The Royals: Alexander and Clara: Volume One (The Royals Saga)

by Geneva Lee

  “Are you okay?” he finally asked.

  “I saw—” But the buzz of my phone alarm caught me off. It was noon. Lunchtime.

  It dawned on Alexander as I silenced my phone. “You need to eat.”

  “I’m fine.” Eating was the last thing I felt like doing. Not while my stomach was a tangle of nerves and knots.

  “This is non-negotiable,” he informed me. “You wanted falafel. It will only take me a few minutes to run up the street and grab it.”

  “There’s going to be a line, X,” I said. It was Saturday at lunchtime. He wouldn’t be back for an hour, and the thought of being separated from him that long scared me. Almost as much as being alone right now.

  Alexander shook his head. “I can be very persuasive. Ten minutes. Or I could make more eggs?”

  “Falafel sounds good.” Our first day back together needed to be about us. It needed to be normal, not weighed down by the past. Telling him that I thought I saw my ex-boyfriend on the street was at best silly and at worst paranoid.

  “Are you sure?” His gaze searched my face for a sign as to what had happened. “This is what happens when I give Norris the day off. I have to choose between taking care of you and feeding you.”

  “Feed me,” I ordered, pushing him toward the door.

  Thankfully I could occupy my time with exploring my new home. Over the last few months I’d become adept at distracting myself from things better left in the past. I could apply that skill to seeing Daniel—if I’d seen him at all. The fact that I’d agreed to live here with Alexander was definitely distracting.

  The living room was spartan and comfortable at the same time. Once we got some more furniture and rugs in here it would be quite cozy to sit by the fireplace. There were other things we could do by the fireplace as well.

  Upstairs I found two more bedrooms in addition to what would be our master bedroom. Someday we’d be able to invite guests over to stay, but for now I wanted to keep our love nest to ourselves. Alexander had procured this house as a place for us to escape the outside world. Maybe in its safety he would finally open himself to me in ways he still found too difficult. He wanted me here with him. He’d openly announced we were living together. This wasn’t just a hide-out. It was his way of giving me the commitment that he found so hard to offer me with words.

  A creak from down the hall startled me and I clutched my chest. It was an older home. It was bound to make plenty of odd noises. I was just jumpy after seeing Daniel in the market. At least, I thought that was who I’d seen. It had been naive to think that London’s dense population would protect me from him forever. Besides that, our relationship was long over. So what if he was in Notting Hill today? His geographical coordinates shouldn’t affect me in the slightest.

  But they did, because if I was being honest, I’d hoped to never see him again. Breaking up with Daniel had been difficult, and he hadn’t made it any easier on me. Not that he’d tried to contact me since then. If he’d seen me today, he probably would have avoided me as well. Still I couldn’t help but hope he wouldn’t often find himself near here. Notting Hill was supposed to be my safe haven and I was desperate for its security.

  When Alexander walked back in the door fifteen minutes later, I hadn’t managed to calm myself down at all.

  “You’re late,” I snapped.

  Alexander set the take away on the kitchen counter and sauntered toward me. “Watch yourself, poppet.”

  But I wasn’t in the mood to be teased. I was in the mood to fuck. I needed to feel something other than the anxiety clawing at my chest. There were too many reasons why this wouldn’t work—too many people and too many variables that could mess this up. This morning I had been happy. I wanted to feel that again. I wanted the blissful oblivion of being screwed senseless. So instead of responding to his warning, I crashed into him. Our tongues tangled together as our bodies fought to free ourselves of our restrictive clothing. My hand slipped down the front of his jeans, gripping his hard length. If Alexander was confused at my sudden desire, his cock wasn’t.

  He took the cue, shoving my thin sun dress in a bunch around my hips as he lifted me onto the edge of the kitchen counter. With a snap, he ripped my thong off and pushed between my legs. In one swift motion, he freed me from my dress altogether. His kiss deepened as he removed my bra, his tongue plunging inside my mouth as my breasts spilled free. Pulling his lips away, he breathed heavy against my ear. “Do you trust me?”

  Did I? But the moment I asked the question, I knew my answer. I trusted him—with my body and my heart. I didn’t have any choice but to trust him. Our entire relationship was an act of faith. But I also had seen the shift in him. His desire for control had shifted to protectiveness. I was his as he was mine.

  I nodded.

  “Say the word and I stop,” he reminded me. His body peeled away from mine and I fought the urge to reach out and drag him back to me. Bending down, he picked up the remnants of my panties. “I will not do anything to you that we haven’t done before. At least in a sexual sense. What I’m asking is whether or not you trust me to be in control?”

  Alexander had hinted about his desire to dominate me before, and more than once he’d blurred the boundaries I thought I had. This time I sensed it would be different. The resistance I’d expected to feel when he finally asked me to submit to him wasn’t there. Alexander’s blunt sexuality had governed me since the moment we met, winning out over reason and sense. But he’d always made sure I felt in control. Now he was asking me to relinquish that to him. Something that wasn’t easy for me, given my past.

  “I trust you.” In some ways those words held more meaning than any others I’d spoken to him.

  He knew it. Alexander brushed a kiss across my mouth. The sweet gesture only ratcheted up the pulse between my legs. “Put your hands behind your back.”

  I obeyed without protest. His arms slipped around me, pinning my wrists together before I felt lace wrapping slowly around them. He bound them together tightly enough that there was no chance I could pull an arm free but not so much that it hurt. A thrill raced from my stomach to my throat. A strange mixture of apprehension and elation swirled through my head. I bit my lip, trying to hold the dizzying effect he had on me at bay. For the first time, I didn’t simply want this—I needed it. I needed him to take command and make me forget all the fear and anger I’d felt earlier.

  He stepped back and regarded me—legs spread wide on the counter, hands bound behind my back—and smiled. The darkness that always flickered in the depths of his beautiful eyes flamed to life.

  “Now you have me where you want me,” I murmured, surprised at the sultry undertone of my own voice. I wasn’t entirely certain who this vixen was, but I was eager for her to come out and play—eager to let go.

  But Alexander held back, clearly not as restless as I was, and shook his head. “Not quite, poppet.”

  He slid open a drawer and removed a white kitchen towel. Shaking it open, he laid it on the counter and folded it longwise into precise thirds. When he lifted it to my face, there was a moment of hesitation. He didn’t ask my permission again. He only waited for me to say no, but I was silent. Tying it around my eyes, he whispered, “You still have your voice.”

  Then he was gone. I sensed his presence and knew he was standing there surveying his prize. With my sight taken from me, I was aware of the sharp intake of his breath. The air felt cooler on my bare skin. Every inch of me felt alive.

  “Beautiful,” he said in appreciative voice. “First, you will eat.”

  I started to protest, but it was no use. There was no arguing with Alexander’s protective side. Beside me a bag rustled and I heard the metallic crunch of foil being torn away. An exotic aroma flooded my nostrils and I breathed in, trying to guess what he’d brought home for me. I was an adventurous eater, but I’d always known what was going into my mouth.

  “Open your mouth.”

  I did as he instructed and spice burst across my tongue. I ch
ewed slowly, delicately. The flavors were Moroccan, I guessed, but although I’d had the cuisine before, I’d never savored it like this, deprived of my sight—deprived of even the ability to feed myself. When I was ready, he offered me another bite and another. Something about the act, so nurturing and yet so domineering, made the experience almost orgasmic. Each bite stole another moan of pleasure from me as the unexpected textures and flavors hit my palate.

  “Are you ready for the next course?” he asked at last, and something in his tone sent anticipation fluttering through me.

  I nodded, licking my lips.

  His hands slid under my arms and he lifted me to my feet. “Kneel.”

  He guided me to the floor. The stone tile was cold on my knees as I waited, unsure what to expect next. Then I felt the warm crown of his cock nudge against my lips. They parted willingly, taking his length into my mouth. My tongue wrapped around his shaft as I began to suck, but his hand stilled my head.

  “Relax,” he ordered. “Take all of it.”

  I withdrew to take a deep breath and then closed my mouth over him once more. This time I was ready and he slid inside me, his crest bumping gently against my throat. “I’m going to fuck your mouth, Clara. Are you prepared for that?”

  I moaned my readiness and he began to thrust inside me with slow, purposeful strokes. “Your lips look so pretty wrapped around my cock,” he grunted and delight colored my cheeks. “Are you blushing, poppet, or are you turned on?”

  I could almost imagine the hunger burning through his eyes as he spoke, and it made me want to reach out and urge his hips to a swifter pace. But I couldn’t. I was at his mercy as he took his pleasure, and I’d never been so wildly turned on. All I could do was show him by pressing my lips over him and sucking harder. He groaned his approval and deepened his strokes until I felt the first jet of his climax hit the back of my throat.

  When he pulled out, I expected him to take off my blindfold, but instead he ushered me to my feet. Turning my body, he pressed a hand against my shoulder blades. Instinctively I bent until my breasts met the granite counter. I shivered as the delicate skin of my nipples beaded at the cool contact. He isn’t done with me yet. It was the only thought blaring through my head as Alexander pushed my legs open wider. The tip of a finger trailed along my throbbing sex, and I cried out, torn between frustration and agonizing expectation. It stilled and I followed suit, realizing that he was waiting for me to prove I was ready for him—for his touch. When I was quiet, his finger delved between my folds and caressed my clit. The touch was too gentle to provide the satisfaction I desperately craved. Instead, the sensitive spot switched on like a beacon, pulsing with increasing demand as it waited for its relief. I squirmed, encouraging his hand to find it again, and the action was met with an unexpected, firm smack to my ass.

  Alexander had spanked me before, but this took me by surprise and I gasped even as my body went limp against him.

  “Let go,” he demanded again. Molding his body to mine, he lowered his voice, “You will always come, poppet. That is not a question. The only question is when? Do you know the answer?”

  “When you say,” I guessed in a near breathless voice.

  “Very good.” He brushed his free hand down my hair. “I’ve told you before that you may ask, but not today. Today I want you to come freely but only by my hand—or whatever part of me I choose. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I moaned, not quite able to stop myself from wondering exactly how long that would be.

  “It won’t be long. I won’t make you wait,” he promised in a soothing voice. His thumb settled over my clit as he spoke while his fingers eased inside my slit. He massaged inside and out, and my limbs began to tense. I fought it, but then his words came back to me.

  Let go.

  I did as he commanded, releasing myself to him until I’d forgotten my bound wrists and covered eyes. Until I’d forgotten the problems awaiting us outside this house. I allowed the bliss to carry me away, sweeping me along with its powerful current as I surrendered the last of my control. It roared through me and I sobbed with agonizing relief as the waves crashed over me.

  The binding over my wrists loosened and Alexander rubbed along the indentations left behind. He removed the blindfold next and the world came rushing back to me in vivid colors. For a moment, I sagged against the counter, too weak-kneed to move, but Alexander’s hand on my back signaled for me to face him. When I finally lifted my eyes to meet his, the wildness that usually flamed in them had cooled. He cupped my chin and drew my lips to his.

  “Thank you,” he told me in a soft voice. “For your trust.”

  My eyes fluttered against the residue of tears recently fallen, and I shook my head. He shouldn’t be the one thanking me. I should be thanking him, for finally giving me true release. For freeing me.

  “Was it too much? If you aren’t—” His now placid eyes filled with concern.

  I raised a single finger to his lips to stop him mid-sentence. He was worried about how I felt. I’d given him plenty of cause for concern before. But he needed to know that everything was different now. He needed to know what I truly wanted and there was only one word he needed to hear. “More.”

  Chapter Ten

  Alexander

  Clara was back in my bed. After months of trying to let her go or draw her back, she was here. There’d been no resistance when I had carried her upstairs, despite showing her the dominance hidden inside of me. I’d taken her again without warning when we reached our bedroom. She did not complain, although I was certain I hurt her—that I’d been too rough, too excited after tying her delicate wrists behind her. I needed to explain myself—my compulsions—before I scared her. She wouldn’t be allowed to run away again, but I could not stomach the idea of her fearing me. Running a finger down the soft curve of her hip, I marveled at her presence—at the sense of wholeness I only felt when she was near.

  But even as we lay here, rediscovering each other now with gentle caresses and stolen kisses, the future weighed on me. Being with me would destroy her. I was a one-man wrecking ball and no matter how much I tried to deny my feelings for her, I couldn’t let her go. I couldn’t save her. A life with me meant a life of pressure and more scrutiny that any one person should bear. I’d watched it poison my father, making him into a man I could no longer look to with respect. My brother was forced to live a lie. What would Clara be forced to endure to be with me?

  “Stop it,” she demanded in a low voice. “Here and now, remember?”

  How did she know what I was thinking? How did she always know?

  Because she loved me.

  I pushed the thought away, but it was too late. The momentary lightness of the realization evaporated and my body constricted as though someone was strangling me. Loving me was dangerous. It was the one thing I couldn’t prevent. I’d tried to stop her. I’d tried to hurt her.

  And here she was.

  I wasn’t a weak man, but I was powerless to deny myself. My eyes swept over her lips and my cock twitched, already ready to fill her again. But I had to show her she was more to me than that. How could I, though, knowing I would inevitably fuck this up?

  Reaching out, I gently guided her onto her stomach. The only way to stop the constant onslaught of confusion coursing through me was to give in to my baser instincts. The sight of her ass—shapely and inviting—did the trick. I couldn’t tell her how I felt, because I didn’t understand it myself. But I could show her. Lowering my lips to the nape of her neck, I pressed a kiss to her flesh. Clara released a soft sigh, and the vise-grip around my heart relaxed. This was what I needed—to hear the soft moans of her pleasure, to lose myself in the little noises she made as I took her. Her pleasure freed me, giving me a sense of purpose I thought I’d lost forever. Sweeping her hair off her shoulders, I ran my fingers through the loose strands. Another tiny whimper escaped her.

  Resisting the urge to plunge inside her so quickly after our last rough encounter, I parted her h
air and began to slowly braid it. “I love your hair. I love watching it fall across your face as I fuck you. I love when it brushes across my cock the moment before I’m in your mouth.”

  “X.” Caution coloured her voice, as if she was afraid to be pleased by my confession. She wriggled closer to me, pushing her ass against my groin in invitation. “Please, X.”

  My chest constricted again, but this time with pleasure over her pet name for me. It was too soon for her body, although I couldn’t ignore her plea. “Shh, poppet. Soon. I’ll fuck you soon, but your body needs longer. I took you without making sure you were ready last time. I couldn’t help myself.”

  It wasn’t an apology exactly. I couldn’t apologize for giving us what we both needed, but now there was no need to rush. I folded a section of her hair over another.

  “I’m fine.” But her words were forced. She needed the contact as much as I did. Something had happened earlier in the market. Something had spooked her. I wasn’t inclined to push her for answers. Not this early in our reconciliation and not after she’d been so angry over my possessiveness. But even if she didn’t understand the necessity of my vigilance, she would learn to live with it. I made a mental note to ask Norris to look into the matter.

  Her body curved into a graceful arc as she pushed up and turned to look at me. Pert, pink nipples brushed across her upper arm as she knelt on the bed. She was original sin incarnate—my temptation and my redemption.

  “I thought I didn’t have to ask today.”

  “Don’t argue. When your cunt is soft and wet—” I tightened my hold on her braid and leaned down to brush my lips across her shoulder—“then. When you’re ready.”

  “I’m always ready for you,” she reminded me in a whisper.

  It took every ounce of self-control I had not to take her on the spot. Instead, I wrapped her hair slowly around her neck like a collar. Clara stilled but didn’t object, although her hands fisted into the sheets. Did she anticipate what I wanted to do to her? It seemed impossible that she invited it. She had been clear that she wasn’t interested in more than playful submission. Not that I required more, but…I enjoyed it. My past relationships had come on my terms. Women were eager to fuck me however I wanted to fuck, and I’d certainly taken advantage of their flexibility. But my desire for Clara ran deeper. I didn’t want to break her. I wanted to conquer her and the fears that held her captive to the past. I understood all too well what that was like. The more she relinquished control to me, the more I could liberate her while showing her that my protective nature stemmed from a primal urge I couldn’t deny.