The Un-Apparent Heir: A Royal Family Saga Romance (Spare Change Book 4)

24. Trying and Hoping

“They are all miraculously down,” Winston said. “Somehow. We have a quiet house on a Saturday afternoon. Has this ever happened?”

Lucy shook her head. It was their first week in the new house. They lived like nomads. Winston’s furniture order delivery was weeks off and they had limited options. Lucy attempted napping on a floor mattress like a poor postgrad in a shitty London apartment. 15 million could buy a new house in Berkshire with beautiful views. It could buy fast settlement and no hassle. However, it couldn’t make hoity-toity custom furniture happen any faster. Their last house sold with furniture and it wasn’t as if the castle got new digs all that often.

“I think they are run down. Lots of change,” Lucy noted.

“How are you?” Winston asked. “I feel like I’ve said nothing to you all day.”

“I’ve been in a circle of hell, so little to report.”

Winston patted Lucy’s stomach lovingly. “Dreadful. I’m sorry. It hits you hard sometimes.”

“Not what I wanted to be doing—nor showing so soon. It’s only a minute before someone calls me out. They’re going to start running the line of ‘don’t drink the water at the palace.’ I don’t blame them. I wish I hadn’t. And ironic that people will say you can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“Well, I wish I could say that. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to. It’s not that at all. It’s more of a… well, I want you to be in a better place.”

“What does that mean?” Lucy asked. “How do we manage this? I’m not being snarky, but… we have the professional opinion on it and it’s unhelpful.”

“Was it? I thought it was clear. Lots of foreplay, you give all the cues, and I’m just here to be supportive and not make demands.”

Lucy let out a long groan.

“We’re rewiring everything. That’s all, Luce,” Winston said.

“Are we just going to avoid sex completely while I’m pregnant?”

“If you want to.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Lucy, if you want to have sex, just say it.”

“I don’t want to have sex—not yet—but I need to get off. I’m not ready?—”

“Don’t be so reductionist and assume sex equals penetrative sex. That is what you’re not saying. Why can’t you get off if you want to?”

“I have hang-ups.”

“Lucy, we both need to try. Tell me what you want.”

“I want to be wanted. I want to be chased a bit. If you are asking me to direct you as to what to do, I can’t. It’s not in my nature and?—”

Winston cut her off with a kiss. She melted. He tried, at least. Lucy struggled to ask for anything at this point. She assumed her job was to give him what he wanted. She struggled to communicate anything with him that involved sex. They were once so connected by this, but it felt all awkward and new.

Winston continued kissing her. His hand found its way in between her legs. She began to kick off her leggings. Winston whipped them off, along with her panties. He gently pushed her on her back and parted her legs slightly, teasing her. She bit his lip, a sign she was not in a playful mood and wanted him to move along. He ignored her, knowing she should enjoy it more. Sometimes, she appreciated it. Now, though, Lucy was desperate. If he was going to get her this close, she wanted him to finish it.

Lucy’s wetness crept up the longer he worked on her clit. Winston dipped two fingers inside her. She gasped and he pulled back, a look of concern across his face.

“No, no, it’s good,” Lucy said. “It feels good.”

“Okay. Tell me to stop before you get uncomfortable.”

“I will,” Lucy promised.

Fingers now slick, he gave full attention to her clit. His fingers went around and around in a delicious rhythm. She grew closer to orgasm with each stroke. He alternated in and out as her breath quickened—up and down from her clit in a way that made her entire body tingle. Then, he went straight to the place she forgot existed. He tickled her G-spot for what seemed all-too-brief and Lucy lost it, praying to an unknown deity as she took off like a rocket.

“Oh, God, Winston. Fuck! Fuck!”

She panted and stared, trying to regain composure. It was long-awaited with eight months of hell behind her, but she wanted it more than ever.

“See,” Winston kissed her neck. “You are perfect.”

“I can?—”

He stopped, pulled away and drifted south. She panicked.

“Winston, please don’t?—”

“Do you want me to do it? Because I would like to prove to you that you’re perfect, I’m not bothered, and I love you,” Winston said. “I won’t if you don’t want me to, but I want you running down my chin. That’s the level of deference I want to give you. I need that, Lucy, if you want it.”

It was hot. Lucy was nervous but wanted him to want her. If she called him off, he’d be frustrated. And, he was right, she missed this. He was very good at it.

“Fine,” Lucy said. “But if you are expecting me to reciprocate?—”

“There is no obligation other than for you to tell me if something hurts and I should stop,” Winston said. His fingers were inside her again.

Lucy gave over. “Then, if you insist…”

She lost her train of thought as Winston dove in. Between his mouth sucking her clitoris and his fingers working inside, she knew it wouldn’t be long before she came once more. She pulled his hair and pressed her hips towards him, grinding until she could feel herself on the edge. She climaxed.

“Oh, fuck. Yes! Yes! Don’t?—”

Words escaped her. She was a mess. Her legs twitched and she moaned, trying to come down from the amazing high. It was what she needed.

“Mummy!”

There was a noise that pulled them out of their lustful escape. Malcolm knocked.

“Mummy! I want a biscuit. I am hungry,” he whinged, rapping on the door.

“Mummy is napping,” Winston said. “I will be down to help in just a minute. Go back to the telly and I’ll be right back.”

“Fiiiiine,” Malcolm whined.

He ran like an elephant herd downstairs.

“Flip over,” Winston said.

“What?” Lucy asked.

“I’m going to cum on your arse. Just flip over.”

“Oh, okay,” Lucy agreed. “That’s naughty.”

“Just like you squirting all over my face.”

He spanked her, loudly and then took his moment. It wasn’t half bad. He hadn’t done this in ages. He didn’t ask for much assistance beyond the inspiration of her now-bare arse. He lusted for her. It didn’t take long before he came all over her. Lucy disliked cumshots generally, but it felt like the least she could do. She wasn’t much for bodily fluids, but he cleaned her up quickly.

Lucy flipped back over, admiring Winston.

He said, “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back after I deal with this request.”

She smiled, so happy he was coming back.

Winston kissed her, “That was lovely.”

“It was nice. You’re not like… freaked out?”

Winston looked confused. “What?”

“My pussy… it didn’t like… turn you off?”

“No, Luce, it didn’t turn me to stone. It’s as good as it ever was. Just stop worrying. Let me worship it,” Winston said. “Rest. I’ll be back to join you if they ever let me.”

They wouldn’t, but Lucy didn’t mind. She had an entire king-size mattress and a huge body pillow that took up a third of the bed. She could sprawl, nap in peace, and be blissfully pregnant for a moment, having had her needs met for the first time in over a year. It felt glorious. She woke only a few minutes after nodding off, however. Natalie was on the horn.

“Sanne is in labour and Paul says it’s too soon. We will need to deal with the carnage. At the very least, the babies will be in hospital for a short while. At the worst… things could be?—“

“Hey,” Lucy said. “Deep breaths. I will ring everyone and make sure a statement goes out and make preparations for birth announcements. I can come to London if that helps.”

“I hate to ask.”

“I will get myself together and head over. Can I crash with you?”

“If you can put up with the boys, yes. We have them until further notice.”

“Of course. I am immune to kid noise. I’ll be in,” Lucy said.

Winston returned to find Lucy pulling on a dress.

“What? You need to rest.”

“Sanne is in the hospital. The babies are coming too early. I will ring you when I know more,” Lucy said.

She gave him a long kiss. “Thank you for that. I needed it more than you know. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Winston said. “Give them my best. We’ll be praying for their good health—all of them.”

For Immediate Release?—

The Duchess of Inverness was rushed to hospital this afternoon in active labour. Further information will be forthcoming.

“We will makeyou as comfortable as possible,” A nurse said.

Sanne grimaced, fighting through a contraction.

“Sir, please sit while we do this,” a nurse told Paul.

“Why?” Paul asked.

“Can you just do what they say until this block is in my back?” Sanne sobbed.

The radiating pain was intense. Her face pulled tightly.

Without warning, Paul hit the floor.

“He saw the needle,” someone said.

Sanne couldn’t move. She wanted to panic, but couldn’t between the pain and threat of spinal damage, she let the professionals deal with the husband who flew too close to the sun.

“Stay still,” the doctor made the best of a bad situation with Paul out cold.

“You should be feeling relief soon,” the doctor said. “Let’s check on your husband.”

Paul came to.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, trying to sit up. “That was a big needle.”

“Stay still,” a nurse said. “You could have a head injury.”

“I’m fine,” Paul said.

“Paul, you’re bleeding!” Sanne said, appalled.

He patted the back of his head. “Well, shit!”

“Sir, we should take you for imaging. You were out for some time.”

“I’m having a baby. Imaging can wait,” Sanne groaned.

The pain subsided. The drugs worked!

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. They won’t come so soon. Natalie is on the way.”

Sanne knew they were right. She nodded bravely, feeling like something bad was on the other side of that door but she couldn’t stop it. Paul fainted, hit his head, and now she might give birth alone. Sanne felt selfish for even worrying about it. What should have mattered was his health, but all she could do was feel sorry for herself.

About 20 minutes later, Paul returned holding a balled-up bit of cotton to his head. He sat before a nurse whipped in after him.

“Sir, we still need to stitch you up. You cannot simply leave.”

“It’s fine,” Paul said. “Stitch me here.”

“This is highly unusual. We’re in a maternity ward.”

“Would you have me leave my wife who is labouring to go sit over there and wait around for stitches as she gives birth? No! She’s frightened. Just do what you need to do or it can wait.”

“Paul, don’t be ridiculous!” Sanne said, concerned.

“I cannot just let it go,” Paul admitted. “I love you too much, Sanne. It’s fine I’m replacing gauze or covered in plasters but still here when our boys are born. But I will not let a moment go by without being here.”

He looked very emotional. Paul had gone from shock to protective in a stunning way. When it came to Sanne and the boys, he had no chill. He went into Papa Bear mode without a beat. This, though, was something else. Normally, he never died on such a silly hill. And, anyway, Sanne was fine.

“We can see what a resident can do,” the nurse relented.

Sanne guessed she feared complaints from the royal delegation. She knew Natalie was on the way. They wanted to keep Natalie, also their client, in good graces.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” Paul said, “but the idea of missing even a single cry won’t do.”

“And is your head okay?”

“I don’t have a concussion. I’m just fine.”

Sanne patted Paul’s cheek. “Well, I am glad you got checked out. We need you well and upright.”