“I’m so sorry,” she said on a rush. “Have I hurt you?”
He kissed the swell of her breast. “Never mind a small bit of pain. I’d die a thousand times over, and gladly, just for the chance to lick your sweet cunt and your hard nipples and make you come on me a third time.”
With that, he sucked the tip of her other breast into the silken heat of his mouth and strummed over her clitoris with greater determination.
She swallowed hard at his blunt words, at the vulgarity. She was more than familiar with such plain speaking from her past, and yet Eleanora had never known until now the effect such sinful words could have upon her. The combination of his bold speech and the attention he lavished upon her breasts and sex had her already at the edge.
He caught her nipple in his teeth and tugged, eliciting a sharp pull of desire from deep in her womb—a need to be one with him, to be claimed by him. The sensual torture he spoiled her with was glorious, but her body still wanted his completely. She wanted him inside her.
Again, as if he were so attuned to her that he could sense her every want, read her mind, Nando gently grazed a fingertip over her opening. She spread her legs, beyond the point of caring about her conduct or fretting over how she would feel about her actions later. She flattened her feet on the mattress. One upward tip of her hips brought him where she wanted him, his finger invading her. It was torment. It was exquisite. She wanted more.
“Nando.” She rolled her hips restlessly, seeking, endlessly seeking.
He dappled kisses between her breasts, over her shoulders, her collarbone. “Deus, I love it when you say my name. I don’t think my cock has ever been this hard.”
With that, he sank his finger all the way inside her, grimacing as he did so, for the action was not without pain on his behalf.Nor was it on hers—the sensation was unfamiliar, so good and yet almost beyond her body’s ability to withstand.
Everything was building within her, making her senses intensely aware. Her toes curled into the smooth, cool bedclothes. Her head tipped back on the pillow. Her hands sought his body wherever they could reach, committing every stern angle and elegant plane to memory.
Later, she would think of this. Later, she would remember how wondrous it felt, Nando’s finger deep inside her, his thumb stroking her bud, his lips traveling over every inch of her skin as if he could not get enough.
He took her mouth in a deep, drugging kiss as his fingers worked their magic on her, his tongue slipping inside to tease hers. Another stroke and she came undone, crying out into his kiss as she tightened on his finger, a potent surge of pleasure overtaking her. His kiss gentled as he coaxed the last ripple of her release from her. Until slowly, he withdrew, lifting his head to stare down at her with raw tenderness, his customary devil-may-care air entirely gone.
“You are the most glorious woman I’ve ever beheld,” he murmured with such conviction that she believed him.
Words failed her. She could do nothing but cup his cheek, astounded by the rush of feelings coursing inside her. Perhaps it was the effects of what he had done to her, perhaps her wits had been thoroughly addled by desire. But she couldn’t stem the tide of emotion, rising ever higher, threatening to drown her.
No, she could not, must not, did not dare to fall in love with Prince Ferdinando. And that was how she needed to think of him again. Not as a man whose body had worshiped hers, but as a powerful royal who would forever be unattainable in all the ways that counted to a woman of virtue.
Even if she was now a woman who had decidedly cast her virtue to the wind.
He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Bruno will be returning soon. We should get you dressed.”
Dressed?
Her dizzied mind whirled. Somehow, she hadn’t expected that. She had anticipated that he would finish what he had begun, that he would take her fully. But the mention of his dedicated manservant had her jolting to reality with the swiftness of a dousing of cold water.
What had she done?
She was lying naked in bed with a prince. With a man who was a notorious rake. And beneath her employer’s roof.
“No,” he said suddenly, bussing a kiss over her brow. “Do not regret what we’ve shared. I’ll not allow it. I can see your clever mind at work.”
“This was a mistake.” Eleanora disentangled herself from him, feeling suddenly cold.
She had wanted more, and now she would not have it. She had wanted his body atop hers, his cock inside her. Had wanted to give herself to him. But perhaps he had taken his fill. Perhaps the conquer was all he had been after.
Eleanora slid from the bed.
“It wasnota mistake.” He followed her, looking regal and feral at once, clad in nothing but his trousers.
Her gaze dipped for a moment to a place it ought not, the thick ridge rising in stark relief beneath the fall of his trousers. Evidence of his own unsated desire. He had wanted her, then. Still wanted her. She didn’t mistake that.
Not that it mattered now.
Her hands trembled as she took up her chemise and threw it over her head to shield her body from him. “Pray do not argue with me, Your Royal Highness. I never should have come here. Doing so was terribly foolish. And what I have allowed…”
Her words trailed away. What she had allowed could not be undone. She would harbor the memories forever.
