Royal Affair (5 page)

“My turn,” she said as she undid the knot.
“I’ve always enjoyed doing this.”

“I’m afraid I’m not the treasure you are,”
he said.

“Don’t be so sure about that.” When she had
the thing undone, she tossed it in the general direction of his
jacket. “Men claim to hate ties, but they wear them, anyway.”

“Habit.”

“Let’s create some new habits.” Taking his
hand again, she led him to the bed. The time had come to put aside
her last fear and take the plunge. Time to make herself completely
naked. She wouldn’t hide in the dark or skulk under the covers. She
was going to accept—no, love—him no matter the signs of age on his
body. He’d have to do the same for her.

She bent and pushed off her nylons and
panties together, stepped out of them, and kicked them aside. Now
he’d see every inch of her.

He stood for a heartbeat, simply staring
her. His dark gaze softened, turning a deep brown. Then, he sighed.
“What an ass I was to take so long when this was waiting for
me.”

Of all the things he could have said, he’d
selected the most perfect. She laughed as relief washed through
her. He hadn’t flinched and then tried to cover it with a smile. He
hadn’t said something flowery she’d know he didn’t mean. He’d only
spoken the truth.

She held out her arms to him. “Come here,
you darling ass.”

He did, of course, and in a second, they
were kissing again. This time, her breasts pressed against the
starched fabric of his shirt and her pelvis the wool of his pants.
Unless she was very much mistaken—and it had been a long time—the
outline of an erect male member pushed against her belly. Another
fear evaporated. This afternoon could very well fulfill all the
dreams she’d had over the years about making this man her
lover.

They kissed for a long moment, his hands
roaming over her naked back. After a bit, he released her mouth
and, holding her face between his palms, pressed his lips to her
forehead, then to each eyelid, and finally the tip of her nose.

They’d waited long enough, and though she
could spend the rest of the day and into the night, touching him,
looking at him, tasting him, he did have other duties. And
eventually, her staff would return. So, she eased herself out of
his arms and lay on the bed, her arms and heart open to him.

He smiled again as he unbuttoned his shirt,
removed it, and placed it over his jacket on the chair. He wore
nothing beneath it, and she got her first view of his naked chest.
He was remarkably firm, his dark skin glowing. When he sat to
remove his shoes and socks, she ran the tips of her fingers down
the furrow at the center of his back. He briefly caught one hand
and kissed the palm before rising to unbuckle his belt and pull
down the zipper of his pants. His boxers clearly showed the
evidence of his arousal. Her sex responded to the sight and the
knowledge that he’d soon use that hardness to give her the sort of
pleasure she’d ached for all these years. She grew moist between
her legs, something she hadn’t experienced for so long.

She watched him fold his pants and lay them
over the chair before he finally removed his boxers and stood by
the side of the bed as naked as she was.

She could hardly have imagined him to be
more beautiful. He stood so tall and straight. As handsome as his
sons, but wiser and with the fullness of love that comes from a
long and happy life. And what a marvelous erection—long and thick.
The perfect tool to make her shatter.

He was grinning now, showing the young man
still inside.

“You look very proud of yourself,” she
said.

“You should be proud.” He gripped his sex by
the base. “This is your doing.”

“Then bring it here.”

He joined her on the bed. Before he could
distract her, she reached to the drawer in the bedside table and
removed a small tube. After squeezing some lubricant onto one hand,
she warmed it between her palms.

One of his silver eyebrows went up in
question.

“Just to make sure this all goes well,” she
said. “You are very large.”

He laughed. “Now you’re flattering me.”

He could feel flattered all he wanted. This
afternoon would be perfect, no matter what she had to do to make it
so. They would
not
stop in the heat of things to fumble for
a tube. She spread the lubricant on his shaft, and felt his
responding tremor in her bones. His eyes closed, and he let out a
moan. So delicious. She teased him some more, spreading the
lubricant on his shaft and over the head.

“Stop.” His hand covered hers. “I won’t last
if you do that.”

“I’ll play with you another time.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” he
said.

Which meant there would be other times. Not
that she’d doubted it, but hearing it confirmed by his words and
the sweet look of sexual excitement on his face warmed her heart.
And to be perfectly honest, other parts as well. She might not have
needed the lubricant, but better be safe than clumsy at an
important moment.

So she lay back and waited for what he’d do
next. Before she could count to two, he’d raised himself over her
to kiss her again. This time, the caress meant much more than the
others they’d shared. Flesh to flesh with no boundaries and no
reason to deny each other anything, she could release her last
inhibition and simply enjoy him. He gave her much to enjoy—the heat
of his body, the friction of his flesh against hers, the scent of
his shaving soap. She kissed him back with her whole heart,
wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Soon, the space surrounding
them filled with the sounds of ragged breathing as their excitement
built. Passion as beautiful as any she’d ever experienced, and this
was only the beginning.

As he moved lower, he laid a path of kisses
along the length of her neck, each a tender pinprick of joy. He
caressed her breasts again, clearly loving them. While he took one
nipple into his mouth, he teased the other with the pad of his
thumb. Her eyes crossed with pleasure and then closed so she could
concentrate on the sensations he created everywhere he touched her,
whether with hands or his mouth. Both were so very, very
clever.

When he released her breasts, his palms
travelled down her sides as his lips followed a direct path to her
naval. After a kiss there, he eased himself between her legs and
moved lower.

For a moment, she froze as his destination
became clear. Alexander had done
that
, of course, but it was
so intimate. So much to ask of him at their first encounter.

He had to have sensed her tension because he
rose on his elbows to study her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you…really want to…”

“More than anything,” he said. “May I?”

The uncertainty in his voice melted any
reservation. Melted her heart, actually, although that had probably
happened when he’d shown up in her sitting room with a hat pulled
down over his ears. She touched the side of his face. “Please.”

She relaxed her legs and allowed him to
press his face to her sex. The gentle pressure of his fingers as he
parted her folds created an entirely different type of tension, and
she grew moister. Waiting, waiting. When his tongue brushed against
her most sensitive organ, she cried out.

“Marta?” he said.

“Don’t stop…please.”

“That’s my girl.” He resumed giving her the
most intense pleasure a man could bestow on a woman. Only a man who
loved the act could do it well, and Friedrich clearly did. He
teased her bud with just the right pressure to make her crave the
ultimate release but also to want to hold it off. Her eyes already
shut, she drifted off into a world where only the two of them and
the mattress beneath her existed. Blood rushed in her ears, and her
skin heated everywhere. Her bones turned to putty, and she could
only lie there and trust him to push her to the ultimate and make
the climax truly beautiful.

With consummate skill, he played her sex
like a finely tuned instrument designed for her pleasure. He teased
and stroked while the tension coiled deep inside her. It would
break free and overwhelm her in a moment, and though she could have
this heaven from him again, how much sweeter to stretch the climb
out. The higher she went, the greater the final explosion and the
sweeter the fall back to earth.

She fought the inevitable, but her mind
couldn’t stray from what he was doing to her and how he’d feel once
he’d entered her. The combination proved too much to resist, so
when her arousal coiled in on itself, she surrendered. It grew and
grew until it filled her and then burst free. For a long moment,
she soared with it, her voice crying out, and then the spasms
started. Strong and rhythmic. Powerful.

He stayed with her until the orgasm ended
and then scooted upward and took her into his arms. Her face rested
against his chest, and she placed her lips against the space over
his heart. She couldn’t possibly have moved to kiss him anywhere
else.

“Oh my,” she whispered when the power of
speech returned. “Oh my, oh my.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest. “It
seems I haven’t lost my touch.”

“If you were any better you might have
killed me.”

“We can’t have that.”

She pulled her head back and glanced at his
face. “Whatever shall I do to pay you back?”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

They didn’t rush, though. One of the great
things about maturity—not needing to have everything right this
minute. Instead, they could lie together for a few minutes so she
could enjoy the glow, even though his erection pressed against her
belly—the evidence that he wanted her.

Smiling at him, she shifted to allow space
for her hand between their bodies. Grasping his hardness, she ran
her thumb over the tip, and watched his face for his reaction. His
eyes squeezed shut in a half-grimace of pleasure, and his hand went
to her mound. He parted the lips and slid a finger into her.
Immediately, her muscles closed around it, craving the penetration
of his instrument.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Bless you.” Raising himself on his elbows,
he took his place between her legs, the tip of his erection poised
between the lips of her sex. He eased into her slowly, no doubt in
an effort to be gentle with her. In reality, the move allowed her
to register every inch as he claimed her.

When he’d embedded himself in her fully,
they paused, staring into each other’s faces. The world shifted to
accept their new reality as lovers. Not friends, not even dear
friends. This one movement redefined their lives, and they took a
moment to record the importance of the moment.

Then he moved, and all logic fled in the
face of rising passion. For a second, he seemed as if he’d pull
completely out, but then he surged back in. Wrapping her legs
around him, she urged him deeper.

They moved slowly at first, savoring every
stroke of his hardness against her inner muscles. For these
wondrous moments, she ceased to exist as a separate person. Rather,
she became part of a greater whole—he/she, you/I. One being created
for the purest expression of humanity. Her heart swelled with the
knowledge that her pleasure guaranteed his and that, when they
reached the ultimate moment, he’d be with her, around her, in
her.

Soon, he picked up the pace, breathing hard
from the exertion and his rising excitement. The dearest creature
in the world—a man lost in the act of taking and giving equally.
Clinging to his shoulders, she raised her hips to meet each thrust.
Each movement pushed her closer to orgasm, and she reached for it,
now desperate for the release it offered.

His passion seemed to equal hers, as he
pushed harder and moved faster. “Yes. Oh God…can’t last…”

“Now.” She managed that one syllable before
the climax stole her reason. Her body tensed again and then burst
into explosions, each one grasping at his hardness. With a shout,
he stiffened and plunged into her a few more times. She held him as
he came, her muscles still fluttering around him. The perfect
moment, and one they’d created together.

When he rolled onto his side, gathering her
against him much as he had a few minutes before, her eyes did
moisten, and she left the tears where they were. She wasn’t
bawling, and he’d never notice. A gift like the one he’d just given
her didn’t go unnoticed or uncelebrated. She’d happily cry like
this again. And again, and again.

“You did climax a second time,” he said
after a bit. “I didn’t imagine it.”

“I did.”

“Magnificent woman.”

“Perhaps you’re an excellent lover,” she
said.

“And now you flatter me again.”

“Not at all.” For a few seconds, she
couldn’t help but regret that their relationship was an
afterthought compared to his marriage. If Cecile hadn’t died, he’d
be with her in the palace now. He would never have needed another
woman and would never have looked in Marta’s direction. Still, why
ruin such a moment with regrets? She had him now, and that was all
that mattered.

Sighing, he rolled onto his back, cushioning
her head on his shoulder. “I should return to the palace.”

“I should get dressed and ready myself for
my staff to return,” she said.

“Why do I feel no sense of urgency?”

She put an arm around him and hugged his
ribs. “If you’re like me, you haven’t the strength.”

“I’d better find some.” He kissed the top of
her head. “I hate to leave you so quickly.”

“I understand.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Is ‘seeing’ what we’ll call this now?” she
asked.

He harrumphed, the blessedly fake way he did
with his sons—the people he loved. “I do enjoy your company for
other things, you know.”

“Like visiting your monks and sampling their
brandy,” she said.

“I don’t recall you complaining about
that.”