Long Live Queen Perry: Contemporary Reverse Harem (Kingdom of Veronia Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

  She half-turned in Edward’s arms to shoot his brother a glare. “I so can be patient. I’ll have you know, I had to be super patient when I was in the lab.”

  “Super patient, huh?” George tapped his chin. “I think I need evidence before I believe you.”

  Grumbling at him, she gave Edward another kiss, then slipped out of his arms and straight into Xavier’s. Unlike his cousin, Xavier spun her around in a tight circle.

  “I thought you were never going to get here,” he immediately complained after he’d kissed her—slipping her the tongue and making her moan even as he groused.

  “I had to investigate the tree more. It’s huge.”

  “It’s a waste,” Xavier said on a huff. “They should let them stay in the woods where they’re meant to grow.”

  “Ordinarily, you know I’d agree with you, babe. But even I can’t be a total Scrooge at Christmas,” she chirped cheerfully, then laughed when he spun her around again. “Anyway, speaking of impatience, what’s the rush?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  She chuckled. “You’re hungry? Why didn’t you eat?”

  “Because I wanted you to see everything first.”

  Edward knew that touched her because she reached up to cup his cousin’s cheek as she leaned onto tiptoe. “That’s so sweet,” she murmured softly.

  Xavier grabbed her hand and led her to the seat laid out for her; before, Edward assumed, she could get busy with her fingers and distract him from his stomach. A thought that made him snort in amusement.

  The dining room was the one they used for all occasions—private, intimate dinners, or social events with dozens of guests.

  It was an eighty-foot-long room with fires that burned either end. A chandelier hung over the middle of the table and was backed up by a streak of smaller chandeliers right down the central line of the mahogany surface. The antique patina gleamed with glittery sparkles as it reflected the hundreds of lights above it.

  Normally, they weren’t lit, but as it was Christmas, he’d wanted Perry to have the full effect.

  They were at the end of the table surrounded by windows overlooking the fountain for which Masonbrook was named. The normally hundred-foot-long water spout wasn’t as ferocious as it was in summer, thanks to the colder temperatures which turned some of the water into a slush pile.

  Still, in the distance, the city lights could be seen, not of Madela, but of Saren, the town nearest to the Ansian mountain range that was a part of Xavier’s ducal territory.

  A Christmas tree, loaded with decorations, had been set up in here too, and dozens of boxes sat around the base, waiting for the staff who were working for them today, to make their own days perfect.

  There were four settings made up at the dining table, and Edward was fully aware that this would undoubtedly be the first and last intimate meal they’d have as a foursome.

  Next year, God willing, his father would be well enough to eat with them, and they’d have a baby to entertain. They’d also have new staff that would need to be invited—it was only the change in circumstances that meant the Guardians of the Keys weren’t eating here today. Next year, they would. Right now, the only Guardian was Cass, and as Marcus had flown in yesterday, Edward had told them both to enjoy a Christmas at home.

  So, this meal, the first of the four traditional repasts of the day, was to be their first and last Christmas together in this kind of personal setting. And he knew he would cherish the memories forever.

  More than that, he’d cherish Perry’s reactions to it.

  With a smile, he watched as Xavier seated her, then quickly began lifting the silver cloches that covered the dishes that were a part of a traditional Yule brunch.

  Her “oohing” and “aahing” began immediately, and even Edward’s stomach began to stir at the sight of the traditional pankek. They weren’t actually pancakes despite the similarity of the name, but oat biscuits made with thick hazelnuts and almonds that dripped with honey. Then, there were the kenfe, which were donuts stuffed with jam or ricotta cheese. There were also the bele, which were rounded buns stuffed with bacon and caramelized vine tomatoes, as well as countless other dishes that were more common than those three seasonal items.

  She immediately grabbed a pankek, tucked a kenfe onto her plate, and bit into a bele after George explained what it contained. The moans she made had his own mouth watering, and not just for food.

  He reached for a bele too, and started eating as he read from the paper. Keeping an eye on his family as they broke their Christmas fast, he relaxed into the meal as he drank hot chocolate with thick layers of whipped cream. Xavier and Perry drank juice, but George had the hot cider that was almost peppery with flavor thanks to a dash of paprika they added to the mix. It wasn’t to his liking, but George always had been fond of the drink.

  The memory made him realize how long it had been since George had been here for Yule. His stomach twisted. They’d been apart for far too long…but now, thanks to Perry, they’d never be separated again.

  She must have sensed his attention on her because she sent him a questioning smile. He just looked at her, breathing her in, and silently thanking her for being theirs.

  “How come I didn’t get any hot chocolate?” she asked, when he lifted his large mug and took a sip.

  “Because you took ages to get here,” Xavier retorted, after gulping down his third kenfe.

  “Ring for a footman, George,” Edward prompted his brother who was peering at the gifts on the floor.

  Though he did as bid, Perry seemed to realize where George’s focus was, for she too got to her feet, a donut in hand, and wandered over to the tree. “Are these for us?” she asked, her eyes lighting up.

  George snorted. “No. We’ll spoil you in different ways. Fear not.”

  A ripe laugh fell from her lips as her head fell back. “Oh, is that a promise?” she teased, nudging him in the side.

  “It’s more than a promise,” Xavier retorted, his own eyes laced with a wicked vow.

  Before they could say another word, the footman, Benson, appeared and promptly disappeared after Edward made his request. “They’re for the staff working today,” he informed her, pointing to the gifts on the floor.

  “Really? That’s so sweet! You guys think of everything.”

  “Hardly,” George said with a little laugh. “But we try. It’s the least we can do, after all.”

  “Who bought them?”

  “I didn’t buy them, but I arranged for the list to be put together,” George said piously, making Xavier and Edward chuckle.

  Perry’s lips twitched. “Okay, so what kind of presents are they?”

  “Each one has a gift card, but it’s mostly food. Different types of hampers.”

  “That’s really thoughtful,” she murmured.

  “It’s tradition.”

  “What kind of food goes in hampers over here?” She squinted at him. “I’d like to see one.”

  “We’ll go to Pretne. You’ll love it there.”

  “Pretne?” she asked, butchering the name.

  Xavier laughed. “We really needed to give you lessons in Veronian for Yule, Perry.”

  She pouted. “So I can’t speak the language of the country I live in—how truly American is that?”

  “You’re Veronian now,” Edward corrected, cocking his brow at her over his paper.

  Though she rolled her eyes, she didn’t reply, just asked, “What’s Pretne?”

  “It’s like Fortnum & Masons. I’m surprised Cass hasn’t taken you, if I’m being honest. Or Mother, for that matter,” George replied.

  “Your mother barely ate, so I highly doubt she’d take me to a gourmet food superstore,” Perry said wryly. “And Cass is just as bad. They’re always watching their figures.” She wrinkled her nose as she patted her belly. “I think if there was ever a time to gorge on hampers, it’s now.”

  They laughed and she grinned at them.

  Benson reappeared after a knock with
her hot chocolate, and as she took a sip, she asked, “When does the staff open the presents?”

  “At the end of the day. About nine o’clock.”

  “Why so late?”

  “It keeps them going,” Xavier teased, “while they serve us.”

  She blew out a breath. “We’re elitist scum, aren’t we?” As she spoke, she slumped into her seat. George bent down to press a kiss to her temple.

  “Yes, love, but we’re nice elitist scum, if that makes you feel better.”

  She snickered. “I guess.”

  Edward’s lips curved into a deep smile as her laughter filled his heart with warmth. This might be their first Christmas together, but he had no doubt that it would be the best, because the best was always yet to come.

  In the space of two hours, she’d gone from feeling like Mrs. Santa Claus to a small girl on Christmas morning.

  Handing out gifts to the staff had been a pleasure, especially the way their eyes had lit up at the presents, but, selfishly, receiving her own was better yet.

  As they drove through Grosvenor House’s gates, she let out a squeal that had her men laughing and wincing at the same time.

  “I’m trying to drive, Perry,” George chided. “I don’t have the hands to cover my ears.”

  “Oh, shut up!” she remarked, squealing again, and laughing as they laughed with and at her. “Why are we here?”

  “It’s your gift,” Edward murmured, turning back so he could see her from the passenger seat. “I know you wished…” He sighed. “I wanted you to spend some part of our first Christmas together here.”

  Her eyes flashed. “George, you haven’t seen the master bedroom, have you? We totally need to christen it,” she said eagerly.

  “Christen it?” Xavier asked, brows furrowing.

  “You know what I mean,” she retorted, wafting a hand at him. “Us three have had some fun in there, but George wasn’t in on the action.”

  The man in question pursed his lips. “Well, I totally feel left out now.”

  She snorted. “Get over it. I’m about to make it up to you. In spades.”

  The joy at being at the house had her letting out another squeal, and as they came to a halt in the driveway, the gravel parting and overspilling as the car moved on its surface, she pushed the door open and dove out just as George put on the brakes.

  “Catch me if you can,” she shouted. Glee laced her tone as she sprang toward the wide steps that led to the door of the house she wished she was living in.

  Still, it could be a home away from home, couldn’t it?

  A notion that pleased her endlessly.

  While she knew that being here at all was a major concession, she wished they’d managed to come here earlier in the day. They’d had to hand out the gifts, though, and she totally understood that. Just really hoped Edward had meant it when he said they were going to enjoy the rest of their vacation here… like, she hoped, up until Three Kings Day.

  The door opened just as she approached, and with a quick, “Hello,” she ran past the startled butler and headed on down the corridor. She knew Edward would make an appearance in her bedroom first, especially as the staff was there so they had to follow the proprieties, but George and Xavier would make it as soon as they could, she was sure.

  Having staff sucked majorly sometimes.

  Even if it had been over five months since she’d had to worry about dirty clothes.

  She seriously loved having a laundry. It saved so much time and effort.

  By the time her heels were sinking into the plush carpeting of the sitting room in the master suite, she heard a low voice declare, “Are you supposed to be running in your condition?”

  “I’m pregnant, not dying,” she retorted, spinning around to look at her husband. She wore a wide Cheshire Cat grin, one that said she refused to allow him to piss her off.

  “I’m very glad to hear you’re not dying… although, tonight, you might die. Just a little.”

  She scowled at him. “That’s not sexy talk.”

  He laughed. “Have you never heard of the French phrase ‘le petit mort’?”

  “The little something.”

  “The little death.”

  Perry grumbled, “I need to improve my French, Italian, and Veronian.”

  “Let’s start with the last first,” he teased. “Considering you live here.”

  She rubbed her nose. “Why’s it called ‘the little death’?” she asked quickly, preferring to change the subject—languages had never been her forte. She was more of a “hypothesis, experiment, conclusion” kinda gal. Not a humanities chick.

  “Because it’s so good, you die a little inside.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  He grinned. “I shall endeavor to make you think otherwise.”

  See, that’s where he had her. How could a man say shit like that? “I shall endeavor.” It was like something from the eighteen hundreds…and yet, when he did, he turned her to mush.

  She shivered, unable to contain herself, because he was so hot at that moment, so strong and hers, and just wonderful, that she wanted to crawl all over him.

  Beckoning him closer with a crooked pointer finger, she murmured, “I want you. Inside me. No death, just life.”

  “That can definitely be arranged,” he retorted with another grin, this one panty-melting hot.

  He strode forward and with no ounce of discomfort, hefted her not insignificant weight into his arms. She squeaked in surprise though, and quickly wrapped her legs around his hips. Before she could complain about his potentially dropping her, he reached for her mouth and sapped the world from her consciousness.

  She didn’t even realize they’d made it into the bedroom, didn’t care where they were, just knew he’d taken her to another universe with his innate ability to kiss her until she forgot her own damn name.

  With a shudder, she thrust her tongue against his and gave as much as she got. She had to. This was a fight for equality, and she wanted to blow his mind as much as he blew hers.

  Speaking of “blowing,” she struggled in his arms and demanded to be let down when she opened her eyes and saw they were next to the bed. He scowled but dropped her carefully and swiftly. Now that she was at eye-level with his chest, she reached for his fly.

  He put his hands on hers. “We don’t have to do this so quickly. I thought we could have some mulled wine in the sitting room? Maybe watch a film?”

  “Later, or tomorrow,” she growled. “I need you inside me, baby.”

  His hands tangled with her hair. “Never let it be said I don’t give my princess what she needs.”

  “Queen,” she rejoined haughtily, her hands finally inside his zipper. She pulled his dick through the opening she’d made.

  He let out a low laugh that turned into a hiss as she bowed her head and sucked the tip of his shaft into her mouth. Focusing the pressure of her tongue there, she watched as the muscles underneath his shirt suddenly pulled taut against the slimline fabric. There wasn’t an ounce of belly fat there, not even a half-ounce. How that was possible, she didn’t know. She’d never seen him work out; although in his old rooms, he had a treadmill. They didn’t in their new quarters, though.

  Still, now was not the time to think of him sweating anywhere other than on top of her.

  Or beneath her.

  That could work too.

  She sucked down hard on his glans, loving when he jolted up onto his tiptoes and gritted out, “Fuck!”

  Her laugh was sultry and wicked, telling him without words she knew exactly what she was doing before she slipped her mouth down, slicking his cock with spit. Her lips were pulled taut and she loved it. Loved the feel of him against her tongue, the pressure of him against her cheeks.

  For endless moments, she lost herself in him. Reveled in his pleasure, in pleasing him. She loved when he arched his pelvis, almost fucking her mouth, loved when he groaned and his hands tightly gripped her hair, commanding her silently to go to his
motion, to his rhythm…

  She ignored it, of course.

  This was her game. Her challenge.

  “Looks like we’re missing out on some of the fun, Xavier.” George’s voice was a low growl, and it sent tingles through her. Sent them to the tips of her fingers and down to her fucking toes. Her core exploded in a blast of heat that made her want to scream around his shaft because it should not be fair for a man’s voice to have that effect on her, dammit!

  She moaned and moved her hand from around the base of Edward’s cock and to between her legs. Just as she did, fingers snapped out, grabbing her wrist. “Oh no,” Xavier muttered silkily in her ear, before he nipped the lobe. “Hands off.”

  “The minx has been teasing me,” Edward gritted out, his own fingers tight against her scalp.

  “Well, that’s just not acceptable,” George replied, and she felt the mattress shift again as his weight came onto it.

  Only this bed and their one back home would have fit all three men, and she was, at that moment, sure that medieval kings and queens had secretly taken part in orgies. Because that was the only reason they’d make these mattresses so damn huge.

  Behind her, she felt the heat of someone press against her spine. Then, she felt hands scoop down along her arms, before they reached around and began helping her out of her blouse. Fingers appeared at the fly of her trousers, and she rocked her hips, needing them to slide down, to cup her sex, to fulfill her.

  But they didn’t fulfill her.

  They just unfastened the zip and the button.

  Edward fucked her mouth hard a second, letting out a sharp hiss when he pulled away. “That mouth of yours is fucking sinful, Perry,” he rasped out, his cock bobbing between them, shiny and bright purply-red with the pulse of his blood.

  She licked her lips. “Only for you three.”

  His hand cupped her jaw. “Only for us,” he growled out, and at that moment, she realized all his muscles were pumped full and thick, like he was standing straighter and taller.

  Oh boy, she’d taunted the tiger, and he was ready to rock.

  Rather than be frightened, because whenever they approached her en masse they had a habit of trying to overwhelm her, she decided to let them have at her.