.”
Father Moses’s black robe rustled and moved. Max looked up slightly.
The old priest said, “My dear Brother Maxence, you have pursued your ordination and Jesuit vows for a decade.” He gestured with his hands at the business office, but his wide-open arms meant the entire palace. “I’ve never seen anyone give up so much in the service of Christ. We have worked side-by-side for years, Brother Maxence. You have poured your soul into ministry more than anyone I’ve ever seen. I worried that you would break your body with strain. I have seen you return from missions starving, literally starving yourself to death, because the people you were trying to help did not have enough food for themselves, let alone you. I have seen you take care of orphans, sleeping on the floor by their crib or bed to nurse them back to health for months. Majambu Milandu and Mpata Majambu are alive and growing to become beautiful children due to your care. I beg you, come to the Vatican with me now for your ordination, because I believed you when you said it was all you’ve ever dreamed of.”
Dree leaned across the desk and grabbed Max’s numb hand. “Max, I need to speak with you in private. I need to speak with you now.”
Maxence shook his head. “This is so sudden.”
“It is sudden. It’s too sudden,” she said to him. “I didn’t even know an ex-pope could make that kind of decision. What does the real pope, Pope Vincent, say?”
Maxence looked back at Father Moses, whose brows had lowered in confusion. “I didn’t ask what he was thinking because as a priest, I am obedient to the church and the Pope.”
Dree argued with him, “But Celestine VI is not the pope.”
Father Moses shook his head. “Celestine VI is still a cardinal in the Church. He can decide whether to ordain a man as a priest or not.”
“Max, you said that Pope Vincent is your friend. Why didn’t he make the decision?”
Maxence looked up into Father Moses’s eyes. “Celestine said he would never relent. What caused his change of heart?”
Father Moses scolded Max, as he had dozens of times before, “You need to stop questioning those with authority over you. You are being offered Holy Orders, your heart’s desire. His Holiness said you have an airplane at your disposal that can take us to Rome within hours. His Holiness said he would ordain you today. And so, my dear child Maxence, my brother who has served with me on some of the most desperate missions of my life and has offered his body and soul on the altar of God more times than I can count, come receive the sacrament of Holy Orders and become a priest of Christ because you are worthy of it.”
Maxence’s knees became frail rubber, and he sat heavily in his desk chair.
Father Moses continued, “I understand you succumbed to temptation in Paris, but this was an aberration. It was not the man I know, and you said she was an adult and consenting.”
To his credit, Father Moses didn’t look at Dree, but Maxence did. Her blue eyes were wide with horror and betrayal.
The pain of the traitor’s knife sliced through Maxence’s heart.
Dree cried, “But why does it have to be today? If Pope Celestine thinks Maxence is worthy of being a priest, why does it have to be now? Max, you aren’t finished here yet. Monaco needs you. You said you were a member of the royal family before you were a deacon and that it had to come first. You said in a few more days, you could call a Crown Council meeting to elect a new prince. When you do that, you would be done, and you could take Holy Orders with a clear conscience.” She turned to Father Moses. “How can the Church ask him to do this right now? He said Pope Vincent wouldn’t allow him to take Holy Orders because his loyalties were divided, and they still are. In a few days, they won’t be, and he can be a priest then.”
Father Moses stared Maxe
nce in his eyes, absolutely intent. “As an obedient man of Christ, you need to come with me now.”
Dree said to Max, “You have to call a session of the Council of Nobles and make sure Monaco is all right. You will never forgive yourself if you walk out on your responsibility to forty thousand Monegasque citizens because they are your people. What if Jules is elected? Would you allow Prince Jules to have that power over your people?”
“Enough,” Maxence said, his voice rough in his throat.
The room fell silent, but the quiet felt like a lull in the storm.
“Father Moses, my brother in Christ,” Maxence said. “I have responsibilities to the people of Monaco. There is—a situation here, where an evil man may be elected the Prince of Monaco. The world would be a worse place if it happened. Ms. Clark is right. My loyalties are divided. I must coordinate the election and elect the right person to be the next sovereign of Monaco.”
“Brother Maxence,” his emphasis on that was unmistakable, reminding Max of his vows and his years in the Church, “you are an ordained deacon of the Holy Church. If the Pope says come to Rome, you go to Rome.”
Maxence shook his head. “I know what it may cost me. If you report to His Holiness, tell him that I will make sure that everything is settled at the Sea Change Gala tonight, so that we may hold the election tomorrow morning. I can be in Rome tomorrow afternoon.”
Dree asked him, “So, you’re going?”
Maxence dropped his head and stared at the wood again, unable to meet her eyes.
Father Moses said, “You don’t keep popes waiting.”
“And yet, I have to. If His Holiness has a change of heart, inform me. It would be a waste of jet fuel to fly to Rome if there were no reason. Father Moses, you have the option of staying here in the palace guest quarters or at the convent in France with bonne sœur Disanka and bonne sœur Ndaya.”
Father Moses took a step back. “Why aren’t bonne sœur Disanka et bonne sœur Ndaya in Kinshasa?”
“Excellent question. It’s quite a coincidence they and my two goddaughters showed up, and then you arrived just a few days later.”
Prince: Royal Romantic Suspense (Billionaires in Disguise: Maxence Book 5) Page 24