It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice.
We stay in the moment a while longer, his wordsturning over in my head. I am transfixed by the intensity of his gaze as the words pour from his soul. I don’t notice how close we’d moved until I feel his breath against my mouth. Our foreheads meet, and his hand is warm and strong as he cups my cheek.
“Queen Jacqueline was right,” I whisper as I close my eyes against his ardent stare. “It is a fitting passage for the future king.”
He tilts my chin with his thumb and forefinger, bringing my face closer, our noses touching, lips a breath away.
“Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;
Their beauty shakes me, who was once serene;
Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen.”
I crash my lips to his, giving into the fire between us, stoked by Shakespeare and Chaucer. Shocked at my boldness, I pull away quickly.
“No,” he whispers, his hand still on my face and drawing me back to him. He presses his lips lightly to mine, once, twice, seeking permission. My sharp inhale must be enough of an invitation, and he presses harder. His tongue teases the crease of my lips, and they part almost of their own accord. The taste of whiskey and rain sets my insides fluttering; warmth greater than that from the fire burning before us settles low in mystomach. He threads his fingers in my still-damp hair and gives the slightest tug, making me arch into him more. He teases and explores, slowly, gently. He’s so tender, I think my heart might crack in two. A hint of him remains on my tongue even as he pulls away, our lips parted but still sharing the same breath. A knock on the library door rouses us from the moment.
“Enter,” he calls, running a hand through his hair to straighten the bits I had mussed.
The same woman from earlier, Nina, opens the door, pushing a cart with her. “The coffee you requested, Your Highness.”
“Yes, thank you, Nina.”
I’m again shocked at his ability to remember the names of everyone who works for him and the respect he has to call them by those names. She leaves the coffee service at the end of the sofa behind us and bows before leaving again. I start to rise, but he puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Allow me.” He stands and pours us each a cup of coffee, adding only cream to mine and a few healthy spoons of sugar to his. He arranges an assortment of biscuits on a plate and balances it on his arm as he brings it all back to the rug in front of the fire.
“I hope you like gingerbread,” he says of the cookies on the plate. “It’s a favorite around the palace.”
I beam. “It’s also my favorite.”
“Miss Aurelia, the more I get to know you, the more I’m certain you would fit right in with myfamily.”
“That is perhaps the highest compliment I’ve ever received, Fritz.”
His eyes go wide at my use of his nickname. I don’t know what made me say it, but it felt so right in the moment. He sets his coffee aside hastily and grabs the back of my head, crashing his mouth to mine with a fervor I haven’t experienced yet. I gasp, the pounding in my veins reaching new levels as he groans into my mouth.
Our hands are desperate, clawing at any part of each other we can find. He grabs my hips to pull me closer, settling me in his lap as he leans back against the leather sofa behind us. I can feel the rumble of his ragged breathing, and I curse the padding of my bra as I remember how flipping good it felt to have his hands on my breasts.
I don’t have long to be disappointed, though, as he starts fumbling with the buttons on the borrowed shirt before making an aggravated grumble and pulling it over my head instead. The room is warm with the fire casting its radiant energy, and the loss of clothing is no problem. I tug on the hem of the shirt he still wears, and he reaches one hand behind his head and pulls it off in one smooth motion.
My bra is gone, and I don’t even try to suppress the moan that escapes me as he takes my breasts in his strong and demanding hands. I arch into his touch as he runs his thumbs over my nipples.
“These are perfect,” he murmurs as he buries hisface between them, licking and sucking, his beard the best kind of scratchy on my sensitive skin.
“Really?” I barely manage to ask. “I think they’re rather?—”
But my protest is cut off by my sharp inhale as he takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks, hard.
“Oh-oh, my god,” I stutter as his tongue flicks and rolls, sending shocks of pure pleasure down my spine and straight to my core.
“Think they’re rather what, mi’ lady?” He moves to the other and gives it the same treatment, and I swear I can feel my panties getting wet. “Because I think you have the most succulent tits.”
Heat rises to my cheeks and creeps down my chest. He kisses my reddened skin and gazes up at me from between my breasts.
