Chapter 27
“Do you know where my chaperone is?” I ask suddenly.
That takes Leo aback. Physically, unfortunately for me, as his hands drop. “She’s most likely in her rooms in the servants’ wing. Do you need her now?”
I curse my own awkward-ness as he takes another step back.
But this is the new, forward, Victorian Meera, so I grab his hands and put them back where I want. No subtlety involved. No suppressing what I want because I’m afraid of how other people will react to me.
He doesn’t resist. Always a good sign.
“No, I don’t need her.” I say it as emphatically as I can.
“I want to make sure no one is in the room behind this door. Because I want to go into it and spend approximately an hour getting out of all these damn clothes, with you. And then I want to become one person with you. Just like Aristophanes said. And I want to not traumatize Anne while I do it.”
Leo is so still I worry this became a superhero movie instead of a time-travelling one, and a villain has frozen him with a freeze-gun. Right before potential coitus, the bastards!
But new, forward Victorian Meera isn’t done trying for what she wants. I step closer to Leo and close my eyes while I raise up on my toes, hoping I land on his lips.
Before I make contact, Leo proves he wants this as much as I do, his hands tightening on either side of my neck as he pulls me forward until we’re touching from chest to knees.
Still with too many layers of clothes on, but it’s a start.
I don’t have time to enjoy the new position before his lips meet mine, and my world shifts.
It’s not just a metaphor for his kisses, which are world-shifting, but also a literal explanation of what’s happening.
His strong arms lift me up a few inches off the ground.
Just enough so he can move us back to my door.
He shifts me again, this time to one side and to one arm, as his other opens the door and lets us into the room.
I feel his erection against me and spend all my energy focusing on arching against him, each stroke making my vagina clench.
Unlike the last time I entered this room, when the only thing I was thinking of was taking notes for my research, my mind is now completely on Leo.
Still taking notes, but only in my head and just for me, about what his body feels like against mine, what his lips taste like (dessert and whiskey, the last things he consumed at dinner—my new favorite combination), and how my body melts against his in reaction.
More instinct than intelligence, a big departure from how I usually operate, I start tearing at clothes, pushing when I encounter buttons and pulling when I encounter knots. Leo makes a noise, not appreciating the haphazard approach to peeling back his layers of clothes and gives us some distance.
But I’m assertive now, so I close the distance again.
Except Leo is an aristocrat, not used to his will being thwarted, even by a woman who just discovered assertiveness.
So he deftly and firmly turns me around, pushing me against one of the columns of the four-poster bed.
He starts pulling at the fastenings on my back, shedding layer and layer with speed and efficiency, showing more than a passing acquaintance with the garments.
As he works behind me, I feel lighter and lighter as I get closer to undressed.
He finally gets to the last layer, a chemise.
I ignore how ridiculous I must look in that garment and focus on him.
Lucky for me, this isn’t the Elizabethan times, and men’s fashion is somewhat the same as in 2025, albeit complicated 2025 clothes.
Still, he must not have faith in my skills and knowledge, because he starts taking off his own clothes.
I rush to help, figuring four hands have to be better than two.
But mostly our hands clash and tangle unhelpfully, so I give up and get rid of my chemise, shoes and stockings while Leo performs a striptease for me.
Not one that he’s aware of doing. And thankfully he’s not taking an entire song to get naked, because I don’t think I could wait a whole three minutes.
In less time that it would take for Ginuwine to sing “Pony,” Leo is naked. He advances on me and pins me back against the column that my front got acquainted with earlier, this time even more affected by the cool, lacquered wood behind me.
Leo kisses me again, hands roaming like he’s going on his second Grand Tour, this time on my body. Trying to help him get to Italy faster, I climb the man until my legs are wrapped around his waist and my getting-wetter-by-the-minute folds are rubbing against him.
He groans against my neck, his arms settling around my back. I like the feeling of being enveloped by him. I feel vindicated in my assertiveness. Unlike all those other times that I tried to assert myself and was shot down, here I went after what I wanted and now I’m drowning in pleasure.
I also feel cared for and cherished, in the way he holds me so close.
I haven’t been alone here in Victorian England.
Not really. Leo’s been helping me, and Queen Victoria in the form of housing, food, clothes, and Anne.
And Anne herself, who has allowed me privacy when I needed it.
But I still felt alone. Years and miles away from my home, I’ve felt lonely being the only future person in the past.
But right now, I don’t feel like I’m alone. Leo’s body is a warm and safe weight surrounding me. He’s here with me, and he won’t let anything happen to me.
He sucks on my neck while his hips thrust. My body reacts at his closeness, back arching, fingers clawing and hips aggressively chasing his penis, which teases me but doesn’t enter me.
He finally gets bored of teasing the sanity out of me. He tosses me on the bed and my world shifts again. And then it doesn’t stop after that, as his strong hands drag me to the edge of the bed and then spread my legs.
His erection slides against me, this time getting closer to going inside, shocking me with pleasure but also reminding me of something. “Condoms! Do you have a condom?”
Leo raises his head to look off in the distance, dazed. He doesn’t answer, so I slap lightly at his chest, a light sheen of sweat already forming.
“Anything?” We can work around it if not.
“Yes.” He nods. “I do. I will just be a moment.” He’s breathing hard when he says the words and it takes him a second to get up. A compliment to me I suppose.
Leo disappears, naked, out of the door before I can stop him. I hope all his employees are already tucked in for the night, because that would be quite the sight for them. Or maybe they’re used to this kind of behavior.
Above me, the canopy, a rich pink cloth with gold embroidery, glints in the low light. I sigh, still barely believing that this isn’t all a dream. That I’m experiencing history quite this…physically.
Before I can panic too much over having sex with someone in the past, Leo comes back.
Still naked, but no longer looking dazed.
Instead, he’s triumphant, like he single-handedly just beat France in one of the thousands of wars England and France have fought over the years.
And he’s holding what vaguely looks like a condom, but already stretched out.
He is a fan of the animal-skin condom. Great.
I wish I knew less history. Not in general, but just for this moment I wish I knew less. Like if I didn’t know, I could pretend that was a rubber condom.
While I’m remembering the unfortunate history of the condom in my head, Leo is putting it on and advancing on me. Then he’s back on top of me, caressing my thighs as they encircle his waist again. Quivering thighs that apparently don’t care what the condom is made of.
Then he kisses me, and I fully don’t care anymore.
Because I’m not thinking of anything but his mouth, gently exploring mine, the light dusting of hair on his chest tickling my breasts, and his warmth now between my thighs.
I also forget all the stress and problems I have, to focus on having fun with this surprising rake.
Hell, if he keeps this up, I’m going to forget my own name.
He gently thrusts in. Shallow at first and then deeper as my body shifts to accommodate the new intrusion. I writhe under him. I want more because he feels amazing and more of an amazing thing can only be more amazing.
Or maybe wanting less because what Leo makes me feel is a lot to take at one time. Especially from someone who spends more time reading about historic figures’ sex lives than having one of her own.
He keeps thrusting, groans becoming harsher and more guttural.
“Are you close to orgasm?” he asks, voice more growl than his usual aristocrat cadence.
“Sure.” I’ve never come with a man before. Sex has still been enjoyable. I just can’t orgasm with a partner the same way I can with my vibrator. But this is definitely the most fun I’ve had with a man.
Leo stops and I groan at him in frustration. The movement makes my body move toward him and Leo thrusts once more before being still again. “‘Sure’ does not sound very confident.”
“Well, I’m getting further away now.” I don’t want to talk about this. I want to keep doing what we were doing, the only sounds our grunts of pleasure and not this inquisition.
“Tell me what you want. What you like.” He nuzzles my ear after he asks the questions. The motions are sweet but the words are an order; I have no idea how he combined the two.
What do I want? For him to be quiet. And to do more of what he was doing.
It was one thing being assertive and grabbing him earlier; it’s different to talk about sex while I’m having it. I’m in no way that comfortable being vulnerable.
“Do what you were doing.” I squirm more under him, hoping that will get him back on track.
“But that was not working for you like it was for me. What do you do when you are alone?”
He’s really going to make me be assertive Meera…again? During sex? This is becoming more effort than it’s worth. Ugh, that’s a lie. It is worth it.
“If I show you, will you keep doing what you were doing?” Showing will be better than telling.
“Yes,” he answers instantly. “Do you need more space?” He starts to retreat and I clamp my thighs around his torso.
“No. You can stay there.” I want him closer. It’ll be easier to do this if I can’t see his face, and the feel of his body is a nice distraction.
I slide my hand between us and start to play with my own clit. Leo leans up on his hands to watch, but I can see his face too clearly while doing something too private, so with my other hand I drag his head back down until he’s kissing me.
I get wetter, keeping up the movement until Leo starts moving again.
I didn’t think I would be able to get in the same headspace as when I masturbate, with the same lack of inhibitions, but I slowly start to relax and enjoy the pleasure as I touch myself.
And feeling Leo inside me as I play with my clit is even better than when I’m alone, slowly causing a familiar tension in my body.
As the tension builds, Leo’s hand slips between us and he takes over for me, his fingers rubbing my clit the same way my own just were.
Having him touch me, in the way that I’ve just shown him I like, gives me so much pleasure I moan into his shoulder, clawing at his back in case he thought about stopping.
“Are you getting close now?”
“Yes,” I breathe out. No tepid (and lying) “sure” this time. My entire body feels tight, like it’s strung on a bow.
“Good,” he growls against my lips. The word pushes me over the edge, throwing me into my first orgasm with another person. He follows me after a few more thrusts and then collapses next to me after a last kiss to my forehead.
Without any more words, thankfully, he gathers me in his arms. His breathing evens, letting me know he’s asleep. I guess he’s spending the night in my room.
It’s a good thing I like him.