Chapter Four #2
Her experience of domestic life had been solely formed inside the palace walls. She’d watched TV shows though, and movies, so she knew enough about what a normal house was to know that Javier’s place didn’t qualify as such, not even remotely.
The garage was the beginning of that. It was large enough to house a fleet of vehicles, though only two were in evidence—the car she had been driven in and another sleek gunmetal grey sports car.
Once undercover, a heavy sliding door closed over the garage, enclosing her completely. A thrill ran the length of her spine.
When the vehicle came to a stop, the driver stepped out, came to her door and opened it, in a gesture with which Astrid was well familiar.
Doors were always opened for her, but the fact this man was yet another person in their web of secrecy had her glancing at him and relaxing.
It was impossible to say exactly why, but there was something inherently trustworthy in his face.
She smiled and winked at him, earning the briefest flicker of a smile in return.
His skin was a deep tan and his hair black.
When he spoke his accent was Spanish, reminding her of the fact Javier lived there, rather than here.
Meaning this home of his was no such thing and was more of a place in the city.
‘This way please, Your Majesty.’
She nodded her acceptance and walked on sky high heels towards the elevators.
The doors opened as soon as they approached.
Astrid was about to step inside when she saw that Javier had come down to greet her.
He wore the same suit as he had earlier that day, only he’d now discarded the jacket and the sleeves of his shirt were pushed up to reveal his tanned forearms. Her throat suddenly felt dry as her gaze fell to his hand and remembered the magical power of his fingers. Her pulse raced, her insides twisted.
‘I’ll take it from here, thank you, Enrique,’ he said with a curt nod.
Enrique turned and moved back towards the car without comment, leaving Astrid to step into the elevator with those butterflies in her belly working overtime now.
‘Your Majesty,’ he murmured in that deep, throaty voice of his.
Everything went haywire in her body. All she could do was stare at him as the doors swooshed closed.
‘Javier.’
God, how she loved saying his name. The depth of it, the feel, the husk of that first syllable.
He moved quickly and she thanked the heavens for that, his large body stepping forward to close the gap between them, pushing her back against the mirrored wall of the elevator and kissing her as though his life depended on it.
Kissing her like he knew butterflies were beginning to swarm her certainty, to make her doubt the wisdom of this night she wanted to steal for herself.
His kiss drove any question from her mind, leaving only red-hot need in its place.
His touch on her body was demanding and possessive, as though they’d been born to do this.
His hands pulling at the silk shirt she’d tucked into a knee length skirt, so he could connect with the bare skin of her hips as his mouth ravaged hers.
He ran his touch higher, to the underwire of her bra.
She trembled when he brushed her skin, covering her in goosebumps.
As he did in the palace parlour, Javier moved his leg between hers.
This time, she pushed down onto it with pure, wanton need.
‘I am going to take you, Your Majesty, and make you mine. I am going to make you see stars. Would you like that?’
He wasn’t asking because he doubted her feelings. He was asking because he wanted her to admit it. He wanted to hear her say it.
‘Why do you think I’m here?’ she responded breathily.
She felt his grin against her mouth. Then, his hands were moving, gripping her hips and turning her around, so she was face to face with her flushed, wild expression in the mirror, his head above hers meeting her eyes, holding them there.
‘Here, in my house, you are not a queen,’ he said, as one hand snaked down her belly, towards the band of her skirt.
Behind him, the elevator doors opened, revealing a large living area, but she barely noticed. How could she, when his hand was moving inside her skirt, beneath her underpants and once more touching her most intimate flesh?
‘Here, you are simply Astrid. Mine to please and torment.’
‘Torment?’ she asked as he moved his hand and she closed her eyes on a wave of feeling.
‘Look in the mirror,’ he commanded, tone gruff.
She blinked her eyes open, her gaze falling to him.
‘At yourself,’ he corrected. ‘Watch how beautiful you are, when you fall apart.’
At first, it felt impossible. To see herself like this, flushed and panting, was to almost be peering through the looking glass, at a version of herself so wholly unrecognisable as to be false.
A dream. But there was nothing false about what he was doing, about the frantic mania of need he was unravelling in her.
‘Javier!’ His name was a desperate plea, his knee behind her bottom driving her forward, as his fingers moved.
Wave after wave of heated need crashed upon her.
His other hand cupped first one breast, then the other, kneading her soft, sensitive flesh through the lace of her bra, before his mouth dropped to the exposed flesh of her neck and began to kiss and suck, his teeth pressing there until she could hardly breathe.
‘Oh, God,’ she moaned again, tilting her head back. She was no longer able to stare at herself, for how totally immersive and terrifying the image was.
This orgasm was so different to the one she’d felt in the palace. This was totally unhinged, unguarded, unrestrained. It was a moment of pure release, of giddy, bodily surrender.
He moved his mouth to her ear and said in a low murmur, almost a whisper, ‘I cannot wait to take you, Astrid.’
He moved then, spinning her easily as though she were a doll, so they were face to face, toe to toe.
‘I cannot wait to take you,’ he said again.
Then, dropping his mouth to hers, he flicked her with his tongue and she cried out, her insides so completely aflame she couldn’t think straight.
‘I cannot wait to taste you. To make you scream. And yes, to torment you, with how much your body wants mine, before I claim you.’
She shivered at the possessive imagery he was evoking, at the way her body responded with utter, all-consuming wants.
‘Then what are you waiting for?’ she asked breathily. ‘I didn’t come here to talk, you know.’
The flicker on his lips set her world on fire. When he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt tore. She didn’t have the presence of mind to care, not even a little bit.
* * *
Every bone in his body was telling him to go slow.
It had been a long time since he’d slept with a virgin.
Hell, had it been his first time, too? Yet something about Astrid rendered that consideration irrelevant.
She wasn’t a queen, she wasn’t a virgin, she was just Astrid.
There was an inevitability to this that went beyond anything else.
It had started out of determination to take something of value from Otto.
It had been solidified as a goal to punish Juanita for her disloyalty.
But now? Now it was all about Astrid. All about the beautiful, regal, carefully guarded woman who held the world at arm’s length but couldn’t do so with him.
Knowing he was able to slip beneath her guard and provoke her to this reaction so easily was a powerful aphrodisiac that made it almost impossible to take his time.
He heard her skirt rip and felt a primal, animalistic throb of ownership, an ancient urge he hadn’t known for a long time, if ever.
He was no longer a teenager with no control of his raging hormones and yet he felt like it.
Especially as he strode into the living room and knew he couldn’t make it to the bedroom.
Knew this was going to happen now, for both their sakes.
Slow could come later. Once they’d burst the dam wall and felt the pleasure of this, they’d take their time to explore.
A fire was burning in the grate with flickering flames.
He moved her to the rug in front of it and brought her body to the ground and his own on top of hers in one easy motion.
Delighting in the sensation of her body beneath his, of the way she writhed at his touch, begging him for more, saying his name with each frantic breath, her hands pushing ineffectually at his clothing.
He knelt above her, legs straddling her, eyes locked to hers as he began to unfasten his buttons.
Her gaze dropped hungrily to his chest. A moment later, her hand lifted, fingers trembling in a way that drove him wild.
Her touch was tentative and he understood it.
She’d never done this before. Sex, of course, but he suspected she’d never even touched a man.
Her life was one of caged beauty, a rarefied loneliness, because of how impossible it was for her to conduct a relationship without public intrusion.
On some instinctive level, he understood that the invasion of something so intimate would be unbearable to a person like Astrid. She was private. Guarded. Contained.
Except with him.
A thrill ran through his veins as he dropped his shirt beside him and stayed right where he was, letting her indulge in a slow, curious inspection of his chest, until he couldn’t stand it any more.
Her uncertainty was its own kind of drug, making him yearn for more.
She was slow and uncertain, he wanted fast and powerful.
He wanted everything, in a way he hadn’t before.
Her shirt was silky, with pearl buttons down the front. He unfastened them quickly, his breath burning in his lungs as he separated the fabric and stared down at her, the lace of her bra so delicate and feminine, his cock straining hard against the confines of his pants.