Wicked Queen

by Geneva Lee

  Chapter 15

  Alexander

  “Aren’t you ever coming to bed?”

  I looked up to discover night had fallen and that I was sitting in a nearly dark room. There were papers in my hands that I’d been staring at for hours without seeing. Clara stood in the doorway, light silhouetting her from the waiting area. She was an angel sent to save me from my demons, but I wasn’t certain I deserved redemption.

  We’d taken a step in the right direction the other day, but where our relationship was concerned we often started sprinting before we were near the finish line. I couldn’t bear to lose any more. I needed this to be right. I needed us to be right. The truth was, all was not forgiven, and it was up to me to atone for what I’d done. She needed to trust me and I needed to give her enough space to see that she could. “Do you want me to?”

  “I thought you might last night,” she admitted. She moved into the office, revealing she’d come down here in only a dressing gown. Its soft pink silk fluttered around her, caressing her curves in a way that made me jealous. “Of course, with everything going on, I understood why you didn’t.”

  I’d filled her in on the details regarding Oliver Jacobson. In the past, I’d made the mistake of keeping things like that from her. Even now, I wondered if I’d made the right decision. Clara had enough stress to deal with between the baby and my sister moving into our home, but these things had a way of coming out. This morning, I’d woken to my sister gracing every gossip rag in the country and Jacobson’s face headlining every legitimate news source.

  Clara circled round my desk and leaned against it. Her hair was damp from the bath and faint traces of rose clung to her skin. My self-control slipped and I reached for her hips, drawing her body along the edge of the desk until she was in front of me. I wanted to bury myself in her and forget the last few days. I settled for resting my head on her stomach, listening to the miracle she guarded for us.

  “I wasn’t sure if you were ready for me to come back to your bed,” I said in a low voice.

  “Our bed,” she corrected me, her fingers brushing through my hair. “First, I was sleeping somewhere else. Now you’ve been sleeping in your office. It’s our bed for a reason, X.”

  “I should earn it.”

  “What?” she asked softly.

  “My place beside you. In our bed. In our life.” There were a million reasons I should stay here. I wanted her to go away from London and from me. To somewhere these twisted games couldn’t touch her—and I couldn’t hurt her.

  “Earn? You earn trust. You earn respect.” Her hand cupped my chin and urged me to look up. “Love isn’t something you earn, X. My heart is a gift, and I gave it to you. You carry my heart inside you and I carry yours.”

  “You’ve done a better job of protecting mine,” I whispered, drawing away from her as though breaking physical contact might help me resist the truth in her words.

  “Stop punishing yourself for the past and be with me. We have to start somewhere.” She held out a hand. It was an offering. Taking it was a beginning. It was up to us where we went from here.

  I followed her to our rooms, promising myself I wouldn’t push her too far. I wouldn’t take more than she’d given. As soon as we were inside our bedroom, she headed to the bathroom, slipping off her robe as she went. She hung it on a hook and began her nightly routine. I watched her going through a handful of ordinary habits— brushing teeth, washing her face—the whole time falling more in love with her. When she was finished, she walked into the bedroom and gave me a funny look. “Aren’t you going to get undressed?”

  “I didn’t want to presume.” In fact, I did want to presume. I wanted to strip down and carry her to bed.

  “Are you going to sleep in your suit?” Her eyebrow arched as she called my attention to the obvious. She moved to the bed, gliding past me in her slip of a nightgown. As she drew down the coverlets, I forced myself to the closet. Hanging my suit jacket, I considered the ridiculousness of the situation. She was my wife, I reminded myself as I unknotted my tie and tossed it on the bureau. This was our bed. I slipped my belt off, my thoughts drifting to how she would react to it now. An image of her flawless bottom covered in red stripes floated to mind and I shook it loose, but not before my cock showed a little interest. Was she ready for that? Not now. And that wasn’t what this was about—it was about going to bed with her. We’d been there before. Multiple times a day, if I could help it. Even sleeping next to her was a luxury, but I couldn’t stop planning what I would do to her once I got there.

  Anxiety fed those fantasies in a way it never had before, because I finally understood what I had to lose. She’d given all of herself to me, even the parts she’d once protected, and I had shown her the darkness I tried to deny.

  She winced as she sat on the edge of the bed and the sight squeezed my heart. “Are you okay? Is it…?”

  “Down, boy,” she said with a giggle. “My back hurts. In case, you haven’t noticed I’m lugging a few extra pounds around.”

  It was a relief, but I needed to check on her. “It’s my responsibility to ask, Poppet, but let’s see what I can do. Where is it bothering you?”

  Her hand reached to the small of her back. I placed my palm there, applying gentle pressure and began to massage circles against her tight muscles. A moan spilled from her, filling the room.

  “I don’t think you’ve ever made that sound before,” I said dryly. I adjusted my pants with my other hand, my cock having gotten the wrong impression about what was happening.

  “Clearly, you’re doing it wrong,” she murmured, continuing to groan with pleasure.

  My self-control was slipping away with each noise she made, but I wanted to do this for her —to be what she needed in other ways. Still, I couldn’t help but press my lips to the freckles dusting her shoulders. My mouth drew the strap of her nightgown down so I could continue to worship her.

  “That feels so good,” she murmured, leaning into me.

  “Is anywhere else feeling tight?”

  She angled her face so our eyes met over her shoulder. “Getting ideas, X?”

  “Poppet, I always have ideas.” With effort I pushed off the bed and knelt before her. Taking her right foot into my hands, I massaged it gently. “What about these?”

  “Don’t stop,” she begged.

  “Every night for the rest of your life,” I promised, kissing her knee cap.

  “I think I’ll settle for every night I’m pregnant.” She laughed softly and the sound of it settled on my chest like a warm light.

  “Like I said, every night for the rest of your life,” I teased. “In case you haven’t noticed, making babies is one avenue we don’t need to perfect.”

  Her smile faded a little, and I realized I’d overstepped. There were so many unsettled issues between us. Every moment with her I saw our future together more clearly but it was a mistake to assume she felt the same. “You probably don’t enjoy being pregnant as much as I enjoy it.”

  “It is a little easier for you.” She sighed as I started on the next foot. “There’s just…”

  “Yes?” I prompted.

  “Nothing,” she murmured. “You don’t have to keep doing that. You’ll turn me into jelly.”

  “I think I’d have to do rub a little more to do that.” I didn’t keep the suggestiveness from my voice. Continuing the foot massage, I began to kiss her upper legs. “There’s something I need to do.”

  “Hmmmm?” She mumbled dreamily as I reached the soft skin of her inner thigh.

  I breathed in her lovely almond scent before tearing myself away. “I need to check your bottom.”

  “Oh!” She sounded startled by the course correction. “Why?”

  “Part of my responsibility. That was intense and…” I didn’t want to overload her with information. It was best to teach her slowly.

  “Should I?” She motioned with her hand and I nodded.

  Clara stood and turned, raising her nightgown and put
ting me face to face with her rear. I sucked in a deep breath as I took in the purple bruise decorating her left cheek. Above me, she strained to see as I traced it with cautious fingers.

  “Does it hurt?” I asked, torn between fear and elation.

  She shook her head. “Not really. I have a lot of padding there.”

  The joke was meant to lighten the mood but it only reminded me of how perfect she was and how much I enjoyed spanking her. Silence stretched between us as I marveled at my work. It should feel wrong to take pride in it. It didn’t. I should hate myself. I couldn’t.

  “X?” she called to me with the delicacy of a lamb approaching a lion. “I loved it.”

  I closed my eyes and let those words wash through me, cleansing me of all the shame I’d battled since I’d been pulled from a bondage club years ago and told I was a disgrace. She loved it. Not me. It. This moment we shared. She loved submitting and I loved claiming her. The scales had settled, centered on our love and this newfound intimacy.

  Still, there were other considerations. “You might not if you saw what it looks like.”

  “Then show me,” she said simply. The answer had been there all along, staring us in the face while we chose to remain blind.

  We went to the bathroom and I took a mirror from the drawer, helping her angle it so she could get a glimpse in the larger mirror. When she caught the reflection, she gasped.

  My breath hitched, waiting for her to speak, but I didn’t expect her reaction. Her smile spread like honey over her lips—sweet and slow. I couldn’t breathe as her eyes found mine in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

  “You don’t mind?” I asked. Pride swelled in my chest, straining against my ribcage.

  “I feel sexy,” she whispered. Her eyes flickered away and she bit her lip. “Is that wrong? I’m new to this.”

  “You are very, very sexy, and I’m very proud that I made you feel that way. I didn’t know how you’d respond,” I admitted.

  “Didn’t you, though?”

  I had hoped. I had imagined it in my darker moments. But did I know? My desire and my certainty were always inextricably mixed where Clara was concerned. I could never separate what I wanted to do to her with what I believed I could.

  “Don’t keep yourself from me,” she commanded and I nodded my promise.

  “There have to be rules.” I kissed her neck, enjoying how demurely her lashes fluttered at the touch. “Limits.”

  She whimpered as though I’d caged her too soon. “Later.”

  “This needs to heal,” I continued.

  “Please.” Her arm hooked around my neck and I wondered if she’d let me go.

  “There are other ways I can take you to that place and you’ll still have these pretty marks for us to enjoy for days, Poppet.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “It’s late,” I pointed out.

  “I’m not tired.”

  “If only I had…” My thoughts slipped to bindings and bars, clamps and whips. It would be a bit harder to procure those items discreetly, but I looked forward to introducing her to it all. I would show her how strong her body was by breaking it and building it anew.

  “There are a few things in the closet,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I don’t know what half of it is.”

  “When you said you were going shopping, I didn’t think…”

  “They were delivered.” Her eyes widened when she saw the disapproval on my face and she added, “By a very discreet service.”

  “We’ll discuss it later,” I growled. A possessive part of me wanted to be the one to pick out these items, but I couldn’t deny I was relieved to have something to work with. “Go sit on the bed.”

  The bag was lined with velvet, and my mouth turned down when I realized how she’d procured these items. We would definitely be discussing this later. Still, I now had a nice set of items, including the one tool I wanted most.

  Clara studied the long, silver bar as I brought it to the bed. I pointed to the headboard. “Up there, sit against those pillows.”

  She hoisted herself onto the bed and waited with bright eyes.

  “Take your nightgown off, and show me your cunt,” I ordered, slipping easily into the darker side of me. I could trust this part of myself with her. I knew that now.

  She tugged it over her head and tossed it away. There was a split second of hesitation—a beautiful, lingering innocence—as she opened her legs. I drank in the sight of her, spread and waiting, while I took off my shirt. Anticipation built between us as we took in each other’s bodies without touching.

  “There is only one rule,” I began, holding up a finger when she started to protest. “You are going to ask me to stop. I won’t. You’re going to think you can’t take more. You will. Only your safe word will stop me. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, but it wasn’t enough.

  “I need to know you understand what I’m saying. I’m going to take control of your pleasure. Your body will fight me. That moment before you come? When your muscles fight it, trying to hold on to the ordinary before giving away control? You will live in that cycle until I’m satisfied. I’m going to fuck every thought and every feeling from you—however I see fit. If you need it to stop, you will use your safe word. If I’m hurting you, you will use your safe word. This won’t be about pain. Do you understand? Speak.”

  “Yes, I understand.” Her tongue darted over her lower lip and I fought a groan.

  I moved to the side of the bed and laid the spreader next to her, enjoying how she stared at it. It was a long, metal cylinder with cuffs attached at either end. Dropping onto the bed, I moved between her legs and cuffed the bar to her ankle, pushing her legs wider apart, then I did the same to her other leg.

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  “You have no voice,” I reminded her. “You’ve given it to me.”

  She nodded and the eagerness of the gesture sent a rush of blood to my pants. “Once I start, you may answer, and then you may beg.” I picked up the bar and ducked under it, hooking her knees on my shoulders. I licked her thigh, savouring the salt of her skin. “There are no limits to pleasure. Your body thinks there are but it won’t after tonight. I won’t be through until you come with a single touch.”

  Clara swallowed, pressing her lips tightly together.

  “Pretty Poppet. You’re already following the rules. Do you want me to fuck you now?”

  “Yes, please.”

  There was no need to torture her with further foreplay—she was already dripping—but torture was part of the fun. Bending forward, I kissed the apex of her seam while pushing a finger inside her.

  “Oh fuck,” she cried as I hooked it and began to massage. She was so close.

  I could be merciful. But this wasn’t about the first orgasm. It was about all the ones that would follow.

  “Don’t hold back,” I coaxed her. “There’s no need to hold on—there are so many more coming.”

  Her channel clamped against me, her knees fighting to shut against me as she came on a single finger. I let the pleasure ebb away, relishing how her porcelain skin glowed pink.

  “You’re so lovely when you come. I want to see it again.”

  She whimpered, her legs shaking and straining as I replaced my finger with my tongue. Her hands fisted the sheets as if holding on for life.

  “No, no, no. It’s too much,” she moaned as I licked along her trembling flesh. Every flick of my tongue earned a jerk of her body. Her hands gave up the sheets and grabbed hold of my hair. She tugged it but I didn’t stop. Instead, I settled my mouth on her swollen nub and began to suck.

  “I can’t,” she said, panting desperately.

  She could, but I was in no position to argue with her while I was feasting on her clit. This time she thrashed, banging the spreader against my back as she came. Her body arched up and she cried out before slumping backwards.

  “One more,” I urged her, “and then I’m going to fuck you properly.”
r />   “No.”

  I didn’t argue with her. Her resistance only fed my hunger to show her she was wrong. I would never give her enough pleasure. Loving her was my life’s purpose, and I would do it in every way I could find.

  She grabbed a pillow and held it to her face as I pushed two fingers inside her spasming cunt. My tongue traced her engorged clit as I plunged in and out. The sensations were overwhelming her now. She couldn’t process them, and neither could her body. It would take more to push her over this final time. Running my thumb along her drenched sex, I hooked it lower and pushed inside the tight pink pucker.

  She threw the pillow at my head—and missed—before another climax ripped through her. I continued to tongue her as tiny aftershocks shook her. When I finally lifted the bar over my head, she’d gone completely still. Agonized bliss hung on her face and I smirked.

  One by one, I unbound her legs, rubbing the marks where she’d fought against the restraints. Clara didn’t open her eyes as I crept up the bed next to her.

  “Poppet, you’re going to ride my cock now.”

  The slight nod of her head told me she heard me, but that she was incapable of speech. Sliding an arm under her, I urged her onto my lap. She collapsed against me as she straddled me, murmuring something that sounded a lot like “jelly.”

  But despite her overwhelmed state, she responded to my light touches as I lifted her over my shaft. Her arms circled my neck as I helped her sink inch-by-inch onto my cock. Her body took control, acting instinctively as I rocked against her. The movement of her hips was slight, growing with urgency as I sped up our pace.

  “All of that, and you still need my cock,” I grunted, thrusting hard inside her. “Because I say you need it. What do you need?”

  “Your cock,” she whimpered, clinging to me.

  I lifted her hips and she responded by dropping over it again. “That’s good. It made my cock so hard watching you fight me, watching you come again and again. Now what do you want it to do? Tell me, Clara.”