Seducing Anne (30 page)

She crossed her arms over her belly.

“Are you feeling exposed and raw already? I haven’t even begun to scandalize you in this warm spray.” He stalked toward her and lowered himself to his knees. “Put your left foot on my shoulder and hold onto the bar to balance yourself.”

This was a nicer hotel shower than most since it had handicapped rails to hold onto, but it still had one of those flimsy plastic curtains that let in too much of a draft. He couldn’t wait until they had their own place to stay and he could show her what a more decent amenity like a good shower was like.

He stroked long and slow across her cleft with his tongue. Up and back, over and over until she was panting and swaying on her feet as if intoxicated by him.

“I love the way you watch me. Keep your eyes on me.” He pushed two fingers inside her and curled them, caressing her G-spot with a come hither motion.

She squeaked when he first contacted it.

Already it was swollen.

“Someone is very amorous right now. I can make you come without much effort. Would you like that, little one? Would you love to fall apart and loose your seeds all over my tongue and face?”

“I . . . I do not know if I can,” she said, breathless.

“You can. Do it for me. Do it because you can no longer see reason. This is why you came here with me—so we could be together. We love each other more than time and space can ever contain. Now, let me lavish affection on you. Cream my face.” He growled low in his gut.

He sucked her clit into his mouth and kept that pressure on it to lift the hood some, then used the tip of his tongue to flick the exposed, sensitive erect organ.

She moaned so loud it reverberated in the tiny bathroom.

His cock twitched, and his balls tightened almost to the point of pain.

He kept pushing her further toward her climax.

His other hand was on his cock, tugging at the head.

They would come together, but since she was still dealing with sickness, he wasn’t about to lie on top of her and make love with her until she puked.

This seemed a good place to get them both off so they could unwind.

“Oh God! Are you touching your manhood?” she asked, her eyes traveling down to his dick.

His eyes confirmed it.

“That is . . . so naughty.” Her face flushed to match the creamy pink of her breasts.

He put more pressure on her G-spot, prodding it, and when he used his lips to close down on her clit, she cried out and gushed gently all over his mouth and chin.

He spilled his semen all over her feet a second later and released her pussy from his mouth.

“Christ—love that we can be as free and as loud as we want now. There is no one to stop us.” He had to really focus on keeping his Tudor accent right now since his mind was scrubbed clean with the scent of her come all over—directly below his nostrils.

Jesus, she was delicious.

He stood up, held her as she went lax in his arms.

“I love you, my lady,” he whispered into her drenched hair. Already he missed her lavender scent. It was gone now.

She smelled instead of sweat and grime from their long travels. And soon, she’d be covered in the scent of cheap hotel shampoo.

“I love you, too, my lord. You are worth following, and I would do it again, no matter how queasy it has made me and how much it has unbalanced my humours.”

He hugged her tighter and kissed her with a tenderness he was growing accustomed to with her.

It didn’t take long before his head was starting to ache again, so he coaxed her over to the spray, washed her quickly without much fanfare and then turned the shower off.

She allowed him to towel her off, dress her in some of his clean clothes and then he let her rest.

Later they’d go shopping for some clothes for her.

She’d probably prefer dresses, although she might surprise him.

She always seemed to manage to throw him off when he least expected it.

* * *

Dressing Anne in a skirt and blouse was interesting.

She refused the heels, and he couldn’t really blame her. She liked stockings, though, so she wore those with some ballet flats.

Very similar to the slippers she used to wear.

She was delighted by buttons, but swore zippers were a development of the devil.

That one made him laugh hard and then apologize when she appeared hurt—believing he was laughing at her.

She was just so damned sweet in her innocence and charming as hell.

He opened the bedside table top drawer and showed her the standard Bible inside it.

“When we return, we will read some passages together. Would you like that?”

Her eyes lit up like there was a song of praise going on in that head of hers. “Yes, sir. I should love it!”

“Good God, you are so beautiful. It is hard not to ravage you right here and now, but I want you to see there are some likenesses between our two worlds that you can cling to when need be.”

She beamed at him and held her hands clasped primly in front of her navel.

He’d have to teach her to be a little less regal in public. No one stood that straight.

Well, he did, but it didn’t seem to cause as much notice when a Dominant man had an imposing presence and sublime posture. It was expected. It spoke of money and standards.

She could retain some of her inbred uprightness, but it needed to be softened somewhat.

“What if the priest will not hear my confession?” Her face paled.

“He will. I even called ahead to alert them we were new in the area and wanted to meet the bishop there,” he said, smiling.

She took a deep breath, and she positively glowed.

Her stomach seemed to have settled a little more this afternoon, and she retained some energy.

“If your vigor is good, we will stay for all of Mass and then we will go out to eat afterward.” He went to her side and gripped her behind the elbow, leading her out of the hotel room.

They still had to change their appearance.

Her long dark hair and striking black eyes were memorable, and anyone that saw her would not soon forget about her.

She sighed and pulled her shoulders back even further as they approached his car.

“I am afraid you will have to get used to being transported this way. There is no help for it,” he warned her.

“It is not that.”

He unlocked the car door and eased her into her seat.

After he had shut her door, ran around to his side and sat down, he asked her what was the matter.

“When I used to go to Mass, I would have my own secret devotional first to prepare myself.” She stared out the side window.

“Anne, you can do those same things now. I know you lack your holyday closet for worship, but I can always give you some privacy when you need it. You only have to say what you desire, and I will give it to you unless it is something that will harm you.”

“I was not considering how such a small thing might affect me. I do not even possess my Book of Hours anymore. That was what I used for my little devotional.” Her cheeks pulled taut, and he could tell her eyes were watering.

“Can I share with you a secret?” He leaned toward her and kissed her shoulder through the soft cotton fabric.

“Please . . .”

“Look at me first before I tell you,” he said, his tone firm but soft enough she would know he was still pleased with her. Everything she did naturally pleased him. She was so soft, feminine and sweet. Everything a woman should be.

Or, at least, that was what she was when not under Henry’s poisonous influence, and now that she would always be free of him, she could stay this way permanently.

His chest glowed and inflamed with unspeakable, powerful emotions.

He got choked up when she finally did turn her eyes on him.

“In your future you would have had with Henry, you both would have exchanged notes in your oldest Book of Hours you possessed.” He pulled out his phone and had the Internet up. He typed in
Anne Boleyn’s Book of Hours
. “I gave that book to Carew before the joust. I told him to keep it safe for history’s sake.”

She grimaced for a brief glimpse, then her face morphed into a thoughtful expression.

He tapped the link he thought would provide him the information he wanted.

She swallowed when he showed her the picture of her old, faded, yellowed book with an inscription at the bottom from Guy—
not
Henry—under the picture of Christ on the cross. Exactly where Henry’s message would have been.

He read out loud in French, since he wrote it that way as Henry had done with his message, “If you do remember, my little lavender, withstanding all time and reason—how it is you who do constantly keep me well pleased, then this above all, is a most treasured gem I shall take to my grave. Sir.”

She gasped.

He smiled with his chest warm and lifted. “It was originally written by Henry. This was what he had written—If you remember my love in your prayers as strongly as I adore you, I shall hardly be forgotten, for I am yours. Henry R. Forever.” He paused and took a deep breath. There were pains in his ribs from merely remembering she once had feelings for that pompous, deceitful douche. “Your reply was written under the image of the Annunciation.” He pointed to the picture of the Virgin Mary being told by the Angel Gabriel that she was to have a son. “By daily proof you shall me find . . . To be to you both loving and kind.”

She gaped at the screen.

He handed her his phone. She no longer seemed terrified of it.

“Where is this book being held? Can I get it back?” Her eyes shifted up to his for a moment and then fell back to his screen.

“No, my love, I am afraid not. It is held at the British Library. And it seems they do not know who this mysterious sir is, but they think he abducted you and maybe murdered you.” He chuckled. “If they only knew . . .”

“I am glad they are unaware.” She sniffed and handed his phone back.

“I know you miss this book already. Maybe we can find a replica online and buy that?”

Her head popped up. “Would you, sir?”

“I think we have already established I would do anything for you—including rewrite history to keep you safe and with
me
.” He leaned over and kissed her, then rubbed noses. “So beautiful. How could I ever let your heart stop beating? It would be the utter ruin of me.”

She smiled with a lazy, warm, sated look.

“Now—to confession. You can tell the priest all about how I shoot my come all over your body and then lick it up afterward.”

“You did not lick it up today,” she reminded him, smirking.

“My God—you are right. I must do that the second we are back in our room so I can fix this egregious error.”

She giggled, and he drove off before he remedied his mistake at that exact moment.

* * *

Anne had the biggest guilty conscience he had ever seen. She went to Mass and confession constantly, but there was no way he’d stop her.

She was always so serene afterward, and somehow it seemed to quell her morning sickness.

Over the last two weeks, they both had dealt with the worst of their time travel illness and were mostly over it. Their lives had this surreal quality of peace about it now that he could scarcely believe. They even found a two bedroom home to rent.

The spare bedroom was hers to turn into her holyday closet.

It might be a nursery in the future as well, depending on how long they stayed in Jacumba.

Anne stepped out of her worship room, curtsied to him like she always did after a bout of religious personal worship and then she dropped to his side, kneeling before him.

“I love you,” she said, breathless, and her cheeks flushed as she clutched her King James version of the Bible to her belly.

It seemed to be her favorite version of the Good Book. Had she met and known King James personally? Or was it simply because this book felt like home so much so that she read it at length regularly?

“What has you in this state?” He outlined her gorgeous face with his right fingertip. “Have I done something new to warrant this?”

The last time she did this was when he brought her some fresh English lavender—they didn’t have any French at the flower shop. He brought it for her to wear in her hair to Mass. And wear it she did.

And, by God, he had wanted to ravage her the instant she wore it and had been on her knees, worshiping him with those big dark doe-eyes of hers and that breathless sound she made when she was moved by a religious experience or a loving encounter with him.

He managed to keep his lusts at bay until they got her to Mass and then back home.

It took all his patience, but he did it.

His eyes roamed over her angelic face and her dark hair framing it in this moment. He sighed.