Chapter 17 #2
“Don’t worry,” Rhys replies silkily. “We find plenty of time for romance. Half of the household has walked in on us.”
“Rhys—” I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I look across the table to my uncle whose face is filled with thunder. “Don’t share things like that.”
“Surely, they know what all we’ve got going on,” he replies. “They were all married at one time.”
“But you are not married yet,” my uncle warns. “And you disgrace my niece.”
“No disgrace,” Rhys answers. “I worship every inch of her, and I plan to for the rest of my life.”
“Please stop,” I whisper.
He’s only making things worse. Is this another punishment?
I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong but the rules in Rhys’s playbook keep changing and my world keeps tilting.
It’s like the fair ride where you lean against a board on a wall while the whole thing spins as fast as it can and eventually, your board flies up into the air with you on it.
I feel like I’m flying and not in a good way.
“I think it’s adorable that they’re so taken with each other,” Grace, the First Lady of the United States, chimes in.
“I’m sure the press is eating up a love match,” President Chancellor agrees with his beautiful wife.
Saoirse snorts unkindly and I want to sink so far back into my chair that it swallows me whole. Instead, I just push my dinner around my plate with my fork.
The president continues, “It would be unique, would it not? It’s not like there’s been one here in decades.”
I feel my eyes go wide as President Chancellor puts Saoirse in her place for her slight. Rhys gently places his palm on my thigh, warning me to wait to see how it all plays out.
Saoirse loudly clanks her knife and fork across her plate, signaling that the dinner is over even though it’s nowhere near done.
This would have been the case when the elder king was still alive as she was the reigning queen then, even when he was bedridden, and Rhys was acting in his stead.
When Saoirse was exploiting her power, but not now.
Now, Rhys is the true king, and this is nothing more than a weird game of thrones they’re playing.
I want no part in it.
Everyone is waiting to see if Rhys will cave to her for the sake of politeness, as if she’s the doting stepmother he adores, or even just to keep the peace. I’ve come to know none of those things hold true, and I’m waiting with everyone else to see which way the explosion will blast.
Fortunately, we don’t have to wait long for the lion and the tiger to stop eyeing each other and attack.
It comes in the form of Rhys delicately cutting into the fish on his plate and scooping up a bite onto the tines of his fork.
He raises a brow as he slowly parts his supple lips and takes a bite.
Saoirse’s eye twitches as she fights a scowl. She knows she cannot outright defy him in front of family and world leaders like the President and First Lady of the United States.
He is the king, and she is merely the dowager.
The crown has shifted whether or not a coronation has taken place.
The reminder of the power at stake, and the earlier conversation I overheard, is sobering.
This is a dangerous tightrope we’re walking and I’m terrified that I’m going to slip—that we’re going to slip—and the consequences will be catastrophic.
“Hmpf,” is all she says to acknowledge Rhys’s act of aggression toward her before she turns to the First Lady and says, “So, how is America? I hear your own wedding was quite scandalous.”
Grace just laughs and replies, “Of course it was… you know my husband.” And just like that the tensions in the air are lessened.
The rest of dinner passes as well as can be expected with a mix of fear, wedding jitters, and excitement, not to mention the tenuous balance of international treaties. My stomach is in knots, and I do the best I can to portray a nervous bride and not a terrified hostage.
Truthfully, I’m somewhere in the gray between the two.
“Shall we adjourn to the Spanish Parlor for after dinner cocktails?” Saoirse says, ever the hostess. She delicately pushes her chair back from the table and stands.
I was just starting to relax as dinner came to a close, thinking that we were almost through with this current nightmare. But alas, there’s more. I feel like she’s the fancy version of the ShamWow guy—But wait! There’s more!
Rhys pushes his own chair back, rising to his feet before helping me from mine.
I’m tired and just want to be done with this evening but I try not to let my fatigue show.
“We’re going to call it a night, but be sure to have a good time,” Rhys says smoothly as he takes me by the elbow.
I can’t tell if he’s mad at me or not, but I’ll take his anger over this room of weirdness. Besides, I’m plenty mad all on my own. If he’s going to yell, then so am I.
“But we have company,” Saoirse says playfully. There’s no doubt it’s fake; she’s seething at the opportunity to toy with me more being snatched away from her
“Tomorrow is a big day and the after, even bigger. Stella needs to rest, and I need my beauty sleep,” he says with a wink and a smile. “We’ll see you all tomorrow night at the marina.”
With that, Rhys turns us around and leads us out of the dining room, without a backward glance, and propels us down the hallway.
He turns us this way and that, so much so that I have no idea where we are.
This structure, built to withstand a siege more than four hundred years ago, has more hidden passageways and hallways and corridors that it’s no doubt a boon if you know where you are.
But I’m left feeling more displaced than usual until he turns us down our hallway and stops in front of our door.
Rhys pushes it open and doesn’t let me go, he kicks the door closed and continues to propel us through the rooms to the bedroom where Leo the cat greets us with a “Merow.”
“No’ now lad,” Rhys says, and Leo just flits from the room, orange bushy tail swooshing as he goes.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You canno’ cower,” he says crowding me. “You canno’ flinch.”
“Stop it, you’re scaring me.”
“You do no’ get to be embarrassed or let them humiliate you.”
“You humiliated me!” I shout.
“Aye, and you need to learn to deal with it.”
“I don’t want to learn to deal with it,” I snap, pushing against his chest, not that he moves. “I don’t want to be here.”
“Too bad. Deal with it.”
“Fine! If I have to deal with it, then you need to treat me with respect. If you don’t, no one else will.”
“So, you’re demanding my respect now?” he asks, his voice low and terrifying but I’m too mad to back down now.
“Yes!”
“There she is.”
“There who is?”
“My queen,” he says, his chest rumbling against mine. “And now she’s going to fuck her king.”
He quickly and efficiently strips off my clothes and tosses me onto the bed. I watch, with my heart beating out of my chest, as he undresses, piece by piece, before climbing onto the bed, grabbing me as he goes and lifts me to straddle his hips.
He begins to play with me and his lips graze mine as he asks, “Who is my queen?”
“I am,” I whisper. My body warms to him and my head begins to loll to the side.
“And who is your king?” he demands as he brushes his thick cock against my center, making me whimper.
“You are.”
“Aye, hen, I am,” he says as he notches the plump head of him to me. “And are you going to fuck your king?”
“Yes,” I replied immediately.
“Then do it.”
Instantly I sink down over him, feeling him stretch me wide. He grips my ass cheeks in his hands and holds me open, fucking me from below until I’m panting and begging to come.
“Please.”
“Fuck yourself on my cock,” he says, loosening his grip. “Make yourself come. Take what you need.”
I bounce on his lap, driving myself closer to my climax, but also enjoying taking my time. I see the tension on his face as I move over him, bringing him with me. I slow down and watch his eyes flash with awareness. Rhys knows that I’m teasing us both.
I let out a moan as I pick up my pace again, racing toward the end. He feels so good, it feels so good to be the one in control.
“That’s it, hen, come all over my cock,” he says as I slide up and down over him. “You’re so fucking tight and wet. I can feel you milking my cock.”
“Yes,” I pant. I drive myself down onto him, over and over. I cry out his name as I drop down against his chest, letting him hold me open to him as he thrusts up into me, driving through my orgasm. It’s all I can do to hold on as I come.
He wraps one arm around my waist, holding me tight. His other hand grips the back of my neck, holding me to him as he chases his own release, drawing mine out as he does.
It feels so good to be wrapped up in each other as our hearts race and our breaths slow, and I think maybe, just maybe, we can get through all of this together.