How many times can I make Llywelyn cum?
Chapter twenty
Dawn light streams through the bedroom window. Still pale from spring even though it feels as if I have been in Buckingham Palace for centuries. It is unsettling to realise I haven’t even been here long enough for the seasons to turn. I have only known Llywelyn for one spring.
I swallow tightly and look down at him. He is finally asleep. Sated. And his strange fever has broken.
He is a sprawled naked mess on the filthy sheets. So fucking beautiful it is taking my breath away. I let my eyes feast one last time on the splendour of his perfect body. I drink in all the long lean lines and soft curves. Then I cover him up.
My muscles protest as I slide out of bed. I’m getting too old to stay up all night for a fuck-fest. My body is going to make me pay the price, and it is going to be worth it.
Last night was incredible. I don’t even have the words to describe it. Llywelyn was needy, desperate, eager. So very responsive. So very welcoming of my every touch.
I loved it. I exulted in it. It satisfied me in a way that I have never been fulfilled before. I felt strong. Powerful. It felt like he was mine. Not mine to own and possess. Mine to cherish and take care of. Mine to worship and keep safe.
It was heady. It is still heady. I’ve stepped into a whole new reality and I’m not sure the old one will ever return. Everything has changed, and I will never be the same again.
I stagger into the shower and robotically go through the motions of washing. As well as euphoric, I feel numb. Almost detached. Perhaps it is the lack of sleep.
I tiptoe out of the bathroom and find Llywelyn still fast asleep. The sight of him laid out in a decadent sprawl and not curled up into a tiny ball, is making me feel all kinds of proud. Even though I have no idea if it has anything to do with me or not.
I throw on a simple dressing gown and creep out of the bedchamber before I disturb him. I follow the faint sound of clinking, and find Tae in the breakfast room, setting the table. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose. Oh god, that’s exactly what I need. I slide onto a chair and pour myself a cup. The first gulp has me sighing in contentment.
I watch Tae carefully laying out a selection of fruit. I know his tiny bedroom shares a wall with Llywelyn’s bedchamber. He has to know what kind of night we had. Strangely, I’m not embarrassed.
“Has he been like that before?” I ask.
Because as much as I would love to pat myself on the back for being the world’s best lover, I’m not delusional. Something is going on and my inquisitive mind needs to know. For the mission. For myself. For Llywelyn’s well-being.
Tae shakes his head.
I take another sip of my coffee. “Do fey get like that sometimes?”
Another headshake.
“What do you think caused it?” I try.
Eyes the colour of forget-me-nots meet mine. I swear they were green before.
“Charms. Maybe.” His voice is soft and airy. Like the rustle of leaves in a spring breeze.
“What are charms?” I ask.
Tae picks up a daffodil from the vase on the table. He snaps the yellow head off, discards it and weaves the green stem into a complicated, circular knot.
He holds it up for me to look at. “Magic,” he adds.
He places the charm down on the white linen tablecloth and cuts a thin slice of sausage. He holds the sliver up and frowns. “Or this. But wood.”
Okay, I get the idea. Charms and hex bags exist in human folklore, so it is not a completely alien concept. Small tokens imbued with magic. Things that can be hidden in a person’s home and do them harm.
The sound of soft footsteps catches my attention. I crane my neck just in time to see Llywelyn, wrapped in a sheet, passing the open doorway. It looks like he is heading for his luxurious sunken bath.
Tae quickly places the last plate of food on the table.
“Will you help me look for charms later?” I ask.
Bright blue eyes flash at me as he nods. Then he hurries after Llywelyn, presumably to see if the prince needs any help in the bath.
