Chapter 8
Eight
FRIEDRICH
She is close again. So close I can feel the heat radiating from her skin.
That one kiss has my blood fit to boil, and my willpower is quickly running out.
I trace the outlines of her fingers as her hand rests on my leg, nowhere near my groin, but her touch has me imagining so many naughty things.
The air feels electric with desire we’re no longer trying to suppress.
Her throat bobs as she curls my hand into hers, wrapping me in her long delicate fingers.
I lift our joined hands and press a kiss to each of the tips before guiding her arm up and over my shoulder.
Her thick auburn waves are soft between my fingers.
I pause before our lips touch, breathing her in, basking in the scent of her that I had found so intoxicating on our first meeting. It is a perfume tailor-made for her, sweet and light with a hint of spice underneath. Bergamot, I think.
Aurelia snaps first, closing the gap and crashing her lips to mine with a force that would have sent a smaller man falling back on the couch.
Her body against mine is the best kind of weight, and I wrap my arms around the tantalizing curve of her waist to feel all of her.
My dick wastes no time making my desire known, and I grow heady from the sudden rush of blood away from my brain.
Christ, I can get lost in that mouth. She opens so eagerly to me, only needing the lightest brush of my tongue to invite me in.
The taste of Miles’s bourbon gift melds with the taste that can only be hers, and somehow, adding a piece of my best friend only adds to the fire raging inside me. Let’s not think about that too long.
I want to touch more of her, to run my hands under the hem of her shirt and trace the ridges of her spine, to trail up the curve of her waist to the edge of her ribs, following along until I reach the firm breasts pressing into my chest.
But I manage to keep my head. I have a plan.
I want to give this woman the best of me so when the day comes, and she finds a man worthy of her time, she knows exactly what she’s worth.
She will know how she should be treated and won’t fall for some smooth talker with ulterior motives.
And perhaps she won’t anyway; she’s lived this long without falling into that trap, but now that we’ve reached our agreement—to enjoy together the everything but—I somehow feel responsible for her, like I’m her teacher, her guide, her Yoda.
No, I won’t press my advantage with Aurelia. She will be wined and dined before she is sixty-nined. Because this woman, Christ, she is really something.
And that’s why I break our kiss before my self-control fails. We share one more drink, and I promise her that we will keep talking and finish ironing out all the details of our little arrangement. It’s some kind of miracle I can get her out of the suite without losing all restraint.
Then I’m left alone with only my straining cock and racing thoughts. I’m probably a monster to think about texting Cyril again after shutting him down so unceremoniously this evening. But my body is screaming for release after only two kisses with Aurelia. My better judgement wins out, though.
I step into the oversized tiled shower. The rainfall showerhead pours steaming water over my already burning skin.
I bow my head under the spray, letting the water drip from my longish hair and around my face.
Just a hand on my aching cock has me shaking, and I have to press my other hand against the wall to hold myself steady as I begin to stroke myself.
I don’t even bother to start slow; the anticipation has already been building for hours, edging me without a single touch.
I pump my fist, squeezing as I reach the head and milking out the first drops of precum.
My hips begin to move almost on their own accord, and I fuck my hand until I’m panting and moaning like a goddamn degenerate.
My orgasm hits me like a truck, and I shoot my load all over the shower wall.
It just won’t stop and I ride the high, imagining filling Aurelia’s sweet, tight cunt instead.
No, not her cunt. No fucking. Her pretty little mouth then.
Would she swallow me down like a pro? The thought has a second wave crashing over me before the first has completely abated, and I picture the shock in her eyes if she could see how fucking desperate I am for her.
I’m still hard as I finish washing myself. The plush towel is sinful against my needy flesh as I dry off.
The door to my room clicks, likely my stand-in valet, Brody. My robe is basically useless, but I do my best for the sake of decency. But it isn’t Brody helping himself at the minibar.
“Is that for me?” Miles waggles his eyebrows, gesturing at my tented robe.
“No more than that whiskey is yours.”
“Excuse me, who do you think sent you this fabulously rare bourbon? Which is more than half gone, by the way. I hope you shared with someone good.”
I rub the back of my neck and accept the glass Miles hands me.
“Don’t tell me you wasted this on that nanny.”
His tone makes me a little hot around the collar. “I would hardly consider that wasting.”
My best friend scoffs. “When I texted Cyril this evening and he told me you sent him on his way, I just knew it. Fritz, what the fuck?”
“You were checking up on me?”
“Why do you think I’m here?”
I shrug and finish off my whiskey. “I thought it was some kind of best friend ESP.”
“You cannot do this to that poor girl,” he says as he pours another glass for both of us.
“Do what?”
Miles has his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the stark white a blazing contrast to the dark skin of his forearms, which are clenching and flexing as he grips his glass. “Make her fall for you.”
“It’s not like that at all.”
There’s a brief flash of sadness in his almost black eyes. “So you think, man, but it’s hard not to. I mean, you’re the goddamn prince.”
I cut in, “What’s that got to do with any—”
“It’s got everything to do with it,” Miles interrupts. “Power attracts the weak.”
“She’s not—”
“And I know you, Fritz. We’ve been friends since I was the new kid with the funny accent in grade seven. People fall in love with you without even trying. It’s who you are.”
I sigh. He’s right. But when it comes to Aurelia, I can’t stop. I can’t stay away from her even when I try. “Can’t I just enjoy the company of a beautiful, intelligent, funny woman for a little while?” I flop onto the couch where she had been in my arms less than an hour ago.
“It’s a terrible idea. Someone will get hurt here.”
“No one is getting hurt, Miles. We both know there’s a defined end. This is purely physical.” My glass is empty again and Miles is quick to refill.
My friend lets out a long breath and comes to sit next to me. “Then tell me what you need from me.”
His hand is strong and warm on my shoulder, and his familiar touch is soothing to my heightened nerves. “First, I have a pressing physical need.”
He barks a laugh. “That much is obvious. Sorry, but I can’t be of help there.”
The unspoken modifier hangs in the air between us.
Thank fuck my beard hides my blush, but I go for an eyeroll, hoping to distract from the heat climbing my cheeks.
“More than that, though, I want to take her out, like on proper dates and such. But she wants to stay under the paparazzi radar as much as possible, and I’d really appreciate not starting a media storm either.
Moreso than there already will be with all this mess of finding some aristocratic breeding mare. ”
“Ew.” Miles shudders. “And also, how?”
“We’ll go out with you and Trixie. That draws far less attention than me going out alone.”
“And you just assumed Trix and I would go along with this scheme of yours?”
“I thought I could always count on my best friend and my favorite cousin.”
Miles stares at the amber liquid in his glass as he twirls it in his hands. “I still don’t like it, Fritz. But you’re right, I’ve always got your back.”
We clink our tumblers together to seal the agreement.
Miles gestures to the bulge still prominent in my robe. “Now, about the more immediate issue.”
I drop my head against the back of the couch and groan. “Yeah, it’s a real fucking problem.”
He grabs my wrist and brings my right hand in front of my face. “Here, have you two met?”
I scowl at him. “Ha. Ha. And yeah, already did that and fat lot of good it did.”
My friend laughs, and I could punch him. I’m beyond the point of ribbing, and the longer my erection goes on, the more irritable it makes me.
“Are we reaching medical emergency levels here, Fritz?”
“I will murder you and make it look like an accident.”
He controls himself again and pulls out his phone. “Here, I have an idea on how to help.” He scrolls for a minute, then begins typing.
I put a hand on his arm before he hits send. “You’re not texting Cyril again, right?”
Miles snorts. “I doubt even his standards are that low after you already brushed him off. No, I was thinking Brassard. You like the silver fox, daddy types right?”
I shake my head. “Not Brassard. Last time he was too touchy, and I think he’s getting the wrong idea.
” Any such partner I let into my bed has to know that it’s purely carnal.
They’re not in some special place of honor because I let them use my body.
Most get it. Some start to get too comfortable after a while.
My friend laughs again. “I mean, you have let him in more than a handful of times.”
“He already has an NDA,” I mutter, failing to keep the defensiveness from my tone. “It’s easier to get to the fucking without having to go through all the legal bullshit.” Him fucking me, that is, because while I don’t fuck, being fucked is different. Right?
Here’s the thing: the beauty in being queer in the aristocracy is that we all have something to lose.
Loose lips mean mutually assured destruction, and thus secrecy is a nonissue.
But I don’t have those assurances with women—I learned that the hard way—so while I’ll let women who work at the club—who also have ironclad nondisclosure agreements—get me off with the occasional blowjob, I haven’t taken a woman to bed in a very, very long time.
I’m putting myself out on a huge limb for this thing with Aurelia, but my dick has definitely overridden my better senses when it comes to her, and for some reason, I trust her.
Plus, we won’t be fucking so if anyone on the outside finds out, the media won’t give two shits about handjobs and oral sex.
Miles sighs, pouring each of us another glass of whiskey when it’s clear we’re going to be here a while. “Shall we just get you so drunk your willy quits working instead?”
“Still haven’t found that limit yet,” I chuckle.
“Me neither,” Miles agrees, raising his glass for a cheers.