Oliver’s fingers tightened along my scalp, and he pulled my hair a little as he let out another moan. “Laidie, that feels amazing, but I’m not going to last much longer if you keep doing that to me.”
I couldn’t help but smile, which opened my throat even more, making room for him to slide in even further. His answering groan indicated that he was indeed barely holding it together, so released him then opened the condom and slid it over his cock.
Once I was standing again, Oliver pulled me close to his hard body before picking me up and pinning me against a bare spot of wall between two shelving units. I moved my dress to the side as I wrapped my legs around his waist, nearly gasping as I felt him at my entrance, begging for permission to slide in. My God, I had missed his cock.
Maneuvering my hips, I sank down onto him. “Yes,” I huffed out as Oliver said, “Fuck.”
We were still for what felt like an eternity, simply locked in each other’s gaze. After a moment, he started thrusting, yet again hitting that magic spot inside me.
Oliver reached between us and circled my clit with his finger as his other hand held my ass.
“Faster,” I begged.
“Anything for you,” he said as his thrusts became hard and hurried. I could feel a second orgasm building and nearly wept with relief. It had been months since I had been with anyone, and being able to get two orgasms in a row was everything I had dreamed about since the last time Oliver and I were together. I was right on the verge of coming when there was a knock on the door.
“Oliver,” a gruff voice said from the other side. “You’ve got to get out here.Now.”
“Do”—I took in a quick breath and continued to pull on the hair at the nape of his neck—“you need to go?”
“No,” he answered as he thrust up again, hitting just the right spot to make me moan.
Another knock on the door rattled the small closet.
“Oliver,” the voice said again, alarm apparent in their tone.
Oliver’s grip tightened on my ass and his whole body tensed; he was just as close as I was.
“I’m coming!” he yelled.
“Me too,” I breathed as I gave into the orgasm and let it take me. I couldn’t scream, knowing there was someone on the other side of the door, so I bit down on my hand, letting the pleasure roll through me.
Oliver let out a deep breath and then set me down on my wobbly feet. He grabbed a roll of paper towels from the ample supply on the storage shelf, tearing off a piece and offering it to me.
I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Always the gentleman.”
As he wrapped the condom in another piece of papertowel and disposed of it, I wiped up my own mess and fluffed my dress out, making sure that it was in order and not too disheveled. Another sharp knock sounded through the small space, accompanied this time by a different, deeper voice. “Your Highness, there’s a situation out here. I need you to come out, or I’m going to have to come in.”
“Fuck,” Oliver muttered. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll call you, okay?”
“Yeah,” I said as I fixed my hair, watching him slip out the door.
I waited a few moments, breathing deeply and trying to calm the roiling in my gut. Closing my eyes, I leaned my forehead against the cool metal of one of the shelves, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Adelaide, it doesn’t matter if he does or does not call. You can’t be together.
I knew it was true, given the diagnosis I had just received. And even if I could set that aside, too much time and life had passed to simply pick back up where we had left off.
I straightened, swallowing thickly as I smoothed my dress one final time, turned off the light, and stepped back out into the corridor. Shaking my head, I strode back to the gala, trying not to think about how stupid it had just been to hook up with Oliver Courtwright—again.
“You want to dowhat?” Dad asked, his hand on Mum’s knee tightening in concern.
I took a deep breath and looked between my parents. They were seated across from me in the sitting room of their suite while Knox leaned against the mantle, my silent support system. “I want to hold a competition to find a bride.”
“Want” was perhaps too strong of a word for how I actually felt, but that was currently beside the point.
I had gone to bed the night of Adelaide’s event angry with my brother for his behavior but expecting things to eventually blow over the way they always did. Instead, Xavier had abdicated the next morning—had that really only been just over twenty-four hours ago?—and I’d been left with a world-changing choice to make: Take up the position of Crown Prince and get engaged before my coronation on New Year’s Day, or pass the duty along to Rosie, who would be expected to find a husband when she came of age at eighteen.
Others might have pondered the decision for days. For me, it took only minutes. Not because of any secret hope of someday becoming king or because I underestimated the way my life was about to change, but because I couldn’t do that to my baby sister.
