“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a bra. Not outside of the bedroom, I mean,” he murmured, his tone husky, the voice unlike his.
“It’s like knowing I’m pregnant has changed everything,” she said on a sigh. “They’re really sensitive.”
“Oh, God. I love knowing that.”
She gulped when he cupped them together, then pressed his mouth to one exquisitely tender tip. His lips and tongue palpated the nub, not stopping until her nails were digging deeply into his scalp.
Letting out a shrill cry as the most bewildering sensations roared through her blood, she hoarsely spat, “Oh my God!”
His laughter was triumphant, damn him. He carried on. The vibrations of the laughter, his tongue so moist and wet, was doing things to her breasts that she’d never even known were possible.
How was he making her feel this…?
This…
This fucking amazing?!
She gulped and bit back a sharp scream as he sucked down hard, and like that, she unraveled. “Holy fuck!” she cried out, and the endless wail that escaped her lips came to an abrupt end when his hand came up to clamp over her mouth. She carried on though, moaning and mewling beneath his fingers as he continued tormenting her, until her eyes pricked with tears, until she had to push him away to dislodge his mouth from her tits.
“No more, no more!” she whimpered, her eyes dazed, her blood hot, and her body so overwrought she felt like she’d been electrocuted.
“I didn’t even know that was possible,” he said, his voice a low growl, his eyes on her bright red breasts. Her nipples looked like they were pulsing in response, and she whimpered at the fiery heat in his eyes. “Lift up your skirt,” he commanded, and the order within those words was so regal, she couldn’t stop herself from obeying.
Tugging up the silky fabric, she lodged it about her hips. He levered off the bed, then pulled her into his arms. Doing a two-step so that she was now against the bed and he was in front of her, she let him position her. Bending over at the waist, she pressed her elbows into the sheets and had a flashback to that first time they’d had together.
In this very room.
The very first night she’d been in Veronia.
God, had that been so long ago? And yet, so recent?
Her whole life had changed since then.
Feeling faintly overwhelmed, she pressed her forehead into the dustsheet and let him rearrange her as he wanted, his chest to her back. She whimpered at the sound of his fly opening, and whimpered again when, with very few preliminary moves, he pressed his cock to her sopping wet pussy and pushed in deep.
She gave a keening cry in response to his hardness thrusting into her. With a deep moan, she clenched the sheet in her teeth and bore down on it, finding a strange comfort in the pressure of the fabric against her tongue, its taste in her mouth. In some bizarre way, it grounded her, and God, she needed that.
His cock was so hot and hard inside her that she felt sure she’d come again the minute he moved. His hands were tight about her hips, the tips of his fingers digging deeply into the tender flesh there. One of his feet kicked at hers gently, and she widened her stance.
Like that was the passkey, he began to retreat, and the minute he did, the nerve endings he’d brought to life with his mouth on her nipples and his cock inside her raged to life.
She clamped down harder on the fabric in her mouth, needing it so she could stay quiet, needing it so she could maintain some semblance of control. But with each thrust of his cock into her cunt, each thick inch that filled her and rammed its way home, she was jerked against the bed, and her nipples were dragged along with it.
Each thrust triggered a bewildering agony that was the epitome of pleasure pain. She’d never known the like and wasn’t sure she wanted to ever again.
With each drag of the cotton against her chest, she wanted to scream. Eventually, she did. Her eyes pricked with tears and sobs escaped her as his lovemaking took her to a fever pitch. Took her so damn high, to a lofty altitude she’d never traversed.
He seemed to sense that, seemed to sense how out of control she was, because he bent over her, and she felt the press of his chilly buttons drag against her spine. Shuddering in response to his every move, each one seemingly born out of the need to drive her wild, she cried out when his teeth came to bear down on her shoulder.
And like that, she was a goner.
There was no coming back from it. No escaping what he made her feel. It roared through her blood like the ocean slamming into the shore. It wore at her reserves, blasted her nerves, and overwhelmed her senses until she wasn’t sure where she ended and he began.
Which was exactly how she wanted it. She never wanted that to change.
She was his, and he was hers.
That was how it should be.
As climax slammed through her like a ball hitting a home run, she felt rather than heard his groan. It was absorbed by her shoulder as he let it out in a long, deep exhale. His thrusts grew jerky as he, too, began to climax, and then deep inside her, she felt the slick, wet heat of his semen and finally knew peace.
Chapter Nine
“Edward?”
Blinking at the voice on the other end of the line, Edward murmured, “Hello, stranger. Long time no hear.”
“Who are you? My bloody mother?” Marcus Whitings’ tone was biting, but it stirred amusement nonetheless. “Only she whinges about my not calling her.”
“Jesus, I’d never want to be that battle-ax. Helena might have a face to start a war, but she has the personal arsenal to fight it, too.”
Marcus snorted, but didn’t argue. His mother had been one of the country’s most well-renowned beauties in her heyday, but she was hardcore lethal with a shotgun in her hand. Edward didn’t approve of hunting, but in his parents’ day, it had been par for the course. Helena held the title for bagging the most birds on a shoot at Grosvenor House, of all places.
Helena was also famous for having a collection of old shotguns that would make the experts on the Antiques Roadshow drool if they could catch a glimpse of it.
When Marcus didn’t say anything else, Edward frowned a little at the report in his hand. It told him that Drake had been too late to trap the sniper—but Veronia’s security services had been inches away from catching the bastard before he boarded a private jet with a false flight plan to Geneva.
Perry had argued in Drake’s favor, and Edward, because Drake had always done his duty by the family since the start of his career, had been lenient. And because Edward knew Drake’s love for his mother was deeper than anyone else knew, he was sure that Drake might be ineffective at the moment, but he wasn’t a traitor.
With one somewhere in their midst, that was pretty bloody important, but the head of security was running out of chances, as well as defenses.
His mouth tightened, and he realized he was stuck on the phone with Marcus who hadn’t spoken a damn word since the beginning of their conversation. “Sorry, Marcus. I’m a little preoccupied at the moment. Is something wrong?” he asked, knowing he’d meant to call his old friend and had, in fact, forgotten to do so.
“I just wanted to check in.”
“Check in about what?”
“Your wife almost got shot, Edward. I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.” For a second, he wondered if Marcus was unaware that Cass had been at the shooting, too, in her new capacity as Guardian of the Keys…then Marcus murmured, “Cass said it was a close thing.”
“I don’t want to think about how close,” he admitted. “We already lost a guard.”
“I heard. When’s the funeral?”
“Next week.”
“Why the delay?”
“Protocol.”
Marcus exhaled, and the sound whistled down the line. “God, I forgot how much a part of life that was back there. Not until Cass called the other night and was all protocol-this, and protocol-that. I don’t know how you stand it.”
Tension in Edw
ard’s shoulders made him wriggle them. “I don’t always. It drives Perry crazy.” He cleared his throat. “What’s wrong, Marcus? Do you want to know how Cass is faring as Guardian of the Keys? We’ve trebled Perry’s security, and as the two of them are now bosom pals, that means they’re both complaining about tripping over all their new guards. She should be safe. What happened the other day should never have…” He bit off a curse. “I’m sorry Cass was in that situation.”
A gruff laugh echoed. “You think I’m not sorry your wife was in that situation, too? More than that, that my Queen was in danger?”
“Nothing you can do.” For that matter, there was nothing Edward could do either. That was tearing at his mind. Ripping his self-worth to shreds. What kind of man couldn’t protect his woman?
No good kind of man, that’s who.
He reached up and ran a hand through his hair. Agitation made the motion jerky, and Edward, at that second, craved a few fingers of whiskey more than he wanted his next breath. But he, George, and Xavier were all drinking too much at the moment. The last thing they needed was for any of them to become alcoholics.
He rolled his eyes at the thought, but it hit too close to home. He could almost taste the damn whiskey, and the burn as it went down? Jesus, it would be heaven-sent at that moment.
“Did Cass tell you about what’s happened recently?” Marcus asked.
“She told Perry.”
Marcus blew out a breath. “Always the way. Women, when they get together, they don’t stop talking.”
Edward snorted. “Like that comes as a surprise. When don’t they talk?” He grabbed a pen and began to doodle on the report in front of him. “How are you doing, Marcus? Don’t bullshit me either. You’ve had a heart attack and you didn’t tell any of us.”
“It was a minor heart attack.”
“I think when they classify it that way, they’re not diminishing the fact you’ve had a heart attack, Marcus. They’re just saying the damage wasn’t as atrocious as it could have been.”
Silence fell. “Don’t start.”
That the words were gritted out between his friend’s teeth told Edward he’d hit a nerve. His lips curved into a cheerful smile. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Why do you think I didn’t tell you, Ed? Jesus, I have things I need to be doing. I don’t have time to be ill.”
For as second, Marcus’s arrogance flabbergasted him. Then, he just shook his head. “Usually, the human body gives in when someone has reached the end of their limits. Apparently, that’s you. You’re a fool, Marcus. I love you like a brother, even if we haven’t been as close of late, but you’re a twenty-four-carat chump. You’ve a wife who loves you, and you’ve children, man. Those kids need you.”
“They need their family’s pride restored too, Edward,” Marcus bit off. “Dammit, I won’t have them endure what I did. There’s just this one last deal I have to close, and when that’s done, I’ll come home.”
“And what if your heart gives out before then?”
Marcus sighed. “It won’t. I’ve been sleeping more, drinking less, and eating better. I was stupid before. I didn’t take care of myself. What happened was a reminder that I’m not a robot. That I need to rest as much as the next man.”
“How much is the next deal for?”
“Four million. That includes the bonus the bank will give me for spearheading it.”
Edward whistled. “That will go a long way to padding out the coffers, although if memory serves, Cass inherited eight mil…”
“That’s her money,” Marcus said stiffly. “With careful investment, I can double the four million and maybe buy back the family manor.”
“I know how much the place meant to you, Marcus, but don’t get it back at the expense of your family. Your kids are over here and they’re miserable. Cass isn’t happy either, although from what Perry’s told me, she likes her new position.” Even if it was damn dangerous. “Why aren’t you here with them?”
“I will be. Soon.”
“Soon isn’t near enough. You think this deal is the last one, but it won’t be. You’re not going to slow down until you’ve filled the family coffers again, but that onus doesn’t rest squarely on you.” Marcus’s family had lost everything in the last recession, which meant he was close to killing himself in an effort to restore their wealth.
“I’m the Marquise; of course it does. I don’t want Sebastien being left nothing but an empty title. The bastards that bought Jurise Manor won’t have it for long. You know what those rock stars are like. They buy those places because they want to live out in the country. Then, they get bored when they’ve dried out from their last rehab stint, and take off for pastures new. I could buy it back, raise my children where they should always have been raised.”
Blowing out a breath, Edward murmured, “I can’t say that I don’t understand, Marc. I do. Too well.” He didn’t say that he knew Marcus’s pride had been hurt. That would cut too close to the bone, but neither of them had to say it to know it was something they were both going through. “I-I just know you. You’ll earn the four million, but it won’t be enough. You’re running scared, and your heart’s already given up the goat once.”
“I’m not running scared,” Marcus immediately scoffed.
“Aren’t you? Sounds like it to me. You and Cass were always the couple who worked best together. What changed that?”
Marcus fell quiet, and Edward wasn’t sure if he was going to answer, until… “New York changed that. We grew apart.”
“Who’s fault’s that, then? I know Cass adores you. You can see it on her face—she’s fucking miserable without you. But she’s also as stubborn as you. Perry told me she threatened you with a divorce. That tells me how far apart you two have fallen. It’s not right, Marcus. It’s not. You two were made for each other.”
“I know we are,” he admitted quietly, gently. The words were almost silent, and whispered on a breath.
“Then what’s going on? There are banks here. You know that. They’d take you in a heartbeat.”
“Not with the resources of where I’m working.”
“When does the deal close?”
“In two weeks.”
Surprised, Edward halted his pen’s movements. “I didn’t realize it was so close.”
“Yeah. It’s been about eight months in the making.”
“Jesus.”
“I’m going to make four million on a personal setting, Ed. How much do you think the bank is going to make?” He exhaled roughly. “Even if I wanted to back out now, I couldn’t. I’m in too deep.”
“You make it sound like you’re in with the mob.”
“Organized crime comes in many shapes and sizes nowadays,” Marcus countered, not exactly reassuring Edward with his words. “Just because a corporation is nice and legit, has the shop front and the polished CEO, doesn’t mean they don’t have the firepower of Capone.”
As he processed that, Edward murmured, “You’re not inspiring me with confidence.”
“I don’t have to,” Marcus teased, his voice lighter now. “That’s not my job. Look, I don’t have to like what I’m doing to want the money it earns.”
Edward frowned. “What’s it involve, Marcus? You’re not in danger, are you?”
“You do realize you run the risk of sounding like an old woman?”
“I don’t care. We’ve barely spoken in the past year, and the first time we do, you’re talking about corporations and the mob. What the hell is that about?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, that’s just it. You should have. You obviously need to get it off your chest.”
“I don’t, Edward. We’re not doing anything illegal. I’m not worried about the deal. I’m worried about Cass.”
As he realized Marcus was telling the truth, that his friend’s main concerns centered around his wife, Edward let the topic go. “I told you, she’s as safe as she can be while fulfilling the role of G
uardian of the Keys.”
“I’m talking personally, Ed.” He let out a breath. “She lets the topic drop, then raises it again…”
“What topic?”
“You said it yourself. Divorce. She called last night and was talking about it. Said the shooting had made her question things.”
“I can believe it. Why wouldn’t it? She wasn’t harmed, but bullets can and do fly wild.”
“God, man, don’t make this any harder.”
“Why not? Like I told you before, the truth hurts.” Edward ceased his doodling. “Look, she’s hurting. Whether or not you two have fallen apart over the years, you’re better as a duet than a solo act. She’s missing you, and her new position at the castle… it’s hard work. She’s out of the scene, and life at court is never all that easy, is it?”
“Do you think she’ll be okay?”
“Until you get your act together?” he snorted. “I know Cass. She’ll be fine even if she is feeling a bit wobbly at the moment. I don’t know how long she’ll wait for you though. If I were you, I’d quit the minute that four million is in your bank account.”
“I’m two steps ahead of you on that score,” Marcus said, his tone mocking. “My letter of resignation is ready to print off as we speak.”
“Good. That mean I can expect you back here soon?”
He laughed, sounding a bit lighter-hearted than before. “Yes, that’s what it means.”
“Don’t think I won’t act on my threat, by the way.”
“Fuck off. I don’t want to be your equerry.”
“Think how neat it will all be. Cass as Perry’s head lady’s maid, you as my right-hand man.”
Marcus snorted. “Bullshit. You, Xavier, and George are far too close with each other for me to have a say. I’d prefer to work on my investments.”
“If you insist,” Edward said wryly. “Don’t be a stranger. Let me know how the deal goes on, and let me know when you’ll be back in town.”
“I will. Thanks, Ed. I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah, same here. I’m sorry. I’ve been…”
“Distant? Seems like you’ve been that way for a while. I didn’t get that much of a chance to get to know Perry—I barely got the go-ahead on the time off as it is. But from what Cass says, she’s perfect for you. I’m glad, Edward. If anyone deserves a bit of happiness, it’s you.”
Long Live Queen Perry: Contemporary Reverse Harem (Kingdom of Veronia Book 3) Page 18