by Avery Wilde
I frowned in bemused surprise—this was quite the reassignment.
“Can I help you, your Highness?”
I turned to find Rogers standing behind me. The man was smiling, but not in a way that suggested happiness, or indeed anything positive at all. While it was true that a prince could move with impunity in his own house without being questioned or frowned upon, that always came with a caveat: downstairs, the butler was King. While he hadn’t been born to rank or title, Rogers ruled his domain with as much authority as any monarch, and somehow, though I wasn’t sure how, that authority comfortably extended over any members of the family who might stray down here.
“I was just…” I couldn’t help thinking that I ought to be able to say ‘none of your business’ and leave it at that, but I just couldn’t. “Looking for something,” I finished lamely.
“Are you not satisfied with Margo?”
The new maid’s name was apparently Margo.
“Oh, no. I mean, yes. She’s very good.” In my desire to throw Rogers off the scent, I became slightly too effusive. “Absolutely fabulous girl. She has completely satisfied me.”
Rogers stiffened slightly. “She can be replaced too, your Highness,” he said in a tone that managed to be at once respectful and yet also reprimanding.
From that, it was becoming increasingly clear that my worst fears about why Keira had been replaced were accurate and, since Rogers clearly knew the reason, I pressed further than discretion ought to have permitted. “She’s very capable, Rogers, but I do wonder why Keira was replaced.”
Rogers paused a while before answering, seemingly to inspect my face for some sign of ill-intent. “Her Majesty requested it,” he finally replied.
I drew in a breath. My mother. Dammit, I should’ve expected that. After what Keira had told me yesterday, I should’ve damn well known that this would happen. My mother detested conflict and hated discussing unpleasant matters, so instead she simply took quiet action, cutting a problem out like a cancer and disposing of it. As a family we had long since ceased to communicate properly, and this was how we sent messages to each other, through early morning vacuuming and reassigned servants. It was childish in its way, but I got the message loud and clear: don’t fool around with the staff.
But this time the system had fallen down, and the message was not deserved. I wasn’t just ‘fooling around’ with Keira, I actually really liked her. If she’d been a casual fling like all the other women I’d had in my life previously, then the inconvenience of her no longer coming to my bedroom every morning would’ve been enough to make me give her up and move on to someone less contentious. But she wasn’t a casual fling.
She was Keira. My Keira.
“Thank you, Rogers,” I said, turning to leave with the intent of hunting down Keira.
But that intent was apparently obvious to Rogers. “Your Highness?”
I turned back.
“Please,” Rogers still spoke respectfully, but there was so much more buried in those clipped tones, “do not underestimate how much I care for my staff.”
I nodded. “Believe it or not Rogers, I care for them too.”
It was only a flicker, but for an instant, I was sure that an expression of understanding, and maybe even approval, pasted across the granite façade of Rogers’ features.
“Very good, your Highness.”
***
At the back of the palace lay Richmond’s stables, although the word ‘stables’ failed to adequately convey the scale of the set-up. There were barns and paddocks, hay lofts, offices and living quarters for the dedicated army of grooms, farriers and stable boys and girls who cared for the Queen’s horses, and it was into this little village that I now strolled. My presence here excited far less interest than it did below stairs; it was one of the strange inconsistencies in British nobility that the gentry were not supposed to know how a dustpan and brush works, but should be willing and able to muck out a stable if called upon.
At the far end of the little complex was the small tack room. Saddles, bridles and other associated equestrian paraphernalia were kept in the large tack room but brought to the small one when they needed polishing, and it was here that I found Keira, with a saddle across her knees.
“They seem to have put you as far away as possible.”
Keira started and a smile leapt across her face. The sight of that smile delighted me to my core; she was pleased to see me. But I also read relief into it and wondered if I’d been right, and she’d thought me responsible for her reassignment. I hoped not.
“I prefer it,” she said, still grinning. “There’s something almost zen about polishing a saddle. It’s certainly a hell of a lot better than cleaning your room.”
“You been around horses much?” I asked.
Keira laughed. “Nope. But I can more or less tell which end is which. If you give me a couple of guesses. But…I don’t know, it’s nice and peaceful out here. I don’t get to see the paintings as often, which is a shame, but there are advantages too.”
“You’re less likely to bump into members of my family?” I suggested.
“There is that,” Keira admitted. She looked coyly down at the saddle she was polishing. “I wasn’t sure I’d get to bump into you either.”
“You don’t have to bump into me,” I said, not taking my eyes off her for a second. “Wherever they move you, I’ll come looking.”
“Well, then,” Keira said, meeting my gaze. “I guess this job could be perfect. It’s usually empty in this tack room…”
I strode across the room and kissed her. I wasn’t sure if the moment was right but I couldn’t have waited any longer, and the saddle slid to the floor as Keira wrapped her arms around me, returning the kiss hungrily.
When we broke apart, I had a wicked smile on my face and a wicked idea in my mind.
“My brother and I used to play hide and seek around here.”
“That’s just a terrible pickup line,” Keira said with a smile, her eyes lit with mischief.
I said nothing, but stood on a chair in the corner of the room and grabbed a handle in the ceiling. I pulled and the trap door opened up, a ladder unfolding from it as it came.
“Emergency hay loft,” I explained. “It’s kept stocked up but people only ever come here when the barns are empty.”
I could see the slight flush in Keira’s cheek and the quickening of her breath —she liked the idea but perhaps wasn’t willing to admit how much.
“I’ve got work to do down here, you know,” she said.
“I’ll help.”
“I think that would look suspicious.”
“So is that a ‘no’?”
In answer, Keira walked across to the ladder and began to climb up. “I was due for a break, anyway.”
***
For all the romantic fiction and low budget porn films that make it seem either romantic or exciting, fucking in a hayloft is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s very soft and sweet smelling, but it’s also itchy and provides next to no lumbar support. There are often mice, and you end up picking the strands out of your hair for days to come. In fact, sex in a hay loft depends entirely on one thing—the person you’re with. With the right person, all that other stuff faded into nothing and the romantic fantasy came to life.
Without hesitation, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to Keira’s as I slowly lowered her to the ground. Her soft, warm lips parted slowly, granting me access, and the tip of her wet tongue slid out first, surprising me and spurring me on. I greeted her with my own, our tongues fighting in combat. Taking over the kiss, my mouth captured her moans, her submission to my embrace. The taste of her lips filled me with a need to devour more of her. All of her. Bringing my hands down into her hair, I lightly pulled at it as I gently bit down on her bottom lip, tugging it between my teeth. Breaking our kiss for a second, I repositioned myself, bringing my knee between her legs, and then I leaned forward, claiming her mouth again.
Keira’s heavy
breathing filled the hayloft as she began to grind herself up against my leg, seeking the friction she needed. My greedy hands worked to pull down her top, exposing her perfect tits in a white lacy bra. Her stiff nipples were outlined by the thin material, and they seemed to beg for my attention. Squeezing one tightly between my thumb and finger, I rolled over the fabric, and Keira moaned at the pressure, rubbing faster against my leg. Her hand reached for my pants, flicking the button open, and anticipation flowed through me, making my cock even harder. Her hand slid inside, pulling it out of its confines, and her tight grip squeezed my shaft firmly. The soft pad of her thumb ran along the head of my cock, and she got up on her elbows, pushing me back so that I was sitting up too. She leaned forward, and her pink tongue slowly darted out, tasting me as her sparkling eyes looked up at me, gauging my reaction.
Christ, she was so hot.
I leaned back down, and my mouth crushed hers again, fighting past her lips like a parched man in the desert who’d just found an oasis. My hand moved down her body, seeking out the lacy panties beneath her uniform, and after pulling the material aside, I glided a finger down her bare center, finding her slick and hot. Spreading her open, I slid one finger into her tightness, groaning at the snug heat, and I pulled out slowly before entering her again with a second finger.
Her hips moved in a rhythm with my pumping fingers, rolling in a desperate effort to come already, and I grinned. “Be patient,” I said, leaning down and murmuring against her ear.
Then I moved all the way down between her legs, sliding her panties all the way off, and Keira moaned in frustration as I blew warm breath on her sweet pussy.
“Stop…teasing…me,” she managed to gasp out as I pressed my fingers against the sweet spot inside her.
I darted my tongue out and ran it up her slit, and her hips replied to the action, pushing up into my face. I pulled my fingers out of her before settling my mouth on her clit, letting my tongue do all the work now, and as she let out a soft whimper of pleasure, I rewarded her with more pressure. Her legs seized up, locking around my head, and I knew I’d found the right spot. I quickly pulled away. As much as I wanted to make her explode this very second, I wanted to feel her tightening around my cock when she came.
I pulled a condom out of my pocket, and as I ripped it open with my teeth, I took my cock in my hand and stroked it a few times before sliding the protection down over it.
Lining myself up at the apex of Keira’s thighs, I rubbed the head through her wetness, teasing her again.
She hooked her feet behind my back, desperate for me to fill her, and I let out a groan as I eased myself inside of her. Jesus, she was so tight and warm, and I had to try not to surrender to the need to lose control and bury myself balls deep inside her. I drew out and then inched my way in further, building momentum each time I slid into her perfect pussy, and I grazed the pad of my thumb against her clit with each movement.
"God…Andrew…” Keira moaned as she began to shudder with pleasure.
Her breath came out raw, her eyes burning with need, and I picked up speed. That was enough to push her over the edge, and the cries of bliss leaving her mouth drove me forward, pushing me closer to my own climax.
“Yes…more!” she moaned, her hips thrusting up into me again and again.
I fucked her harder and harder, and she whimpered softly, taking all that I gave her while still begging for more. The snugness of her pussy finally became too much for my worked up state, and I knew I was about to come. Keira must’ve been able to read the look in my eyes, because she gasped out a few words.
“Do it,” she said. “Come.”
Letting go, I felt my balls tense up, and a hot sensation flashed through me as I continued to pound into her, thrusting once, twice, and then a third time before exploding inside of her with a deep groan.
We lay there in the hay, our bodies coated in a thin sheen of sweat, trying to catch our breath. Five minutes later and careful not to be seen, we sneaked back into the small tack room and kissed goodbye.
“I get off work at six,” Keira said tentatively, as if she was making a comment and not necessarily suggesting anything.
“Do you know the old linen closet on the third floor?”
“I’d have to find an excuse to go up there.”
“Can you?”
She smiled. “It’ll give me something to think about this afternoon.”
***
The linen closet proved to be less romantic than the hay loft, but much more comfortable, although a sense of hygiene and guilt prompted us to add the sheets we’d borrowed to the outgoing laundry.
“We can’t keep doing this,” Keira said.
“We can’t?”
“It’s wrong, isn’t it? Although saying that actually makes me want it more.”
“Why’s it wrong?” I asked. Nothing about the last hour had seemed ‘wrong’ to me. Sure, there’d been a few grey areas, but nothing actually wrong.
“You’re my boss.”
“Technically my mother’s your boss.”
“Well, that makes it even worse!” she replied. “I don’t like to feel like I’m betraying your mother’s trust. Especially given my last conversation with her, where I tried my hardest to convince her that I wasn’t hooking up with you.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“We’re lying to people.”
“Only by omission.”
“We’re sneaking around behind people’s backs.”
I shrugged. “Well, if we didn’t, then we’d have to start lying directly to people rather than by omission. Everybody’s better off this way, right?”
Keira raised an eyebrow. “I think you might be rationalizing.” She stood up. “This has to be the last time. And we both know that.”
I nodded. I hated to admit it, but Keira was right. It wasn’t fair on the other people in our lives and in the long run it wasn’t fair on us. We couldn’t have a real relationship this way, sneaking around and having sex in strange places. No matter how incredible the sex was, it would have to stop.
It just had to.
***
Eighteen and a half hours later, Keira flopped on the back seat of the Rolls Royce Phantom, exhausted, and she gasped out a sentence.
“Okay. That was the last time.”
I nodded as I tried to get my breath back. “Absolutely. Everyone’s entitled to one little back-slide and this was ours.”
“Exactly. But no more.”
“No more.” I paused. “Could I ask a question?”
“A question?”
“Sort of an enquiry about the rules.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Well,” I began, “when we say this is the last time, do we mean the last time in general, or just this session?”
Keira bit at her lower lip. “I wasn’t aware that this was a session.”
“I suppose what I’m saying is: it could be, so is that allowed or has our last time come and gone? So to speak.”
Keira considered the question. “I think calling this our last session remains true to the spirit of what we agreed.” She kissed me, drawing me back down on top of her.
But I had one more question. “So, if this is our last session rather than our last time, doesn’t that mean that another two times is an option, since it’d all be part of the same session?”
“You’ve got another two in you?”
“If it’s my last chance, then I’ll bloody well make it happen.”
We kissed again, melting into each other in the steamed up back of the car.
“I’m really proud of us,” Keira murmured between kisses. “It’s not easy to have this much self-control.”
I grinned. “Yeah. I don’t know how we do it...”
Chapter 12
Andrew
“Well, that time was nobody’s fault.”
It was a Tuesday, and I’d bumped into Keira during her lunch break, which she’d taken in the rose garden.
/> “There was no way I could have known you’d be there,” I said, nodding in agreement.
“Didn’t I mention it earlier?”
“No, I don’t think so. This was all a complete coincidence.”
“And then you pointed out how secluded the arbor was, and really, from then on it was inevitable. Nobody’s fault.”
“Absolutely.”
“And a nice way to round things off between us.”
“Agreed.”
“But never again.”
“I think we’re both agreed on that.”
And we were. But that afternoon, I happened to glance out the window and saw the light rain that had started after lunch becoming heavier and setting in for the day. Although we had supposedly put aside any thoughts of physical or romantic relations, I still cared about Keira’s wellbeing, and the thought of her having to walk to the bus stop in the rain upset me. The thought of her standing there, hair wet, clothes drenched to transparency, clinging to her curvaceous body like a second skin as she trembled with…
I leapt up and headed for the garage.
It was no easy task giving Keira a lift home without anyone else noticing—let alone slipping away from the royal guard who usually followed me around when I left the palace—but I damn well managed it, because I was Andrew bloody Arlington, and when it came to Keira’s wellbeing, I wasn’t going to let them or anyone else stand in my way.
We finally arrived at the apartment she was staying in, and I put the hood up on my jacket as I walked her to her door, so I wouldn’t be recognized by some nosy neighbor.
“Did you want to come in for coffee?” she asked hesitantly.
“Better not,” I said. It was best to not give temptation even the slightest opportunity to take hold.
“Tea?”