“If that’s what you want.”
“I do.”
If this were a movie instead of real life, there would be intensifying music. The camera would focus on our expressions and take close-ups of where we touched one another. It wasn’t only I who sought the connection. Lucille’s fingertips left a ghostly touch over my shoulders, abdomen, and back. It was as she reached out and ran her hand up and down my penis that lights flashed and rockets launched.
If she continued, I’d be done for the night or at least for a while. Seizing her hand, I brought it to my lips. Seeing the glint in her eyes, I grinned. “I expected you to be timid.”
“I usually am.”
“I’m usually not.”
Lucille took a step closer, pressing her body against mine and pinning my erection against her stomach. “Don’t be.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
She pushed up on her tiptoes, bringing her lips to mine. Her hands held tight to my shoulders as our kiss deepened. Step by step, I moved us until her shoulders collided with the bookcase. When she looked up, her lips were pink from our kiss and her blue stare was veiled. “I’m asking you to remind me what it’s like to have someone truly desire me.”
Lifting her ass, I sandwiched her between me and the bookcase, hoping to God that at its age, it would hold up to what I had in mind. Her heels came to my lower back as she wrapped her legs around me.
After all I’d been through—all we’d both been through—having Lucille in my grasp was a fantasy come to life. The bedchamber filled with her mews and moans as we went between kisses and nips. Lucille gave as much as she took. My teeth teased her soft skin as her lips peppered my neck and shoulders.
As I lowered my attention, there were no blankets to obscure her round tits. Her back arched as I sucked one nipple and then the other.
Balancing her petite frame with my arm, I teased her folds.
“I want—”
She placed a finger on my lips. “Don’t ask. The answer is yes. You aren’t taking. I’m giving.”
“Fuck,” I growled as two fingers slid into her wet core.
Lucille’s body trembled as she bounced with my rhythm. The grip on my shoulders intensified as with my thumb, I swirled her clit. Her heels dug into my lower back as she gasped, and her core convulsed around my fingers. I didn’t stop until Lucille went slack, collapsing against my shoulder.
“That was…” she lifted her face, as her radiant smile grew. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”
“Well, Princess, if you’re up to more, so am I.”
“I noticed,” she said with a sensational grin. Before I could respond, she again placed her finger over my lips. “I’m here, Roman. If I didn’t want whatever you’re up for, I would be across the apartments in my own bedchamber.”
Seizing her hips, I lifted her, cradling her against my chest as I carried her back to the bed. Lucille bounced with a giggle as I followed a step behind. Her long hair flowed over her shoulders as she scooted toward the headboard.
I crawled over her, my gaze meeting hers.
No longer was Lucille untouchable, a royal, or Molave’s princess. In this bedchamber, with her hair tousled and blotches of pink on her skin, she was simply breathtaking, stunning, and captivating. It was as if for a moment in time she had given herself the freedom to step beyond those boundaries—freedom to be herself.
Lifting her knees to either side of me, Lucille offered what was only hers to give. It was a gift I couldn’t repay, yet as I lined up my hardened cock, I had an overpowering need to be honest.
“Look at me.” My accent was gone.
Her crystal-clear blue stare was millimeters before me.
“My name is Oliver.”
“Mine is Lucille.”
“Tell me to stop. I can’t promise I will, but this is your last chance.”
Her petite palms framed my cheeks. “Don’t stop, Oliver. Never stop. The only way this will work is if we are in it together.”
My eyes closed and a roar came from my lips as I brought us together. Buried to the root we were completely and utterly united as one.
As her pussy squeezed with the intensity of a vise grip, I was too lost in the moment. Her noises of pleasure, the way she writhed beneath me, and her receptiveness to each and every touch had me on sensory overload.
More than once, Lucille came undone before I reached my precipice. The fall from the cliff was climactic and earthquaking. When I finally fell slack over her soft frame, Lucille’s arms wrapped around me, holding me to her.
Lifting my head, I met her stare. “I hope you aren’t regretting your decision.”
Her lips quirked. “I only regret that you aren’t real.”
“I’m real, Princess.”
“No matter what happens, I want you to know, Oliver, you were sent to me by the heavens. In this short time, you’ve given me more than I can say.”
Closing my eyes, I moved, breaking our union. As I rolled to my back, Lucille followed.
With her hands on my chest, she lifted her eyes to mine. “I’m glad to know your name.”
“Never use it again.”
“Only in my heart, Your Highness.”
I didn’t think to tell her that I’d been cleared by Mr. Davies, that despite my last relationship, I was disease free. That thought didn’t come until later when we were basking in the afterglow.
Lucille
“Your Highness,” I said, standing with a curtsy in our shared parlor as Roman entered from his suite. Resuming my seat, I gestured across the table. “Your breakfast arrived.”
This was our fourth morning to meet over breakfast after spending a part of the night together. While the first night he summoned me did not result in a sexual encounter, our desire for one another grew with each passing day. The night after I secretly went to him, Roman came to me. With most of the castle quiet, he snuck into my suite. I’d first heard the click of the outer doors before the door to my bedchamber opened.
“I tried to stay away.”
The memory of his confession brought a smile to my face.
Last night, I’d been the one to cross the parlor. He hadn’t summoned me, but that didn’t stop me. Once I was certain Lord Martin was gone, I did as he’d done and opened doors without a knock. It was a comfort level I’d only dreamed of obtaining, with anyone.
In reality, we’d only known of one another for little over a month. However, our reality was skewed—a reflection of what was to be seen. In that reflection we were beyond our fifth wedding anniversary. And yet we’d shared more, spoken more, and touched more freely in the last four days. My thoughts went to last night.
The exertion of our encounter could be heard in our rapid breaths and seen in the shimmer of perspiration upon our skin. Roman’s palm cupped my cheek. “I don’t want you to go back to your bedchamber.”
His dark eyes swirled with the intensity of his desire. I found myself lost in the changing hues. His laser-sharp focus was like a drug circulating through my blood stream. The high it instilled coursed throughout every fiber of my being, bringing synapse after synapse to life—a series of explosions. The more I had, the more I wanted.