Aimee smiled and instantly set the justacorps she had in her hands down on his bed.
The doors to one of his armoires were opened wide. A pile of clothing had been removed and was presently covering the entire surface of his bed.
“Good afternoon, Adam.” Her tone was cheery.
Frowning, he took in the room, so unaccustomed to seeing his personal space in disarray. “What are you doing?” he asked, baffled.
She approached, her smile still on her face. “Oh that?” She gestured behind her. “I was waiting for your return and . . . well, I was admiring your justacorps. You know how much I adore your clothing.”
He adored women, each one unique, but this compulsion she had with his justacorps was . . . odd.
Aimee’s heart pounded wildly, yet she managed to maintain her smile, belying the extent of her distress.
Oh God. She’d been caught checking his clothing.
Again.
It was bad enough having him wake up last eve in the middle of the night to find her ramming her hand into the piles, trying to repeat her actions of the other day that had successfully located the ring.
Now this.
His brow was still furrowed as he glanced at the justacorps strewn on the bed and then at her. Nervous, her smile slipped slightly. Then dissolved. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’ll refold them and put them back for you.” Aimee turned toward the bed, eager to appease him, cursing her bad luck.
“No. I don’t think so.” He walked up to her and caught her hand. “Come with me,” he said and strode out of his apartments with her in tow.
Anxiety tightened her stomach. She couldn’t decipher from his tone or his words if he was angry. Or worse, suspected what she was up to. No. Impossible. How could he know?
Because you’ve made so many ridiculous mistakes and have been caught too many times.
Adam led her out of the outbuildings and across the cobblestone courtyard straight into the palace, his grip on her hand firm. Distressing.
“Where are we going?” She tried keeping her tone light, genial, her pulse beating double time.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
Her heart plummeted when she saw they were headed to the State Rooms. Where His Majesty could be found in the afternoons attending to official business. Heaven help her . . .
“Perhaps you can give me a hint?” Please! Each day she felt more and more corrupt lying to him. Hiding the truth about the ring. Now she was simply terrified. Adam was an intelligent man. Had he indeed learned the truth on his own? Were the King and Renault waiting to see to her arrest? Had they already caught Louise?
She tried to swallow despite the knot in her throat as he marched her down the long corridor, then stopped at one of the State Room doors.
“After you,” he said, then turned the door handle and swung open the door.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.
Empty! Relief flooded through her. Adam gestured toward the long marble table in the middle of the room.
She drew near, noting the number of drawings covering it.
Closing the door, Adam then approached. “What do you think of my machine?”
Slowly, she walked around the table, taking in each drawing. One after another detailed a different angle of an intricate contraption. Stopping before the final drawing, she leaned over and studied it carefully. It was the most elaborate depiction. She’d never seen anything like it.
“Is this your ‘pump’ machine?” she asked, glancing up at him.
A small smile graced his mouth. “It is.”
Aimee dropped her gaze down to the drawings again, marveling at them. “It’s incredible, Adam,” she remarked from the heart, moved that he would want to share these drawings with her.
She looked up and met his gaze. You are an incredible man. Aimee swallowed down the words. Holding back soft sentiments, hiding the tender feelings she had for him, was becoming more and more of a challenge. She’d never had a man who shared his interests with her. Who listened so attentively to what she had to say. Or who could melt her at a glance. One look from his dark seductive eyes, one touch, one kiss, and she was lost. In sheer heaven.
Face it, Aimee, you have failed at every turn. Failed to aid Louise. And failed to guard your heart. It was as lost as the ring. And Adam de Vey had both.
His smile grew. He moved closer to her. Her heart fluttered at his proximity, his tall sculpted body now beside hers. Touching hers.
Leaning a hand against the table, he placed the other on the small of her back. “Would you like to know how it works?” he asked.
Her nerve endings were already frenzied with delight at his touch. A wonderful warmth curled in her womb. “Yes, I would love to know how it works.” She meant it. She’d had many long profound conversations with him. He had a brilliant, fascinating mind.
He impressed her at every turn, with everything he did, for everything he did he excelled in. His skills in mathematics and science. His mastery in the boudoir. And Adam had accomplished something Marc never had: Adam made her feel as though she mattered.
He pointed at the depiction before her. “These large wheels right here will turn with the current of the river and work these pumps over here, scooping up great volumes of water and sending it flowing toward the reservoirs at Versailles. This machine will be significantly larger and different from the one in use at the Seine now. Part of the problem is that the reservoirs are drying up. With this machine, we’ll draw more water into them, and we’ll have more water to work the fountains. To that end, there will be some modifications made here at Versailles as well.”
She shook her head in awe. “It’s remarkable.” You’re remarkable . “Has the King approved the machine?”
Adam slipped an arm around her waist and slid her in front of him. A wave of hot arousal instantly crested over her. The bulge in his breeches pressing against her bottom was difficult to miss.
“He’s considering the cost first,” he murmured and grazed his mouth along her neck up to her ear. Aimee closed her eyes and luxuriated in the sensations he inspired.
She rubbed against his delicious erection, unable to stop herself, loving the soft groan she elicited from him. “Is—Is it large?”
Splaying his hand against her belly, he rolled his hips and stroked the length of his hard cock along the seam of her derrière. Drawing a moan from her. “Is what large?” There was a smile in his tone. He nipped at her earlobe.
She gasped. “The . . . co . . . cost.” Oh God . . . She braced her hands against the table as he swamped her senses with another roll of his hips.
“Substantial . . . It isn’t going to be easily accomplished. In fact, it’s going to be quite”—he jerked his hips forward, snatching her breath—“hard.” His voice had taken on that low sensual quality she’d come to know so well, her body instantly recognizing it as the usual prelude to pleasure. Her sex moistened and ached for him.
“This is the first time I’ve discussed my drawings sporting a stiff cock, Aimee.”
Her bodice suddenly felt too tight. Too hot. She wanted to peel away her clothing, his clothing, desperate for the press of his body against hers, without any barriers in the way. “You mean you’re not this excited speaking to the King?”
He chuckled softly near her ear as he opened the front of her gown. “Hardly. His Majesty doesn’t distract me with his physical appeal.” He slipped his hand inside her chemise, grazing it over her skin. “Are you wet for me, Aimee?” He pinched her pebbled nipple. She shuddered with a whimper.
Her breathing was sharp and quick and the sensations from his every pinch and roll of distended nipple were melting her mind. “You know, for an intelligent man, that’s rather a ridiculous question.”
He released her nipple and slipped his hand out of her undergarment. Stepping away, he pushed his drawings to the end of the long marble table, then stalked up to her, picked her up off her feet, and placed her bottom down on the table. The suddenness of
his actions surprised her and inflamed her further, especially when she saw ‘that’ look in his eyes.
The one that said, I have to have you.
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all. I like to hear the words from your mouth, Aimee. Are you wet for me?”
She cupped his cherished face and gave him long deep kisses, her blood rushing white-hot through her veins. He let her softly savor his mouth and she rejoiced in it, burned with it. Each stroke she gave his tongue stoking the fire. Higher and hotter. Willingly letting the flames engulf her, making the slick walls of her sex pulse with desire.
By the time he pulled away, his breathing was faster than before. “Answer me, Aimee.”
“Yes . . . I’m wet for you.”
“Lift up your gown. Show me.”
She cast a glance at the door. They were really going to do this here? “In the State Room? What if the King—”
“The King is busy. I locked the door, and yes, here. Now. Lift the gown. Show me how wet you are for me.” The hunger in his voice, in his eyes, was wicked and thrilling.
Grabbing handfuls of her gown, she yanked up the layers until her stocking-clad legs and caleçons were visible.
Adam pulled the ties to her drawers loose. “Spread your legs.”
Holding the volume of fabrics against her belly, she spread her thighs as he requested.
“Show me,” he said.
Aimee grasped the waistband of her drawers, intent on pulling off the caleçons, realizing it was going to be a bit of a struggle with her gown in her arms, if he didn’t assist.
He caught her wrist, halting her actions. “Show me,” he said again.
Her confusion must have shown on her face because he raised her arm and pressed a kiss to her palm, then he lowered her hand and slipped it inside her drawers, sliding her fingers down her slick folds, then slowly back up and over her clit.
She lost her breath.
Adam brought her wet fingers to his mouth. Holding her gaze, he sucked her essence off. The sweetest cream he’d ever tasted. The most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever known.
Aimee’s taste.
Ravenous for more, he scooped up her legs, and placed them on the table, turning her in the process so that her side faced his front. Taking hold of her slender shoulders, he pressed her onto her back. She watched him intently as he slid her caleçons down her legs, her nervous excitement palpable. “I love the way you taste,” he told her. He loved pushing her past her inhibitions. He loved the way she warmed and responded to it.
Dieu. He just plain loved her. He’d loved her forever.
He was never happier than when he was with her.
Leaning over her hip, he slid his hands beneath her thighs, spread them apart, and took in her pretty pink sex glistening with her juices.
His mouth watered.
He stroked his tongue down the slit of her sex. She gave a strangled cry. Her hips shot up off the table, securing her delicious sex firmly against his hungry mouth.
“Adam . . .” His name slipped past her lips on a pant, her fingers digging into his arm resting across her belly.
He plied her with steady licks and sucks, making his way to that sweet little bud sensitized and engorged with excitement. Adam drew it into his mouth. Her sultry moans made his cock thicken further. Throb harder. He wanted her wetter and utterly wild.
He sank two fingers into her wet heat. Locating that sweet spot inside her vaginal walls, he stroked it with expert finesse, instantly inducing the rocking of her hips and the moaning of his name.
Relishing her luscious taste, he groaned, enraptured, the sound reverberating onto her sensitive sex.
“Adam!” she called to him.
Unable to pull away, he continued to tenderly torment her clit with his lips, his tongue, his teeth, as his buried fingers worked her velvety sheath. Her feminine wall quivered and clenched around his fingers.
His cock railed inside its cramped confines, his sac tight and painfully full, and still he wouldn’t pull away. This was Aimee. His Aimee. He couldn’t get enough of her.
Only when she grasped his cock and squeezed it through the cloth of his tented breeches did she yank his attention away from her sex.
He jerked his head up from between her thighs and snapped it around, his lungs laboring.
“Adam . . .” She’d released her hold of him and was trying to open his breeches. “Let me taste you, too.”
A request no hot-blooded man could deny.
Adam stripped off his justacorps, tossed it onto the table above her head, then opened his vest and breeches with the same impatient haste.
Freed, his cock strained out of his breeches toward her, greedy and eager.
She wrapped her slender fingers around the base of his shaft.
Brushing an errant lock from her cheek, he watched her lovely profile in heated fascination as she took him into her mouth. Wet heat engulfed him. Briefly, he closed his eyes and tightened his fingers in her hair. Her rhythm was slow and sublime.
He forced himself to hold still and not thrust despite the powerful urge, letting her dictate the depth, the pace. He was so hard. His prick was so full. And the sensations of her soft hot mouth advancing and retreating were stunning. Pre-come leaked from his cock.
She moaned with satisfaction, sending tiny vibrations racing up his prick, and then swirled her tongue around the engorged head, swiping the sensitive underside. He hissed out a breath from between clenched teeth. She had the perfect mouth. A natural talent for offering a man oral bliss. She made his sac ache. His knees weak. And because this was Aimee, his heart danced. Jésus-Christ, he had to decide what to do about his feelings for her. But not now.
Not when she had him completely ablaze.
Adam opened his eyes and met her gaze. His cock in her mouth as she gently worked it in and out, she was watching him intently, looking pleased with herself.
He swore. “You like arousing me to this fiery pitch, don’t you, Aimee?”
She pulled him from her mouth. “I do.”
“I like doing the very same to you. Would you like to come at the same time?”
“Yes!”
He smiled at her enthusiasm, despite the sexual agony he was in. “I’m going to come in your mouth,” he warned, running a finger lightly over her bottom lip. “I’m not going to pull out.”
“I don’t want you to, pull out, that is.” She squeezed his cock; a delicious jolt lanced through his sac.
Dieu, this woman was his soul mate in every way. His connection with her was so powerful—both physically and emotionally. He wanted to spend the rest of his days bringing her pleasure.
Adam leaned over her, spread her thighs wide, and lowered his mouth straight down onto his intended target, her excited clit, enjoying her sharp gasp.
She responded in kind and sucked cock into her mouth, gliding him in and out, tearing groans from his throat. Spiking his need.
The double stimulation of his cock in her mouth and his mouth on her sex was almost more pleasure than he could bear. Driving two fingers into her snug sheath, he set a rhythm she instantly responded to. He had her trembling, her juices dripping from his fingers, her little mewls sending tingles along his cock, heightening the sensations of her sucking mouth, driving him to the edge of his control.
He yanked her up tightly against him and sucked her clit harder.
She cried out against his cock, arching hard. Her rapture rocked her, her sweet cunt contracting around his fingers.
And Adam finally let go.
He came with a blinding rush into the warm cavern of her mouth. She took everything he had, spurts of come draining from his prick went on and on until he’d emptied his cock.
Adam felt her slip him from her mouth, her breathing sharp pants.
But he didn’t stop, intent on milking more pleasure from her body. Kissing her silky inner thigh, he kept a concentrated pressure and measured strokes over that ultra-sensitive spot inside her sheath, over
whelming her with erotic sensations until he hurled her into a second orgasm, enjoying her wail of ecstasy, relenting only when she’d finally quieted.
He pressed a kiss to each soft thigh before he straightened up and gently eased his fingers from her.
Aimee closed her eyes, dragging breaths up her throat.
Her muscles were lax. Her body was sated and still. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to pull Adam near and slip into slumber in his arms.
Forcing her eyes open, she found herself captured in his gaze. He was smiling down at her looking so beautiful. Her heart swelled with a quiet joy, the likes of which she’d never known.
He tucked in his white linen shirt and closed his breeches, then held out his hand.
Placing her hand in his, she sat up. He helped her slip on her caleçons and pulled her off the table and back onto her feet. Leaning in, he kissed her, his tongue slipping past her lips, stroking the recess of her mouth.
She sighed with deep contentment.
“When I brought you in here, I didn’t intend for that to happen,” he said, breaking the kiss and nuzzling her neck. “Not that I’m complaining.” The smile in his tone brought a smile to her lips.
She laced her arms around him and snuggled close, pressing her heart to his. Words of how happy he made her feel, how much joy she derived from the simple act of walking through the gardens with him, talking with him, or just being by his side welled up in her throat.
She wrestled them back.
She was going to miss his kiss. Him. Terribly.
But she wasn’t going to embarrass herself—or him—by declaring her affections. The last time she’d declared her affections to a man, he’d all but rejected them. Marc had certainly never returned them. This was but a sexual dalliance for Adam. Not unlike many he’d had in the past, and would have in the future.
What was remarkable for her was commonplace for him.
Having removed his periwig upon entering the room, he had his dark hair tied neatly back. She threaded her fingers in it, enjoying its silky feel.
“I liked coming with you,” she said softly in his ear. The only admission she’d allow herself to make.
The Princess in His Bed Page 8
