The Bad Royals Box Set: The Complete Royally Unexpected Series, page 152
On the other side of the door, someone turns on a stereo. Music starts blaring and the kitchen staff let out a holler.
Penelope grins. “At least the staff is having fun.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m having a lot more fun than I thought I would.” She extends her hand toward me, and I find myself walking to meet her in the center of the room. She places her hand on my shoulder, taking my arm and hooking it around her waist. “Dance with me.”
“This isn’t exactly slow dance music.”
“Shh, Asher. Just be quiet and let me feel like a woman instead of a monarch, for once. No one’s watching me here.”
My heart thumps. Can she feel it hammering against my ribs? I hook my arm around her waist, letting my other hand slide down her arm. I curl my fingers around Penelope’s waist and pull her close.
She fits perfectly. Her body melts into mine as if she was made to be there. She leans her head against my chest, right above where the worst of my scarred skin covers my body. Thank goodness I’m wearing a shirt. I stiffen for a moment, then close my eyes and rest my cheek against her head.
No one has seen my body in years. The last time I let a woman see my bare skin, the disgust was written all over her face, her desire for me evaporating in an instant.
I don’t want Penelope to look at me like that. Not now. Not ever. I don’t want her to see the monster under these fine clothes. I hold her close, feeling her breath wash over my neck, trying to push the thoughts away. As much as I love having her in my arms like this, I know it would never last. She’d take one look at my ugly skin and the light would leave her eyes. I’m not sure I can handle seeing that.
Even after all these years. After all my bravado and all my toughness, the thought of Penelope looking at me with disgust in her sky-blue eyes makes my stomach turn.
Penelope removes her hand from mine, hooking both arms around my neck. Staring into my eyes, the Queen of Nord looks like the Penelope I knew in school, grown into the most beautiful woman I could ever imagine. If I took all the best bits from every person I’d ever come across and put them in one body, she’d be standing right here with danger dancing in her eyes, swaying softly in the disused common room of a foreign castle.
There’s a connection between us. An unsaid understanding. An intimacy I’ve never felt before. She knows me. Knew me when I was a kid, and somehow knows me even better now. The skin on my jaw still tingles where she touched the edge of my scar—where most people are afraid to even look.
My hands hook around her waist, and I trace the lacy patterns of her dress plastered over her lower back. Penelope’s eyelashes flutter closed at the touch, her lips falling open as her face softens.
Has anyone seen her like this, I wonder? Has she let herself relax with another man?
I tighten my hold on her waist, already knowing the answer. She hasn’t. In this dimly lit break room, with nothing but dusty, stained sofas and worn-out books, I know she’s showing me something special.
And, hell, I’m showing her the same. I’m not the ruthless businessman. I’m not the grotesque burned man who makes people avert their eyes.
Here, I’m just a man, and she’s just a woman.
“Penelope,” I groan.
She presses herself against me, letting out a soft sigh. “I love the way you say my name,” she whispers.
“How do I say it?”
Pen opens her ice-blue eyes, glancing up at me. “Like you know me.”
We sway in the middle of the room as my body heats up. Blood flows between my legs, and I know she can feel my arousal. She presses herself harder against me, her breasts crushing against my chest. I let my hands drift lower, resting on top of her ass as Penelope grinds her hips toward me.
We’re crossing a line. Stepping over it with eyes wide-open, knowing we shouldn’t go anywhere near it.
But do I care?
Staring into Penelope’s eyes, I let out a sigh. “Maybe we should go back.”
Pen shakes her head, her brows drawing together. “I don’t want to.”
“What do you want?”
A sharp intake of breath. A bite of her lower lip. A slow blink. Then, “You.”
5
PENELOPE
I haven’t had sex in seven years, and I can honestly say it’s never bothered me…
…until now.
Desire was something I buried in the cold, dark earth beside my husband. My femaleness was something I locked away and forgot existed. I gave myself—mind, body, soul—to my kingdom.
But Asher, oh, Asher. Hitting me like a sledgehammer, my desire is overwhelming. Everything I touch is hard, muscular man. My hands sweep over Asher’s shoulders, feeling where his muscles round and taper into solid biceps. His arms hold me close, the hard planes of his chest crushing against my softness.
I want him. Desperately. Ferally. Like I’ve never wanted anyone before.
I want to feel. For the first time in years, I want to feel the sweep of a palm over my thigh. I want something thick and hard buried between my legs. I want him to tangle his fingers in my hair and tug, whispering dirty nothings in my ear.
I’m not Penelope, Queen of Nord—I’m nothing but a woman in a man’s arms.
Asher’s eyes darken, his eyelids hanging low. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Pen?”
“No, but does it matter?”
He exhales, leaning his forehead against mine. His hands cup my ass, pulling me close. His hardness presses against my stomach, and desire whips through me like a hot blaze. My cheeks are burning. My hands claw hungrily at his arms, his shoulders, wrapping around his neck.
I don’t want to beg him to make love to me, but I will if I need to. That’s how deep my desperation goes. How violent my thirst is. I need his touch. His kiss. I need him to give me just a taste of pleasure, when my life has been a barren, loveless void for so long I don’t remember anything else.
Would it be so wrong to give in, just this once? Would I regret it if I let him take my body, if nothing else? It doesn’t have to mean anything.
Asher doesn’t make me beg. With one hand on my ass, his other hand sweeps up my spine and curls around the nape of my neck. He pulls me back, devouring me with his eyes. Yearning stares back at me, as fierce as my own.
I’m bare before him. My soul is cracked open, and I want to show him everything I’ve been holding inside. I want to offer it to him on a plate and let him heal me, hold me, love me. Heat curls low in my stomach as my desire mounts. Every stitch of fabric is sensitive. My breasts feel heavy against his chest, aching for his touch. His mouth.
Then, Asher lets out a sigh, leans in, and kisses me. There’s no preamble. No question. No need for me to beg at all. He sees what I want—what I need—and gives it to me without another word. His lips are soft yet demanding, and I yield—to him, to his kiss, to my own fervent need. His kiss tastes like danger, taking my own lips between his and sweeping his tongue into my mouth. I moan against him, loving the way his hands hold me tight.
Unlike any kiss I’ve ever had, Asher’s lips transport me to another place. Another world. One where I can let desire rip through my veins like molten metal, and let him lay claim to my body, my lips, my heart. Claim. That’s what his kiss does. It claims me, demanding, uncompromising. It teases my lips open and shows me what I’ve missed. It makes me feel.
The fire in my stomach spreads lower as I roll my hips against him. My heart pounds against my ribs as I kiss him harder. More. I need more. I let my hands drift over his shoulders, his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt. I wish he weren’t wearing it. I sweep my hand up his neck and grip the back of his head, pulling him for a deeper kiss.
It’s hungry. So utterly inappropriate it makes my whole body ignite. My underwear clings to my body, already damp with my arousal. Every time I feel Asher’s cock pressed hard against me, another wave of heat crashes against my thighs.
Asher, feeling my need, lets out a low growl. Oh, what that noise does to me, it’s indecent. So completely at odds with my life as a cold, heartless queen. Asher’s growl is pure fire. Pure heat and desire and lust, rumbling through his chest and into mine. He drops his hands to my thighs and claws at the fabric of my dress, bringing it up above my hips. When his palms touch my bare skin, I let out a whimper.
When was the last time someone touched me—really touched me? When was the last time I felt a palm sweeping over my ass, gripping it tight, pulling me close?
His touch feels like magic. My skin sparks against his palm, core clenching, and I forget who I am. I forget where I am, and what I’m supposed to be doing. Queen who? All that matters is me, and Asher, and the locked door that ensures we’re alone.
“You’re perfect, Pen,” Asher growls, using both hands to grip my ass and spread it apart. I gasp. The cool air on my skin only heightens the heat coursing through my veins.
I’m dizzy. Breathless. My lips find his, kissing him hungrily.
I need this so badly and I didn’t even know it was missing. I need him to fuck me. To treat me like a woman. To take me and show me what it means to be alive.
Need.
I don’t say that lightly. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t taste his kiss. If I don’t feel his cock.
Asher drops his lips to my neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to my shoulder. His hand rests on top of my breast, teasing the neckline of my dress. I want to give him everything. Bare myself for him and show him I’m real. I’m a woman. I need this. Him.
Asher growls again, wordlessly this time. I feel his teeth gently biting against my neck, and I let my head fall back. I feel like I’m floating in space, my only anchor being Asher’s body. His arms around my waist. His strong legs propped up against mine.
“I want you.” My voice is a rasp I barely recognize. I pull away from Asher, staring at his eyes. “I want you, Asher.”
Dark eyes stare back at me, desire etched into every feature. He nods, sliding his hands down to my thighs and picking me up. I wrap my legs around his hips and let him carry me to one of the sofas, where he lays me down across the cushions more gently than I expected from a man who looks as fierce as he does. His hand sweeps up my dress and finds my ruined underwear, tugging it off in one motion.
Asher leans over me, kissing me hard. This kiss is bruising, and my back arches. Yes, I want this. I want it hard and fast and dirty and now. Desperately. I want him to devour me. Show me what it feels like to be his. His hand sweeps up my thigh and slides between my legs, and he lets out a low groan when he feels the wetness there. His fingers feel warm and thick as they drag through my arousal. When he brushes against my clit, desire pierces the pit of my stomach.
Seven years of buried needs. Seven years of buried emotion. Seven years of loneliness, all coming to a head in this moment.
Ice that had grown thick and permanent within me starts to melt and crack. Heat flows through my veins for the first time in years.
Asher groans, dropping his lips to my jaw, my earlobe, my neck. His fingers slide inside me as we both moan, my hips rolling to get more, more, more. I close my eyes, unable to think of anything except the fire burning in my veins. He’s doing something with his thumb on my clit and the pressure is just right, so good, oh—
I come apart, arching my back as I cling onto his shoulders. My orgasm rips through me, making my legs tremble and my back arch. I cry out, but Asher clamps a hand over my lips.
“Quiet,” he says, lids hanging low. “They’re just outside. They’ll hear.”
Do I care? Not really, but the heat in Asher’s eyes makes me want more. His hand over my mouth winds my desire even tighter.
I shouldn’t like this. I shouldn’t enjoy being fingered on an old sofa in the servants’ quarters of a foreign castle. I shouldn’t be sleeping with a man I knew two decades ago, with only a thin door separating me from scandal, but the naughtiness of it all only makes me hotter.
“I don’t have a condom,” Asher says, regret in his eyes. His breath comes in short gasps and when I reach down between his legs, I feel the throbbing hardness of his erection.
“It’s okay.” I shake my head.
“You’re on the pill?”
“Yeah,” I answer, even though it’s not true. I just don’t have the time or energy to explain that I’m infertile. The only thing on my mind is Asher. His body on top of mine. His cock buried between my legs.
“I’m clean,” he says. “I swear.”
I nod. “Me too.”
We’re both gasping for air, choked by our desires. I try to reach for the buttons of his shirt, but Asher grunts. His eyes darken, and he grabs my wrists.
“No,” he says.
He doesn’t want me to take his shirt off?
Sweeping a hand under my back, he lifts me up and turns me around, planting my feet in front of the sofa and pushing me down so I catch myself on the back of it. He kicks my feet wider, clawing at my dress to push it up over my hips.
I shouldn’t like this—being exposed with my ass in the air—but if I’m honest, it’s turning me on like never before. Xavier was never like this. Never commanding. Demanding. Dirty. He made love to me, but after a while I was so focused on conceiving that sex with him felt more like a chore or a medical procedure than it did something we were doing for pleasure.
This—this is different. Asher wants to fuck, and so do I.
I hear his zipper, then feel his hand on top of my ass. He lets his fingers drift down between my cheeks, just brushing my asshole and sending a delicious, dirty shiver coursing through my veins.
I’m not a queen. Not right now. Not for the next few minutes. Right now, I’m a woman, and I intend to enjoy every second of it.
His fingers find my opening, sliding inside as he groans.
“Are you always this wet, Pen?” Asher lets out another growl, and the noise makes me push back against his fingers. I want more. Deeper. All of him.
“No,” I answer. “Just with you.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to catch my breath. It’s hard to think straight. Hard to make sense of anything except my overwhelming hunger.
My fingers curl into the back of the old sofa, my knees pressed up against the seat. Asher’s legs push against my own, one hand on my lower back to hold me still. Bent over with my dress pushed up to my waist, I know I look nothing like a monarch. I don’t want to look like a queen right now. I want this exactly the way it is.
When I feel Asher’s cock slide against my slit, I let out a sigh. When he puts his hands on my hips and pulls me back, angling me just the way he wants me, a dirty, delicious shiver slides down my spine. And finally, when I feel his crown against my opening, I know I’m about to get exactly what I asked for.
He pushes inside me, and I gasp. Long, thick, and hard. I haven’t had anything like this in years. It stretches me, invading my body. I’m so tight against him, resisting the intrusion. I hear him grunt, pausing, giving me a second to get used to him.
I pant, clinging onto the sofa as heat unfurls in my core.
“Okay, Pen?” Asher’s voice is a low growl.
I nod, unable to speak. His hands mark the skin on my hips, fingers digging into my flesh.
Then, he thrusts all the way in.
I see stars. Gasping, grunting, I brace myself against the back of the sofa. His hands grip onto my waist as he thrusts deeper and harder inside me, making me moan with every movement.
“Shh,” he says, hooking an arm around my chest. He pulls me up, covering my mouth with his other hand. I let him own me. Positioning me just as he wants me and giving myself over to the wicked fire claiming my body. He thrusts mercilessly, and I’m completely powerless in his arms. I let myself fall into the pleasure of it all, loving the way he possesses my body. He puts a foot on the seat of the sofa, angling to go deeper. I lean against him, eyes closed, mouth covered, like a dirty, dirty girl.
I’d fall over if he wasn’t holding me up. With one hand still covering my lips, Asher’s other hand slides up my stomach and cups my breast. His thumb teases my peaked nipple and I moan against his hand, feeling fire erupt inside me. Molten heat flows through my veins as he slides his hand under the bodice of my dress, kneading my breast and teasing my pebbled nipple as he thrusts hard and deep inside me.
My back arches, everything tenses, and I come.
This orgasm is deeper than the first. Where we’re joined, heat and pressure release as I tremble against him, completely supported by his arms and body. I let myself go. Right now, no one is relying on me. There are no hard decisions to make, no political tightropes to walk, no appearances to keep up.
I’m just a woman, coming apart in a man’s arms. I let my orgasm rip through my body, releasing everything I’ve held inside. I clench around Asher’s cock, loving the way he fills me up so completely, so perfectly, that it feels like we were meant for each other. Wave after wave of pleasure wash over me as Asher’s moans grow louder. He likes feeling my orgasm. He wants me to feel good.
Then I feel it. His body tensing. His balls tightening. The thick, hot spurts of his orgasm lashing against me, filling me up with his seed. He grunts, the sound so deliciously male that it sends another wave of heat coursing through me.
I haven’t had this in years. Nearly a decade. Too long to remember what I’ve been missing. We fall onto the sofa, tangled in each other and still joined. His lips are near my neck, his breath coming in hard gasps.
“Fuck, Pen,” he says.
“I know,” I reply. I know that was special. It went deeper than just sex. It was a release of something more than just my body. It felt like I found someone who understood exactly what I needed and how I needed it, and he didn’t hesitate to give it to me.
I pull away from Asher, smoothing my dress down and slouching on the sofa. His hand lands on my thigh and he glances at me, a lazy smile gracing his lips. In the low light of the room, with bliss painted on his face, he looks so handsome I’m afraid of what his smile will do to me. How quickly it’ll infiltrate my heart.
