Chapter Three #3
He smiled against her mouth. She could imagine the smile. The smugness of it, the arrogant certainty of what he was doing to her. She didn’t care, so long as he kept doing it. Curiosity was a wave, engulfing her, and she refused to swim away from it.
He nudged at her sex and then his fingers were inside her.
She bucked her hips, shocked and heated by the feeling, as her muscles clenched in a way that gripped her abdomen.
Her whole body felt as though it had been shocked.
He moved his mouth to her ear. ‘You are so wet, Your Majesty. I could take you right here.’
She whimpered, pressing her teeth into her bottom lip, as his imagery filled her mind and desire took over. She wanted, in that moment, for him to do exactly that.
‘I could drive into you and make you mine. I could make you cry my name at the top of your lungs. Is that what you want?’
‘Javier,’ she groaned, because she did want what he was describing. Even if it meant every palace servant came running and saw what they were doing. In that precise moment, she didn’t care about her reputation, about her heart, about anything.
He moved his fingers outside of her. She moaned, but then he was touching her in a way that was driving her wild, brushing her quickly.
New sensations were overtaking old and stars were filling her eyes, making it impossible to think, or be silent.
As if anticipating the way her voice would raise, he moved back to kissing her as his fingers brushed and moved and, finally, tipped her over the edge of orgasm, into a place of bright, uncontainable pleasure.
Her breath was rushed. Everything felt blurry. Her legs wobbled.
He pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes seeing everything on her face, his cheeks lightly flushed, his eyes glittering.
‘That is only the beginning, Your Majesty. Come to my home this evening and I’ll show you what I mean.’
He pulled his hand away, smoothed down her dress, then, finally, took a step back. She couldn’t help but notice the way his pants were straining, the visible evidence of his own arousal. It was so primal that her insides sparked with renewed need.
Astrid had no idea if she could stand without the door’s support so she didn’t try.
She tried to hardwire her brain into thinking properly.
She tried to remember who she was, at her core, to respond to Javier’s invitation as she should, not as she wanted to.
But her brain seemed waterlogged, pleasure fogged, and all she could do was stare at him.
Which did nothing for the return of her sanity.
He’d been impossibly gorgeous before he’d turned her bones to jelly, but now?
He was the definition of female fantasy and he was propositioning her.
‘This is wrong,’ was all she could say, but it didn’t sound particularly convincing.
‘Says who?’
She expelled a slow breath and tested the strength of her knees. To Astrid’s surprise, they held her upright.
‘Astrid.’ He closed the distance between them once more, resting a hand on one side of her head, palm against the door.
‘Listen to me. You are a grown woman. Yes, you are also the queen of this country, but that doesn’t mean you have to deny yourself pleasure.
It doesn’t mean you are purely a queen.’
‘You don’t understand.’
His eyes bore into hers. ‘Probably not,’ he conceded. She was relieved. She didn’t want this man, of all people, to diminish what her life was like. The way she had to prioritise her duties, to never put a foot wrong.
‘Being a queen is who I am,’ she corrected gently. ‘It matters to me.’
‘Then bring a tiara,’ he suggested, a small smile tugging at his lips, as he lifted his other hand and curled it around her cheek. ‘This will be our secret.’
Secret.
Heat speared her as she nodded slowly. She’d known, even before this conversation, that she would go to him.
He stepped back from her again, this time reaching into the top breast pocket of his suit jacket and removing a business card.
He held it out to her. When Astrid took it, she was surprised her fingers weren’t shaking.
She felt shaky all over and like she wanted to run.
Not away from him, but with a giddy, child-like sense of joy, of being alive.
She wanted to spread her arms wide and feel the snow on them as she ran and ran, her legs kicking, the power of her body something she’d never tested. Not in this sense, anyway.
She glanced down and saw that the card bore only his initials and a phone number. It was discrete and the sort of card she gathered he didn’t go around giving to just anyone.
‘If you change your mind, you have my number. If you want to talk, you have my number.’ He moved closer, then, so they were nose to nose. ‘But, Astrid?’
She made a gargled sort of noise that might have been an encouragement.
‘Don’t change your mind. We both want this.’ He tilted her chin, so her eyes met his. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’
He kissed her then, just quickly, before reaching down, taking her hips and guiding her away from the door.
‘Thank you for the meeting,’ he said with the hint of a grin, as he drew the door inwards and then, disappeared from the room.