His thighs quiver and his stomach tightens. He’s close. I inch my tongue out, ready to take every drop.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Charlotte, I …”
If he intended to say more than that, it’s lost beneath an extended groan of pleasure as I wrap my lips around him and take him deep into my mouth, swallowing everything he gives me. He cups the back of my head, holding himself steady, and this is all I want to do every night for as long as I’m able, whether the monarchy or death awaits me.
Once he’s expended himself, he lifts me from the floor and settles me on the vanity, nestling between my spread legs. I hook my heels around his hard, perfect ass, pulling him into me, and then he’s kissing me again. Sweetly. Thoroughly. He can surely taste himself in my mouth. And he’s right, I am greedy, because I could go again this instant.
He closes his eyes, then touches his forehead to mine, unraveled. “Are you alright? I wasn’t too rough? Or too mean?”
I whisper shyly, “I like it when you’re mean. In this context.”
He cradles my cheek, laughing. “Do you?”
I nuzzle into his hand, nodding.
Now it’s his turn to be shy. A bit unbelievable after everything he just did to me. But his blush returns as he mutters, “Do you want to … I mean, we could … My bed is a little less treacherous than yours if you’d like to stay with me tonight.”
There’s nothing I want more right now. Which is exactly why I can’t.
“Better not,” I say, a gentle rejection.
He dips his chin once, sharply, then looks away. As if he’s berating himself for asking. “Yes, of course.” He swipes my pajamas from the bathroom floor, then helps me off the vanity and back into them before sliding his long legs into his trousers.
“This is just sex, right?” I say to him. To us both, really. “An indulgence. It can’t ever be more than that.”
“Worried you’ll fall in love with me, little queen?” he smirks.
Yes. God, yes. But new Charlotte is going to be far more careful about who she gives her heart to.
“You needn’t be,” he says before I can answer. “I know very well how to keep feelings off the table.”
“Right.” Something pinches in my chest. Old Charlotte with her nonsense. “Well, um, thank you for the … ravishing.” What? “Let’s do it again sometime.”What?
He chuckles, one hand gripping the doorframe. His unlaced trousers sit low on his hips, his auburn hair is in disarray, and curse him, he’s biting that damn lip ring again. He scratches his left pectoral, staring at me, looking something much more dangerous than merely charmed.
“Whenever you’d like, Charlotte. Say the word, and I’m yours.”
Chapter
Thirty-One
“How are you this morning?” Duke Áine asks when he arrives at my quarters a week later to fetch me for his final portrait sitting. “Has your muse returned?”
I’ve “had trouble finding my inspiration” this week; have canceled a few of our sessions. It was a strategic move on my part, the results of which have been two-fold.
First, and exactly as I’d planned, Torvil’s radiating a restless intensity as he walks us down to the grand salon. He’s perfectly in step with me, gripping my hand like he’s afraid I might slip away again. The perfect state from which to pluck his clue.
And second, it’s given me ample opportunity to indulge myself with Lachlan.
Like on Tuesday afternoon, when he positioned me face-up at the edge of the bed, hugged my legs against his chest and sucked my toes while he fucked me. I came more times thanI ever thought possible. Who knew toes were such powerful erogenous zones?
Or Thursday, when I straddled him on his sofa and made him keep his glasses on. “Really?” he asked, confused but pleased as he pulled my panties aside and guided me down onto his cock.
“You look quite distinguished in them.”
I gasped as he entered me in a single upward thrust, one hand on my hip and the other cupping the base of my skull.
“Distinguished?” He licked up my throat and forced his fingers past my teeth. “I thought you liked me dirty.”
