by Geneva Lee
With a gentle slowness, he guided his dick into her, until he hit resistance. Then he pulled out and did the same. His finger continued the assault of her tight hole and Belle’s legs began to shake.
“I love seeing you filled with me,” Smith growled, increasing his pace until she shattered beneath him. His warmth flooded inside her and she groaned as he pulled out slowly. His fingers brushed the seed dripping from her upward. He smeared it over the pink circle. “Is this what you want?”
He nudged against the tight pucker, giving her a moment to process the idea. Belle didn’t have a safe word. She had never wanted one with Smith, and she never needed it. He knew her body’s responses like his own. She circled against the tip in invitation. Smith inched within gradually, giving her body time to adjust. His hands tightened on her hips when he slid in entirely.
They had spent the afternoon making love. There was only one thing on her mind now.
“Fuck me,” she begged, her hips beginning to writhe against him.
“I’m sorry?” He didn’t move, and she knew exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Fuck me, Sir.”
Smith pulled back and thrust inside her with one smooth jab. The sensation was utterly different, and it never ceased to make her feel wanton. In his presence, she was shameless, existing only for his pleasure. That libidinous exchange of power had always guaranteed the same would be returned to her.
“I love fucking your ass, beautiful,” he growled as he continued to plunge. He grabbed her tied wrists and jerked until her back arched in the air. Belle craned her neck so see her husband, wanting him to see the ecstatic contradiction of pain and pleasure that consumed her. She felt her eyes rolling back as the first wave crashed over her, dragging her under. He continued to thrust until she went limp.
Belle was barely aware as he untied her wrists and massaged the indentations the ribbon had left. He scooped her up and repositioned her on the bed. A few minutes later, a warm, wet towel wiped along her singing sex. She nearly howled at the contact, her body still overly sensitive, and she saw him bite back a grin.
“Don’t look so please with yourself,” she whispered sleepily.
“I can’t help it. You look so pretty with your red cheeks,” he told her, climbing onto the bedside beside her. At some point, he had undressed. She felt a twinge of disappointment that she hadn’t seen it. But when he cradled her body to his, it evaporated. “I think I’d have to stop screwing you entirely to not look pleased. Giving you orgasms is one of my greatest accomplishments.”
“Promise not to stop?” Her eyes were becoming heavy, but as sleep lured her under, she heard his quiet response.
“I promise. Forever.”
23
If Christmas Eve had been a warm, family gathering. Christmas morning was a frenetic mess of activity. Wads of paper littered the floor from gift wrapping, presents were piled next to each person, and, to Mrs. Watson’s horror, plates of food had been sneaked into the parlor.
The Bishop clan hadn’t acted like strangers for long. They had made themselves at home almost immediately. That included waiting until everyone was in bed and bringing in enough gifts to nearly double the collection at the base of the tree.
“We’ll still be opening presents next Christmas,” Lola grumbled under her breath. As soon as she opened her box to reveal an Alexander McQueen clutch, she squealed with delight. “Thank you, Mum!”
Madeline gazed fondly at her younger daughter. “I saw it and knew you had to have it. It’s harder to shop for clothes for you these days.”
She cast a pointed glance at Lola. Then directed it at Belle Stuart.
“Don’t look at me,” Lola said. “It was all her idea. I caved to peer pressure.” She winked at her business partner. Leave it to the Bishops to complain about not being able to spend more money.
Despite Madeline’s success with a start-up web company, she didn’t understand the need for Bless. Why would women rent what they could buy? Lola didn’t try to explain that not everyone had their bank accounts.
Harold hadn’t left his wife’s side all morning. The holidays had brought them closer than ever, and playing the part of good old St. Nick seemed to bring a joy to the couple that they hadn’t shared for a long time.
Clara watched them across the room, warmth spreading through her chest. She had tried to stay out of her parents’ affairs—or rather, her father’s affairs—but it hadn’t always been easy. She knew better than anyone though that marriages had to be fixed from within. Both parties had to make it want to work in order for there to be compromise and cooperation. Her parents had stayed together this long. She could only that their new-found companionship blossomed into the romance they had once shared.
Alexander appeared at her side and followed the direction of her sight. Then he placed his arm around her, pulling him closer to him. Elizabeth babbled on her mother’s hips, still in a plaid sleeper from last night. The two had decided to keep their Christmas surprise a secret for a little while longer. But he couldn’t help but grin as he thought of Madeline Bishop’s welcome to him the day before. If more grandchildren was what she wanted, he would be happy to oblige.
If only every day could be like Christmas, he thought. Seeing the peace on his wife’s face and the giddiness overwhelming his daughter made him wish he could spirit them both away to the Scottish countryside and spend every morning like this.
“We’ll need another room to put all of her toys in,” Clara said dryly.
“Imagine how bad it will be next year,” he whispered. He had yet to decide if he hoped to buy a train set or a doll next year. With any luck, he would get to do both. Twins had run in the Royal family in generations past.
Clara’s eyes narrowed as she watched the gears turn in his head. “What are you plotting, X?”
“My Christmas present,” he told her in a lowered voice.
A rosy flush heated her cheeks. “What about my Christmas present?”
“You can unwrap that later,” he reassured her with a smug smile.
It was his signature crooked grin. The one that had caught her attention the day they met and the one that had held it after subsequent day after. She wanted to kiss that smirk right off his face, but she knew where that would lead. After last night, she was still exhausted.
“Actually,” he said, lifting a small box he’d been hiding in his other hand, “I did get you something.”
But Clara’s eyes didn’t fall on the actual present, they zeroed in on the ivory envelope on top that had been sealed with red wax stamped with the letter X. If it was anything like the notes he used to send her, its contents weren’t family friendly.
“Maybe I should open that later.”
“Open it now.” He reached for Elizabeth.
Stepping to the side, so that she was out of sight, she slid her index finger under the flap, breaking the seal, and withdrew the handwritten note inside.
Poppet,
I’ve been remiss at sending you these little notes. I took for granted having you next to me and forgot the need to romance you. I told myself once that if I ever got the chance to reclaim your heart I would never let a day go by without earning it. I’ve failed at that. But from this day forward I am going to prove my commitment to you and our children.
Clara swallowed back the tears that were creeping into her throat. But it was as if Alexander had suspected this might happen, because as the note continued it shifted from sentimental to sensual.
You should also know that I don’t plan to let ten days go by without worshipping your body. I realize that might be difficult, considering your condition, but I’m willing to try. My hands. My cock. My mouth. They exist to serve your pleasure, and I will spend every day for the rest of my life to touch, to lick, to bite, to suck, to kiss, and to make love to you.
For always,
X
“You can open your present now,” he told her huskily.
Clara gasped at the sudden interrupt
ion. His words had taken her to another place, and she needed a second to recover. Tearing open the paper, she found a long jewelry box. She flipped open the lid to discover a stunning ruby bracelet. The gems were held in place by criss-crossing slashes of gold. They formed tiny x’s all the way around. It was a message: X was reclaiming his territory.
“Help me put it on,” she whispered. It took a moment, given that Elizabeth decided to help her parents out. But when it was safely clasped, Clara studied it. “It’s perfect.”
“So are you.” He brushed a kiss over her forehead.
“Have you ever seen such a disgusting display of affection?” Lola said under her breath to Belle. Both were unabashedly staring at the love scene playing out across the room.
“You’re jealous.” It wasn’t an accusation. But rather a statement. Lola had told her that she didn’t want a relationship, but it was becoming obvious that she did.
“So what?” Lola shrugged. “My sister managed to snag one of the sexiest and most powerful men in the world, and he looks at her like he won the prize. Why wouldn’t I be jealous?”
“You’ll find him,” Belle promised.
“I’m beginning to suspect that he doesn’t exist.” It was the first time she had admitted that part of her was still looking for Mr. Right.
“Trust me, you will. Probably when you least expect it.”
“Speaking of…” Lola said dramatically. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
She hurried off as Smith made his way to his wife. Lola's sense of self-preservation was intact.
Belle couldn't help wondering if that was part of the problem as she watched Lola flee the scene. Then again, Belle herself had sworn off love, and she'd vowed never to go to bed with the cocky lawyer who hired her as a personal assistant.
Smith grinned at her as if he knew exactly where her thoughts were this Christmas morning. The two had a rocky start to their relationship, but that was the thing about love: it survived. Whatever metal love was made of was strong enough to thrive in even the most desolate circumstances. If they could find true love, then she had faith anyone could.
"Alexander beat me to the diamonds," Smith informed her. He wrapped an arm around Belle’s waist and drew her to him.
"I don't need diamonds," she said. "I just need you."
That was the only price she had ever demanded of this man. His heart, his soul, his body, and he had given it all to her.
"Then I suppose I can take this back," he said. From behind her back, he drew a thin package.
"It isn't diamonds," he warned her as she opened it.
It was something far more perfect. The delicate charm bracelet, far more elegant than any she had seen before. There were only a few charms so far, but each of them meant something important to them. There was a tiny Empire State Building with incredible attention to details, a small feather and a star.
"I saw a couple more I'd like to add," he told her as he helped her put it on, "but I thought this was a good start."
"I love it.”
"The two of you make a gorgeous couple," Aunt Jane interrupted unceremoniously, dropping her arms around each of them and pulling them into a group hug. "And that means you're going to make beautiful babies. So, when can I expect one?"
Aunt Jane was a force to be reckoned with in her own right. She had arrived in Scotland this morning with an overnight bag and a kaftan, only to promptly announce that she had a torrid affair to attend the next day. Belle wished she would stay longer, but she wasn’t surprised. She was a woman of means. Although she had flitted from husband to husband and many affairs, she had no children of her own. Belle had become her surrogate daughter, so it only seemed natural for her to ask.
Smith opened his mouth, trying to figure out the gentlest way to tell her to back off. But before he could respond, Belle broke in, "We're working on it."
Jane's eyes glinted wickedly. There had never been any shame in her game. An announcement of a carnal nature might have made another person blush, but it only thrilled her. "I’d ask for details," she said, "but I'll settle for updates."
Alexander shook his head as he walked by. It was nothing new for Aunt Jane to get involved in other people's love lives. He owed her a debt of gratitude for being involved with his own. She had been a voice of reason when Clara needed guidance. For that, he would always be grateful, but he could do more than that. He could pass along the favor to the next couple in line.
Swooping upon Edward, he gripped his brother's arm, "Can I have a moment?"
With all of the guests, the brothers hadn't had a chance to speak since Alexander's arrival the day before. But Clara had made it pretty clear that Edward needed to speak to him.
Edward fidgeted a little before nodding to an empty alcove. It was rarely a good sign when a family member needed to speak to you in private on Christmas, but Alexander's gut told him this wasn't going to be bad news.
"Clara talked to you?" Edward guessed as soon as they were alone.
Alexander nodded. The less he said the easier it would be for his brother to get this out.
"I don't know how much she told you," Edward began.
"Nothing," Alexander answered, "She insisted I speak directly to you." He didn't bother to hide the insinuation in his voice. His little brother wasn’t going to get out of coming clean to him.
"David and I would like to get married," Edward said in a rush. This wasn't news to Alexander, but he waited patiently for his brother to continue. "On New Year's Eve, and we'd like you to marry us.”
"If this King gig doesn't work out, I suppose I can become a minister," Alexander teased. This was the second wedding he’d been asked to officiate.
"Then you will?" Edward wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead, "And you'll give us permission?"
"I've had that document signed for ages, It's been so long that I can't even remember what I made David the duke of."
"You didn't have to do that," Edward said, his eyes shining.
"It's custom, and who am I to break with tradition?"
"Yes," Edward agreed, "that's my job."
"There's more," Alexander warned him. He didn't want to deliver troubling news to Edward on the cusp of his wedding, but he deserved to know. For the first time in a very long time, Alexander believed he could keep the information brief.
Edward listened quietly as Alexander filled him in on the details of the last few weeks.
"I know you have questions," Alexander said when he finished, "and I'll be happy to answer all of them. You deserve to know and so does he." He nodded to David.
"I haven't really kept him in the loop," Edward admitted.
That was Alexander's fault. He had been the one to dictate what could and could not be shared in his brother's relationship. That was a mistake. "I should never have asked you to keep anything from David."
Alexander had been learning this lesson recently himself, and he wouldn't stand by and force his brother to make the same mistake.
"I'm not sure how he will take it," Edward said. It was clear he was still digesting the news of Jacobson's capture and the existence of Anderson.
"Tell him anyway," Alexander advised. "It's for the best."
He clamped a hand on Edward's shoulder and then left him to consider this.
David found his fiancé still thinking in the corner a few minutes later. "Are you hiding or is something on your mind?"
"Lots of things," Edward said in a measured tone.
"I don't like how that sounds," David admitted.
"It won't change anything between the two of us," Edward prefaced. He needed David to know that. He had put the man he loved through hell, asked him to be patient with little guarantee of a happy ending, and broken his heart far too many times. "I just found out that my family is a little more fucked up than I thought."
David took his hands and squeezed them tightly. "I know the Royals are fucked up. If it bothered me, I would have been long gone a while ago." He tipped his head back
toward the rest of the group, "Let's enjoy Christmas. Nothing you can tell me is going to change anything between the two of us, but I'm glad you want to share it with me."
Edward smiled, feeling a weight lift from his chest, "I want to share everything with you."
24
New Year’s Eve arrived with a blanket of snow that covered the grounds of the castle. Thankfully, all the guests were in attendance for tonight’s festivities, and Edward wouldn’t have it any other way. While the extended family had returned to their homes in the city, those closest to him were scattered about Balmoral trying to keep warm. He’d already been down to the kitchen, only to be sent away by Mrs. Watson for attempting to snag a finger full of frosting. Apparently, even the groom-to-be wasn’t allowed a taste test.
Much of the holiday decor transitioned nicely to a wedding. Although he’d added a few extra sprigs of holly in places. There wasn’t much more he could do but count the hours.
Clara found him staring at a newspaper in the study a few hours later. She took a seat across from him, already dressed in a champagne-colored lace dress that accented the rich chestnut hues of her hair. Although her hair was done, her face was free of make-up. Despite that her pale skin glowed with unmistakable beauty.
“Afternoon shag?” he guessed, tossing aside the paper. He’d been rereading the same article without processing since he sat down. He had higher prospects of being entertained by his best friend.
“A nap,” she said with a yawn, “and a shag.” She stretched her slender arms over her head as though she was still waking up.
“I won’t tell Alexander what order of preference you have for your daily activities,” he said dryly. Not that it would matter in the least to his brother.
“What are you doing?” She eyed the abandoned newspaper as if he’d been up to no good.
“David has decided to be a traditionalist, and he refuses to see me before the wedding.” Edward thought now was a peculiar time to adopt an ancient custom. They were blowing them all to hell just by getting married. If his entire married life was dependent on an archaic ritual, they were doomed.