For King and Country

by Geneva Lee

  “How’s Tuesday?” Mom asked.

  I blinked and clutched the phone tighter. “Tuesday?”

  “For our girls’ day?”

  I’d almost forgotten why she had called. “Sure.”

  The line stayed silent and I waited for a response. “Mom?”

  “I will see you on Tuesday,” she said finally. I didn’t think I imagined her voice breaking as she spoke.

  I said goodbye, still puzzled over her bizarre behavior. But I didn’t have long to think about it before Belle appeared breathless in my doorway.

  “There’s a Norris waiting for you downstairs?”

  “Personal security,” I told her as my stomach flipped over.

  “Hot,” she moaned, following me to the door.

  “Wish me luck?”

  “You don’t need luck.” She kissed my cheek, and I tried to believe her as I made my way toward the lift. As soon as I saw Norris, I realized today was one of those days that would forever divide my life. I wasn’t sure how I knew that exactly, but I saw the dividing line clearly. When I looked back on my life, every moment up to this one would be before Alexander. How long would it be until every future moment became after Alexander?

  No regrets, I decided. My life was already divided, and after today I would be able to say I’d done it—gone wild and bedded someone way out of my league. Wasn’t it what Belle was always saying I needed? It would be worse to always wonder what it would have been like—what he was like.

  I pushed the doubts out of my head as Norris bowed slightly to me, extending his arm and leading me into the unknown.

  I hadn’t been able to appreciate Alexander’s private car the other night, which I suspected had something to do with his presence in it. But since he wasn’t waiting in the back seat for me, I had plenty of time to explore it now. I’d always found Rolls Royces to be thoroughly sexy and British, and this one was outfitted with privacy glass that I suspected was also bulletproof. Between the security and size of the car, I was already imagining him taking me in the backseat. My hand reached toward the leather seat cushion as though it was searching for him and the release I’d needed since our first meeting.

  But I was all alone, and it felt a bit snobby to have the glass up between Norris and me, so I pressed the button to lower it.

  “Is it alright if I put this down?” I asked.

  “Whatever you wish, Miss Bishop.”

  Of course. The British were always so damn polite that it was impossible to tell what they really wanted. It drove my American half a little crazy.

  “It’s strange,” I said, thinking out loud, “I didn’t think it was common for the royal family to use drivers.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to suck them back down. Alexander had already explained that Norris was more than his driver. He was his personal security guard who also drove his car. I wasn’t certain why he required near constant personal security, and I guessed that Norris wasn’t likely to tell me. That’s why Alexander trusted him.

  “His Highness does not enjoy driving.”

  I nodded as though this was perfectly reasonable, but, of course, it wasn’t. I’d spent my formative years in America, where I’d learned that a guy’s car was almost as important an extension of him as his dick. I supposed that might be different in England, but I suspected things weren’t that different. And this car with its sleek silver body and luxurious interior suggested that I was right.

  “I would think he’d like to drive this,” I said, feeling obligated to keep the conversation going now. I wished that I hadn’t opened the divider, but if I closed it, I actually deserved to feel like a snot.

  “He appreciates his car and trusts me to drive it.” Norris’s response was simple, and there was only a hint of double entendre to it, but the clue was there all the same. I was suddenly glad that I hadn’t bit my tongue. If I had, I might have asked Alexander about it at some point. Now I knew not to.

  “Thank you,” I said with meaning. Norris must have known he was giving me the information I needed even though he hadn’t said much.

  “Of course, Miss Bishop. I’m happy to drive for Alexander.”

  He was professional, that was for sure. No wonder Alexander trusted him.

  We’d barely been in the car ten minutes when Norris pulled up to a set of private gates near the heart of Westminster that opened to us at once. I swallowed, my nerves getting the better of me, as he drove forward into what looked like a very exclusive parking garage. This wasn’t an American parking garage though, which were usually monstrous in size and structure. Here there were less than ten spaces, most of which were empty, and the entrance made it clear this was a bit more than a permit-only garage. Where were we exactly?

  Norris opened my door to help me out and led me toward an elevator that dinged as we approached. My breath caught as the doors opened, revealing Alexander. He wore a three-piece suit in charcoal gray that was tailored to precisely fit his chiseled body. He looked good enough to eat, and I was ready for my taste.

  “Clara.” He held out his hand. There was no hesitation in his gesture, although I saw it for what it was: an offering. By placing my hand in his, I was accepting whatever happened next between us. I could still run, but I knew I couldn’t do that, and from the smug grin plucking at the corners of his perfect mouth, Alexander knew it, too.

  I took his hand without a backwards glance. The elevator doors slid shut behind us, snapping me back to the present moment and I whirled around, letting go of him.

  “Is something wrong?” Alexander asked, concern in his voice.

  “I should have said thank you to Norris. It was rude of me.”

  The smile playing across his mouth broke through. “I’m sure the salary I pay him makes up for any perceived impoliteness on your part.”

  “It was still rude,” I said, a frown tugging on my lips. “Please give him my apologies for my behavior as well as my thanks.”

  Alexander’s head tilted, a funny look replacing the amused one, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “I thought perhaps you’d come to your senses.”

  My body responded to the rasp in his voice, blocking my ability to appreciate Alexander’s warning. “Have you come to yours?”

  “You’re not the dangerous one.” He stepped closer to me, and I drew in a sharp breath of anticipation.

  “Maybe I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” I answered, not missing a beat.

  “I guess I’ll have to strip you and find out,” he growled, and I had no doubt what I’d find when I finally rid him of his clothes. There was no lamb lurking under Alexander’s savage sensuality.

  “Where are we?” I asked, eager to have something else to talk about. The air crackled between us, distracting me with thoughts of Alexander’s lips on me. We both knew why I was here, but I wanted to play it cool as long as possible. Although I suspected Alexander knew he was getting to me.

  “The Westminster Royal,” he told me.

  “Swanky hotel,” I murmured. It was the sort of place where movie stars stayed when they filmed in London, and judging from the exclusivity of the parking garage, they did so for security reasons.

  “They appreciate their guests’ privacy, which is something I appreciate.”

  “Do you check in under a false identity and leave under the cover of night?” I asked.

  He laughed at this. “It’s not quite so clandestine as that. Although most of the staff only knows me as Mr. X.”

  “Does that make me Mrs. X for the day?” I asked, then realized what I had said. I covered my mouth in horror.

  “I rather like the sound of that,” he purred. His head cocked, drinking me in. “Mrs. X. She sounds rather wicked.”

  I licked my lips, surprised to find myself nodding.

  “Are you okay with that?” he asked. “With this arrangement, I mean.”

  “I hadn’t expected...” I let the thought trail away.

  “A hotel?” he guessed.

  “Yes
.” I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. I was too awed by his presence, too overwhelmed that I was standing in a private elevator with this god in a three-piece suit who wanted me. And if I was being honest, too nervous that I was heading up to a hotel room with a man I hardly knew.

  Alexander moved closer to me, his hand cupping my jaw and raising my face so that I was forced to look up at him. “I wanted to be certain that no one found out about this.”

  His words sucked the air from my lungs like a punch in the gut, and I pulled away from his grasp, wondering what would happen if I hit the red button on the elevator panel. Considering that the heir to the throne was in the lift with me, I imagined SIS might be involved. Scotland Yard at the very least.

  “What is it?” Alexander asked, stepping close enough that his body pressed against me. “Why are you looking like I’ve got you in a corner?”

  “I have a little self-respect, you know,” I snapped, turning to face him. I tried to ignore the magnetic pull of his body as my breasts brushed against him. But they betrayed me, beading tightly and obviously through my lace bra and thin cotton sundress. “If you’re worried about being seen with me, perhaps it’s best that you let me off.”

  “I can’t,” he said.

  I stepped back, breaking the contact between us, and crossed my arms over my chest, hoping he hadn’t seen the way my body reacted to his. “Try.”

  “This lift only goes to the Presidential Suite. I can’t let you off until we reach it, but...” He reached over and pressed the red button that had been tempting me before and we came to a sudden stop, jolting me against him. “I think you’ve misunderstood me, and I’m not interested in taking a woman to bed who thinks I’m a liar.”

  I swallowed hard on this statement. “Then explain it to me.”

  “With pleasure.” He wet the bottom of his lip and loosened his tie. “I was under the impression you wanted the paparazzi to leave you alone.”

  He left this statement hanging in the air as though it were a question, so I shrugged, not willing to commit to anything until I heard everything he had to say.

  “I wanted to respect your desire for privacy,” he said. “By now, you’ll have done your research on me.”

  Another unasked question, so I nodded.

  “Reporters love to take photos of me with women and speculate on our relationships. Old friends become new flames. Waitresses become flings.”

  “So you didn’t sleep with all those women?” I asked.

  His mouth twitched as he shrugged. “Not all of them.”

  “Lovely.”

  “I believe you told me that you weren’t a hapless virgin,” he reminded me. His body shifted closer, backing me against the elevator as he pressed his hands to the wall, caging my body as he surveyed me like a panther preparing to pounce. “I assume we can be open about our sex lives.”

  “We can,” I said, setting my jaw firmly.

  “Good, because I want you to be open with me, Clara. I’ll have you either way, but you’ll enjoy it more if you aren’t busy thinking I’m a dick.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at this.

  “A smile,” he said. “Now that’s lovely. I wonder if I’ll see that after you come when you’re still full of me.”

  There was a dark undertone to his words and I shivered in expectation. I imagined I would smile and possibly cry. He struck me as the type that might produce both emotions equally.

  “So are we agreed?” he asked.

  “To share our sex lives?”

  “I need to know the women I sleep with are discreet. That they use good...judgment.”

  I rolled my eyes at this. Hadn’t he been the one flitting about town with a new woman every night? “I’ve been with one guy. My college boyfriend. And I’m on The Pill.”

  I didn’t feel the need to go into further details about Daniel. It wouldn’t do anything for our relationship to reveal the uglier bits of my past. I’d made the mistake of sharing too much of myself with Daniel, and he’d used it against me. What would a man like Alexander do with such information? A man trained to be a political leader? A man who met a woman he barely knew at a hotel to fuck her? He obviously had flexible morals. I just didn’t want to test how flexible they were.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “More than one,” he said simply. “I’m always cautious, and I can assure you that I’m clean.”

  I frowned at this, not only because of the implication but also because of his non-answer. “And that’s important because?”

  “I felt it should be addressed before I took you to bed, and because I don’t think I can wait until we reach the suite.” He stepped closer, pushing me harder against the mirrored wall of the lift, and I felt his cock pressing into my belly. The caution I’d felt moments before disappeared entirely in favor of the feeling of his hands as he tugged down the straps of my sundress. He caught sight of the lingerie and a growl rumbled in his throat. “Your breasts are more perfect than I’d imagined.”

  I melted at his words, desiring pooling low in my belly, and leaking between my legs. But the sensible side of me peeked out. “Should we do this in the elevator?”

  Alexander flashed me a wicked smile, brushing a finger across my lips. “Oh poppet, I know what’s worrying you. You’re worried that I’ll get my quick fuck in the elevator.”

  “I don’t want you to get bored with me before you even get me to the room,” I said with a shrug.

  “That won’t be a problem,” he said, his finger dropping lower, trailing along my collarbone and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Your body was made to fuck, Clara. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  I shook my head, my mouth too dry to answer him.

  “It is,” he continued. “I find it very inspiring. I don’t know if there are enough flat surfaces to ride you on in the suite. But if it would make you feel better—” his hand pushed up my skirt then dipped below the band of my thong, seeking its way lower until it found its prize “—we can wait and go upstairs.”

  My eyes clenched shut as his finger manipulated my clit with expert strokes. “We should...”

  But I couldn’t even force the rational thought out of my mouth. I couldn’t think clearly with him pressed against me, with his hand touching me like that. Hell, I couldn’t think clearly with him in the same room as me.

  “Perhaps I can offer a better solution,” he said, his breath hot against my neck as his fingers continued to knead. “I need to taste your sweet cunt, Clara. I’ve been thinking about it for days. Will you let me do that?”

  I moaned a yes. Alexander didn’t wait for more encouragement. His fingers caught the waistband of my panties and ripped them away. Somewhere deep down, the price tag associated with the underwear flashed through my mind, and I realized I would buy a hundred more pairs if it meant he would rip them all off me.

  Alexander dropped to his knees and urged my legs apart. “Spread wider,” he ordered, and I widened my stance. “Beautiful.”

  His hands stroked along my thighs up toward my seam, and when he reached it, he spread it wide and studied it for a moment, a look of appreciation on his face, before his fingers found my cleft. My eyes snapped back shut as he pushed two fingers inside of me.

  “Are you always this wet?” he asked.

  I shook my head again. I wasn’t this wet in a bathtub.

  “Do I do this to you?” he asked, fucking me slowly with his fingers.

  I nodded.

  “Say it, Clara.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what? What do I do to you?”

  “You make me wet,” I moaned.

  “Good girl,” he murmured with approval. He continued to tease me with his fingers for a few seconds and then the warm rasp of his tongue sent a series of shivers trembling through my body. He licked across my sensitive bud leisurely. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth as his fingers continued to plunge into me. I began to shake as I neared the edge.

&
nbsp; He pulled away. “Not until I say, poppet.”

  I whimpered at the command but felt helpless to resist him.

  Then his mouth was back on me, tonguing me with quick, circular motions punctuated with bursts of suction. I grabbed the rail behind me, trying to keep my orgasm at bay even as it bubbled toward release. I cried out half pleasure, half plea as he began to fuck me harder with his fingers.

  “Come,” he commanded, and I unraveled around him, shattering to pieces that melted back together only to shatter once more as a new wave of intensity rolled through me. When only the after-tremors remained, Alexander withdrew his hand. But he continued to suck gently on my clit until I wasn’t sure I could take anymore. My thighs clamped protectively against his head, but he continued his oral machinations on my swollen, sensitive cleft. It felt impossible but my body responded immediately, building toward another orgasm, but before I reached the peak, he pulled away, hitting the red button on the elevator control panel as he stood up.

  “Now you’re ready for me to fuck you,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.

  “Yes,” I whimpered, barely able to stand.

  All he did was smirk.

  The elevator doors slid open, and Alexander stepped into the suite, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it over a silk sofa in one fluid movement. I followed him, still weak-kneed and tongue-tied from his attention in the lift. The surroundings were as impressive as I expected though. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Thames River with Big Ben sitting catty-corner to the suite. From up here, the traffic below looked more like a child’s play set, but London still buzzed with energy. Across the river, the Eye spun cautiously, a seeming contradiction to the old world stylings of the buildings surrounding it. That’s what I loved about London—the old and the new clashing one moment and merging into something organic the next. Few cities in the world had managed to maintain their history while innovating the way this one had, and everything about this place seemed different from this vantage point. Pressing my hand to the glass, I couldn’t help but feel dizzy. I was in a whole new world—in more ways than one.