Chapter Twenty-Five
Allegra’s back hit the bookshelf hard enough to rattle her teeth.
“Oof”. She tightened her arms around Nate’s neck, feet kicking uselessly in the air.
The shelf wobbled then vomited tomes: On Sovereignty and Steel, six volumes of The Founding Houses of Valenstadt, and a leather-bound French book definitely not approved by the royal archivist.
They bounced off Nate’s shoulders and thudded to the carpet. “Shit,” he gasped, forehead knocking against hers. “You okay?”
“I—yeah.” Allegra’s lungs burned. Her whole body buzzed where his hands gripped her hips, holding her up. “You?”
“You have no idea.”
His mouth dipped.
“Whoa!” She slapped a hand to his chest.
He froze, lips hovering a fraction from hers. “What?”
“Phone. Please tell me you have one.”
His brow creased. “You don’t?”
She motioned at the gown. “Does this look like it accommodates technology?”
He set her down and fished in his jacket. “Lucky for you.”
She snatched the phone and dialed. Julien answered on the second ring.
“Julien? No, it doesn’t matter where I am. The engagement’s off. Also, I know you’ve been banging Lotte Van Der Meel. Go cry to her about it.”
She hung up.
Nate blinked. “Did you just…”
“Where were we?” Allegra tossed the phone aside, hands sliding up his torso. “Oh, right. Here.”
She kissed him again, harder. Nate answered with a low sound, backing her into the shelf, hands tangling in her hair. When they finally broke apart, both of them panting like they’d run a mile, Allegra lifted her arms.
No words. Just a look.
Undress me. Now.
Nate pounced, fingers attacking the row of microscopic buttons down her side.
He lasted three seconds.
“Why are these so tiny?” he muttered, thumbs skidding like he was picking a lock with oven mitts.
“Coutur—oh—” Allegra sucked in a breath as his knuckles brushed her skin. “You have to earn it. Like a chastity belt, but hotter.”
“I am earning it.”
Allegra wriggled, the gown tightening its grip. “Push the loop—no, the other loop—wait.” Her instructions dissolved into a frustrated whimper. “Oh my God, just rip it!”
With a curse, he grabbed the bodice and yanked.
Krrrip!
The gown surrendered, pooling at her feet. Nate straightened slowly, his gaze sweeping over her: lace panties, glittering nipple pasties, heels, and nothing else.
“Wow,” he said. “You’re… wow.”
Allegra arched a brow and flicked one of the pasties with a finger. “Even with these?” She peeled it off, then the other, letting them drift to the carpet. “I was worried they’d be too much.”
“You could be wearing a burlap sack and I’d still worship you.”
“Right answer.” She stepped out of her stilettos, hooked her thumbs into her panties, and let them fall, kicking them free. “But now you’re a little overdressed for this party, don’t you think?”
Nate didn’t need telling twice. He shrugged off his dinner jacket, lips curling. “You’re gonna ruin me, princess.”
“Mmm,” Allegra murmured, dropping to her knees. She unbuckled his belt, whipping it off with a satisfying hiss. “But what a way to go.” She undid his trousers and let them fall, his erection straining against his boxers.
“Well, well,” she said, fingers tracing the outline. “Mr. Steel, I presume?”
“And holy shit, he’s definitely working.”
“What?”
“It’s… nothing,” Nate said.
She slipped her fingers into the waistband, tugged, and holy hell—his cock sprang free, bobbing dangerously close to her nose.
Okay, okay. She’d seen the clips, but nothing had prepared her for this.
The sheer weight of him, veins ridged like ropes beneath velvety skin, the head flushed dark with need, already glistening.
A thin, dark trail of hair led down to a sac that looked heavy enough to tip scales. Her throat went dry.
A rrip-rustle made her glance up. Nate’s arms were halfway out of his shirt sleeves, twisting like windmills, collar strangling him.
“Need a hand?” she teased, popping the last buttons.
Shoes, socks—gone in a blur. He stood there finally, chest bare, looking like he’d just survived a tornado, and somehow thrilled by it.
Allegra’s wicked grin matched his. He was all hers, and he knew it.
“So, nine inches, huh?” she said, wrapping her fingers around his shaft, her thumb swiping over the damp tip.
Nate cleared his throat. “That’s what they say.”
“Mmm.” She gave him a slow stroke. “You haven’t checked?”
“Maybe once or twice.”
“Liar.” Her grip tightened. “You’ve got a ruler and a notebook somewhere, don’t you?”
Before he could answer, she leaned in, pressed his cock against his abs, and dragged her tongue up the underside. When she reached the head, she teased the slit with her tongue, tasting him, before finally taking him into her mouth.
“Fuck. Allegra—” Nate gritted out, his fingers flexing in her hair as her lips stretched around his girth, hand stroking the shaft.
She peered up at him through her lashes. Jaw locked, shoulders squared, body strung so tight it looked painful. Good. She wanted to keep him there, balanced on that razor’s edge.
Allegra tunneled him deeper, the broad head knocking against the back of her throat, so tears pricked at her eyes. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
She kept stroking, fist gliding in time with the bob of her head, drool sliding over her fingers, down her wrist. She barely noticed, too focused on the strained noises slipping past his teeth.
Finally, she pulled off with a wet pop, dropping her head to take one of his balls into her mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make him hiss.
“Shit—” His voice was a desperate growl.
She switched to the other nut, her hand still stroking from root to tip. The salty musk of him filled her senses, her own arousal dripping down her thighs, her body throbbing with need.
“You like that?” she whispered, nuzzling the base of his cock.
“Oh—God—yeah.” His body tensed, sac drawing up. He was close.
Allegra rocked back on her knees. “Nuh-uh, Mr. Steel. We’re just getting warmed up.”
Nate made a low, incredulous sound. One second she was kneeling in front of him, the next he’d grabbed her under the arms, hauling her up.
“Nate—!” she yelped, but he was already striding toward the heavy oak reading table in the center of the library.
With a grunt, he dumped her onto the polished surface.
Then he was between her legs, his mouth pressing a searing kiss above her left knee. Another, higher. Allegra whimpered, her fingers seizing the edge of the table as his mouth inched closer, the heat of his breath making her squirm.
The first drag of his tongue through her folds made her gasp, her back lifting off the table. His hands spread her thighs wider, his lips sealing over her. “Nate!” She was soaked, her wetness glistening on his chin.
“So sweet,” he rumbled. “Never getting enough of this.”
He went at her clit like he was solving a Rubik’s Cube—long, methodical strokes before switching to quick, teasing flicks.
Hell, he was talented. This wasn’t just oral.
It was a full-blown dessert buffet. Her breath came in uneven pulls, pleasure coiling tighter, tighter.
She was right there—one more slurp, and she’d shatter.
But Nate had other ideas.
He surged up with a growl, his mouth slamming into hers. She could taste herself on his lips, feel the desperation in his kiss as he yanked her to the edge of the table. His cock, still slick from her mouth, notched against her entrance.
“Condom,” she said, even as her body begged her to let him in. “You brought one, right?”
He hesitated. “Yeah. In my wallet. I mean—not because I thought—” He waved at the pile of clothes, flustered. “It’s just been there forever. Probably expired.”
“Whatever,” she said, losing patience. “Just get it already.”
He fumbled for his wallet, nearly dropping it, then tugged the foil packet free. He squinted at it, turning it over. “Hang on.”
“Nate.”
“Okay, okay—just checking.” He nodded, triumphant. “See? Expires in two months.”
“Nate. I so do not care right now.”
His mouth twitched. “Good. Because I would’ve used it, even if it expired in the eighties.”
“Romantic,” she said, grin widening as she watched him roll it on. The moment he aligned with her entrance, she wrapped her legs around him.
“Ready?” he asked.
“So, so ready,” she said, fingers sinking into the muscle of his shoulders.
And then he pushed, filling her inch by inch. Allegra's breath hitched, her body arching into his, her nails raking down his back. It was a deep, aching kind of pleasure, like she’d been missing something she didn’t know she needed—until now. Until him.
“Oh, shit—" The word burst from her, her heels digging into his ass, pulling him deeper until they were flush.
He stilled, their foreheads pressed together. “That time in Geneva… every damn night, I wanted you, Allegra. But I couldn’t. Because you deserved—”
She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “I know, Nate.”
And then he began to move. At first, he took her with slow, measured thrusts. But that control didn’t last. The second her hips started rising to meet his, all pretense of restraint shattered.
His hands gripped her ass, pulling her onto him as he thrust harder, faster, the table creaking beneath them. “Christ, Allegra—” His inhales grew ragged as he bottomed out again and again. Not jarring. Perfect. A deep, all-consuming fullness.
The thwack-thwack of skin on skin echoed through the library, each a punch of pleasure, driving the air from her lungs.
There was something primal in the way Nate moved, his hands gripping her like he was afraid she might disappear.
As if he could somehow fuse them together at a cellular level.
But then, as if the sheer intensity of it all became too much even for him, his rhythm faltered, and he pulled back.
“Flip,” he barked, and in one fluid motion, spun her, pressing her chest against the table. The cool wood shocked her heated skin—and he was inside her again, filling her in one deep, toe-curling thrust.
The table screeched beneath them as Nate seized her sides and drove into her from behind, each lunge sending the heavy oak skidding across the carpet.
Allegra clasped the edge, knuckles white, as she was dragged along for the ride.
“Oh my God, we’re redecorating now?” she panted, but the words fizzled into a squeak.
The table’s legs screeched against the carpet, inching closer to the bookshelf opposite with every powerful thrust. “Nate, we’re about to—
The table slammed into the shelf, sending an enormous copy of Eight Centuries of the von Wildern Family Tree spilling down. It landed with a whump right next to her head.
Allegra blinked at it. Then over her shoulder at Nate. Then back at the book.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she laughed, breathless. She pushed him back and flipped herself around, settling back on the table’s edge. “Let me see you.”
He grinned and pushed inside, Allegra’s body arching into his, matching his rhythm.
There were no words—just grunts and whimpers, all begging the same thing: More.
Her hands flew to his face, yanking him into a kiss that was all teeth and desperation, her exhales swallowed by his mouth.
The taste of him, the way he filled her, it ignited another rush of heat between her thighs.
Nate broke the kiss, lips trailing down her chest, mouth sealing over one taut nipple. Allegra shivered as he sucked hard, then his hand slid between her legs, thumb grinding against her pulsing clit. “Aiee—” She jerked, a bolt lancing through her, sharp and electric.
“That’s it,” he rasped, thumb swirling her nub as he lunged with deep, unrelenting strokes. “Let go. Come for me.”
And she could feel it—the tension building, muscles clenching around him. Every swipe of his thumb, every brutal crack of his hips wound her tighter until she was trembling, wrung so tight it bordered on agony.
Then—snap.
Her back bowed as the orgasm crashed over her.
“Fu-uu-uck—!” The word tore from her throat as her walls pulsed, thighs shaking.
Wave after wave ripped through her, nails scoring his skin.
Nate didn’t stop. His thumb kept working her clit, cock pounding into her as she rode out her climax, body shuddering.
“Gawh!” A heartbeat later, Nate’s hips snapped forward one final time, his body locking up as he came undone. His head jerked back, jaw clenched, cords in his neck popping as he released with a guttural groan, pulsing inside her, condom flooding in thick, scorching spurts.
They crumpled together, sliding off the table into a sticky heap—panting, damp, entirely undignified.
Allegra lay half sprawled over Nate’s chest, listening to his heartbeat slow from a gallop to human. “Well,” she said. “That happened.”
“Mmm,” Nate replied, one arm heavy across her back. “You started it.”
She didn’t bother arguing. She was too busy noticing something.
Really, the absence of something.
She lifted her head.
The corridor beyond the closed door was silent.
No violins. No cello. No ambitious rendition of Vivaldi swelling through the hall.
“Nate.”
“Yeah?”
“The quartet.”
He pushed up onto his elbows. “Shit. You think they heard?”
“I think Aunt Margaret the Fourth heard,” Allegra said darkly. “And she’s been dead since eighteen twenty-three.”