Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
F redrick
“Just when I think you’re all historical facts and matching sweaters, you pull out the naughtiest requests,” she murmurs.
“I’m those things, too.” I brush my lips against hers. “I can be both.” With one hand on each of her knees, she responds eagerly to my touch. I slide my hands up her thighs, parting them gently and reveling in the power I have over her. "Tell me," I command, my voice low and husky.
"My fantasy is to be taken by you, here and now, in this car, with no one else around," she whispers, my heart pounding as she speaks. "I want you to touch me everywhere and show me just how much you want me."
I stare into her eyes, cupping her face. "Your wish is my command. ”
My hand glides slowly along the curve of her breast, the thin fabric of her dress barely a barrier between us. She lets out a soft moan as my fingers playfully tease across her nipple, causing it to harden under my touch.
Moving lower, I trace delicate patterns over her stomach before pausing at the hem of her dress. With a look of pure desire in my eyes, I slowly slide her dress up, revealing more and more of her secret world that belongs only to me.
"You are absolutely breathtaking," I whisper, my breath hitching at the sight of her. Slowly, I lift her dress around her waist, revealing smooth skin and delicate curves. My fingers trail along the edge of her hip. As I near the junction of her thighs, she quivers under my touch, her body betraying her excitement. The anticipation in her eyes is palpable as I tease closer to her most sensitive spot.
“I want to see you,” I say. “Take off your panties.”
She follows my command, her hands reaching up to her skirt. As she shimmies out of her panties, I can't help but feel a surge of desire. I gently push her legs apart, taking in the sight of her exposed body.
I lean in, whispering against her ear. "Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
"And are you mine?"
“For now.”
“Forever,” I correct as I begin to explore her with my expert fingers, dipping into her wetness and touching her in all the right places. Her body responds to me instantly, arching her back and closing her eyes in anticipation of this climax .
I pull away, leaving her breathless and exposed. My tone is low, taunting against her ear. "You didn't do as I asked," I chide. "I know you have a dirty fantasy hidden in that pretty little head of yours. Don't be shy." I can sense her hesitation and shame, but it only makes me want to push her further. Force her to open up to me, to reveal secret sexy parts of herself no other man has conquered.
She’s quiet for an unlike-Freya amount of time. I begin to think I may have to coax her further, but then she starts to whisper. “You know I was raised a good girl on the island. I longed to be sexy, to dance in a club. A strip club. Wear a sexy dress and tease all the men, wrapping my body around that pole, finally stripping off the dress till I’m wearing nothing but a thong.”
Her admission hits me like a wave of hot lava. Gorgeous Freya, my ultimate desire, opening up to me with her secret fantasy. I’m the luckiest man in the world. “Tell me more,” I demand, fingering her.
Her voice shakes as she squirms under my touch. "My filthiest fantasy is to be a stripper in the VIP room, dancing for a client who makes me have sex with him."
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip; she stares at me as if waiting for disapproval.
I can handle the fantasy. Of course, I picture myself as this mystery man in the VIP suite—anyone else I would kill. It’s my game—I’m happy to play along, turned on by her trust in me. “I can imagine your Freya goddess power. Making men fall at your feet. Tell me more about this fantasy.”
She looks as if she can hardly believe what she’s about to say. “I would wear a shimmering silver dress and dance for him. I would feel his eyes on me. ”
She keeps going, my desire growing, fueled by her words. "Then, as the music slows, I would slowly unbutton my dress, revealing more and more of my body until I'm standing before him in just a thong and high heels, topless. My movements would make him want me so badly." The vivid picture she paints makes me want her more.
“I want you. I want you so bad. Every moment of every day.” I gently trace circles around her pert nipples. They grow harder under my touch. She gives a shiver and a little gasp. I love how I’m the only man allowed to touch her anywhere, but especially her breasts, knowing she’s comfortable with only me. “You’re so fucking sexy, Freya. Tell me how it ends…”
"Finally, I would straddle him on the VIP stage and grind against him, showing him just how much he wanted me. He would be helpless against me, unable to resist my temptation.” She arches her hips forward. “Touch me there. Please.”
I tease her wetness with my fingers, quickly bringing her back to that place of pleasure. Her fingers clutch at the edge of the leather seat; her eyes close, her head presses back. Her hips move around, working with my fingers.
She gasps, speaking in a choked voice as I make her come. “And I crawl over his lap. Put my hands on his—oh my God—shoulders. Sit on his cock and fuuuuuck!” She cries out as she climaxes. “Oh my God, I’m coming!”
I’m desperate to live out her fantasy, my blood hot, my heart pulsing, my cock throbbing. I touch her till she shudders, then quickly unzip my pants, pulling out my erect cock, so ready for this, so turned on by her energy.
Her eyes lock with mine, filled with trust and desire, only fueling my fire. “Come here, princess. Sit on your man. Dance for me, princess.”
Putting her hands on my shoulders, she parts her legs, straddling my lap. I lean close to her ear, my voice rough with control. "This is where you dance for only me, Freya." I moan, focused on her warmth as she envelops me, taking every inch as she descends onto me.
My hands firmly grasp her hips, directing her movements as she rides me to pleasure.
Her voice is breathy with lust. “I was picturing you as that man the whole time.”
Her eyes meet mine, their intensity igniting a fire within me. “You’re such a good woman, Freya. Any man would be lucky to have you dance for him. I thank God it’s me.” Needing her taste, I thrust my tongue into her mouth.
Her kiss is hungry in return. Her hands grip my shoulders tightly as she moves faster and harder, her moans becoming louder and more desperate, her body trembling. I can tell she’s getting close.
I thrust up into her, our bodies moving in sync, fitting together like a puzzle. The moment consumes me, driving me as wild as she described in her fantasy. We continue to make love in the back of the car with the driver on the other side of the partition.
Our kiss softens, then deepens as the climax approaches. My pulse quickens, and my skin grows damp. Each move is synchronized to perfection, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. The anticipation builds, and with one final push, I cry out her name, feeling the tightness beginning to release. “Freya.”
We collide into one another, hard and fast, as we chase that final peak in unison. We are lost in each other's arms, our bodies still connected after the climax, her sitting on my lap, her head nestled in the cradle of my neck. We stay united, enjoying the aftershocks of the mind-blowing sex we just shared.
She murmurs against me. “This,” she says. “Was NOT on your itinerary.”
Often traveling for work, I ensure my car is fully stocked with self-care items. We’re easily able to reassemble ourselves for the day. I clean her body with damp cloths and we straighten our clothing. Spritzing a lavender-scented spray in the cab, I leave the rest to the driver.
When we arrive at the Royal Mile, we exit the car and follow my security team till they fan out into the crowds, giving us the space she requested.
Drunk on afterglow, heady with cold air and sunshine, I bring up a subject I’ve left marinating. “You want children as well.”
“Aye. Not now, of course. But one day,” she says.
I can’t describe the feeling I get when she says she wants children—like a warm liquid ray of sunshine easing over me. I’ve never experienced this before.
Not only do we want the same thing, but if she’s to be a mother, her dangerous career will be a distant memory. My children will want for nothing. They will have everything I didn’t .
Most importantly, they will have a loving mother.
Why wait?
My protective hand goes to her lower back, thinking of a past conversation we had, one where she very clearly told me she is taking oral contraception. “Let’s get you off the pill now. I want to put a baby in that belly tonight.”
She snorts. “It doesn’t work like that! You have to plan; it takes weeks, and I’m nowhere near ready to get off that pill. I went on it at sixteen to clear my skin and have no plans of going off it now.”
“How long will you wait? Time is ticking.”
She narrows her gaze, peering up at me. “Are you calling me old?”
“No, but aren’t the eggs healthier when young?”
“Since when are you so interested in women’s fertility?” She’s clearly annoyed. “I’m sure my eggs are just fine, thank you.”
“Well, when the time comes, we both agree; you will stay home.”
“Having me locked up in Inverness, under your watchful eye 24/7, is your filthy fantasy, isn’t it?” she says.
“Oui. I like to know you’re safe.”
“I will marry first, then have children, and then return to law.”
“And does your partner get any say in the matter?” I ask, thinking of my upbringing. I do not want the same for my children .
She grabs my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Her voice softens. “I understand your pain. I promise I do. What happened to you should never happen to a child. Of course, it would make you want your wee ones to have their mother at their beck and call. But children can have love, support, and all those wonderful things and still have two working parents.”
What she says next fills me with hope.
She gives a shy smile, one I’ve not seen on her pretty face before. “We’d have Fiona and Morven and the staff to help us. Hopefully, everything will be cleared by then, and friends and family will surround us.”
She. Said. We.
We. Us. Her and I.
“You said we.” I grin. “You were talking about us.”
“Of course! We’re engaged.” She holds up a hand, letting her diamond ring glitter in the sun.
Her matter-of-fact answer brings me more joy. “It’s just that you don’t typically speak that way, directly about us.”
“Do I not?” Her brow furrows as she thinks. “It’s been a confusing journey. You’ve given me time and patience. I accepted your ring. I should talk in terms of us, and we. Oui?”
Once, I thought I’d drag her down the aisle. Force her to marry me. I had it all wrong.
I agree happily, a breath of relief filling my lungs. “Oui.”
“I apologize if I hurt you.” She gives my hand a second squeeze. “And I thank you for your patience.” She pulls us to a stop on the sidewalk, guards coming to a stop in the corner of my eyes, hovering around us, on the lookout for trouble. Putting her hands on my chest, she gazes up at me. “I will marry you soon, Fredrick Frisque. When the time is right.”
Other than her accepting my ring, this is the first confirmation the wedding is coming in my lifetime. My chest wells with hope for our bright future together. I need to lock this down. “When will that be?”
“When things are back to normal, and I can have my family there as witnesses,” she says, tears in her eyes.
Of course, she wants a dream wedding, with friends and family overflowing at the ceremony. Me? I’d be happy with only the two of us present, Joyeux as ring bearer.
I kiss her cheek. “I understand.”
Satisfied with our breakthrough, I let the conversation lie there, knowing she’s been pushed enough for one day. I let her calm her emotions so we can enjoy this day.
The sun shines on our faces. Not knowing if she’d packed sunglasses in our haste to leave, I grabbed her favorite pair from where they sat on the table in the foyer. I slip her cat-eyed Chanel’s from the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “Grabbed these for you on the way out the door.” I hand them to her.
“Och! You have thought of everything!” She dons the sunglasses, looking adorable in them. “Thank you.”
I slide on my own Ray Bans, enjoying the walk and the architecture. I spot my security in their six-point formation around us, but as she suggested, having some space to be a part of the crowd is pleasant .
I try to live in the moment, to let this be enough, but one discrepancy between our thinking tugs at the back of my mind, prickly and uncomfortable. I take a risk, hoping not to ruin our day, but I know I can’t focus until I clear this up.
“I do think the woman should stay home with the children.”
She waits a beat, then pauses her steps, lifting her glasses to meet my eye. Her lashes flutter. “Have you ever thought about staying home with the children? Plenty of fathers make terrific stay-at-home dads.” Point made, she snaps her glasses back down.
“Ma chérie! I’m a man.”
“Trust me,” she says, eyeing my crotch. “I’m well aware.”
“My job is to provide for my family. Protect my family. Guide my children. Support my wife.”
“And a woman can do the same for her family.” She picks up her pace, eager to end the conversation, briskly moving toward our destination. “Don’t let this cause conflict between us. Let’s not ruin our day. We still have matching sweaters to purchase.”
I grab her hand, attempting to slow her down. “It’s an important conversation, Freya. You can’t keep pushing everything that makes you uncomfortable away. It will resurface. Best to face it head on.”
She tugs me along, keeping her pace brisk. “And I say, best not to ruin our day. There’s a time and place for hard conversations, and this is not that time.”
I pull her to a stop, forcing her to face me. “It’s never the time with you, Freya. ”
Our gazes lock, fire and ice.
“I don’t know why it’s so important to you to figure out our future right now.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, her defense mechanism. “It’s not as if we’re married yet.”
If it were up to me, we’d have wed when she first walked into the castle. Frustrated, I say, “You wear my ring. You’ve confirmed your consent. A moment ago, you told me we’d marry soon.”
“And we will,” she stresses.
I’ve given her space, time, and understanding. Perhaps too much so. What she needs is to be told, to be dominated, like those seventy castle steps we’ll soon undertake; the woman needs to be conquered.
I pull her to a stop, forcing her to face me. “We will be married. You will be my wife. And you will stay home with our children.”
She tosses back her head, hair glittering in the sun, and laughs.