Royal Scandal

by Marquita Valentine

  Her thighs tremble. Her voice becomes strained and, as I look up, her nipples turn into small hard cherries. Those are next, I silently promise myself.

  Della moans loudly, her knees giving way as she comes undone. Her cheeks flush pink, the color spreading down her neck and onto her chest.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, her words bouncing around the cavernous room and filling my ears.

  When her orgasm subsides, I stand and sweep her up in my arms. I carry her to the white rug in front of the fireplace and lay her in the middle. Her eyes are closed and her chest is heaving.

  I think she’s still reeling from the orgasm I gave her.

  “I need to get a condom, love.”

  She smiles. “I’ll be here waiting.”

  I nearly run across the room and dig through my pockets, procuring two condoms that I carried with me tonight, in the hopes that she would agree to take our relationship to the next level.

  Tossing the square packages beside her, I crawl up her body, relishing the feel of my cock against her soft skin. She leans up a little, her hands on my biceps as she urges me closer.

  Her mouth covers mine, our tongues tangling. The head of my dick drags against her wet curls and my body jolts in anticipation. With great effort, I blindly reach for one of the condoms and manage to snag it on the first try.

  I almost rip the fucking thing in two pieces before I roll it down the hard length of my erection.

  “So that’s what uncircumcised looks like,” Della says, her eyes dancing.

  “That a problem?” I grip my cock with one hand and guide it into her pussy.

  “No,” she says, and as I enter her tight, wet heat, her head falls back. “Yes…oh my…that is amazing.”

  My eyes water as I withdraw and thrust again. “Better than amazing.”

  She grips my shoulders, then her hands travel to my back so her nails can score my skin. “You’re so thick and long…and I swear you…”

  I sink balls deep inside her and hold still, not because I want her to have time to get used to me but because I’m already at the edge. “Fuck,” I whisper.

  Sweat appears on my brow with my effort to not move. Everything inside me is shouting at me to fuck her hard, take her now…but I don’t want to be done.

  This is Della. My wife. It’s our honeymoon and I want to make it so bloody good for her.

  She wriggles her hips. “Can you move because I’d really like it if you did. Unless this is a bad time for you. I can wait. Not really. You have to move, Colin.”

  I plant my elbows on either side of her, making sure I don’t put the entirety of my weight on her. “I’ll bloody well move when I want.”

  She pouts, something very un-Della-like. “But it feels so good when you move. If I promise to be a good girl and think of England, will you reconsider?”

  “Wrong country, vixen,” I chastise. “I want you to think of me, my cock, my tongue…every inch of my body that only wants to pleasure you.”

  Thrusting forward, I watch in satisfaction as she moans. I give her exactly what she wants, shallow, slow strokes.

  “You’re such a tease,” she complains, widening her thighs to get me to go deeper.

  All right, so it’s not exactly what she wants, but it’s what I’m giving her. “Eight and half inches not enough for you, love?”

  “Faster. Harder…I need you like that.”

  I fill her until I can’t go any further, then retreat and repeat, until I have no choice but to obey my body as it takes over. Or as it gives in to Della’s demands.

  With one hand I grip her hip and brace the other against the rug to keep us in one place as I pump inside her for all I’m worth.

  “Touch yourself,” I growl. “I want you to come on my cock.”

  She eagerly complies and her back arches. I capture a hard nipple in my mouth and scrape my teeth across it. While I had every intention of showing those beauties plenty of attention, I’m rather preoccupied with the feel of her pussy gripping me tight.

  Her inner muscles bear down on me, milking my cock as she calls out my name. My orgasm slams down my spine and makes my balls draw up close. I come in hard, hot spurts that leave me panting heavily.

  “Holy fuck, Della.” I roll to one side, taking her with me.

  The fire roars beside us and the antique rug tickles my skin. Della is silent, but it’s not uncomfortable—at least not to me.

  “My husband is freaking amazing at sex,” she says, turning her head to look at me. She kisses me softly. “What do you think?”

  “I think your husband is freaking amazing at sex, too.”

  Her eyes narrow playfully. “You—”

  “But your husband cannot compare to my wife. She is utterly divine.”

  “Oh.”

  “Shall I clean up now or continue to hold you?” I have no idea what her preferences are, but it is my duty to learn them.

  “Both.”

  “It’s physically impossible,” I say with a laugh.

  Her face turns adorably serious…and perfectly vulnerable. My heart turns in my chest. “In our fairy tale anything is possible.”

  Chapter 12

  Della

  I’ve always heard from Lola that morning afters are the worst, but from where I’m lying in Colin’s arms, I disagree. To be fair to her, she’s not big on cuddling or morning breath.

  But I’m so happy that I don’t care. Also, I sneaked a breath mint from my purse that I conveniently dropped beside my husband’s bed.

  Or is it our bed?

  Turning in his arms, I gaze around the room, at the enormous bed with intricately carved posts that rise almost to the triple tray ceiling that has more carvings with a mural painted in the middle of it all.

  I can only imagine what a pain in the tail they are to dust. Do they use an extension to reach all those nooks and crannies? Is that a bare butt on the mural in the center?

  Lifting my head slightly, I try to get a better look.

  Colin shifts, his lips kissing the back of my neck as his hands start to wander. “Morning, love.”

  “Morning.”

  He gets the cutest crease in between his eyes. “Are you sucking on a mint?”

  I blush. “Guilty.”

  His raises his brows a little. “Have any more?”

  I dive off the side of the bed, his hands coming to rest on my hips and gripping me tight so I don’t fall off. I rummage through my purse and locate my emergency breath mint stash. “Here you go.” I swing my arm back and he literally sucks the mint from my fingers, then hauls me back to him.

  “Cheers.”

  “You’re welcome,” I chirp, and the last of my mint melts away. “I’m guessing you didn’t think your wife was that weird.”

  “No, not my wife,” he says slowly. “But my best friend, Della—she’s mental. Wouldn’t come near her with a ten-foot pole.”

  “Yuck it up, Princey, but I can feel”—I wriggle my bare butt against his morning erection—“how much you like touching me, and although you are very, very impressive, you’re not ten feet.”

  He flips me on my back, a sexy, wicked smile on his face as he hovers over me. I gaze into his dark green eyes, notice the laugh lines that have recently started to form…This is my Colin. Mine. And my heart is totally lost to him.

  Privately, of course.

  “Shall I give you a demonstration of how far my pole can reach?” He wriggles his eyebrows at me for a moment, then lowers his head to kiss the tips of my breasts.

  I’m such a goner when he does that. It’s like he reads my mind and knows exactly where to touch me.

  “Suck harder. Use your teeth,” I order him.

  Or it could be because I don’t shut up during sex.

  “Have I told you how sexy you are when you order me about?” He peers at me from beneath his black lashes.

  “No.” I half expect him to ask if I did this with anyone else, but he doesn’t. He didn’t last night, either.
>
  “Well, you are.” He kisses the underside of each breast and then works his way south. My stomach quivers as he skims his mouth over it, then lower still where he parts me with his fingers. “You are so pretty here. All pink. Wet. Warm.”

  If he doesn’t stop talking like that, I’ll be pink from head to toe—redhead’s curse.

  “I wonder”—with another one of those wicked smiles, he dips his head and does something with his tongue that makes me tingle all over—“did you feel that?”

  “Yes.”

  He does it again and when my hips rise off the bed, he throws an arm over my abdomen to keep me pinned to the bed. “I take it that you like this. You’re being awfully quiet.”

  “That’s because…” He slides two fingers inside me and licks me with something hard. “Are you using the mint to help you out?” I ask when I can find my voice again.

  “It’s not I who is using the mint to my advantage.” He winks at me, then resumes making me buck against his mouth until I all but scream his name. “That didn’t take long.”

  I push him over, straddle his lap, and put my boobs right in his face. “I think it’s my turn to make you lose your mind.”

  He leans back on his arms, then twists suddenly to grab a condom from the box he placed on the nightstand last night. Handing it to me, he says, “Do your best.”

  I tear the package open with my teeth, then roll the condom down the length of him and give his cock a squeeze. He groans.

  “I always do my best.” I bite his ear and sink down on him, letting gravity do all the work. “Ooooh, that’s so good,” I moan as he fills me.

  He lightly slaps my ass and I gasp, my head falling back. He licks my neck, then nibbles at my sensitive pulse point at the base. “Looks like you’re the only one losing their mind.”

  “Don’t care,” I say as I start to ride him, my hips rolling. “Don’t care about anything but you inside me.”

  He grabs a fistful of hair and brings my head back. “The things you say.”

  “Want me to stop?”

  “Hell, no.” His voice is raspy with desire as his hips shoot up to meet mine. He goes so deep that I see stars—the good kind. “Don’t ever stop.”

  “I won’t.”

  —

  We don’t leave his bedroom for three days straight and there’s no need to. We have unseen staff bring us food and take our empty plates away when we’re done. Colin leaves everything outside his door on a cart much like the ones he has at his home in North Carolina.

  Not only that, he cleans up after both of us, declaring that he cannot have his wife working while she’s on holiday.

  “You mean honeymoon,” I say, wrapping myself in a thick blanket to sit in front of the fire and drink hot chocolate.

  “Naturally.” He joins me on the rug, naked as the day he was born and uncaring of the slight chill in the air, from where we opened a couple of windows to let fresh air into the room. “How would you feel about actually venturing outside?”

  I’m sore and my thighs tremble when I stand, but other than that, I’m blissfully happy and healthy. “How far outside?”

  “Not too far. I thought we could rest up tonight and set out tomorrow after breakfast.”

  “Like an adventure?”

  He nods. “That, and I’d like to show you a few of the places I loved as a boy.”

  Immediately, in my mind, I see a boy, with his dark hair and my gray eyes, a child who can never, ever happen for us.

  I suck in a breath, my hand going to my stomach. It feels like I’ve just been sucker punched underwater and can’t get to the surface fast enough.

  Quickly, I glance down at my mug, counting the number of hand-painted flowers. “I’d enjoy that.”

  “Sounds like it,” he quips, and I jerk my head up. He’s staring at me, concern all over his face. “If you’re too embarrassed to admit you need more time…”

  “That’s not it.”

  His brows crash together. “Then what is it?”

  I can answer honestly, or I can answer with an honesty that pertains to him and not me. “Ever since we decided to focus on us, you’re not thinking of your duties or exile…or anything else that stresses you out. I don’t want you to feel that way again when we only have a couple of days left before we go home.”

  He caresses my face. “I promise not to get too maudlin while I take you on a tour of my old stomping grounds.”

  “How can a girl say no to that,” I tease.

  “Thank you.” He kisses me softly and I swear I almost swoon from it; at least I can do that in public and not just in my head anymore. “May I ask one more favor?”

  “For half your kingdom, it’s a deal.” I wink at him, hoping that our years of friendship are more than enough for him to automatically assume I’m only kidding, because I don’t want that from him. I don’t want any of his money.

  I just want Colin, the man.

  “Now who’s got jokes?” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Would you mind terribly if I had dinner with Davies and his counsel?”

  “As in you alone?”

  He nods. “Yes. I would bring you but I think I’ve made my point by marrying you and don’t want to make things worse.”

  Made his point? My heart flips in the most awkward way. I shake it off. Colin didn’t say anything wrong. He’s been honest with me from the start as to why he asked me to marry him.

  “Sure,” I say cheerfully. “I bet Beaumont is a great substitute.”

  “Beaumont?”

  “I figure if you’re going to be busy, Beaumont can take me out on the town for dinner. I mean, how sad is it to eat alone in a castle?” I widen my eyes, like nothing is bothering me. I know it shouldn’t, but my stupid heart is severely bothered by his exclusion.

  “Whatever my wife wants,” he says, then pulls me to him and rests his chin on my head. “I promise to make it up to you tomorrow, love.”

  “By hiking all over creation?”

  “By showing you something very, very naughty.”

  Chapter 13

  Colin

  I feel like a complete ass for leaving Della on her own for dinner.

  However, I agreed to this meeting in order to smooth over the ruffled feathers due to my blatant disregard for their proverbial olive branch. Perhaps they have a point, but I won’t change course and I won’t divorce Della simply because Davies and his counsel are in a snit.

  I stare out the window, watching everyone going about their evening. Couples hold hands, mates are toasting one another, and shops have their doors propped open. The storefronts are charming and inviting, full of customers.

  This is what the Isle should look like. This is what my ancestors fought for—economic independence. It’s why Baroness Strange married a Sinclair and used their combined influence and income to stay the power of a mightier nation.

  A nation that was favored to win—not by warships or cannons, but by a contract that would make us toothless. A puppet nation with no say in how we live, how we do business…

  I crack a smile at my rather passionate view of my country’s history.

  But honestly, in 1763, the Isle was presented with a choice—rule by Britain or rule by her own queen. King George didn’t give a damn as long as he gained gold for his treasury.

  “Once we arrive, my second in command, Peter will be your escort. I’ve known him for years. He’s a good sort and you can trust him with your life. I will return to the castle to pick up the princess,” Beaumont says. “She will be under my watch.”

  “I’m not worried.” Reaching over the front seat, I squeeze his shoulder affectionately. “You’ve always taken great care of us.” Almost like a dad, but this is not the time or place to remark on that, and I have no idea what our driver will share with the media. While he is paid well, money is nothing compared to fame. And that bloody Walker is still out there, gathering information about us.

  “Here we are, sir.” Beaumont gets out first, followe
d by three more security guards. He opens my door and I get out, striding to the entrance. “Peter is here.”

  “Thank you.” With a slight incline of my head, I allow Peter to open the door for me.

  “We’re cleared to go, Your Highness,” Peter says.

  “Beaumont wouldn’t have allowed me out of the car if he thought otherwise.” I suppress a smile at the look of horror on the young man’s face.

  “I didn’t mean to imply that—”

  “No worries. I was only trying to break the ice,” I say, attempting to smooth things over with him.

  “Leave the ice alone,” he mutters under his breath.

  I don’t respond to that, mostly because I don’t want Beaumont to be cross with me for giving Peter a hard time like he is with Imogen at the moment. Old habits are rather hard to break and I’ve depended on Beaumont for so long that it’s second nature.

  But good God…my sister.

  What am I going to do with her? She attempts to defy him at every turn and he keeps reining her in, reminding her that she is no ordinary citizen and cannot do as she pleases.

  As Della says, Imogen will have to suck it up, buttercup.

  Peter motions for the staff to stand back. “This way, Prince Colin.”

  “Thank you. So good to see everyone tonight. I’m looking forward to dinner.”

  The staff smiles at me.

  Peter frowns, like he’s upset that I dared speak to the locals without clearing it with him first.

  “Beaumont allows me to speak to whomever I please, you know.” Actually Beaumont has fuck-all to do with what I say and Peter needs to know this as well.

  “Very good, sir.”

  “God help me,” I mutter.

  “Pardon?”

  I shake my head. “Continue on.”

  Peter takes me through a pair of double doors to a private room and I’m surprised to find that only Davies is at the dinner table.

  “Prime Minister.”

  He jumps to his feet and bows. “Your Highness.”

  I glance around the empty restaurant before sitting across from him. “I thought the Privy Council would be in attendance.”

  He sits as well. “There is no need to bother them with such inconsequential matters.”