by Geneva Lee
“I think that you hold the honor of catching the most eligible bachelor. They’re only sad that their consolation prize is already claimed.”
I’d found myself checking the gossip site headlines the last few days, thrilled to discover that the majority were supportive. I’d even had to chuckle at the suggestion that it was just further proof that the old dinosaur of the monarchy still had some edge.
We fell into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing as if we’d all known each other for years. For the first time since Alexander and I had reunited, my own burden lifted. My phone buzzed in my purse and I pulled it out, frowning to see Lola’s name flashing on the screen.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to my sister. It was that Lola reserved phone calls for practical matters. She wasn’t the type to phone simply for a quick chat.
“Hello,” I answered, leaving Belle and Edward to debate which photo from TMI’s ongoing coverage of his outing was the most flattering.
“Clara, I’m so glad I’ve caught you. Do you have a minute?” She spoke breathlessly and continued on before waiting for me to respond. “Mother wants to set up a family meeting.”
It was refreshing not to be bombarded with more pitiful enquiries to how I was coping with Saturday’s events. Alexander had managed to keep the media out of the situation through means I didn’t question, but he had insisted on phoning my parents. Their lack of response told me that their own issues were far from resolved.
“She’s insisting that we need to hire a PR consultant to handle the Daniel situation and…”
“And the affair?” I finished for her.
“You know Mother. She didn’t come right out and say it, but yes. She’s concerned with how a scandal might affect you,” Lola confessed.
“Was this your idea?” I asked her bluntly. Lola was still at university but she’d already nearly finished her own PR degree. No one could question her ambition, but I also knew that she didn’t see a family matter as a private concern. All she saw was the best way to spin.
“This was her idea.” There was an edge to her voice now, and I backtracked.
“The only way Dad cheating on her is going to affect me is if he doesn’t stop,” I said in a flat voice. “I hardly see how his affair affects me in other ways.”
“You’re poised to marry the most powerful man in Britain.”
I ignored the slight condescension. “There is a difference between dating and marrying, Lola.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” she warned me. “Will you come if she sets it up?”
“I suppose.” Not a bone in my body agreed with how my mother was handling the confirmation of my father’s affair. The whole thing stank. What my parents needed to worry about was their marriage. Instead they were focused on their public personae. Not to mention the fact that Alexander wasn’t going to like the idea of me speaking with a publicist.
“I’m making a few calls, but I’ll send you the information as soon as I have it.” She ended the call without a farewell and I dropped my phone back into my purse. Then dug it out and turned the ringer to silent.
“I take it that wasn’t Alexander,” Edward said.
“My mother wants to hire a publicist,” I said pointedly, gratefully accepting a hot cup of coffee from Tamara. Belle laughed at the revelation and after a few moments I joined her.
“Alexander was right,” Edward said thoughtfully. “You really will fit right in with the family.”
“Is everyone planning my wedding?” I asked in dismay.
“No one but the whole of the free world,” he assured me.
“I already told her that.” Belle grinned smugly.
“Wipe that grin off your face, Annabelle Stuart.” But her smile only widened at my warning.
“Don’t pout. There’s no pouting while shopping,” Edward ordered as a statuesque blonde strutted into the room in a fitted navy blue dress that fell gracefully below the knee. She turned, showing off its boatneck collar and open back. The skirt seemed modest until I saw the slit in the back that allowed glimpses of her toned legs.
“You need that,” Belle murmured.
“It’s so…” I struggled to find the right words.
“Classic? Sexy? Timeless?” Edward offered, and I could only nod.
It was exactly the kind of thing I was expected to wear. I never would have picked it up off the rack, but seeing it on her… I ordered it on the spot. The next hour passed in a flurry of taffeta and linen and crepe. I lost count of the number of items that Edward and Belle insisted that I had to have, and I was all too willing to be swept into the glamour of it all. Belle and Edward left to find us a table for lunch while I finalized the bill.
When Tamara began to bring me shoes, I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “How much have I spent?”
“The bill is taken care of. Mr. Alexander insisted you not see it.” She patted my arm and then handed me a pair of Louboutins. There was a convenient lack of price tag. “You’re living a fairytale, Clara. Try to enjoy it.”
But the problem with fairytales is that people only remembered the love story and forgot the twisted beasts and evil witches lurking in the shadows. Happily ever afters weren’t easily won, they were fought for, and the oldest of these stories didn’t often end prettily.
I slipped the pump onto my foot, admiring the sexy arch that curved into a sky-rise heel.
“You need those,” a gruff voice said over my shoulder. My core clenched, the words splitting the world around me like lightening. Sudden. Powerful. Undeniable.
I spun in my seat and stretched my calf out so he could admire the expensive shoe.
He nodded at Tamara. “Wrap them up.”
“I’m afraid I’ve been bad and bought too many dresses,” I told him when Tamara had left us.
He bent down over my seat, propping his strong hands on its arms. “I understand that this shop offers private viewings. Perhaps you can show me.”
“I’m expected at lunch,” I reminded him, but the silky edge of longing crept into my voice.
“Choose one.” It wasn’t a request.
I ducked into the back room and found Tamara overseeing the packaging of my gowns and dresses and shoes. Once upon a time, it might have embarrassed me to ask a stranger a question like this, but Alexander put fire in my veins, and I could only think of extinguishing it with his touch.
“Alexander is requesting to see one of my purchases,” I explained to her. “He’d like a private showing.”
This woman was far too sophisticated not to catch my meaning. But I had just purchased half of her winter line, so she tilted her head in approval. “Of course, love. Whatever His Highness wishes, we will see to.”
Whatever His Highness wishes, I will see to, I corrected her silently.
“I’ll let you choose what you want to show him.” Tamara stepped away from the rack of dresses waiting to be boxed up and delivered to my house. It took only a moment for me to find the one I knew he would appreciate most.
“I told you that one would suit you.”
She showed me to a back dressing room and pulled open the damask curtain, hanging the gown so I could change. “If you need help, I’ll be around the corner. Out of sight.”
I didn’t miss the suggestiveness of her words. This was what life with Alexander would entail. Special privileges. Purchased privacy. And, I thought as the platinum silk dropped over my head, beautiful objects. I didn’t need any of it, and yet my skin warmed thinking of how he could bring the world to its knees. Just as he’d brought me to mine.
The gown rippled across my tailbone, held up by two slender ropes that curved gracefully across my shoulders, leaving my back exposed. But its most scintillating feature was the slit that revealed my thigh to the point of indecency. It was the kind of dress that required a very particular type of undergarment, or better yet, none at all.
“Clara,” Tamara called from the other side of the curtain. “I’ve brought you some stockin
gs and shoes. It won’t do to have you only half-dressed.”
I seriously doubted that Alexander would complain, but I took the items from her. The garter belt she passed me was impossibly delicate, a mere whisper of lace gliding over my skin as I hooked it over my hips. A seam ran up the back of the sheer stockings starting exactly at the back heel of the sequined Louboutins she’d brought me. There was a time when I wouldn’t have dreamed of wearing this dress with these heels and so very little underwear. But now I saw my body through Alexander’s eyes. He’d made me comfortable in my own skin.
Outside the dressing room, the shop felt deserted. Tamara and the models were nowhere to be seen. But even though I felt sexy, I was no way runway model. The thought of strutting into the showroom made me feel ridiculous, but as soon as I stepped in front of X, all the doubt vanished. He drank me in, fucking me with his eyes. His mouth twisted into a wicked smile that promised sin without apology. Alexander had been my greatest temptation from the moment we met, but our roles had reversed. Now I was the apple, and it was clear he wanted a bite.
My thigh slipped through the gown as I crossed to him, exposing the ribbon of my garters in invitation. I sashayed toward him and stopped just short of his reach to turn slowly around. Alexander lounged against the velvet divan, an arm draped casually over the edge and the other stroking the stubble on his strong jawline. He’d unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie, but even in this relaxed state, power radiated from him. Hours ago he’d been discussing politics with world leaders, preparing to take on the role of leading a country. Minutes ago he’d shut down an entire store, because he could. Now he tapped a finger on his lower lip, drawing my attention to his mouth. That was the true nature of his authority: his ability to simply exert his will on the world.
His extended his hand, hooking a finger in silent command. I stepped forward, finally close enough to touch him, but I refrained, waiting for his cue. The need to dominate had returned. It sparked in his eyes while the rest of his face remained passive and in control.
My center ached, wondering what exquisite torture he had planned for me even as I knew it would never be enough.
The back of his hand caressed across the bare space between stocking and silk, and I trembled at the contact. Bumps rippled along my flesh as my body reacted to his touch.
“I have half a mind to roll this off of you—” he fingered the band circling my thigh—“and tie you to this chair.”
“Why don’t you?” I murmured, shifting so that his hand slipped higher up my bare thigh.
Alexander’s mouth twisted into a smirk and he drew back, leaving me unsatisfied. “I’m always ripping your clothes off, Clara. I think this time I’ll leave them on.”
“But how will you touch me?”
“Oh, I’ll still touch you, poppet. Are you worried that I can’t turn you on if I don’t have you naked? If I can’t brush my fingers over your bare nipples or see your lovely, naked cunt?” He leaned forward and cupped my breast through the gown’s silk. “Do you think it will be a challenge for me to get your body to respond? Because it won’t. Your body understands what I want from it—what I expect from it. Doesn’t it?”
His thumb orbited the tips of my nipples until they pebbled against the fabric. The silk grazed across their sensitive furls until my breasts swelled under the gown.
“I can’t decide,” he said in a measured voice, “if I’ll allow you to wear this dress out of our home. Everyone who looks at you will see your curves, and your body is so responsive, particularly your breasts. You won’t be able to hide these. They demand attention, don’t they?”
A moan slipped from my lips as he pinched my beaded nipples. The sting of pleasure shot through my body and rolled through my core.
“On the other hand,” he continued, “part of me wants them to see my prize. I want them to admire your graceful body. I want them to lust after you—crave you. Because they can never have you. Why is that, poppet?”
“Because I’m yours,” I breathed as shivers rippled across my skin.
“Good girl,” he said in an approving tone. He abandoned my breasts and slid a hand between my legs, curving it possessively over my sex. Rubbing along the length of my slit, he coated his fingers in my arousal. “I’m going to reward you for knowing that, and I’m going to reward your body for knowing as well. I love when you well up at my touch—so wet and ready for me to fuck you.”
My head swam as all the blood that usually helped me function rushed to pool in my swollen mound. It was agony and ecstasy blended into a heady cocktail, and I was intoxicated.
“I want you to ride me, Clara,” he ordered me through the haze permeating my brain. Unbuckling his belt, he liberated his cock from the confines of his trousers. “I want to watch your gorgeous cunt sink onto me and then I want you to fuck me.”
He gripped my hips and pulled me roughly onto his lap, tugging the gown’s delicate silk aside so that I was on full display for him. I sank onto his length as he’d ordered me, slowly adjusting as his cock stretched my delicate entrance.
“Like that, poppet,” he murmured, rubbing a thumb across my aching bud. My eyes locked with his, but then his gaze traveled down as I raised my hips up, allowing his shaft to nearly slip from the confines of my sex. His eyelids grew heavy, hooding with lust as I lowered myself bit by delicious bit and sheathed myself to the hilt. My ass circled against him and I savored the fullness piercing me through my very core.
“I love you,” he groaned as I pressed myself harder against him.
His words were an aphrodisiac—the affirmation I’d long craved—and I dipped and rose, rolling my hips. I wanted more. I wanted to fuse with him. I wanted to bind my body to his until nothing could tear us apart again.
“I love you,” he said once more and my speed increased, building to meet the strength of those three perfect words. My muscles coiled, tightening my limbs as my fingers fisted in his thick black hair. I clung to him, my hands tightening as I held on. Alexander’s breathing grew ragged and his control slipped. His cock plunged into me, matching my pace and then urging me faster. Faster. Faster. We drove each other on, frantically seeking release. Teeth rasped my tender nipple and I burst, shattering against him as he continued to climb.
“I love when you fuck me,” he grunted, thrusting hard into my quaking entrance and pushing me back into the race. My body burned, my center molten and inflamed. It was too much, but it was always too much—and never enough.
We moved with raw instinct, chasing each other toward the peak.
“Come,” he ordered in a low voice and I splintered around him as he surged inside me, grinding out his climax with a growl that echoed through my bones.
Collapsing against him, I shook with new life. We stayed fixed to one another until the languid bliss seeped through my skin and made it possible for me to move. Alexander brushed a curl from my cheek and kissed the hollow of my neck.
“I might want you to continue this fashion show at home.”
“That can be arranged,” I promised him as I lifted myself carefully from his lap. His finger swept across my cunt, drawing the moisture of his release across its tip.
“I love knowing you’re full of me.” A familiar hunger reignited in his face as he spoke.
I wagged a finger at him, pushing onto wobbly legs. “I have a date.”
“Lucky wankers.” He grinned. “Until tonight.”
Tonight couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Nineteen
The office hummed with energy the following morning, and after the night I’d spent with Alexander, so did I. Peeking inside Bennett’s office, I spotted Tori perched on his desk. She clutched a notebook, but judging by the adoring look on his face, not much work was getting done.
I knocked on the door. “Am I interrupting?”
“No,” Bennett said. They both looked rattled. It was rather adorable.
“I forgot to drop this report off to you on Tuesday.” I crossed to his
desk and handed him a file.
Tori grinned at me, her cheeks matching her red hair. She pushed off the desk. “I’ll leave you two to discuss.” She glanced at Bennett with obvious affection. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of Peters & Clarkwell realized something was up between them. “And we’ll continue this later.”
He watched her leave, relaxing back into his chair with a sigh.
I couldn’t help being a bit jealous. They were clearly still in the honeymoon stage of their relationship, but it was more than that. Despite trying to hide an office romance, things were simple for them. They could go on dates without worrying about paparazzi following their every move. No one was planning their wedding. Not yet. Although I couldn’t help but wish things would become that serious for them. Then again, Bennett was a widower with two little girls. Maybe I only saw the romance of their situation and not all the complications. After all, relationships always looked easier from the outside.
“How was your day off?” he asked.
I hadn’t bothered to lie to Bennett about my intentions. Since I’d started at the firm I hadn’t used a single personal day or any of my vacation. “Fabulous.”
It was an honest answer. Yesterday had felt closer to normal than any day since Alexander and I had worked things out. I’d found myself wishing that it was fresh start.
“You look tired.” Bennett studied my face.
I choked back a laugh. There was a lot of stress in my life at the moment, but that wasn’t why I looked tired. That was entirely due to my insatiable boyfriend.
“I checked and you still have all your vacation days,” he continued. “Those expire at the end of the calendar year.”
“I’m sure I’ll use them over the holidays.” Alexander’s schedule had been full of meetings with visiting dignitaries and charity events. He had suggested that I accompany to him to these daytime appointments, but I’d been all too happy to remind him that I had a job.
“I’m holding you to that,” he said pointedly. Bennett’s brown eyes glanced out the door of his office. “I could use your help with something.”