Always a Princess

by Alice Gaines

  “I did that a moment ago,” she sighed.

  “Yes, you did.” He moved his lips along her throat to her temple and blew gently into her ear. She shivered in the most satisfying way imaginable. “In ‘the mixture of sesamun seed with rice’ the lovers wrap arms and thighs around each other while they’re completely joined.”

  He used his teeth to toy with her earlobe while his breathing grew heavier and hotter.

  “Oh,” she cried. “That sounds…oh, my…so, very, very…”

  “Yes, it does,” he groaned. “Look at some more pictures.”

  She turned a few pages and stopped. “This man is touching his lover’s breast.”

  “Indeed.” He worked free the bow at the top of her underbodice as quickly as he could.

  She stroked the flesh of her bosom with the tips of her fingers as he worked. “It seems all men are fascinated by women’s breasts?”

  “I know I am.” He took a deep breath and held perfectly, perfectly still. “Would you like me to touch yours?”

  “Yes, I think I would.”

  Ah, progress. Sweet, hard-won progress. But he still had the buttons of the underbodice to unfasten. He nearly tore a few, but he finally had the garment off and tossed it to the floor. Her corset would have to stay in place for the moment as his patience with fastenings had worn through. Besides, the stays pushed her breasts upward into tempting rounds of flesh. He reached inside and underneath one breast and lifted it out so that he could stroke it and run his thumb around the nipple.

  She sighed and arched her back so that her head rested against his shoulder. With her eyes shut and her cheeks flushed, she made a perfect picture of feminine bliss. He could almost hear her purr.

  “Does this feel good?” he murmured.

  “Oh, yesssssss,” she said. “Touch the other one as well.”

  He obeyed, freeing the other breast and teasing it with his fingers. By now, both nipples had hardened into little rosy points, and her breasts felt firm and heavy in his hands. Her labored breathing made her chest rise and fall, pressing her flesh against his palms.

  “Oh, Philip,” she cried. “It’s too wonderful. Don’t stop.”

  “I think you’d like it even better if I kissed them.” At least, he would. Right now, he couldn’t imagine anything more delicious than to feel her nipples harden even further against his tongue. “Shall I do that, hmm?”

  He squeezed her breasts gently, and she whimpered. “Oh yes, please do.”

  Enough of the Kama Sutra for one day. The time had come for good old English lovemaking. “I need you naked, love. And the sooner the better.”

  He helped her to rise, the book falling on the floor having fulfilled its purpose. They both worked to get her dress off. Then Philip tugged at the laces of her corset while she removed her petticoats. All of her things went into a pile on the floor—dress, hose, shoes, small clothes—until she stood before him gloriously naked. He guided her onto the bed, where she lay and watched him as he undressed. His poor Long Tom, so ready for her and so eager for release, sprang free the moment he lowered his trousers. She gasped when she saw it, and her eyes went wide.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said.

  “I know. It’s just that you’re so very beautiful,” she said, her voice gone husky. She stroked her throat with one hand. Her fingers moved lower, traveling over her breasts and down the valley between them to her belly. Lower and lower.

  “Stop,” he cried. Lord, give me strength. “That is, let me do that.”

  She reached out her arms to him, and he joined her, pressing his body against hers everywhere. He took her mouth in a thorough kiss, letting his tongue dart here and there to sample her lips, her mouth, her own tongue. Helpless to resist, he pressed his sex against her belly and thrust—once, twice. The softness, the friction, the heat of her nearly put him over the edge. It took every bit of will he had to pull back from his own satisfaction and pleasure her, but he did.

  As he’d promised, he lowered his mouth to her breast and swirled his tongue around the nipple. She arched her back and twisted beneath him. He moved to the other breast and caressed it, sucking at the tip until she gasped and writhed with pleasure.

  “Oh, Philip,” she cried. “Too much…”

  “It isn’t good?” he whispered against her flesh as he set a trail of kisses on the underside of her breasts.

  “Too good,” she gasped. “I can’t…that is, I mustn’t…”

  “But you can. And you must. And you will.” He moved lower, kissing her belly while still stroking her breasts with his hands.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Your thighs. I must kiss your thighs.”

  “But you can’t, I’ll come apart. I won’t survive it.”

  “You’re wrong there, love. We’ll both survive and come out of this very much alive.”

  “Oh, dear heaven.”

  He lowered himself even farther. “Now, be a good girl and open your legs for me.”

  She complied, giving him a glimpse of heaven. Soft, plump thighs of pale ivory and at their joining, the ebony curls that covered her sex. The sight could make a grown man weep. But Philip had far better things to do than cry.

  He kissed the inside of her thigh, and she jerked upward. She tried to bring her legs together, but he held them apart. “Easy, love. This won’t hurt.”

  “It’s naughty.”

  “It’s sublime. Trust me.” He kissed the other thigh and nibbled gently at her flesh. She sighed and went limp against the mattress, giving him access to that most intimate part of her. He blew a hot breath onto the curling hairs there and then placed his mouth over her sex. She moaned, a sound of pure pleasure.

  He lifted his head briefly. “How does that feel?”

  “It feels as though I’ll explode.”

  “You will.” He turned his attention back to her sex, parted the lips and found her swollen nub. When he touched it with his tongue, she cried out and arched her back. He held on to her hips and feasted on her as she alternately moaned and gasped for breath. In a moment, she’d reach completion.

  Her passion spurred his own, and his rock-hard member throbbed until he ached to bury himself in her. He would wait for her, though. He must. Somehow.

  She climaxed with a rush and a string of little cries. He kept up the pressure with his tongue until she collapsed against the coverlet and her cries turned to sobs. Then he lay beside her and took her into his arms.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered sleepily. “I never dreamed…”

  “Do you see what I meant about passion?”

  She opened her eyes and gave him a wicked smile. “Can I do the same for you?”

  The mere thought almost sent him over the edge. “Some other time. Today is for you.”

  “But I want to touch you,” she said. “Your lingam, your…”

  “My rod,” he supplied.

  “Your Long Tom,” she said.

  “He’d be very much obliged, I’m sure.” But Long Tom wouldn’t last long. He was too far gone for much more without spending himself.

  She raised herself on one elbow and curled her fingers around his sex. “Like this?”

  “Oh, yes,” he gritted. “Just like that.”

  “And here?” she said as she squeezed the tip of him.

  He placed his hand over hers and showed her the rhythm to stroke him. A very quick study, she grasped him firmly and in no time had him soaring near the edge.

  “It’s very large, isn’t it?” she said.

  Beyond reason now, he could only groan in response.

  “And the head has turned a bright crimson. I think I’d like…”

  What? Anything. Anything.

  “I think I’d like to ride it,” she said. “To take it all inside me.”

  “Please,” he groaned.

  She rose and swung a leg over him, guiding herself onto his throbbing hardness. Slowly. One agonizing inch at a time. He watched as his swollen m
ember disappeared inside her body. Driven past endurance, he thrust violently upward, impaling her completely. Over and over, he drove himself into her hot and welcoming flesh. He had to make this last, and yet he couldn’t. Such joy, such passion. He had to hold on, had to. And yet he’d spend at any moment.

  She rested her palms against his stomach and closed her eyes in bliss. “Yes,” she cried, as she rocked back and forth in time with his thrusts. “Yes, yes, oh yes.”

  He placed his thumb at the place where they were joined and stroked her until she shuddered against him.

  “Now,” she screamed as her spasms clutched at him. He held her hips and slammed into her as his own climax overtook him. Helpless to resist, he spilled wave after wave of his essence into her as her body milked him. Beauty, heaven, bliss. Everything he’d ever wanted in his life in this one perfect moment. This one perfect woman.

  Finally, when they were both spent, he pulled her back onto him and cradled her head against his chest.

  As Eve rested her head against her lover, he reached a hand to her head and stroked his fingers lazily through her hair.

  “By God, but we suit,” he whispered. “Making love has never been like that for me before.”

  She drew a circle on his chest with her fingertip. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  He chuckled, and the sound reverberated through his chest into her ear. “You can take it on the authority of a man who knows. We’re uncanny together. Quite beyond normal mortal experience.”

  She raised her head and looked into his face. “And would you be that man who knows?”

  “I’ve bedded a few women in my sorry existence.” The light in his eyes softened as he smiled at her—the golden flecks mellowing to the color of ripe wheat. “That was most remarkable, Miss Stanhope.”

  “So happy to oblige, Lord Wesley.”

  There, she’d said that breezily enough. Keep this to a joke. Light, lacking gravity. She’d surrendered to him twice now. Wrong—surrendered to her need for him. It amounted to the same thing, though, which was nothing at all. No more than lust that would lead nowhere.

  She sighed and tried to sit up, but his arms went around her, holding her right where she was.

  “Why do you always pull away from me?” he asked.

  “We’re through studying Eastern philosophy, aren’t we?” she said. “Or do you require my services further, my lord?”

  He huffed. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it.”

  “I thought you liked what I did.”

  “During sex, yes, but the minute it’s over you become absolutely infuriating.”

  “I’m very sorry, I’m sure.” This time, he let her up, and she swung her legs around the side of the bed, even though her feet didn’t touch the floor.

  “Why do you keep pulling away from me?” he demanded where he lay behind her.

  She didn’t answer that. If she did, she’d have to listen to his voice change when he learned the parentage of the woman he’d let into his bed. He might be more liberal-minded than the rest of his sort, but even he would have to realize they could never be a couple. She wouldn’t even make good mistress material, when you got right down to it.

  “Damn it, woman, don’t I mean anything to you at all?” he said.

  “You’re very good in bed.”

  He sat up beside her at the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the comforter on either side of him. “I don’t deserve that.”

  “Of course, you do. You’re magnificent.”

  “I’ve offered to marry you, and you’re trifling with me.”

  “You took my virginity and offered to marry me,” she said. “All very decent. What a scrupulous fellow does. I’ve turned you down. Your responsibility ends there.”

  “Bloody hell.” He got up and searched about until he found his trousers. Not bothering with underthings, he stepped into them and yanked them up. “How can you make me sound like such a cold bastard?”

  “I’m not.” She rubbed her hands over her face before looking up at him again. “You did the right thing…more than some men would have. We needn’t go any further than that.”

  “I’m going to continue to make love to you at every opportunity.” He located his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  “If you do…”

  “I will,” he declared.

  “That won’t change anything.” She’d have to find the strength to stop him, assuming she could keep herself from seeking him out for sex.

  He gathered up his waistcoat and jacket. “You’re hiding something from me.”

  “Don’t assume too much.”

  “I don’t have to assume anything. I can see it on your face.”

  He saw entirely too much. She’d allowed him to, and now, where had that gotten her? She hugged herself and kept her thoughts to herself.

  “I don’t like secrets, and the more I think about it, the more obvious it becomes that you’ve told me absolutely nothing about yourself.”

  “I told you about being a governess,” she said.

  “You weren’t created a governess. You had to be born to someone and raised somewhere. You must have gone to school.”

  “That last, I didn’t.”

  “All right then, let’s have the rest of it. Start with your parents.”

  She got up to find her own clothes, or to be totally honest, to avoid looking at him. “No.”

  “What do you mean ‘no’?”

  “I mean, I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Why in hell not?” he shouted.

  “For heaven’s sake, you’re not going to marry me, so it’s not important.”

  “I’ll decide what’s important.”

  “You won’t get anything out of me by browbeating.”

  He made a strangled sort of noise. “Lord spare me, now she says I’m browbeating her.”

  She turned to face him, clutching her dress against her body. “You sound like a puffed-up, little dictator who isn’t getting his way.”

  “Don’t test me, Eve,” he said quietly, but the hush in his voice held more menace than his earlier bluster.

  “Don’t order me about.”

  “Well enough.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I have only so much patience. You can give me your story or not, but I won’t wait forever.”

  “Understood.”

  “I’ll leave you to dress yourself.” He grabbed the rest of his clothing and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

  She let out a long breath and sat on the bed. That was it, then. Notice that all this would come to an end. It had to, after all. Finally, when he’d realized that she wouldn’t reveal any more of herself, he’d give her her share of the Wonder and the diamond necklace. He’d have to. A man who offered marriage to a casual tumble because she’d turned out to be a virgin wouldn’t cheat his partner in crime out of what he owed her. On top of that, she still had Mrs. Cathcart’s cameo.

  He’d pay her. She’d take Hubert and go away. What she’d wanted all along. Suddenly, it didn’t seem quite as satisfactory as she’d expected.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Next to the constable himself, the last person Philip had hoped to find in the sitting room was that odious fellow, Cathcart. Mobley had announced the visitor had come to see the princess, but Philip had demanded to accompany Eve to the sitting room. Cathcart was part of her secrets, and she wasn’t going to keep any more from him if he had anything to say about it. Besides, two heads were better than one. Depending on what the fool had figured out, they might need all their wits.

  For Eve’s part, she seemed perfectly happy to have him along and more than a little worried about Cathcart’s appearance. People of his station didn’t show up uninvited at an earl’s home unless they had important business with the occupants.

  The butler hovered nearby as they reached the sitting room door, waiting to protect his lord and the family, no doubt.

  “Thank you, Mobley,” Philip said. “That’ll be all.”


  Mobley didn’t move from the spot. “If I may be of assistance, sir…”

  “We’ll muddle through on our own, won’t we, Your Highness?”

  “My, yes. Just so.”

  Mobley gave them one more dour glance and headed off. Alone with Eve now, he placed his hand at the small of her back to ease her. “You really must relax.”

  “Easily said,” she replied. “Arthur recognized me at that party.”

  “There were lots of people at that affair.”

  “Only one Eve Stanhope, and she disappeared at the same time as a diamond necklace.”

  She had a point, but surely, the two of them together could out-think the likes of Arthur Cathcart. “Let’s go in and beard the lion in his den.”

  “Very funny.”

  Cathcart had the decency to rise from his seat when they entered. He stood with his hands behind his back and grinned at them as though they were all the best of friends. “Hallo, there, Wesley. Eve.”

  “What do you want?” she snapped.

  “Is that any way to greet an old chum?” Cathcart said.

  “What do you want?” Philip echoed.

  “I must say I expected better of you, old chap,” Cathcart said. “You’re better bred than Eve, after all.”

  “What do you know of my breeding?” she said softly.

  “Plenty,” the man said. “But, we’ll save that for later.”

  Eve’s gaze shot daggers at him. “I swear to God, Arthur…”

  “Tut, tut, tut.” Cathcart wagged a finger at her. “Business first. Threats later.”

  Enough nonsense. Philip walked to the man, clapped him on the shoulder and dug his fingertips into the fool’s flesh. “Well, Arthur, old chum, old thing, old bean. What is it you want?”

  “The two of you have been rather naughty, eh, what?”

  “Out with it,” Philip said between clenched teeth.

  “The other night, I thought pretending to be a princess was part of Eve’s costume, but I soon learned she’s been playing herself off as foreign royalty about town for some time.” Cathcart very pointedly removed Philip’s hand from his shoulder.

  Eve gripped the chair beside her with her fist. “That’s none of your business.”