Chapter 35 #2
He finally saw me for me. He saw that despite the lies he told himself about his duty and expectations, he could have me, and more than that, I wanted him to.
Maybe it’s being back in Blackwood. Maybe it’s watching me act like a queen.
Maybe it’s knowing my father died with the understanding that our relationship was more than that of a princess and her guard, just like Weston said he would.
Maybe it’s feeling that the choices were not our own, that Edmond meddled and forced us together.
Maybe he’s worried that no one else would accept our being together.
Whatever the worry, I can’t let him pull away from me, not after everything we’ve built with each other. The love, the trust, the devotion. It’s too much and too perfect to let it be ripped away.
Unwrapping my fingers from their tight grip on his arms, I grab the collar of his shirt and with all the force I can muster pull him forward. His hand slams into the wall beside my head, catching himself and righting his balance so he doesn’t crush me, but my tactic works. I got his attention.
“Listen to me. You’re wrong.” I steel my voice, trying to make it as strong as I can while he’s still making my toes curl in my boots.
“I’m always right, remember?”
“You’re not now.” The words come out harsh as I glare at him, but it only lasts for a second before my eyes fall closed, and my head tilts back as a wave of pleasure crashes through me from the stroke of his fingers against my walls.
Clearing my throat, I force my eyes back open, and try to keep my voice from being overtaken by the pleasure he’s coaxing from me.
“You know this is more than just a queen fucking her guard. I love you, and you love me. Whatever self-sacrificial grumpy Captain bullshit you’re trying to pull will not work on me. So drop it, and fuck your queen.”
The teal in his eyes all but disappears, as carnal desire takes over.
Jaw tightening, and eyes darting between mine, his hand shifts between my legs, and his thumb finds the right spot.
My mouth falls open in a silent whimper as he rolls it in a tight circle, again and again, daring me to be the one to break, but I refuse to look away.
“I decided.” His chest heaves and it almost sounds like a snarl.
“Directed at me. I only want it directed at me.” His body cages mine, pinning his hand between us and making every motion reverberate between our bodies.
“Now fuck my hand, my queen, so I can watch that fire consume you before I get to.”
My core clenches around his fingers, and his chest grumbles as he presses his forehead into mine, our gazes staying locked on each other.
Following his command, my hips move as if on their own, rocking and riding his thick fingers as hard as I can until the pressure building at the base of my spine intensifies.
My teeth sink into my lower lip as my hips continue to work.
He leans forward, taking my lip between his own teeth and tugging it free of mine.
Hunger flares in his eyes, and I can’t stop it.
My hips buck against his hand as the last hold I had on the waves of pleasure consuming me breaks.
Head falling back, eyes squeezing shut, I can’t stop the feral cry that escapes me. Weston’s warm palm presses over my mouth, dulling the guttural moans ripping from my throat, which only serves as fuel to the already blazing fire.
My chest heaves as the last waves of my release calm, and my limbs quiver beneath me.
When Weston drops to his knees, the pressure of his body no longer holding me upright, I feel like I’m going to fall, but he doesn’t let me.
Splaying his hand across my low abdomen, he holds the hem of my dress out of his way, giving him a clear view of his fingers still sunken inside me.
They slide out slowly, hooking in the soaked fabric to pull it to the side. His head disappears beneath the bunch of the dress, and all I feel is the long, luxurious caress of his flattened tongue on my swollen and sensitive core.
I whimper softly, just before he leans back, lifting his gaze upward as a devious grin breaks across his face.
“Don’t make a sound.”
Clamping my lips shut, I breathe through my nose, trying to stay quiet and also slow my rapid breaths, but it doesn’t work.
The moment his lips clamp around my clit, sucking at the same time that his tongue flicks out repeatedly, my knees buckle.
My hands fly out, reaching to steady myself on him as he presses his face deeper into my core.
His splayed hand presses more firmly into my abdomen, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through me so intense that I have to fist my fingers in his hair to keep myself upright.
“Weston,” I pant in a whisper, and he flicks again, before moving down to lavishly lap up the mess he made of me a moment ago.
Despite his command, I can’t stop the cry as it rips through my throat.
It’s met with a growl that only worsens my need to scream as the vibrations send my inner walls fluttering, begging for his thick cock.
“Inside me. Now—”
Knock, knock, knock.
This time it’s my hand that slaps over my mouth, as both our heads snap to the door mere inches away from where I’m pressed against the wall.
“Fuck,” I mouth as he stands and drops my dress to the ground.
“Turn around.” His words are barely a whisper, but I hear them. Spinning until my back is to him, he tugs the bodice back into place, his fingers finding the ties and deftly tightening them.
The knocks sound again just as he finishes the knot.
He points across the room to the empty chair by the hearth and nudges the curve of my ass.
Crossing the room quickly, I sink into the chair by the hearth, taking a deep breath.
My cheeks are hot, but I school my features to hide the fact that I just had the face of the First Guard between my thighs, even though I feel like it is written all over mine.
Resting my chin on my shoulder, my eyes fall on Weston, standing behind the door with one hand resting on the handle.
His lips twist into a smug smirk and I bite my lip to stifle a smile as he reaches down to adjust himself.
Heat flashes in my face again as his gaze holds mine and his tongue flicks out, leisurely licking his lips, before sliding the bolt and yanking open the door.
“Good morning, Tila,” Weston mutters, and opens the door wider. “What a pleasant surprise.”
I roll my lips together, trying to suppress the giggle that only worsen’s with her reply.
“I’m sure it was.” Stepping further into the room, she drops into a low curtsey.
“I didn’t realize we had to meet this morning,” I say. “I would have met you in your workroom like I normally do.”
She rises and clasps her hands together in front of her. “You don’t have a formalized schedule yet, Your Majesty, however, our work today is time sensitive so we must not delay.” Turning to Weston beside her, she smiles up at him sweetly. “You may go, mister Rowe.”
Weston’s jaw slackens as he looks down at her before turning his stunned expression to me. As the captain and First Guard, I can’t imagine there were many times someone dismissed him from a room, especially someone like Tila.
I shove my tongue into my cheek before nodding. “I’ll be fine, mister Rowe. You can return to your chambers and return in a while. About how long, Tila?”
“Should be no more than an hour.”
I smirk at him, and he crosses his arms, trying not to smile. “Should be enough time to take care of what you need.”
“We will finish that discussion later, my queen.” The intensity of his gaze shows all the promise of finishing what was interrupted, as he hinges at his hips and drops into a low bow. My heart stutters as I watch him rise to his full height once more, his eyes never leaving mine.
It’s the first time he’s ever done that, and I don’t like it.
He’s knelt before me, when he swore his oath, and back in the throne room, but that felt different.
That felt personal and intimate. This bow, this outward sign of the hierarchy between our positions makes a pit form deep in my stomach.
It’s too formal, too stifling. Too fake.
And the second he does it, after just having told me we need to keep everything between us a secret, constructs a prison around every real feeling I have for him and he has for me, and locks them away until either of us decide its time to break free of it. I never want to see him do it again.
But I know he will. He has to.
For now.
Tila walks toward my closet and pulls out a small stool that she sets in front of my mirror.
“No ladies today?” Crossing the room, I note that her assistants who have been helping her dress me for years are absent. It’s just the two of us, and probably better after what she could have stumbled in on.
“Not today, Your Majesty. I assumed you were still recovering and would want no one to hover.” She glances over at me as I approach the stool, ready to step on. “Fix your skirts, dear.”
My face bursts into flames and my head snaps down to find exactly what Tila is talking about.
In the haste to look like nothing was going on behind my closed doors, my underskirts tangled up in themselves, making it painstakingly obvious what we had been doing.
Not to mention, the entire top layer of fabric is wrinkled from where Weston had it bunched in his fist.
Fuck.
I scramble to straighten myself, smoothing out what rumples I can, and completely avoid eye contact with her once I’m done.
This is exactly what Weston was talking about, exactly what he didn’t want to happen.
I told him I didn’t care, but he clearly does, and that’s a conversation we will have, just not today. As long as this didn’t just ruin it.
I trust Tila, I don’t think she will gossip, but what if her assistants had come today? This secret relationship between us wouldn’t be so secret anymore.
I clear my throat and step onto the stool as she disappears into my closet, only to reemerge a few moments later, her arms laden with dresses.
“Tila,” I start “Whatever you—”
She holds a hand up and looks away, stopping me before I can even start.
“There is no need for worry, Your Majesty. Who the queen allows into her bed is no concern of mine.” My slow exhale is filled with relief as she strides past me and drapes the dresses over the back of the settee.
“I’m just glad you learned what you needed to from those books.
Gods know Edmond would not have been up for explaining, and now given the…
situation… I’m sure that was for the best.”
Now that the person I’m allowing into my bed is Edmond’s son.
Lessons I endured about the importance of continuing the Holt family line, and the importance of producing an heir were uncomfortable enough with my tutor who was like a grandfather to me.
I don’t know if I could have faced him alongside Weston if he had been the one to try to explain the logistics.
But the thought flitters away as quickly as it came, as the more important one pulls all my focus.
A laugh bubbles out of my throat as I gape at Tila. “I knew it! You knew I was taking them!”
She scoffs. “Of course I did, dear. I made sure to weed out the ones that were less than entertaining.” Her conspiratorial wink sends me into another fit of giggles, but she claps her hands, bringing us back to the task at hand.
“Now, we must not waste time. We are not creating anything new, as time will not allow it. We will have to work with something you already have and make alterations if necessary.”
My brows furrow as I catch her eye in the mirror. “What are we preparing for? I haven’t approved anything or heard any news.”
Tila’s gaze softens, sympathy coating her features, and her voice is gentle, as if speaking to a scared child.
“Your Majesty, this one requires no approval. We need to make sure you are appropriately dressed for your father’s funeral.”