Page 55 of Her Royal Houseguest

Herself without shoulds and shouldn’ts, failures and near misses.

Herself without a curse.

At the moment of ecstasy, she knew that she was perfect.

And for that, she could not give him thanks enough.

But then she opened her eyes. The new woman that she was opened her eyes to see him spreading open his pants. His male organ thrust forwards, large and hungry.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘You will take me.’

Her eyes widened as she looked at him there.

‘I cannot—’ she whispered.

He lifted her hands and set them on his organ. He guided her, teaching her how to touch his length and girth. Then he pulled her hands away.

‘Trust me,’ he whispered. ‘You will take me in a different way. And you will like it.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

‘That is why I am the teacher.’ He pressed kisses to her fingers and the palms of her hands. ‘I will go slow. And you will tell me if it is wrong for you.’

‘I won’t,’ she said. She wanted to know it all.

Chapter Eighteen

He had gone too far and the guilt was crushing him.

Deva lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. He was hard again at the memory of what they had done. He saw again the glory of her in her ecstasy and felt his organ pulse with hunger.

He was nearly overcome now, hours later. But in the moment, he had seen her and known he had to have her. But he had promised and she had already refused him in marriage. He should have left her then. He certainly should have stopped after her pleasure crested. But she was so beautiful, so open and willing, that his strength failed. Need silenced his good sense and he initiated her to things no virgin should know.

He flipped her onto her belly. He set her against the furniture with her breasts heavy in his hands. She was languid, open and so wet there was ample lubrication for what he wanted.

He worked her until she was mindless again with pleasure. She chose to set her face into the pillow to muffle her cries. Then he opened her back passage. Fingers first as she abruptly stilled. He would have stopped if she wanted but she was determined to experience whatever he would teach. And so he pleasured her while slowly penetrating her. In time, she relaxed, trusting him to a depth that humbled him.

And so he took her.

So tight. So sweet.

When he was seated, she arched beneath him.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. Nothing more but the word burrowed deep in his spirit. She said yes to him.

He did not move beyond the steady impalement. He would not risk harming her in his ardour. But then he opened her lotus again. He stroked her pearl while she writhed beneath him. It was her movements that brought him pleasure.

He let his weight hold her still enough to be safe. But when her ecstasy hit, her contractions brought him to completion. And his release had been a powerful thing.

Ridiculous to feel consecrated from the sex act but it had felt holy. As if she were the earth welcoming all that he was to this foreign land. She was England to him and she had blessed him with her body.

He was a fool. He knew that. But this night, in his bed, he was lost in poetry because a woman had given herself to him of her own free will. It felt like he had lost his virginity in a new way. As if he was changed now because of what they had done.

He did not know what to do with such a momentous thing.

Better to believe it wasn’t true. Better to tuck the experience away—glorious as it was—and not dwell on it again.

But it would not tuck away. It would not disappear from his thoughts and his imagination. And so he relived every moment in his mind. He gripped himself and remembered. And anointed Lady Anna again and again in his imagination.