by Geneva Lee
“I suppose that means you like it?”
“I love it.” I sprung to my feet, briefly wondering how much longer I’d be able to do that as I patted my growing belly. Wandering around the room, I discovered an abundance of small touches that doubled the ache of joy in my heart. A vase engraved with the crest of the Oxford and Cambridge Club held a bunch of petite pink roses. A tiny but exquisite replica of the London Eye perched on a shelf next to her crib. Next to it rested a candid shot of Alexander and me kissing on the night he asked me to marry him.
“I thought,” I said slowly, searching for the right words through the mist of emotions clouding my thoughts, “that I would never feel at home here, and although it does still feel like a dream, I can see it now. I can see us here. All three of us.”
Alexander caught me from behind and wrapped his arms around my waist, crossing his hands protectively around my belly. “I understand. I spent my whole life in places like this, and I never felt as though I belonged either. But now I know. Home isn’t a place, Poppet. Not for me. You are my home.”
He released me, but before I could reach out and pull him back, he dropped to his knees before my feet and pressed his head softly against my midsection. My fingers wove into his hair and held him there. We clung to one another—man and wife, vine and branch, heart and soul.
Alexander buried his face into me as he pressed his lips lightly to the swell of new life I carried. His mouth moved, brushing a whisper through my shirt’s thin material, but I heard it.
“I love you, princess.”
He’d once believed those words a curse. He’d withheld them to punish himself for the past. Hearing him say them now to our child stole my breath.
Tears swam through my eyes as he tilted his head to gaze at me. This was the for always he had promised me that night on the London Eye. We’d had to fight to get here, and I had no doubt that a life together wouldn’t always be easy. But Alexander was worth all of it.
“I didn’t know how to handle it when I found out you were pregnant. After he tried to take you from me, the thought that you were carrying our child made the weight of that day too much.
“I always wanted you both,” he said softly. “But I knew I didn’t deserve you—how could I deserve her?” He kissed my belly once more. “I went back to the dark places. I sought revenge so that I might.”
I caressed the side of his face, running my fingers over the stubble, and took his chin. “I’m with you, even in darkness.”
“And there, you are my light,” he murmured in a rough whisper.
“Always,” I promised.
For a moment, neither of us spoke, we simply drank in each other’s presence, soaking in the peace we’d finally found. Then Alexander’s hand slipped under the hem of my shirt and kneaded the flesh of my hip. “I have a confession.” His lips curved into a wicked smirk that set off an alert between my legs.
“Your body is so incredibly sexy, Poppet. I’ve barely been able to concentrate for weeks watching it change.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow, but he shook his head, catching my shirt in his hands as he stood and lifted it over my head. “You look so fucking luscious. I just want to taste every last inch of you.”
Yes, please.
Without a word, he swept me into his arms, cradling me close to his chest where I could hear the beat of his heart, and carried me across the hall to our bedroom.
“Are you forgetting the staff?” I asked him wryly, but I didn’t try to cover myself.
“Sooner or later, all three hundred of them are going to learn that I can’t keep my hands off of you.” His mouth twisted into a cocky smile as if imagining each future encounter with a shocked household member.
He lowered me to my feet but kept an arm hooked around my waist. His hold on me tightened as his other hand cupped the nape of my neck possessively.
A moan spilled from me as he slanted his head and began the agonizingly slow journey down my neck to my collarbone. His tongue followed the curve of my breast as his hand freed it from my bra.
“I didn’t think these could be any more perfect,” he murmured, “but I’m a man who can admit when he’s wrong. So full and soft—they’re absolutely delicious.”
My laughter at that statement gave way to a gasp as he flicked the tip of my nipple with his tongue. He circled it leisurely, and I sighed with approval, even as desire inflamed me. My blood heated, pounded with uncontrollable hunger, as it traveled in rivers of want that pooled into the swollen mouth of my need.
“Oh god…please, X…”
“Tell me what you want,” he commanded. “My mouth on your lush cunt?”
“Yes.”
My breathing was coming as fast and hard as I wish I was.
His lips abandoned my breasts and sought the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Do you want my cock?”
“Please…please.”
“You’re going to have to be clearer with your instructions.” His hot breath sent shivers cascading down the back of my neck. “I’ve taken the day off to worship you, so tell me how you want to be fucked.”
“Hard,” I cried.
His tongue clicked disapprovingly. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“Fuck resting!”
“That’s precisely the idea.” His fingers hooked over the waistband of my jeans and shoved them roughly to the floor. Alexander wasted no time sliding his hand under my panties. His thumb dove deftly past my folds and planted itself over my throbbing clit.
“I’m going to make you come again and again,” he said silkily, “my way. Soft and slow, Poppet.”
“Oh, please,” I whimpered, bucking against him. “I need to play. I need more.”
“And you’ll have it…in four months,” he added. His teeth sank gently into the bow of my neck. “Think of it as months of foreplay. Although, satisfaction is guaranteed.”
“Just make love to me,” I pled.
He didn’t need further coaxing. He gripped the collar of his shirt and jerked it smoothly over his head as my fingers unbuckled and unzipped. He stepped out of his pants and lunged forward, catching the elastic of my panties and snapping it. Our mouths collided as he lifted me against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, circling against his cock, my desire turning liquid at the contact.
Alexander carried me to the ornate bench at the foot of our bed, holding my ass firmly over the crest of his shaft as he took a seat.
“Carefully,” he warned as my hips strained to lower myself over him.
My eyes sought his and locked on. I knew what he needed to hear. “You aren’t going to hurt me.”
“What if you’re wrong?” he asked. “I’m not a perfect man.”
My fingers twined through his hair and held him in place, refusing to allow him to turn away. “Love isn’t perfection. Love is when two imperfect people choose not to give up on each other.”
“I’ll always choose you above everything.”
I clenched my eyes shut and pressed my forehead to his as his powerful grip relaxed, allowing me to sink down until I was sheathed to the root. Alexander’s hands rocked my hips as he thrust inside me. My hands sought him, closing over his jaw and sculpted cheekbones for leverage as I surged against him. We moved in a sensual rhythm, taking our time.
“This is my home,” he groaned, his pace increasing only slightly.
My yes was lost in a sudden blissful cry as he shifted, piercing me deeper, and I fractured against him, falling into a million pieces that only he could join together. Our love was ecstasy and pain, birth and destruction, light and dark. It existed outside of time and distance, stretching infinitely into the unknown. I clung to him, to the answers I’d found in his arms, no longer afraid of what the future held for us, knowing we would face it together.
Chapter Thirty-Three
January
Dawn stole across the floor as I waited, listening to my wife’s soft breathing. On cue, a low keening trembled from across the room. C
lara stirred, sighing sleepily as she began to push down the covers.
“I’ve got her, Poppet,” I whispered. I drew the blanket over her and kissed her neck swiftly before I slipped from the bed.
The cry ratcheted in demand as I padded toward the bassinet.
“Have you been forgotten, princess?” I murmured.
Elizabeth calmed at the sound of my voice, and I scooped her into my arms. Her head wobbled slightly, a clear look of disapproval on her face, before she finally buried it against my shoulder. I brushed my lips over the dark wisps that curled over her crown.
“Your mum needs sleep,” I informed her, cradling her to my chest. I heard Clara rise and start toward the loo. “Daddy kept her up all night trying to make you a playmate.”
“Is that what you were doing?” Clara called softly from inside the ensuite.
I swayed to unplayed music, earning a contented gurgle from my audience. Love swelled in my chest as a tiny hand fumbled for my chin. It was my favourite part of the day: waking up to my wife and daughter.
Clara’s body pressed against mine, her hands curving over my shoulders as she matched our gentle rhythm.
We danced in the subdued light of early morning until Elizabeth realized her mum had joined the party.
“Someone is hungry.” I passed her to Clara, one hand hovering near her neck. “When you’re finished I’ll change her.”
Clara kissed me on the cheek before she swept over to the chair by the hearth. I watched as they settled down to nurse before I took my turn in the loo.
When I emerged, Clara was rocking Elizabeth. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the drapes, casting a faint glow on her porcelain skin. I froze, my gaze fixed on the sight as the edge of a memory skirted through my mind. Elizabeth’s finger wrapped around her mother’s as Clara hummed her back to sleep. Our daughter smiled dreamily before resuming her suction.
“She’s laughing,” Clara whispered with delight and my chest tightened. Every day brought some new small moment to amaze us.
I ruled a country, but these two women were my world.
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped away from her mother as she fell deeper into her dreams, and I lifted her from her mother’s arms. Clara released her reluctantly.
“Go back to bed,” I ordered her.
“A little bossy today, X.” She feigned annoyance as she crawled back under the covers. “Someone should crown you King of England. Oh wait...”
“Tease all you like, because you’re coming with me,” I warned as I carried Elizabeth back to her bassinet, deciding not to wake her for a nappy change. I laid her down and turned on my wife.
Drawing the sheets down, I crept over her. She popped open one languid eyelid as I pushed her satin nightgown up and ran my lips from the hollow of her neck down.
“I heard what you were plotting,” she said, not quite able to stifle a gasp of pleasure as I brushed my mouth over her nipples. They’d been off-limits for the past few months as she acclimated to motherhood, but this morning I couldn’t resist. Tracing the swell of her breast from peak to valley, I moved down, circling around her navel with the tip of my tongue before I paused to place a soft kiss over the scar on her lower belly. The number one reason I’d been unable to convince her it was time to fill another room in the palace.
“I can’t help it. You’ve gone and gotten even sexier. It makes me want to do crazy things to you.” I meant it. Clara’s body had softened with motherhood into a voluptuous wet dream. I’d nearly lost my mind during the first six weeks postpartum and I’d been making up for lost time ever since.
“Crazy like have another baby before Elizabeth’s even two?” she asked.
I placed a palm on her thigh and her legs flowered open in invitation.
I continued my descent, kissing along the inner curve of her leg. “I think we should at least practice.”
“Practice sounds good,” she said breathily as my tongue split her seam and danced over her engorged clit.
“I thought it might.” I hooked an arm around her leg and drew it roughly up, bracketing my shoulder against it for leverage as I continued my assault.
Clara’s hands clawed at the sheets, grasping for a pillow to stifle her cries, as I relentlessly tongued her, reminding her exactly how great practicing could be. Her muscles tensed and then she burst, her body shaking as she came.
She laid there, quivering in silence while I kissed along her thigh. When I pulled away, she tossed the pillow to the other side of the bed and scrambled to her knees. Her breasts spilled from her nightgown as she gripped the waistband of my boxer shorts. I leaned back soaking in the delicious sensation of her mouth on my cock. She sucked greedily until my balls tightened then pulled away.
My hand fisted over my shaft, moving slowly as she drew off her the satin slip, revealing herself completely to me. Her body was a marvel—all curves and temptation—and I watched in wonder as her hair spilled over her shoulder. She tossed the gown to the floor and crawled back to me, bringing her mouth to mine.
Her teeth nipped at my lower lip, giving the edge of pain to my pleasure. “I want to play.” Lovemaking had become slow and rapturous since Elizabeth’s arrival. I couldn’t help wanting to spend every moment I had alone with Clara worshipping her.
“You won’t break me,” she said, giving voice to the concern I tried to hide.
Her eyes turned up to me, wide with invitation, and I felt the familiar, primitive stir of dominance.
If only she knew how helpless I was to resist her—that every ounce of control I exhibited was simply to prolong her pleasure. My hand lashed out, gripping her jaw and drawing her roughly to me. She moaned and I smashed my lips harder to hers. Whimpers slipped through as my tongue plunged inside her mouth sucking hers forcefully and drawing it deeper into mine.
I broke away, grabbing her hips and flipping her onto her stomach. My tongue trailed her spine as my fingers delved into her cunt.
“You’re so wet for me, Poppet. So tight and so wet,” I murmured before sinking my teeth into the soft flesh of her ass. “Kneel.”
She pushed to her knees, dropping her bottom back on her heels.
“You’ve learned so much,” I said approvingly, guiding the crown of my cock between her legs. I stroked it along her soaked sex, pushing it past her swollen folds. I rolled its tip over the bundle of nerves, drawing a raspy breath from her lips.
She shifted, dropping to open herself to me. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen—her hips circling wantonly over me. I drank in the sight until the temptation overwhelmed my restraint and I accepted her invitation.
I thrust into her with one smooth stroke and retreated. Angling my cock I took my time before I slid inside her again. My arms snaked around her torso, holding her in place as I hammered into her. I moved a hand to her throat, catching her jaw and stretching her. Clara’s lips parted, sucking my thumb into her mouth.
Her cunt rippled over my cock, squeezing me as I forged ahead.
“I love when you ride me, Poppet,” I whispered. “You look so fucking beautiful stretched over my cock.”
I buried myself in her, releasing into her hard as she spilled over. I kept my hands wrapped tightly around her as she went limp. Gathering her in my arms, I guided us to the mattress and held her until she was still. Moving over her, I rocked inside her gently, locking my eyes with hers.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I couldn’t help but smirk. “Anytime.”
She blinked languidly, her tongue running over her lower lip as I rolled my hips. Her hand reached for mine. “I need your control. I crave it.”
“I like to give you what you need,” I told her, cruising along her jawline, “and I like to take what I need. Any and every way I can have you— I plan to. I love you.”
“Promise?” she whispered.
My mouth closed over hers, sealing my vow as we found each other again.

Clara’s best friend swiped Elizabe
th from my arms the moment she arrived, cooing and babbling to her. Belle had become our unofficial nanny since neither Clara nor I were comfortable with leaving her with a stranger yet. An inevitability we’d have to face soon. But with today’s ceremony looming, we had both agreed it was best for Clara’s anxiety if Elizabeth stayed with someone we knew.
“Are you certain you don’t want to come?” Clara asked for the tenth time since Belle had arrived.
“You are taking my goddaughter away for two months while you go on your little trip,” she accused, nuzzling Elizabeth’s plump cheeks. The baby rewarded her with a throaty giggle.
“It’s a goodwill tour,” I corrected her. “Apparently this country’s paternal leave policy doesn’t apply to everyone.”
“If only you had the power to change that,” Clara teased as she stacked another set of nappies.
“We’d scheduled an American tour before...” I trailed off, not wanting to dredge up the past we’d worked so hard to put behind us.
“Before Elizabeth,” Clara finished. Our eyes met and I knew we were thinking the same thing. Our world had begun with one another, but it hadn’t started until her.
“Well, I don’t mind missing it,” Belle said, returning to the original topic. “How can being crowned Queen compete with this?”
She blew a raspberry on Elizabeth’s tummy.
“Maybe we should just let them crown her now,” Clara suggested, her lips twitching. “She’s already ruling all of us.”
“I think she needs more time.” I took Clara by the arm and guided her away from the nursery, aware that we didn’t have much time left before we were to exit for the coronation processional.
“What about you?” Clara asked softly. “Have you had enough time?”
I opened my mouth to say, of course—to reassure her. But then I shook my head. “I don’t think this is a job you can ever prepare for.”
“You’ve been doing it for over eight months,” she said as she disappeared into the closet. “This is merely ceremonial.”