His whole life he had done what was expected of him, had stepped into the role of Prince so early on his father’s death. For the first time he really wanted. Wanted something for himself, something for his own happiness.
His gaze travelled up her body as he tongued her, feasted on the sight of her hands cupping and fondling her breasts. Her back arched, legs pressing out wider as her hips flicked up at his face. He was as hard as stone, heartbeat drumming under his skin. He slipped a finger into her hot flesh imagining the feel around his cock as she tightened and whimpered. A whimper that teased all the way down his spine. Because he had to, he moved, thrusting his fingers in and out of her as she made the most delicious sounds. Sounds he wanted to have her call out at the top of her voice. To call his name, to choose the man, not the title, the affluence, the wealth. Maybe with someone else a combination of both would be acceptable to him. But with Georgie, it would eat away at him. He needed this, her abandon. Her abandonment of all the enticement that came with the betrothal.
She could be sure of him, he needed to be sure of her.
Cock throbbing, Demetri withdrew his fingers, reached under and scooped up her buttocks in both hands pulling her sex against his face. With sharp hunger he licked her, rubbed his face into her, pressed and licked and sucked until she started to fuck his face with urgent flicks of her hips. This was how he wanted her. How he needed her. She drew her thighs together, tightened them on either side of his face. Her moans and cries of need getting louder, her hips starting to grind on his…she was soooo close.
He snapped at his hunger’s leash, pressed her legs away, panting as he turned his face into one thigh making sure her hungry sex had no access to his face, no friction to sate her need.
“Noooo,” she groaned. “No,” her hand reached down, grabbed his hair and tried to tug him closer, hips arching towards him.
He chuckled as dark pleasure pulsed through him. “Patience, Bushka.”
He bit her inner thigh, small bites and kisses to slow them down, to draw sensation away from the aching need she would have in her sex.
His siren arched. “Demetri!”
Smiling he turned his face and bit the other thigh lowering her to the bed as his tongue licked the sting away.
“What are you doing?” Raised on her elbows, she glowered at him. The soft sheen of sweat on her brow, the flush over her skin, eyes heavy lidded and the crease of frustration on her brow….perfect.
Coming onto his knees he pressed her legs out wider, splayed he gazed down at her, her eyes fixed on his cock jutting out in front of him, engorged, hot and red with ache. There was endearing uncertainty as she stared, and her thighs began to shake.
He wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped, her intake of breath lifted her breasts as the flush on her cheeks deepened. A groan stuck in his throat.
As she watched his hand move, he leaned over to his jacket, lying half off the bed, removed a sheath, making a show of sliding it down his shaft.
“Prophylactic?” Her chest rose and fell fast, her breath short.
Not trusting his voice, he nodded, leaning over her and taking the weight on one arm, he rubbed his cock over the damp folds of her sex. He nudged his hips until the head of his cock pushed into her and held.
Georgie stilled, and the fist holding his weight clenched as he gave her a moment. Mouth open she breathed through what would be a stretch, then breathed through the new sensation as he edged forward.
She whimpered.
He crooned, “my Bushka, beautiful Bushka, my heart, my siren,” as he lowered over her, the heat of her skin burning against his chest, one hand cupping and squeezing her breasts. He kissed her, swallowed her gasp as he pressed in, felt her catch of pain as he took her maiden hood, then stilled when he was fully seated. He blanketed her but she engulfed him. The softness around his cock, the heat… the blooming in his heart, his emotions were indescribable.
In the quiet, Demetri held her face, kissed her, kissed her and tasted her. Her arms wrapped around him, clutching him. The feeling of being wanted, of being exactly where he needed to be, was a first. Never had a woman given him that. Never had he sought or wanted it and now that he had tasted her, she held his very heart at her mercy.
He withdrew, an exquisite slow tease before pressing back in, holding her face in both her his hands gazing at her as he did it again, seeing what he hoped was love, shining out of eyes with pupils blown with need.
Then her hips moved, and the dance began in earnest. He brought her to the edge and stilled, withdrew and drove her crazy as he touched, kissed, and squeezed before slipping back in and thrusting her into another frenzy, then stopping. The third time, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms clamped around him, fingers clawing into his back to halt his retreat. He placed his hand over her mouth then he pushed them over the edge.
She screamed.
Screamed his name, muffled and caught in his palm…in his ears, and dangerously deep into his heart.
Part III
The Reveal
Chapter 19
Georgie opened her eyes as the bed sank with his weight.
Between her legs was deliciously sore and her skin was so sensitive when he sat on top of the covers and the sheets pulled tighter.
“What time is it?” she stretched, her back arching. He was getting dressed.
She rolled over on her side, watched as he pulled his shirt on and looked over his shoulder at her. “Three or thereabouts. I should get back to my room before people start to move about.”
“I am glad it was you,” she couldn’t help grinning as she said it.
He said nothing. Of course, he didn’t, but there was an intensity in his gaze that sent her nerves tumbling.
“Are you alright?” he asked, the implication clear.
Color heated her face and she gave a single nod.
His face tightened, yet he said nothing, turned away, and stood up as he drew on his trousers.
She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Demetri?”
He turned, his face impossible to read, dark, soft, hard, a contradiction of emotions.
“What is it?” Her heart beat faster. She sat up, sheet clutched to her chest, her hair an explosion of curls around her and over the bedding.
He groaned, his face pained as he crawled across the bed muttering nonsense in Russian as he drew the sheet down her body and proceeded to worship her with kisses, touches, caresses, and strokes until she called his name in bliss again.
Now as she woke for the second time, he sat against the headboard with her cradled in the crook of his arm stroking her hair.
He kissed the top of her head, “We’ll have to call you Sleeping Beauty if you fall asleep every time,” he murmured.
Every time…Her heart bloomed.
“I’ll have you know I am quite fit,” and the innuendo of riding men at Madam Debuverey’s salon now made the most perfect of sense. “I have been known to ride a horse for hours…” She grinned, pressing her face into his shirt.
His chest shook as he laughed. She pinched his side. He didn’t flinch, of course he didn’t, and she had never been as happy in her entire life.
His hand came under her chin and tipped it up, lips demanding as he took her breath away. His eyes were black orbs when he drew away, still holding her face.
“Come with me, Georgie. Forget the betrothal, forget everything, just us.” His Adam’s apple lifted and fell.
“What are you saying?” Her heart raced.
He kissed her again hard. “Elope with me. Come away tonight; we’ll be married by tomorrow.”
Her heart raced, it leaped, it sang an aria of pure happiness. This man forever…maybe it could be.
“Choose me, Georgie…” Those eyes of his seemed to become transparent pools right to his heart and she saw him. Saw how hard this was for him, how much it meant to him.
“Your family?” She drew the sheet up as she sat up and faced him.
He ran his hand through his hair. “We’ll work through that.”
Her father, the loan. Her stomach churned.
“I’ll need to talk with my father. I’ll need some time.”
His eyes bore into her as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Your father?”
She went to answer, and he spoke over her, jaw hardening. “Is it the money? The status?”
He moved off the bed and she grabbed after him.
“Demetri…”
“I am prepared to face my family’s displeasure and you want to talk to your father?” He paced. “Your father who blackmailed my family, besmirched our honor and put you through a betrothal where you were not valued?”
“It’s complicated…” She wriggled towards the side of the bed wrapping the sheet around her.
“It’s money.” He swore.
Tears were collecting in her eyes, her chest hurt. “For my father…yes. But we have nearly got a solution.”
“We? You are complicit with your father’s plans?”
“It’s not like that,” she reached for him. “I gave him my word. Wait till we get there and see how things unfold with the betrothal.”
“You intend to extort us for money.”
“No!” He couldn’t be serious. There were many things her father would do for business, but this would never…never be one of them.
He collected his jacket and shoes.
“I will not be the instrument of more shame for my family, Georgie.”
His face…the look on his face as his gaze ran over her, anger, hurt, longing…loss. It was raw across his features, tearing at her heart.
She clutched the sheet to her, swung her legs to the floor and stood. He was already walking to the door.
“Demetri…Demetri wait.”
He didn’t even look back as she tripped on the sheet. He closed the door.
Chapter 20
After a fitful night Georgie joined her father in the hotel’s dining room for breakfast. Other guests were scattered throughout the small room with its bay window overlooking the street. She kissed her father’s cheek and looked around for Demetri.
“He’s already left.”
Georgie sat and a waiter opened a napkin folding it over her lap as she ordered breakfast.
“He has business?”
“He asked to give you this.” Her father handed a small envelope. “I understand he’s taken an early train to St. Petersburg. We are to follow on the ferry as planned.”
He’d left her to travel alone…
Georgie opened the envelope. It was her note returned to her, torn in two. The burning ache in her chest increased.
“Father, I really must call the betrothal off, you realize that don’t you?”
A pot of tea arrived along with a basket of pastries, curled butter and preserves.
“It’s the young Demetri isn’t it?” Her nerves fluttered. Of course, it was…
Her face must have said enough because softness seeped into her father’s eyes. “I remember the heady days when I first meet your mother.” He breathed in deeply and half closed his eyes. “She was a goddess. I spoke total nonsense every time I approached her. To this day I don’t know what she saw in the man I was then.”
Georgie reached out and squeezed his hand across the table, “I remember her being very happy. You make me happy…although very frustrated over this matter,” she threw in. He gave her a trust me, trust me look, standing up, folding his napkin and placed it on the table.
“Just a little while longer sweet-cheeks, just a little while longer. Caviar and vodka, caviar and vodka.”
And then he rushed off.
The ferry trip to St. Petersburg consisted of nothing but tossing and turning in the cabin’s narrow bed. When they finally arrived, transport awaited them, their luggage was collected and stowed away, and they were whisked to the Petroski residence.
Her head spun as the carriage pulled up, it was a palatial residence in the heart of St. Petersburg. The reluctance at the betrothal fell into place. She’d thought them like so many of the titled families in this part of the world, merely titled not necessarily wealthy.
“Did you know?” she accused her father.
“Mikhail was a very forward-thinking man, he did well for his family.”
Father, you could have told me.”
He looked at her as if she were mad. “I did.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. She’d thought he’d exaggerated to make her happy, to let her dream. “I am telling the Prince as soon as I see him,” Georgie told her father as the carriage pulled up in the grand cobbled forecourt. In fact, most of the Russian families of influence in London had the appearance of wealth yet few had it in reality. “I need you to source alternate accommodation.”
Her father simply nodded and patted her hand. “You do what you need to do sweet-cheeks.”
“You have the matter resolved?” The carriage door opened. Georgie waited for his response.
He gave her a slow nod.
Chapter 21
The letter with its official seal trembled in her hand as Georgie sank down onto the bed and read it again. Her heart raced and her face flamed with each mortifying word. They had just been shown into their suite. A sumptuous set of rooms with enough gold embellishment on cornices, picture frames and furniture details to make everything sparkle as if it floated out of the realm of the gods. A lady’s maid had been assigned to her and was busy selecting a few items out of her luggage…she would not be unpacking. The young girl had swooned with delight when she greeted her in Russian.
My brother has relayed the nature of your relationship together. The covetous focus on my family’s position and wealth were expected. Your indiscretions with him were not. I have in my possession certain postcards. I expect you to call off the Betrothal unless you wish to have them shared with your father and, if need be, circulated wider.
Enclosed is a statement annulling the betrothal, simply sign and return it to the gentleman waiting outside your door. Safe passage for you and your father has been arranged for tomorrow morning on the train.
Prince Petroski
For the first time, she felt shame over what she and Demetri had done, and she didn’t like it. Hated that something so precious and special was now being waved in her face as if it were vile. Anger exploded through her as she thought of the years she had wasted, thinking what a wonderful person her betrothed would be, holding and confiding in miniatures, portraits of Demetri. Georgie stalked to the door. Russet tweed skirt and French lace shirt would have to do for her first meeting with her betrothed. Not weeks ago, she’d had a fit, worrying she didn’t look presentable enough when Demetri had arrived unannounced. Today, she didn’t care that her hair was already slipping out of its pins, that she wore no powder to hide her freckles, that she had dark circles under her eyes from a sleepless night reliving word for word her last conversation with Demetri, wishing again and again she had thrown it all in the air, and leaped into his arms with nothing but yes, yes, yes on her lips.
She would tell him now, would beg him to forgive her, tell him about her father’s loan, that she had wanted to end the betrothal.
The servant who delivered the message stood waiting.
“I’d like to talk with the Prince’s brother.”
“He is not in residence.”
“He returned the day before us.”
The man’s face was impassive. “He has not as yet returned, Miss Franklin. We expect him late afternoon.”
Georgie swirled back towards the room. No! She whirled back.
“Take me to Prince Vladimir.” She would confront that spineless cruel man who was her betrothed face on.
“I was instructed to return with a letter.”
She waived the parchment she had received in the man’s face. “The only response returning is with me.”
The man was silent for a moment, then responded “As you wish. Please follow me.”
&nbs
p; She followed the man who said he was Prince Vladimir’s secretary down a myriad of corridors, with highly polished wood paneling, stone inlaid floors and ornate gold embellishments around cornices, door frames and windows. The final corridor held larger-than-life sized portraits of the Petroski family.
And then way too soon, but not soon enough, she stood at a set of double doors.
“If you will wait here, I will inform the Prince you wish to see him,” the secretary said.
“He is in there?” she asked.
With the first signal of affirmation, Georgie moved past the man and pushed open the doors.
Demetri stood at the window in a large room with desk and open fire blazing.
He turned.
Confusion burst through her. “Demetri?”
His face hardened.
A large portrait of Demetri hung over the fire.
She turned to the secretary.
“You said the Prince’s brother was not in residence.
“He isn’t.”
“That will be all.” Demetri excused the man.
“I asked to see the Prince. He sent me this letter.” Georgie rushed over to him, relief instant. “Demetri…did you talk to him of us? All those…wonderful moments…he made them sound vulgar and wrong…” Tears broke, yet Demetri stood away from her, stony, hands clasped behind his back.
“Demetri?”
“Only family members call me Demetri.” He replied in Russian, voice cold as he walked behind his desk. “I assume you received my letter.” He opened a desk drawer and drew out the postcards and placed them on the table. “I assume this is what you have come to collect. Now if you will sign the annulment, I will proceed with arrangements for the announcement.” Her stomach dropped.
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