by Kit Kyndall
“Really?” At her nod of confirmation, he leaned forward as far as he could so he could lift her onto his lap, and her arms went around his neck, anchoring him to her. He put his hands on the chair wheels and started pushing forward. He had no hesitation, and she didn’t seem to either. It was finally time, and his arms pumped furiously to cross the distance from the sitting room to his bedroom.
***
As she clung to him, Harper probed deeply in her emotions, ensuring she felt not even a spark of doubt about what she was undertaking. There was nothing there except excitement and contentment. She was definitely ready, and she had committed to seeing through what happened with Bennet, whether it completely destroyed her or made her whole.
He reached his room in what seemed like record time, and she slid off his lap onto the bed and rolled over so he could transition from the chair to the bed to join her. When he was on his back, she climbed on top of him, perched on his thighs for a moment as she grasped the hem of her T-shirt and peeled it up over her head before tossing it behind her without looking. Her bra followed a moment later, and his ragged exhalation was gratifying. He could still appreciate the sight he’d seen many times, though perhaps not from this vantage point.
“You’re absolutely beautiful.”
She trailed finger down his chest. “So are you.”
“I can’t wait to touch and taste you.” As he spoke, he reached for her hips to bring her closer. She didn’t need verbal instructions to know he wanted her to bend at the waist, and she did, which brought her nipple to his mouth. Harper balled her hands into fists as she leaned forward, pressing more into his mouth as he started to suck.
At first, his tongue was little more than a swipe occasionally making contact with her rigid nipple, and she squirmed in her need. She wanted more, but he denied her that for a long moment as he teased her with glancing licks that did nothing more than taunt. There was no satisfaction in it, but it was certainly enough to increase her desire.
When he finally sucked firmly on the breast again, his tongue swirling forcefully around her nipple, she cried out her pleasure and opened her palms to support her weight as weakness flooded her. It was the weakness of sensual surrender, and she was happy to give in to it. It didn’t diminish her in any way to acknowledge the effect he had on her.
He switched his attention to her other breast, repeating his teasing motions before finally giving her more of what she needed. She whimpered when his mouth moved away to settle in the valley between her breasts.
“Scoot up.” Those two words told her everything she needed to know, and she hurried to comply. She was trembling with excitement and need as she repositioned herself so that her knees rested at his sides, and his fingers could easily access the button and zipper of her shorts.
“You need to throw away all of these. Why don’t you get waistbands that are easy to get into?” he grumbled as he finally conquered her shorts and dragged them down to mid-thigh.
“I’ll definitely consider that.”
He cursed as he wrestled with the denim until he was so frustrated that he ripped it. It was still an impressive feat. It also left her without anything to wear on her lower half when she left his room later, but she’d worry about that at a different time.
There was ferocity in his movements when he cupped her buttocks and pulled her down to meet his mouth. She bit back a small shriek as she clutched the headboard while his mouth moved over her, roughly exploring her for a moment, as though he was in desperate need of what she had to offer.
She was sensitive, and it was almost too much, especially when he ran the broadside of his tongue firmly over her clit and down her slit, but before she could protest—or orgasm—his touch gentled, and he lightened his pressure. As he carefully and gently explored her with the tip of his tongue, as though she was something fragile and breakable, she arched against him and pressed downward, almost wishing he was as rough as he had been the moment before. His teasing strokes were too reminiscent of the way his tongue had moved over her breast before finally giving her enough stimulation, and she pressed against him harder, silently demanding more.
He complied, his tongue going firm again as he lashed her clit with strokes that should’ve hurt, but simply made her entire body tremble. Each flick of his tongue against her sensitive flesh was like a small electric shock, but far more pleasurable. It seemed like no time at all passed before she orgasmed, and his tongue stopped moving during the height of the onslaught.
Afterward, she sagged slightly and started to pull away, but his hands tightened on her buttocks, and he brought her flesh more firmly against his mouth. Once again, he feasted from her, his touch a combination of gentle and firm that alternated with no particular pattern that she could discern. She was simply at his mercy and almost felt like she endured two more orgasms before he finally allowed her to slip away and take a deep breath.
She slid off him and sagged against the bed, her shoulder against the headboard for support as she tried to breathe deeply. “Wow,” she managed to croak in a scratchy voice.
He seemed satisfied with himself as he gave her a Cheshire Cat smile. “There’s more where that came from.”
“Not right now.” She held up a hand. “I can’t take anymore.”
He frowned. “That bad?”
With a small laugh, she shook her head. “No, that good.” She licked her lips and darted her gaze to the hard bulge visible through his light linen pants. He must’ve dressed up for breakfast with his siblings, because he also wore a light button-down shirt. “I think it’s your turn.”
He didn’t argue as she moved over to him again, straddling him once more as she started unbuttoning the shirt that hid her view of his body. She wanted to be as slow and torturous with him as he had been with her, but she didn’t have the patience. In the end, she ended up ripping the last few buttons, and it was only as she heard the fabric tear that she thought about how much the shirt had probably cost and winced.
The thought quickly fled, and she lowered her head to trace her tongue around one of his nipples before sliding to the other, keeping her tongue out the entire time. He moaned and arched his back, and when her mouth drifted farther south, his hand clamped into her hair. She assumed he was anchoring himself, so it was a surprise when he gently tugged her head up instead of allowing her to dip her tongue under the waistband of his pants. She frowned at him. “Don’t you want…?”
He shook his head. “Later, but now I just want to be inside you.”
She couldn’t argue with that, and she was amused to find his pants as difficult to take off as hers had been for him. It must be something about the eagerness and excitement filling her, because they were otherwise easy to remove. Finally, her clumsy hands managed the task, and he was able to lift his hips to allow her to slide them down.
She inched down his body, removing his shoes and socks before tugging his trousers the rest of the way off and throwing them haphazardly across the room. Then she was sliding up his body again, positioning herself near his shaft. “Do you have any condoms?”
He nodded and gestured toward the nightstand. She leaned across to get one, making the head of his cock rub against her wet slit in the process, and they both groaned. It took every ounce of willpower she had to force herself to move backward to apply the condom instead of just pushing down and taking him inside her.
With gritted teeth, she managed to maintain control long enough to rip open the packet and enrobe his cock with the condom. His breath hissed between his teeth as she moved it over him, and when she finally had him wrapped up and ready, he let out a harsh cry as she aligned her opening and slowly sank down his thick length.
A cry of her own escaped her as he filled her, making her feel overly full for a moment, until she adjusted to his size. When she was seated fully on him, and he was buried as deeply inside her as he could go, she didn’t move for a moment.
She reached down to take his hands, and their gazes locked jus
t as much as their hands entwined before she started arching against him. She wanted to be slow and drawn out, but neither one of them had the patience for that. He’d clearly been waiting for this for a while, and despite the three orgasms she’d had, she was quickly ready for more.
Clinging to him, she thrust against him as he arched upward, and their gazes remained focused on each other throughout. His every contour was a point of stimulation, and her walls conformed perfectly to fit him. As he filled her before withdrawing, and then repeating the cycle again, she was certain they were made to fit together.
There seemed something fated about the match, though that was likely just the passion of the moment inspiring the fantastical thought. She didn’t believe in fate or karma, or any of that, but for the moment, she had a glimpse of it and could see why people did.
When he stiffened inside her, the first twitching of his shaft indicating he had found release, it triggered her own. She clung even tighter to him, afraid she was probably digging her nails into his flesh, but unable to stop in the throes of her climax. Instead, she could only buck against him as her sheath convulsed around him, drawing out the last bit of pleasure from him to heighten her own. Finally, as the world disintegrated around her before reforming with a bright flash, she collapsed against him.
She laid her head against his chest, conscious of them both breathing harshly, and his heartbeat racing against her ear. Surely, her pulse rate matched, but she couldn’t hear it with his thundering in her ear. Slowly, it faded to a more sedate level, as did hers, and their breathing was slow and deep again. Neither one of them moved nor spoke. There was no need for words in the moment, and no desire to break the bond between them.
Chapter Nine
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harper ran a hand through her hair as she asked the question that had been weighing on her mind. “You’re making good progress, and neural implants are an invasive procedure; not to mention still experimental.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “I’m sure this is what I want. And I’d like you to come with me.”
She blinked in surprise at the invitation. He was due to leave tomorrow for Geneva, and she had anticipated spending the time he was gone moping around without him, though she wouldn’t have admitted that to him. They had gotten close in the last three weeks, perhaps closer than was wise for her heart, and she’d hoped to use the time away from him to put some distance in her emotions as well.
She hovered on the brink of refusal until she saw the hurt appearing in his eyes. “Of course I’ll come with you, if that’s what you want. Just know that if I have any reservations, I intend to voice them.”
Bennet grinned at her. “I wouldn’t expect anything different from you, love.”
Her smile faltered for a moment, but she tried to push through the unexpected reaction to the endearment. It meant nothing. She’d heard him use it for other people as well, so she couldn’t allow herself to read anything into it. “What should I pack?”
“Geneva is temperate and warm, and their climate’s about like ours. I suggest packing summer clothing, and you can always pick up anything you might need while we’re in the country.”
She forced a cheerful smile. “I should go pack, since the flight leaves in the morning.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, she hurried from his room and made the trek back to hers in the servants’ quarters. She went straight to her closet and opened one of the suitcases to start packing. At first, she was automatically putting items inside, but quickly realized she was paying no attention.
It didn’t really matter, since most of the clothing she had brought with her to Montrovia was suitable for summer wear, but most of it was also casual for work. She would likely have to invest in a few things, at minimum, in Geneva. The prospect of shopping there should’ve excited her, but it only brought a faint stir of anticipation when she thought about it.
Instead, she was mostly anxious, and there was no mystery why. She was worried about Bennet, both his health during the experimental treatment, and his emotional well-being afterward if it didn’t work, or did nothing to advance his recovery.
He had worked hard over the intervening weeks, and he had made real progress, but she knew he was pinning his hopes on Dr. Rhodes’ treatment. Harper was afraid he imagined he would be walking by the end of the four weeks in Geneva. From her research, it wasn’t going to work that way, but he didn’t want to hear the reality.
While she had needed the time apart from him to distance herself, she was certain he needed her more to come along with him. He was bound to be shocked and disappointed, and he’d need someone to rely on. And if he was right, and the stem cell therapy and neural implants worked, he’d need someone with whom to celebrate.
As she finished zipping her suitcase, Harper lugged it into the room and left it by the bed so she wouldn’t forget it. Then she sat down as she realized where part of her anxiety originated from—the fear that he wouldn’t need her any longer. If his therapy was as successful as he hoped it would be, he’d have no reason for her. She wouldn’t want him to remain paralyzed just so she could hang around, but she wasn’t certain where his recovery left her.
If he didn’t need her, there was no reason she couldn’t return to her position at the VA hospital, and she wasn’t confident enough in the strength of their relationship to think he would ask her to stay if he didn’t need her physical therapy services. She doubted he would immediately kick her from his bed, but their relationship would surely fade into obscurity. Maybe not on her part, because she cared too much about him, but if he was free to resume a semblance of his old lifestyle, what were the odds that he would want to stay with her?
She sighed as she tried to shove aside the worries and got to her feet. She paced aimlessly around the suite, finding no reprieve from her thoughts. They made her feel selfish even thinking about the situation, but she couldn’t dismiss her concerns about her own future, as well as anxiety about Bennet’s upcoming procedure.
***
Of course they had traveled via private jet, and it had been even more luxurious than the one that had brought her from the United States to Stratta when she’d first accepted the job. There’d been a cadre of servants at their disposal, though it had been just her and Bennet as the passengers. There had been no privacy, and certainly no time to talk about anything important, so she had spent most of the flight napping or reading.
When they landed at the airport, she found the weather was pleasantly warm, and the summer suit she’d worn for travel—just about the only formal thing she brought with her—was the perfect weight. Instead of stairs, there was a ramp waiting for them, and she helped him negotiate the slightly steep angle by holding onto the handles of his chair to stabilize him.
He did most of the work though, which was something she found increasingly common. He was making great improvement even without this experimental procedure, and if it were even half as successful as he hoped, it would surely speed up his recovery astronomically.
They were soon at a car that waited for them, and she spotted reporters in the distance, along with the flash of their cameras. They were likely yelling questions, but were far enough back that she couldn’t hear if they were. She was thankful for the sunglasses that shielded her face as she waited by the car, helping Bennet transition inside before handing his wheelchair to the driver to stow in the trunk. When she slid inside behind him and closed the door, not waiting for the driver to do so, it was a relief. “I guess you must be used all the media attention, but it feels intrusive.”
He actually laughed. “That was pretty discreet, Harper. They were barely there at all compared to how they can be. Paparazzi are the worst, and they’re always in your face, but it is just part of life, I suppose.”
It was part of life for a playboy prince from a small, yet rich country, but it was completely foreign to a woman like her. It underscored once again the differences between her and Be
nnet. Locked in the microcosm of the palace, she could fool herself to believe they were roughly equal. There, it didn’t seem to matter that he was royalty, and she most certainly wasn’t.
Out in the real world was different, and she could feel it already. Perhaps she would need the time apart from him to grow more aloof. Surely, he would realize just how unsuitable she was when he faced the reality of the differences in their positions and social standing.
Or perhaps he wouldn’t give it a thought at all, because maybe he still regarded her as nothing more than a fling. She couldn’t torture herself with what-ifs, so she was going to have to ask him soon to have a frank conversation about their relationship and its future, if any. Now wasn’t the time though. He had to focus on the treatments ahead of him.
The car whisked them across the city, and she was impressed by its mix of modern and old-world architecture that left her feeling welcome. As an unexpected bonus, she got to practice her French with the driver, who quickly reminded her Geneva was in Romandy, the French-speaking part of Switzerland. Of course, Bennet spoke it fluently and flawlessly, while she was hesitating and stumbling over her words. If she hadn’t been such a mass of insecurity, she probably wouldn’t have worried about her mistakes, since it had been a few years before that she last had the opportunity to really use French, while taking a class in college.
Their hotel was as elegant as everything else had been, and she saw the United Nations building across the way. It was a lot to take in for someone who’d never had much opportunity to travel before, other than family vacations. Her parents had taken the entire family on a tour of Greece once, but that had been the extent of their European vacations.
While she gawked, the driver had driven past the main entrance of the hotel and around the side to the back. At first, she questioned why, but didn’t verbalize the inquiry. A moment later, he drew up in front of what was clearly a private entrance for VIPs, which shouldn’t have surprised her. Bennet would value his privacy, and he wouldn’t want people staring at him in his current state. She knew he was self-conscious about it.