For King and Country (9 page)

His hands stroked along my thighs up toward my seam, and when he reached it, he spread it wide and studied it for a moment, a look of appreciation on his face, before his fingers found my cleft. My eyes snapped back shut as he pushed two fingers inside of me.

“Are you always this wet?” he asked.

I shook my head again. I wasn’t this wet in a bathtub.

“Do I do this to you?” he asked, fucking me slowly with his fingers.

I nodded.

“Say it, Clara.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what? What do I do to you?”

“You make me wet,” I moaned.

“Good girl,” he murmured with approval. He continued to tease me with his fingers for a few seconds and then the warm rasp of his tongue sent a series of shivers trembling through my body. He licked across my sensitive bud leisurely. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth as his fingers continued to plunge into me. I began to shake as I neared the edge.

He pulled away. “Not until I say, poppet.”

I whimpered at the command but felt helpless to resist him.

Then his mouth was back on me, tonguing me with quick, circular motions punctuated with bursts of suction. I grabbed the rail behind me, trying to keep my orgasm at bay even as it bubbled toward release. I cried out half pleasure, half plea as he began to fuck me harder with his fingers.

“Come,” he commanded, and I unraveled around him, shattering to pieces that melted back together only to shatter once more as a new wave of intensity rolled through me. When only the after-tremors remained, Alexander withdrew his hand. But he continued to suck gently on my clit until I wasn’t sure I could take anymore. My thighs clamped protectively against his head, but he continued his oral machinations on my swollen, sensitive cleft. It felt impossible but my body responded immediately, building toward another orgasm, but before I reached the peak, he pulled away, hitting the red button on the elevator control panel as he stood up.

“Now you’re ready for me to fuck you,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.

“Yes,” I whimpered, barely able to stand.

All he did was smirk.

T
he elevator doors slid open, and Alexander stepped into the suite, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it over a silk sofa in one fluid movement. I followed him, still weak-kneed and tongue-tied from his attention in the lift. The surroundings were as impressive as I expected though. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Thames River with Big Ben sitting catty-corner to the suite. From up here, the traffic below looked more like a child’s play set, but London still buzzed with energy. Across the river, the Eye spun cautiously, a seeming contradiction to the old world stylings of the buildings surrounding it. That’s what I loved about London—the old and the new clashing one moment and merging into something organic the next. Few cities in the world had managed to maintain their history while innovating the way this one had, and everything about this place seemed different from this vantage point. Pressing my hand to the glass, I couldn’t help but feel dizzy. I was in a whole new world—in more ways than one.

Alexander came up behind me, pressing his taut body against mine. Suddenly, it wasn’t only London that was humming with life. “Enjoying the view?”

“I am. You?”

“Very much. The city isn’t bad either.” His lips dropped to my neck and I felt the painful but pleasant nip of his teeth. My body responded with a sigh, my limbs going weak as I sagged against him. His hands dropped to my skirt and lifted it up. I remembered then that I was bare underneath the thin sundress, and now I was on display as much as the city below. No one could see us up here, few buildings even rose to this height in the city. But I still felt exposed as his hand slipped between my thighs, urging them open. Alexander stroked a finger along my seam and my sex grew slicker with my want.

“I’m going to fuck you in front of this window,” he said in a gruff voice. “I’m going to show the whole city that I take what I want.”

My core clenched at the dark edge to his words even as I still marveled that he wanted me, even if he couldn’t possibly want me as much as I wanted him. It wasn’t humanly possible. Tomorrow I would be some girl he’d screwed, but he would always be Alexander. The thought made me long to draw today out. I wanted to relish every second, every touch, but I wasn’t sure I could wait much longer.

“I’m going to make you come in front of the busiest street in London.” His thumb brushed circles lightly over my clit as he spoke, taking me near the edge but refusing to let me fall over it.

“Please,” I said, offering myself to him. The bustling city below us vanished as he continued his gentle but precise massage. There was only him. Only the rough sweep of his fingers. Only the sound of his ragged breath in my ear.

“Soon,” he promised. “But not yet. I need to see how far I can take you. How much that beautiful cunt of yours can handle.”

Feeling his erection pressing through his slacks against my backside emboldened me. “I can handle anything you give me.”

Alexander growled, and in a flash, I was in his arms as he carried me through the sitting area toward a door. I only had time to register a bed before he dropped me on it.

“Take that off,” he ordered.

I did as I was told in too much of a hurry to honor his demand than to make it into a show. I slipped the dress over my head, leaving me in only my lacy silver bra. It hadn’t been too long ago that I would have been too self-conscious to show this much skin to a man, but with Alexander’s eyes on me, I felt anything but. His gaze fucked me with such intensity that I believed his claim that he would make me beg.

“I almost wish I hadn’t destroyed those panties,” he remarked, standing at the foot of the bed, one hand stroking his cock through his pants. “I’ll have to get you a new pair so I can fuck you in that sweet lace.”

A shiver raced through me at the idea that he was already talking of a future encounter. I’d thought it impossible that he’d want to see me again after he’d had me. But I already suspected that I’d come whenever he called—and I suspected that I would come more than once at that.

“Spread your legs.”

I dropped them open as he began to unbutton his shirt. My breath caught as he shrugged it off, revealing a thin v-neck that exposed his muscular arms and the top of what I was certain was a beautiful chest, but to my disappointment, he didn’t remove the undershirt. The disappointment was short lived as he began unbuckling his belt. He tugged it free of his pants and stared at it for a moment, darkness flickering in his light eyes. I wondered briefly what he was thinking. Had I gotten in over my head? But he dropped it to the floor, leaving him in only his undershirt and boxers. I watched, mesmerized by what I was about to see, as he tugged off his shorts. His cock sprang free, the broad crown glistening with proof of his arousal, and I understood why I’d been able to feel it so clearly through all our clothing. It seemed impossibly unfair that he should be powerful and handsome and that well-endowed. I’d never thought I could be so wildly excited by a piece of anatomy, but in a split second, I had imagined all the things I could do to that beautiful cock. I wanted to wrap my lips around it, so that I could pleasure him as he’d done for me in the lift. I wanted to feel it pressed between my breasts, but most of all, I wanted it inside of me.

It was thrilling and terrifying to imagine him fucking me. I wasn’t certain that my rather small experience with sex had prepared me for him.

Alexander fisted his cock, running his hand along the thick shaft from tip to root as he regarded me with hooded eyes, as though contemplating what to do with me. “Since I’m not certain your tight little cunt can handle me, I think it’s best if we try a more...traditional style.”

Despite myself, a giggle broke past my lips. It was girlish and nervous, the product of being both insanely turned on and well outside of my comfort zone.

“Are you laughing at me?” His lips curved into a wicked smile. “Don’t be naughty or I’ll have to take you over my knee.” He spoke with the air of someone who was teasing, but the amusement didn’t reach his flashing eyes.

I bit my lip, my body at war with wanting to please him and my mind in total shock. I didn’t think I could take a man spanking me, and yet the idea had made my clit throb with such violence that I thought I might come just from the thought. I was completely at his mercy, and he knew it.

I watched as he ripped open a foil packet and sheathed himself with a condom. Then Alexander dropped onto the bed and crept over me. He hovered there, and I reached up to slip my hands under his shirt. One hand flew, catching mine as he lost his balance and dropped on top of me, his massive weight pinning me to the bed.

“No,” he said.

I blinked at the harsh denial, rawness creeping toward my throat. There was no way I was going to cry in front of him—or let him spank me, come to think of it. The rational side was waking up and she was none too pleased to find herself in this situation. I pushed against him, trying to get him off me, but he stayed in place, not moving as I fought to extricate myself from the embrace.

“Clara, stop.”

It was obvious I was going to get nowhere by trying to physically free myself, so I stilled and stared at him defiantly.

“This can stop now. We can stop now,” he said, and I relaxed a little. “But I don’t want it to, and I don’t think you do either.”

“I think I do!”

He nodded. “Let me say one thing and then you can decide. If you say stop, that’s it.”

“That’s it?” I repeated, unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

“I only have one rule when it comes to sex.”

“Only one?”

He gave me a look full of rebuke, and I clamped my mouth shut.

“I don’t take off my shirt, and before you ask, I don’t explain why.”

“That’s your only rule?” I had at least a half dozen of my own, including what was and was not okay to put or not put where, as well as what positions I was absolutely not going to do. But I had no doubt that those strict rules would fall victim to Alexander the second he asked me to bend on one.

It seemed that I didn’t have quite the same effect on him.

“My only rule,” he repeated. “I don’t like women to touch me there.”

My head and body warred over this revelation. “You want to put me on display for all of London, but I’m not allowed to touch your abs? That hardly seems like a fair trade.”

“I promise that you won’t feel that way by this afternoon,” he said. “I don’t think you’ll have any doubts about my generosity then. But you can say no now and leave. I’ll understand.”

“I assume others have said no to this then?”

“You know what they say about assumptions, Clara.”

I took that as a
no
. Of course, no other woman would be stupid enough to turn Alexander down. They probably didn’t have the strength. I wasn’t sure I did.

Alexander’s hand slipped between my legs and his thumb found my clit once more. The rough pad of it circled slowly, reminding me how turned on I’d been moments ago. “Perhaps I could convince you?”

My eyes shut as he continued the sensual massage, and I felt my resolve melting away. I wanted him, even if I didn’t understand his rule. Who was I, of all people, to judge someone for having body issues? Although I couldn’t see what he could possibly want to hide. Everything I’d seen of him so far had been perfect—
beyond
perfect. He was the essence of masculinity. Virile. Commanding. He mesmerized each time I looked at him.

“You don’t have to tell me why,” I managed to say between pants. “Just tell me one thing—do you not take it off for throwaway fucks?”

Alexander’s hand stilled and he grew so silent that I opened my eyes to make sure he was still breathing. “Throwaway fucks?”

“Girls like me,” I continued, despite the tiny voice in my head telling me I should shut up. “Girls you fuck and forget.”

“I don’t like that term,” he said in a low voice that chilled my heated blood. “I’ve had casual sex before, Clara, but always with the understanding that that was what it was.”

“We’ve never discussed it,” I reminded him, the tiny voice in my head now screaming. “Look, I’ve never had a fling. I don’t know how this goes. I’m usually a relationship girl, so help me understand. Do you keep your shirt on to keep your distance?”

His jaw clenched and a vein throbbed on the side of his neck. “I thought I made my intentions clear. I wasn’t under the impression this was a fling.”

My eyes popped open wider. How could he not see this as a fling? I’d spent less than two hours with the man and I was spread naked under him. It was the definition of a fling.

“Do you want a fling?” he asked.

Something in his tone plucked at me, but I shook it away. “I assumed...”

“There’s that word again. I’m not interested in you as a throwaway fuck. Why would you think that?”

I stared at him as though this was the most preposterous thing I’d ever heard. “If it walks like a duck, and it talks like a duck.”

“I think this is one time where you could use fuck in that statement.” He released my hand and pushed up over me. “I don’t know what to do with you, Clara Bishop. I’ve been thinking about fucking you since I saw you in that tiny black dress at the party. When you said no to me at the club I thought that was it and then you changed your mind and agreed to a date.”

My heart leapt at his words, even as I struggled to wrap my head around what he was saying. “This is a date?”

“Isn’t it?”

“The Royals really are fucked up,” I muttered, but I wasn’t able to keep myself from grinning.

“Don’t I know it?” His smile twisted ruefully. “So did you expect flowers? The cinema?”

“Usually, I expect a little more conversation on a date,” I admitted. I flushed as my embarrassment grew over the misunderstanding. But it wasn’t just humiliation staining my cheeks, it was hope—hope that I’d see him again after this. I wanted to believe him when he said I wasn’t just a fling, but it felt dangerous to do so.

“Maybe we should start over,” he suggested.

But I didn’t want that either. I was too tightly strung, ready for him and what he had promised me. I was afraid I might snap if we stopped now. Wasn’t I thrilled by the idea I might see him again moments ago? Why had I even brought this up?

“I don’t
court
women,” he continued. “There wouldn’t be a point.”

“But we’re on a date,” I pointed out.

“Dating and courting are two different things. You and I could go to dinner or to the country or we could stay here and fuck. That’s dating to me. Courtship implies expectations. I don’t do romance and I don’t do long-term. If you’re looking for more, I can’t give you that. What I can give you is pleasure. More pleasure than you’ve ever known in your life. I will spend every moment I have with you taking you to the edge and holding you as you spill over.” He paused to let this sink in. “Isn’t that what everyone is looking for when they go on dates? Why pretend we’re after something else? You’re attracted to me, and I’m attracted to you. I want to fuck you all day long and then I’d like to see you again and fuck you again. Could you agree to that?”