Chapter Nine
Nine
LAILA
Two years ago
I can’t sleep.
I’ve been staring up at the ceiling for hours, doing that annoying thing where I try to make myself feel better for getting only seven hours of sleep, for getting only six hours of sleep, for getting only five hours of sleep, the hours counting down while my mind winds up.
I’m stressed. And it’s not just the usual anxiety that comes with being a nanny for a literal princess—it’s Grandma I’m worried about. I got a call from my cousin Peter, who lives near her, that put me on edge. Seems she’s been acting a little erratic lately, going for walks along the fjord in the night. Strange behavior that frightens me, makes me want to ask for the first available days off so that I can go and check on her.
A shuffling sound breaks me out of my thoughts, and I look to the open window. Even though it’s mid-September and the nights are cool, I can’t sleep without fresh air on my face.
I get out of bed and look out the window to see James walking across the path from the back gate to the house. He’s wearing a suit as usual, and he doesn’t seem overly drunk or anything until he suddenly stops and crouches down, staring at something on the ground.
I watch him for a few moments as he does this, until I feel like a creeper. Then I decide, To hell with it . I grab my robe and throw it on over my nightgown. I slide on my slippers and head downstairs, being quiet as I pass by the rooms. In the time I’ve been working at Primrose Cottage I still feel like I don’t know any of the staff. Everyone really keeps to themselves here, and I don’t know if it’s a British thing, or maybe it’s a royal thing, but there’s absolutely no camaraderie among the workers. Monica and Eddie are the exceptions to this, the only ones who have really welcomed me.
Aside from James, that is. He’s becoming my only friend here, which is scary, especially since my feelings for him over the past few weeks have become less and less friendly and way more…sexual. I can’t even help it at this point; ever since that dinner, it’s like my body has become completely in tune with his. I can feel his presence, his energy, before I even see him, my pulse going wild, my stomach swarming with butterflies, heat between my legs and all that jazz.
I really shouldn’t be doing this, heading out to see him in the middle of the night. I’d be better off in bed and staring at the ceiling and worrying myself to death.
You just need to get laid , I think.
And yeah, that’s the problem. I do.
And, fuck, I want it to be with James.
But I digress.
I tiptoe down the hallway and peek out the door to see James still crouched down, looking at something on the ground. I quietly step outside and walk over to him.
“What are you looking at?” I whisper.
“It’s a frog,” he says, slowly looking up at me. He doesn’t look surprised to see me out here, but then again, knowing his hearing and instincts, always on alert, he probably knew I was coming.
He points into the grass to the side of the path, and I crouch down next to him to get a better look. Lo and behold there’s a frog in the grass, its skin shiny in the lights. It fixes a round eye on me and then hops off.
I watch it go and look at James. “Sorry, I think I interrupted something.”
There’s something different about him tonight; his eyes are a little glazed, and he seems like he’s not really here. Or maybe he’s drunk and I’ve never seen him this way up close. Even when we went to the pub after dinner with Piper and Harrison, the two of us only had one drink each before Charles showed up with the car. And when we sometimes have drinks together in the study, neither of us have very much.
He gives his head a shake, then gazes at me.
“No, it’s all right,” he says, getting to his feet. “I was getting tired of staring at something that won’t talk to me.”
“Now you know how I feel with Madeline,” I say with a chuckle, reaching out as he begins to lean unsteadily to the right. I grab his forearms, relishing the feel of their strength beneath my fingers.
“Will you talk to me?” he asks, his voice low.
I feel the heat wash over me, my skin prickling, my throat tightening. I have no idea what he’s getting at, and I have no idea what to say.
And he’s still staring at me, his eyes raking over my body, drinking me in.
“You have no idea what it’s like,” he continues, his voice hushed to a whisper. “To never be able to just be yourself around anyone.”
And before I can even process the words and what to say back—because I do understand what he’s saying, very much—his hands are on me.
They slide up my arms and around my back, his hands traveling up and down my spine. He pulls me against him, his mouth crushing mine, his kiss urgent and passionate, our lips and tongues meshing together, making my head spin.
Oh my god.
I moan in his mouth, and I’m vaguely aware of the fact that he’s kissing me outside in the middle of the night and that anyone could happen upon us, that we could get caught. But those concerns seem to be far away, like they’re in another universe. The only thing that matters right now is that he’s kissing me so deeply I feel it in the marrow of my bones.
His hands are on the small of my back, pulling me against him, against the hard length of his cock, which is rigid against his fly. I rock my hips against him, eliciting a groan from him as his lips travel down my neck.
“I’ve been waiting so long to do this with you,” he grinds out as his lips cover mine again, as his hands move to my breasts, cupping them through my nightgown, my robe falling open.
All I can do is gasp.
Then reality hits me.
No! Not here, not where they can see you.
I pull away, breathing so hard that it hurts, and press my hands against his shirt.
“We can’t do this here,” I say before taking another step backward and doing up my robe. Funny, I had meant to say that we can’t do this at all, and yet…
He stares at me, nodding slowly. His mouth is wet, his lids are heavy, and the scent of testosterone, pheromones, and lust permeates the night air.
Wordlessly he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the house. Once inside he lets go and slips silently down the hallway with me right behind him. I have exactly ten seconds to decide what to do next, because he’s already opening the door to his room and giving me a look that makes my toes curl in anticipation. I could easily go up the stairs and to my room, try to sleep, forget this whole kiss ever happened. But I can’t do that now, not when my body has taken the reins, pushing all logic to the side. I know what I want—it’s what I’ve always wanted, and I’m going to get it.
I step inside his room. It’s dark and he doesn’t turn on the lights, but it looks similar to mine. Same bed, dresser, desk, closet, but his place is much tidier than mine. While I’m taking it in, his eyes are taking me in.
We’re silent. There’s no use for small talk now. We’re both committed. Instead he just stares at me, his eyes moving over my body so hungrily that I feel like I’m on fire.
I kick off my slippers. My fingers tremble as I undo the tie to my robe, and then I let it fall off my shoulders, pooling onto the floor around my feet, leaving me standing before him in just my white silk nightgown. His eyes move down my body, swallowing the sight of me, the muscles in his jaw working. I take another step toward him, closing the space between us, and his hands come up, cupping my face, his fingers pressing into my cheeks. He leans in, his mouth searching mine, his kiss rough, desperate, matching the feeling I have inside me, like all these weeks of pretending I felt nothing for him are finally roaring out of me.
I put my hands on his chest, my body pressed up against his, and he makes a noise in his throat.
“I want you, love,” he says against my mouth, trailing kisses down my chin, over my throat, his hands tugging at the straps of my nightgown. I push my fingers into his hair, down his back, tugging him against me hard, kissing him like I’m trying to crawl inside him, to see what it’s like to feel his heart beating, his blood rushing through his veins. He pulls my nightgown off in one motion, pulling it over my head and tossing it onto the floor. I’m in just my bra and underwear now, cursing myself for wearing beige granny panties, but as I stand in front of him, his eyes hungry and gleaming in the dark, I don’t think he cares.
“Oh Christ,” he whispers, his hands on my shoulders, pushing me back onto the bed. He straddles me, his elbows on either side of my head, his fingers sinking into my hair. I shiver beneath him, my hands moving over his shoulders, trying to pull off his jacket. He pulls back and quickly shucks his jacket off, then I push up his white shirt, undoing the buttons so quickly that he laughs. He helps me out and pulls it off, throwing it onto the floor. Then he undoes his pants, pushing them down and kicking them to the side, until he’s standing at the foot of the bed in just his boxer briefs.
He is as gorgeous as I have imagined. The planes of his body are coiled and strong, his muscles tense and his eyes burning with need. His skin is pale in the dark, but it shows off each taut line, hard and strong, and I pause when my eyes reach his package, his dick outlined against his gray boxer briefs. His hands go to his waist, and I struggle to breathe as he pushes his boxer briefs down his hips and steps out of them.
Holy hell.
He’s hard and thick, his cock jutting out proudly, the tip shining with moisture. I instinctively lick my lips, which brings out an arrogant grin, like he knows just how gorgeous he is. I mean, look at him. Of course he knows it.
He climbs back onto the bed, his cock bumping against my thigh, and I moan, my hands coming up, caressing his shoulders and back as he looms over me. He leans in and kisses me, his mouth taking mine, then he moves down my neck with soft, wet kisses.
I run my fingers over his chest, his muscles tight and flexing. “I’ve wanted you for weeks, and I didn’t know what to do about it…” I begin, my voice hoarse.
“Shh,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose, then my lips, then my chin. “Shh. You have me now.” He brushes his mouth over my jaw, then comes down to my neck and presses his lips against my rapidly beating pulse. He kisses me there, his mouth on my skin making me shiver and arch my back. He travels lower, over my chest, and my breath catches in my throat as he pulls back my bra and takes a nipple into his mouth.
He’s sucking it, pressing it between his teeth and flicking his tongue against it, sending electricity through my body. My back bows, the pleasure nearly unbearable, and I moan and whimper as he sucks me, his teeth sinking into my skin, making me gasp. A hand slowly travels over my body, and he pauses as he reaches my stomach, his hand resting on my belly for a second. I look down, watching as his hand trails south, my hips rocking against him. He’s touching me, teasing me, his mouth suckling my breast, and then he moves again, his hand going to my hip and sliding beneath my panties. I moan, arching my back, pressing up against his hand, wanting more, wanting his mouth and his fingers to do whatever they want to my body.
He groans, his fingers hooking into my panties, and he pulls them down my legs. I lift one leg up as he takes them off, draped around my ankle, and he slides his hand up my inner thigh. My breath catches in my throat, and I bite my bottom lip until it hurts, my eyes falling closed as a finger brushes against my clit, making me twitch and shudder.
Fuck me. I can’t believe he’s touching me.
He slides his finger along my wetness, his mouth back on my breast, and my hands clutch at the sheets, pulling back the soft fabric. His mouth travels over my breast, his tongue licking the tender skin, his teeth nipping me, his fingers stroking my clit, and I’m moaning his name, begging him to be inside me, to stop teasing me. I’m whimpering, buried in desire, his hands driving all thought out of my mind.
I feel like I’m spinning out of control. Like I’m tumbling, falling faster than I can handle. His fingers slide over my wetness, his lips pressing kisses over my chest before his mouth returns to mine, kissing me hard and tasting like my heated skin. His cock presses into my thigh, thick and hard, like I can feel every vein, every ridge, every inch of him. I moan into his mouth, and he lets out a sound, low and desperate, his lips moving to my neck, sucking and kissing and licking, making me whimper, making me writhe beneath him.
He moves lower, down to my breasts, and he covers one with one hand, massaging it, his thumb moving over my nipple, teasing it and making it painfully hard, his fingers pinching and pulling it until I’m moaning, rocking my hips against him.
“Patience, Laila,” he whispers against my neck. “Let me taste you.”
With his warm, wide hands he spreads my legs. He shifts over me, his mouth moving down my body, over my stomach, tongue sliding over my hip bones. Then he abruptly moves, pushing my legs open wider, his mouth on the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh, kissing and sucking until my eyes roll back in my head. I whimper with need as he pushes my legs farther apart, opening me up for him.
“You have such a beautiful cunt, love,” he whispers against my skin, and I nearly come from just the sound of it. “So pink. So wet.”
Fire. From my cheeks to my core to my pussy, I am pure molten fire now, flames fanned by his dirty talk.
“I need you inside me,” I whisper hoarsely. “Now.”
He laughs, his breath hot and wet. “Oh, do you?”
I nod, my eyes falling closed, my head falling back. “Fuck me, James,” I whisper.
Two can play the dirty-talking game.
He groans at that, and his fingers slide through my wetness, plunging inside me, making my body arch.
“How about I devour you first, hey, love?” he says, then buries his face into me. I gasp loudly, forgetting to be quiet, as his tongue swirls around my clit and my back bows, my knuckles turning white as I tighten them around his hair. My hips thrust against him, and he laughs against me, at how desperate I am, his fingers plunging deep into me, working me harder and harder. The sound of my wetness fills the room, and I stare down at him, his dark head between my legs, my legs spread wide, my hands in his hair, my hips bucking.
Hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Then he pulls his mouth off of me and looks up at me through my legs, his mouth shining and swollen from exertion.
Okay, now it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Get a good look?” he says with a crooked smile before he dips his head again. Only difference is this time he doesn’t look away. He keeps his gorgeous dark eyes on me as he begins to eat me out again.
Holy shit, this is intense.
His mouth sucks at me, hard, and his fingers plunge deep, and he starts to work me faster, his eyes never leaving mine. I don’t know how long I’m going to last, but no matter what happens, I hope I never forget the sight of this gorgeous man between my legs, my pussy bared to his hungry gaze. My skin is tight and flushed, and I can’t breathe as he works me, his tongue playing with my clit, his fingers plunging into me.
“James, oh my god, oh my god,” I moan, my back arching, my hips lifting up off the bed. I feel like I’m going to explode from how good it feels. He’s not letting up either, his tongue swirling around my clit, his fingers pumping in and out. I’m gasping for breath, my hands in his hair, my hips moving mindlessly.
I collapse back against the pillow and close my eyes, shuddering and moaning. I can feel my orgasm building inside, coming for me. I’m tightening around his fingers, and he slides three fingers inside me, and I come with a sharp cry, shuddering beneath him, my pussy throbbing.
“Fuck,” I hiss, my back arching, my hips pumping against him, my hands pulling his hair. I’m shaking, shaking, shaking, and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let up, and he keeps on fucking me with his fingers, his mouth still sucking at me, his tongue still tracing my wetness, moving up to my clit, my hands digging into his hair. I’m moaning and whimpering, my legs rocking against him, my hips jerking.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, over and over again. “James, oh my god, oh my god.”
I’m spent, ravaged, boneless. I can’t move. I can’t talk. I can’t see. All that I can do is feel, and the feeling is the most intense pleasure I’ve ever known, better than anything I’ve ever felt.
I hear him chuckle, pulling his fingers out of me. “Still think you need me to fuck you?”
I open my eyes, and the world is spinning.
“Yes,” I tell him, my voice breaking. Because as much as he just rocked me into another world, I want more of him, all of him. I want him inside me, and I want to undo him the way he just undid me.
His eyes glimmer in the light, and then he leans over, his mouth covering mine, my taste on his lips like sweet salt. He kisses me deeply, then pulls away and looks at me with lust-filled eyes.
“Tell me to fuck you again,” he says, his voice deep and low, his eyes holding mine, demanding, wanting.
“Fuck me,” I say, my voice a weak whisper. My cheeks are hot, as is the rest of my body, and my heart rate hasn’t returned to normal yet.
He gives me a wolfish smile, clearly enjoying this. “Again, love.”
“Fuck me,” I repeat, louder this time, my body on fire with need.
He lets out a greedy growl, then gets up and strides over to his bedside table, rifling through a drawer. He rips a condom open and slips it on, and then he’s between my legs again, the thick head of his cock against me.
He grabs my hips with bruising pressure, and his hands dig into my flesh as he pushes inside me.
I let out a startled cry—he’s bigger than I expected—and he puts a hand over my mouth, giving me a look that reminds me that we still have to be quiet. Fuck, there’s definitely something hot about his hand over my mouth, especially as his cock slides in and out of me.
How is this happening? How is this sex? This is not like anything I’ve experienced before. I’ve never let anyone take control like this, given myself over like this.
“I’m going to make you come so hard you forget your own name,” he says, his voice deep and raspy, the promise in it sending fire through my body. He removes his hand, and I gasp loudly as he pulls back and thrusts hard inside me, making my body jerk. He grabs my wrists, pinning them to the bed, and then he’s pounding into me, giving me what I asked for, deep, hard, unyielding.
“When I’m done with you, you’re going to thank me for making you come so hard,” he growls, his hips thrusting against mine, hitting me deep, hitting me hard. “You’re going to thank me for fucking you so thoroughly that you’re ruined for any other man out there.”
I moan, and he kisses me, then starts fucking me harder, his hips slamming into mine, his cock moving almost painfully inside me.
He’s driving me wild, the way he moves, the way he’s fucking me. I don’t know how much I can take, but I know I don’t want it to stop.
I can feel my orgasm approaching, the edge teasing me, just beyond reach, and he pulls away from my lips, his teeth digging into my shoulder as he bites down, the pain giving to pleasure, his hand squeezing my wrists. He’s still fucking me, hard, his hips moving faster, deeper, his cock thrusting into me, hitting me deep.
“Oh my god, James,” I moan helplessly, bucking against him, my body rocking beneath his. I am so close, so close, and it’s building, building, building, and I moan again, and he slams into me, so hard I gasp.
I’m coming. The orgasm is so strong it’s almost painful, my body arching and bucking against him as if it’s the only thing that will keep me from floating off into the atmosphere, never to be found again.
He keeps going, and I don’t know how he’s keeping up the pace, my orgasm taking me away, and he’s pounding into me, harder and harder and faster, and then he’s coming hard, his cock swelling and pulsing inside me as he comes, groaning, his breath hot and raspy.
“Fucking hell,” he whispers, his thumb tracing my lips as he pulls out of me, his eyes burning into mine.
Fucking hell is right.
I can’t believe that happened.
I lie there as he relaxes beside me, the sound of our breath competing with the drumming of my heart, and I wait for the shame to hit, for the guilt and regret, that I just had sex with James. He’s barely a friend and definitely a colleague, and I know that if anyone found out, I’d probably be fired. Hell, maybe James would be fired too—who knows—especially after Monica warned me.
I should have stayed in my room, I should have tried to fall asleep, but instead I just had the best sex of my life.
And you know what? I don’t regret a thing.
As long as it doesn’t happen again.
But then James reaches out and gently pushes a strand of hair off my sweaty face, and I know in the deepest part of me…
It’s going to happen again.