The Princess in His Bed (9 page)

“I want your beautiful . . . c-cock.” It was adorable how she stumbled over the more indelicate words each time, telling him this wasn’t normal bedroom talk for her. Clearly, she hadn’t done this with Marc, and that pleased him, more than he’d ever admit.

Adam thrust the crest of his cock inside her and froze, a guttural groan rumbling out of him. Hot silk was clenched around him. She was tight. So gloriously tight. His heart hammered wildly against his ribs. He had to bury his entire length in her.
Right now!
Retreating slightly, he drove into the most heavenly cunt he’d ever known. She cried out and arched, sucking him in a fraction deeper.

Adam wanted to howl with bliss.

He had his siren nailed to the mattress, his shaft buried to the hilt. His mind, body, and soul reveled. At last . . . she was his. And she felt incredible; her snug grip on him was nothing short of spine-melting pleasure.

All the years he’d hungered for her was worth
this
. She was worth the wait.

Their chests heaved as he stared down at her lovely face. Her eyes were shut. Her head was turned, her quickened breaths warming his arm. A single tear slipped out the corner of her eye.

“Are you all right?” he croaked out.

She met his gaze. “Yes . . . You feel so good inside me.” Those words and the sweet way she’d uttered them constricted his heart. “Please, Adam, let me touch you . . .”

Her kiss and touch had a potent effect on him. His every instinct warned him not to release his hold on her wrists, to maintain a level of distance, to keep this more sexual than personal, but the next thing he knew, he’d let go and she was drawing her arms around him, then her legs, her heels digging deliciously into the small of his back.

And nothing,
nothing
in his life had ever felt better than having Aimee wrapped around him, her warm soft hands moving over his shoulders. Caressing his back. Pressing hot kisses along his neck. He closed his eyes, basking in the sensations. In her.

“I want to come for you, Adam,” she whispered against his skin, sending a fresh wave of lust slamming into him.

He swore. Then reared and plunged, reared and plunged, quickly picking up the pace, driving his cock into the softness of her sex, deep and hard, fucking her with all his strength. She was going to come for him, all right. She was going to come on his cock. Harder than she’d ever come in her life. For every plunge and drag, the friction stunning. It seemed every sensation was intensified with her. He knew he was headed toward his own powerful release.

Adam caught her face between his hands and claimed her mouth in a ravenous kiss as he continued ramming her, enjoying the mews she made against his mouth with each deep thrust. His mind no longer ruled his body. He was completely engulfed in the unsated desire he had for her. She tried rocking her hips, but she was pinned under him, unable to do more than take his solid thrusts.

A bead of sweat rolled down his back. He was reeling in the moment. He wasn’t just fucking a woman. This was
the
woman. His golden-eyed temptress. His angel and tormentor. Possessing her. Claiming her. Her body surrendering to him.

Her slick walls clenched down around him, sending a wicked jolt through him. Stealing his breath away. She was about to fly over the edge. His semen surged in his sac.

The urge to spend was almost more than he could take. He’d never had to fight so hard to control his climax the way he had to with her. “Give me what I want,
chère
. Come for me.”

Her body stiffened. Her slick walls tightened. Then she screamed, her feminine muscles contracting along his plunging length, snatching a groan from his throat.

He was shaking, thrusting, holding on to the load of come he was dying to discharge, just so he could ride her longer. Not wanting to leave her sweet form. Not wanting it to end.

His control frayed until it finally snapped. Hot come came barreling down his cock. He reared just as semen spewed out of him and onto her belly. He threw back his head and roared her name, gripped by the paralyzing pleasure flooding through him. Come drained from his prick in forceful blasts until at last he’d emptied his cock, leaving his muscles weak and his blood humming in ecstasy.

He met her gaze, his breathing as labored as hers. She looked just as shaken by the intensity of their release as he was. Adam collapsed onto his side, beside his golden-eyed beauty, and snagging the first article of clothing he touched, her drawers, he swiped her belly and then his cock clean. And tossed it. The languor and tranquility pervading his body were sublime.

Quickly she turned her face away from him and swiped her cheek.

His brow furrowed, he propped himself on his elbow, slipped his fingers beneath her chin, and turned her face toward him. Tears glistened in her golden eyes.

Clearly, she noted the questioning look on his face. She smiled and said, “I’m sorry,” looking embarrassed. “I’m not usually like this—emotional, that is, after . . . after—”

“Sex?”

“Yes. I seem to keep doing this with you. Not very sophisticated of me, is it?” Her cheeks pink, she was adorably flustered. “I’ve never done this sort of thing—had a lover—and I’ve never done what we did last night ever before . . .”

Adam smiled, leaned in, and gave her a long slow kiss.

“There’s no need to apologize.” He knew she wasn’t the sort of woman who wept easily. In fact, Marc had once stated that he’d never seen his wife cry. And he gave her plenty to cry about. Tears were something she’d obviously hidden from her husband and yet, last night and again today in Adam’s arms, her social mask had fallen away. This was the third time he’d moved her to tears.

There was something about seeing them in her eyes, on her cheeks, that he found deeply touching.

“You are . . . you’re a tad overwhelming . . .” Her sweet smile returned. “You’re no doubt used to women who are more urbane in the boudoir.”

Under no circumstances was he going to venture there. Knowing Aimee considered him no less a womanizer than Marc had been, the subject of Adam’s former paramours was the very last thing he’d discuss with her. He wasn’t about to make any apologies or excuses for his past.

Unlike Marc, he’d never had a wife.

“Now that we’re done . . . I—I suppose I should go.” She sat up.

Adam caught her around the waist before she could get any farther and pulled her back down beside him.

“We are not done, and no, you should not go. Are you forgetting the part about coming for me the rest of the afternoon and night?” he gently reminded.

Her delicate brows lifted. “I didn’t think you meant it.”

Adam slid his body on top of hers, his cock already stiffening against her belly. “Does it feel as though I don’t mean it?” He saw a fresh flare of arousal in her eyes.
Dieu
, he loved how responsive she was. His beautiful passionate Aimee. “I haven’t said anything to you that I haven’t meant.”

He didn’t lie to women. Never made promises he didn’t intend to keep. Or false declarations of affection just to entice a woman into bed.

He liked sex to be uncomplicated.

For him sex was about mutual pleasure in the moment—without emotional entanglement or the expectation of exclusivity for either party. That’s how it had been with every woman he’d ever bedded.

And then there was Aimee. His fantasy come to life.

Adam kissed her again, slipping his tongue inside her mouth the moment she parted her lips. He delighted in her soft sighs and in the mounting heat sweeping through them.

Having taken the edge off his lust, he was now in better control of himself.

Just as he preferred it.

Adam rolled with her onto his back, pulling her soft form on top of him. He pressed his palm to the nape of her elegant neck and splayed his other hand on her lower back. Holding her, he luxuriated in the feel of her body against him, her taste, the warmth of her skin, letting his fingers graze along the seam of her derrière. A soft moan escaped her, and with a little wiggle, she spread her legs, allowing him to dip his fingers into the wet folds of her sex. Lightly he petted her, gently working the sensitive flesh, making her moan louder.

Though his cock was hard and desire burned in his blood, he felt as though someone had poured warm nectar over his insides. Maddeningly, lust and soft sentiment had melded. Unable to separate the two. Of all the times he’d imagined what he’d feel like after having had her, he never imagined this. Never counted on
this
.

He wanted—needed—exclusivity with Aimee. At least until this spell he was under was broken. And the novelty wore off.

6

Aimee rushed toward the gardens the next morning.

Louise was frantically looking for her.

When last they parted, it was yesterday afternoon and Aimee was on her way to search Adam’s private apartments. Almost a day later, Louise hadn’t seen or heard from Aimee. She didn’t blame her for being concerned, but she couldn’t send any sort of message while she’d been with Adam. Upon entering her rooms not thirty minutes ago, one of her maids had notified her that Louise had spent the night waiting for Aimee in her bedchamber. By morning, Louise had left in search of her.

Entering the Hall of Mirrors, Aimee moved along the long empty corridor and slipped out the doors leading to the vast palace gardens. Standing outside, she scanned the immediate crowd milling about and then beyond, courtiers stretching past the Petit Parc and into the Grand Parc. There was no music in the air, indicating that the King was elsewhere, his court left to amuse itself. The massive size of the gardens—manicured lawns, groves, and avenues as far as the eye could see—was going to make locating Louise a challenge, if she was here at all.

Aimee prayed Louise hadn’t done anything so foolish as to venture toward Adam’s apartments in search of her.

Stepping down the stone steps, she caught a glimpse of her cousin in the distance the moment the crowd to her right shifted. Relief flooded through her. Fisting her skirts, she moved briskly in Louise’s direction. It was obvious she was speaking to someone, but there were too many people in between them for Aimee to tell whom.

It was only when she neared did fear slam into her chest. Louise had her head bowed, her shoulders slumped as Renault was clearly giving her a dressing-down.

Aimee all but ran the remaining distance. “Ah, there you are, Louise.” She smiled and slipped a reassuring arm around her cousin’s shoulders. Louise’s head jerked up and surprise then relief crossed her features.

Aimee turned to Renault. The man was scowling at them. “Have you no manners, sir? Do you not offer a greeting when a lady approaches?” She got perverse joy out of reprimanding him. The man needed to be taken down a notch or two.

Renault’s lips thinned. He glanced around then gave her a stiff begrudging bow. “Good day,
Madame la Comtesse
,” he offered in a surly voice.

Yet again, Aimee found herself wondering what on earth Louise ever saw in this man. She supposed he could be considered physically attractive. Yet his appeal was soon vanquished upon his first utterance.

“Good day, sir.” Her response was curt and dismissive. “Come along, darling,” Aimee said to her cousin, her arm still securely—protectively—around Louise. She could feel the tension in her cousin’s body. And her fear. She knew they were of like mind; they both wanted out of Renault’s presence. The quicker the better.

“Not just yet. I asked Louise a question and she has yet to answer me,” Renault interjected, arresting their steps.

Aimee let out a sharp sigh. “The answer is yes.”

Renault cocked a dark brow. “Your pardon?”

“I said the answer is yes. In answer to your question:
Yes
, she does think you are a boor. Now that you are fully aware of her feelings toward you, we are leaving.”

Renault stepped in front of them. “Most amusing, madame.” He didn’t look amused by her cut at all. She wasn’t usually impertinent, but the man brought out the worst in her. “I’ll need you to kindly step aside. This is a matter between your cousin and me, and none of your concern.”

“I’ll do no such thing. Anything concerning my cousin, concerns me,” Aimee countered. “If you don’t cease your harassment, I’ll be forced to bring the matter to the attention of the King. He has a rather soft spot for the finer sex. He’ll not take kindly to your deplorable comportment toward my cousin.”

At that Renault laughed. “Madame, do you really think His Majesty would take the side of my former paramour over me, one of the most trusted men in his realm?”

Aimee narrowed her eyes and held his gaze firmly, praying he couldn’t hear her heart slamming against her ribs. She hated it that he was right. Men in His Majesty’s inner circle—men like Adam and Renault—had the confidence of the King. Anyone given the prestigious royal ring had the King’s regard—whether they deserved it or not. Renault did not.