Royals of Danovar: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

  He wasn’t sure if she was ready to go that far yet either, though. She hadn’t initiated anything last night even though both of them had been sober. She had, however, rolled—and rolled and rolled—in her sleep across the huge bed until her legs were all tangled up with his and she was snuggled on his chest. He’d had to mentally review all his research on the most boring topics he could think of before his hard-on finally faded enough for him to be able to sleep.

  Revived by the smoothie, Pen sat up, knocking a pillow on the floor in the process. “Thanks,” she said, but something in her voice sounded off.

  “Everything okay?” Simon asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  She pursed her lips. “To be honest, it wasn’t just starvation keeping me in bed. My only duty today is to get a new dress for the Children’s Education event tonight. ‘Something not resembling a tablecloth’ was the directive both from the Castle and my mother.” She blew out a breath. “The hills aren’t far enough away for the holding I’m going to grant her,” she muttered. “I’m going to have to export her to America or something. Doesn’t Ella own a farm over there?”

  Simon frowned. He hadn’t liked it when the assistant had brought up public opinion on Pen’s dresses yesterday, and he liked it even less now. Penelope looked both regal and sexy in her lacy dresses, but beyond that, she should be able to wear whatever the damn hell she wanted. She was a grown woman, not to mention the Queen. No one could stop her from parading across the royal lawn naked if she wanted. Why would she even listen to those nattering mean girls? A category which included her mother, apparently. “No,” he said, answering her question. “Ella lived in America as a teenager, but never really had a home there. Going back to Danovar showed her where her true home was.”

  “That’s right. It’s lovely that she found her home with Phillip.”

  “I hadn’t quite thought about it like that before,” Simon admitted. It did make sense though—Ella and King Phillip both certainly seemed at home with each other no matter where they were. Simon could only hope that someday he and Pen might have something like that with each other.

  Pen looked at the clock and groaned. “I’m supposed to meet the stylist at her shop in town in an hour. I’m totally gonna call you in on your vows, mister—I need your support on this. Come with me and help me pick something out?”

  “Of course,” Simon said. This was perfect. He didn’t have any sisters, but he had quite a lot of female cousins amongst the Danovian nobility, and since he’d been a quiet, observant kid he’d picked up on a lot of secondhand fashion knowledge. With any luck, he’d be able to help Pen find an outfit that made her feel confident and didn’t make the mean-girl PR people throw a hissy fit.

  His plan failed miserably. Before the end of the first hour with the stylist, Pen looked ready to either cry or throw her own hissy fit, having been stuffed into soulless dress after soulless dress as the woman politely but completely ignored her requests. The outfits looked like something Simon’s grandmother would wear: stiff, impersonal, and boring as hell. The current gown was a muted brown—which also completely muted Pen’s airy, fun personality—with only a single heavy emerald necklace and no bracelets because the Castle had apparently phoned ahead to ensure Pen was outfitted with minimal jewelry so she wouldn’t be tempted to play with it like she always did when she was nervous.

  The stylist stood back, putting one hand to her chin while she looked Penelope up and down. “You know, dear,” she mused, “it would help if I knew what you wanted to hide, what you wanted to work on. Maybe your thighs? Or that arm flab?”

  What the hell was the woman talking about? Arm flab? And Pen’s thighs were so perfect that Simon ought to hire an artist to sculpt them in tribute right this second. Even if the stylist really did see some sort of invisible flaw in Pen’s hot-as-hell body, why did she need to highlight all the negatives that way? Pen already had a fragile body image, not to mention confidence issues. How on earth had the stylist stayed in business so long if all she did was insult her clients?

  Then the stylist sealed her own fate. “Do you think you need a bigger size Spanx?” she asked, and Simon inserted himself between the two women.

  “I think that’s enough for now,” he said, smoothly ushering her toward the door of the large dressing room. “Pen will go over the outfits you’ve set out for her and make a decision shortly. Thank you for your time.” The woman protested, but he gently shoved her out the door and locked it behind her. “Good riddance,” he muttered once she was gone.

  Pen was looking down at the dress. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice so uncertain and small it made Simon ache. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I should just wear whatever they put me in. I mean, they’ve been doing this a lot longer than I have.”

  Simon advanced on her, furious at the stylist for making Pen think less of herself. “They certainly haven’t. You’re the Queen, not them. You should decide what you want to wear. And I have to say, even though you could wear literally anything and still be the most gorgeous woman in the country, that dress is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She smiled a little and glanced up. “It kind of is, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. Personally, I loved that lacy thing you were wearing when we first met. It really showed off your lips—and whoever thinks your lipstick isn’t the right color for royalty can shove their alternate shade right up their ass, by the way—and hair.” He was surprised at how much heat was behind his statement. Normally, he’d be completely on board with the stylist and PR department, wanting to ensure that the public’s expectations of modesty and decorum were met. But that was before public expectations had insulted the woman he was starting to care deeply about.

  Pen snickered, some light coming back into her expression. “Thanks,” she said.

  He tilted his head, examining the discarded dresses spread across the bench in the corner. “You know, that second dress she had you try on wasn’t half bad. Maybe we should ask whether she has it in white, and maybe have her alter it to add more sheer lace to the sleeves and take out some of that poofy fabric around the bust.”

  Pen nodded enthusiastically. “I could totally see that working. Come here, help me get out of this monstrosity and I’ll try that one on again.” She reached around to her back, the tight corset preventing her from reaching the zipper.

  Simon stepped around and pulled it down for her, suddenly very glad he’d made the stylist leave the room. Pen had undressed a dozen times in the last hour and he’d had to force himself to look away and do mental algebra to avoid getting a boner in the presence of a stranger, but now he suddenly had all sorts of ideas for ways to spend their newfound alone time—and to show Penelope how beautiful and desirable and perfect she really was.

  Pen turned her head and met his gaze, her eyes going smoky as she read his intent. He traced his thumb down her spine, following the path of the zipper, and she shivered. He leaned down to kiss that spot on her shoulder blade that he’d been wanting to kiss forever. Then he slid his hands under the sleeves and pushed them slowly down her shoulders. The fabric dropped to the ground, leaving her in only her shapewear and bra, which he unhooked.

  He pulled her back against him then, showing her his swiftly-hardening desire for her. She wiggled her ass a little, dropping her head back, and he groaned. “You love torturing me, don’t you?” he murmured.

  She wiggled more, smirking. In retaliation, he reached around and caressed one dusky pink nipple, rubbing it, gently twisting it, watching it pebble for him. Not wanting to play favorites, he moved to the other side and gave it the same treatment. Her breathing got a bit heavier as he teased her. She pressed herself further into him, ground her ass hard against his cock, and it took everything in him to not bend her over the bench, nudge her knees apart, and take her right then and there. But he held himself back, because he had something else in mind.

  He hooked his thumb under her Spanx and pulled them off, then her panties. Then
he wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, and set her down on the bench.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, in a husky voice that shot straight to his aching dick.

  “Showing you how beautiful you are,” he answered, and ducked down to kiss her. She eagerly met his lips, nipping on the bottom one. He slipped a hand down her delicious curves, to the spot that was already slick and wet for him. She made a little noise in her throat as he touched her, whimpered when he brushed a finger over her clit.

  “Simon…” she gasped.

  “Right here,” he murmured. “Always.” He traced his fingers around her, over her folds, teasing her. She spread her legs wider, her breath coming in pants now, her kiss deepening with her desire. He rolled her clit between his thumb and forefinger and she muffled a moan. When he dipped a finger inside her, though, she couldn’t stay silent.

  “I need you,” she panted. “Fuck me, Simon. I want your cock inside me right now.”

  “That’s where I want to be too, but not today.”

  “But what are you…”

  “I want to go down on you.” He added another finger to the one that was already inside her, stretching her wider as his thumb worked her clit.

  She inhaled, her eyes darkening. “Yes,” she managed.

  He kissed his way down her neck, took one nipple in his mouth and then the other. Then he was kneeling before her, watching his fingers work inside her, overcome by her beauty and the way she felt—and the way she made him feel. It had never been like this, not with any other woman. He wanted to give her so much. All of him. Forever.

  “You are amazing, Penelope. You’re fucking beautiful,” he said in awe, and then he took her clit between his lips, sucking gently. Her taste was intoxicating, perfect, just like her.

  She gasped, her back arching against the wall. She shoved the dresses that had been lying next to her off the bench so she could grab the wood, use it to anchor herself as she spread her legs wider and squirmed beneath him. “Fuck, yes, just like—Simon, that’s so good—oh God…”

  He licked and suckled, plunging his fingers deeper, working her until all she could do was whimper and writhe and grind herself against his fingers. His free hand clamped around her thigh, holding her in place.

  Her fingers tightened on the bench, white-knuckled. “I’m going to come. Simon, I’m… I’m so close… Harder, harder,” she pleaded.

  He added another finger and thrust them as deep as he could, working her clit with his lips and tongue, and her muscles clenched around him with her climax. She muffled a wordless shout, arching off the bench, driving herself hard onto his fingers as she came for him.

  After a moment, he sat back. She leaned bonelessly against the wall as she recovered. “God, Simon,” she whispered. “That was…”

  But whatever she was about to say was interrupted by a knocking on the door. “You okay?” called the stylist’s voice. “I thought I heard some banging. No one fell, did they?”

  Simon stifled a laugh. There’d been banging all right, but not the kind the stylist was probably picturing. “We’re fine,” he called. “We had an idea for some alterations to one of the dresses, we’ll be out in just a moment to show you.” Or, well, they’d be out as soon as he wasn’t sporting a painfully obvious boner.

  Pen sighed. “Couldn’t we just fuck more instead?” she murmured.

  Now Simon did laugh. “I’d love nothing more,” he said, “but you do have a duty today, remember?”

  “The sacrifices I make for my kingdom,” she said, eyeing him as she stood and pulled her Spanx back on.

  10

  Penelope knew she was skirting the rules of queenly modesty with her new dress, but she couldn’t help but wear the one Simon had picked out for her. It turned out the stylist had known what she was doing after all, and the alterations—which the woman had done with amazing speed—had turned out beautifully. The outfit clung to her curves, adorning them in a layer of sheer lace atop the silky white fabric, and Pen had felt Simon’s eyes on her all evening as they made their rounds of the room. His attention felt like a physical weight, something draped around her shoulders, bolstering her confidence and making her feel wanted and beautiful.

  The event had gone splendidly. Simon had done his research, and he could now answer any question about school lunches and the benefits of expanded play time that the executives and members of the nobility threw his way. Pen had answered her fair share too, though she’d dodged the comments that called into question her continued involvement in her toy company. No one knew yet how invested she still was in her store, but she knew that the questions should serve as a warning bell. If she didn’t step away from her company soon, people might start to think she was pushing her playtime plan to line her own pockets with money she made off the sale of her toys. That wasn’t true at all, of course. It was just difficult to let go of something that had defined her for so long.

  She spotted Simon across the room, chatting up a lord by the bar. Maybe she should tell him about it, ask his advice. They had promised each other complete honesty, after all. And he always seemed to know the ins and outs of politics so much better than her—maybe he’d be able to figure out a solution. Though she hoped he wouldn’t be upset that she hadn’t told him sooner.

  He felt her eyes on him and glanced at her, his gaze intent as it swept over her figure. She happily eye-fucked him right back. He was wearing his military uniform again, but now that she knew what was under that starched suit, it felt like a tantalizing secret just between the two of them. Let everyone else see Clark Kent. She’d seen what he was hiding, and she knew who he really was.

  The party ended half an hour later, and it was torture to wait through all the goodbyes until they could retire to a sitting room. A big part of her wanted to jump him the second the door shut, but she stopped herself, wanting to be open with him about her toy store problem first. Before she could speak, though, a maid bustled in with some brandy for them. Pen waited silently while she set the drinks up, checked to see whether they needed anything else, and then strode back out the door.

  Then Simon locked it behind her, and all thoughts of the toy company fell straight out of Penelope’s mind.

  He turned, smiled at her, and flicked off the lights. The room plunged into darkness, lit only by the dim silvery light of the quarter moon out the third-floor windows. She inhaled, her blood singing. The conversation she needed to have with Simon could wait. It would be difficult, and right now she wanted just this: something easy, something that felt more right than anything else had her whole life.

  Deliciously blinded by the dark, she waited for her husband.

  The absence of light made her other senses feel heightened. She heard his footsteps brush against the plush carpet. When he touched her shoulders, goosebumps rose up on her arms. He undressed her slowly, lovingly, one article of clothing at a time, until she stood naked in the darkness. He ran his fingers across the span of her shoulders, down her back, over her ass, across her thighs. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

  She felt for him, found his shirt, unbuttoned it and tossed it aside. She needed those abs under her fingers right now. She slipped her hands across him, felt the ridges of his muscles, the definition of his pecs, the way his biceps bunched when he picked her up. She reached between them, stroking him through his pants before she unzipped them and shoved them off. His boxers went next. Then his full length was hard and hot against her, and she was helpless to do anything but wrap her legs around his back and grind herself against him.

  He stepped back, turned, pressed her up against the wall. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time we met,” he said in a low voice, trailing kisses up her throat. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all night. You up against the wall. My cock inside you. I want you so bad, Pen.”

  “Yes. Do it,” she gasped. “I can’t wait any longer to be with you, Simon.” She was beyond ready to consummate—not just because she physically want
ed him, but because of the way she felt when he was nearby, like he was a magnet for her, an anchor, her rock. She was still uncertain about this whole Queen thing, but where he was concerned, she no longer had any doubts whatsoever.

  He lifted her. She hooked her ankles behind his ass, anchoring herself as his cock hovered at her entrance. And then he was pushing inside her. One inch, two inches. The tension of it, the amazing pressure—it was so much, and not nearly enough. She wriggled and squirmed, trying to push herself down harder onto him, wanting him so much deeper inside her. “God, Simon, fuck me now,” she groaned, unable to take it for another second.

  Obligingly, he shoved her against the wall, holding her hips down with his hands, and thrust hard into her. She pushed off the wall, using it as leverage to meet him thrust for thrust, their bodies already slick with sweat as he drove her toward her climax. Then he reached between them and rubbed her clit, lifted her ass to just the right angle and squeezed it. His thrusts grew faster and more chaotic and she gasped and panted and moaned, both of them nearing oblivion, the moonlight gilding their skin in silver as they made love.

  “Yes,” she managed, barely able to think straight this close to her climax. “Yes, Simon, this is so good, so perfect.”

  “Fuck,” he groaned. “Yes, it is. So perfect. Come for me, my love.”

  One more thrust, one more tweak of her clit, and she was coming hard around him. She yelled, caught in the throes of a pleasure greater than any she’d experienced in a long time. A moment longer and he tensed against her too, shouting as he pumped into her.

  And then it was done. They’d consummated. Penelope had bound herself to Simon for good, and nothing could feel more right.

  Still inside her, her carried her to the bed and laid down with her. Sated and shaken by the intensity of their lovemaking, they stayed connected for a long time, stroking each other and kissing and murmuring.