by Holley Trent
He nodded. “It’s a big job, but it’s just one of many. Very little is simple about what she does.”
“And yet I’m supposed to do this? Me?” She laughed, and the sound was half crazed, half amused. “I can hardly manage to pay rent on time.”
“You’re born to be queen, sweetheart. And you’ll never have to worry about rent again.”
He laid a kiss on her forehead that was meant to be chaste. Comforting. But then she looked up at him, and there was so much trust in her eyes that it nearly undid him. Trust was a gift to a man like him. He knew how hard it was to give, and would do his best not to abuse it.
Holding her chin up, he kissed her again on the forehead. Then her cheek. Finally, her lips. It was a slight touch, really, because he hadn’t intended to take advantage—to overwhelm her.
He could do that easily, as such was his proclivity. He could have her dazed and panting beneath him, unsure of whether she was coming or going, but enjoying the ride all the same.
He could have her on her knees, begging for him, then abasing for him, and he’d know the thrill of mastering her.
But Tess would be queen. He couldn’t tell the queen to kneel down for him, no matter how submissive she was.
No matter how much comfort she found in obeying.
He let her lean in and increase the press of their lips.
He was fine with letting her take the lead for a while because she was so confused at everything that was happening and was likely looking for comfort wherever she could find it.
He was fine with being her comfort for the moment. He couldn’t push her, yet. She could take what she needed from him, and he wouldn’t by give her more than she was ready for.
Her tongue traced the seam of his lips and he opened for her, letting her in to explore his mouth.
When he didn’t respond beyond that, she grabbed his hair and pulled. “Kiss me back!”
“Give me an inch and I’ll take a mile.”
“Maybe I want that.”
“I don’t want maybe. I want a clear yes.”
“You want me to beg?”
“I want you to ask and know why you’re asking.”
She let out a little breath, and her forehead furrowed. “I thought you wanted me. You told my grandmother—”
He pushed two fingers into her mouth and stilled her tongue. “Shhh.”
Stunned, she blinked at him.
“Are you going to hush?”
She gave her head a small shake.
He pulled his fingers almost all the way out and slid them back in before she could clamp her lips shut.
One day soon, it’d be his cock stealing her words, and not just his fingers. Right on cue, his dick twitched.
Gods, how hot would she be on her knees wearing nothing but that skimpy bra and staring up at me with those big hazel eyes?
“Are you going to hush?” he repeated.
She nodded, and he slipped his fingers out, only to press one against her lips. “We’re dancing around all sorts of rules and traditions, some of which you know and I don’t, and then vice versa. If we have sex, Tess, no matter what we tell ourselves, it won’t be casual. We can’t guess what the consequences will be, or how intimacy will change our relationship. So, I’m not going to have sex with you just because you’re scared.”
He dropped his hand so she could speak.
“I understand that,” she said.
“Whatever happens, we can’t undo it.”
“I may not have gone to college like you, but I can understand simple statements just fine.”
Given that tone of voice, he was pretty sure he’d squashed any chance he’d had to make love to her, anyway.
He ground the heels of his palms against his closed eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ve gotten used to doubly verifying things since rejoining the group. Miscommunications can get you in a lot of trouble.”
“I forgive you, and I did not misunderstand you.”
“Yeah?” He worked his shirt’s top button free, followed by the next one, all the while keeping his eyes on her. He kept unfastening, and he was nearly at his waist by the time she looked down. He yanked the tails free and pushed the shirt down his arms. Normally, he would have hung it up to save himself—or his dry cleaner—from having to work so hard to iron it, but who cared? Wrinkles were the least of his concerns, given the mascara and eye shadow streaks across the front. The woman wore way too much fucking makeup to work. It made her look far older than she actually was.
Maybe that was intentional, though. Dirty old pervs tended to like their pieces of ass on the young side.
He dropped the shirt on the floor and worked his undershirt free of his pants next.
“You need to take off your clothes, Tess, unless you’d like to call Nadia in and have her start her official duties by undressing you.”
With her gaze still pinned to him—now at his hands as he loosened his belt buckle—her fingers fumbled at her shirt hem.
He didn’t slow for her. He stood, nudged off his shoes, and pushed his slacks down.
Tess stopped fumbling, and just stared open-mouthed.
He didn’t bother suppressing his grin. She’d asked for it, so she was going to get it.
He stepped out of his pants and folded them over the nearby chair back. He sat in that chair to roll off his socks, and then sat, forearms to thighs and fingers tented, staring at her.
She started moving again, and quickly, pulling her inadequate shirt over her head and tossing it to the floor. Standing, she reached under her skirt and pulled at her fishnets.
They made her legs look damned sexy, and had he had time to play, he would have had her keep them on. A little rip at the seat, and he’d have all the access he’d need to fuck or just tease.
He didn’t wait to watch her drop her skirt, though he could hear the fabric rustling as he walked away from the bed. She should be nearly naked by the time he returned, and if not, he’d see to it himself.
He locked both doors—one lock at the top, and the other at the knob—and pulled the knobs to make sure they were secure. He wouldn’t have anyone walking in on them, because if their joining was going to be anything like he’d heard, they wouldn’t want to be interrupted. They didn’t need some staff member walking in on them and imprinting to memory the sight of his naked ass while he thrust into Tess. Word traveled way too fucking fast amongst psychics, and though doing so would be difficult, he was intent on keeping private things private.
He turned to find her sitting on the edge of bed, slumping a bit. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and she held her arms over her chest, hiding from him.
Shaking his head, he clucked his tongue. “Really, Tess? You’ve never been shy.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re still wearing your underwear.”
“Simple to rectify.” He stepped out of his boxer briefs and stopped just in front of her, not touching her, but forcing her to look at him—see him.
Her hungry gaze raked down his chest to his aching cock, where it lingered.
“Shit,” she whispered.
“Sweetheart, if all you wanted was dick, you could have had it years ago.”
“No. That would have been weird.” She reached out and felt him, gently as if he’d break. Her fingertips were so soft, so light, he hardly felt her inquisitive touch.
Generally, he would have preferred she ask him for permission, which he would have happily given, but he would have to learn to concede on some things. A dominant consort and a submissive queen. The power exchange would be interesting, indeed.
It’d be different if he were king, but the Afótama didn’t have kings. They hadn’t in at least a thousand years. Yet another reason their Viking peers had ostracized them. Ancestors of the Afótama let woman rule them, and their fellow Northmen believed that made them weak.
Not so. The Afótama knew their strength was with their mothers: the queen and the matriarch. The queen
bound them together, and the matriarch soothed their hurts.
Instead of cleaving from their mothers, they’d held tight, and their culture remained intact even after centuries of hardship. There may not have been many of them, but at least they hadn’t been relegated to the subject of some scholar’s incomplete history.
“Lie back,” he said. He hoped it’d sound like a request to her, but it came out sounding more like a command. She did it anyway, but slung her arms over her breasts again when they shifted to the sides.
He grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head. “Stop hiding from me.”
She had beautiful breasts—full and heavy, tipped in dusty pink nipples that begged sucking. If she were concerned about a little sag while horizontal, she must not have known what she looked like.
Or maybe she did and had been conditioned not to like it.
Either way needed correction.
“I’d be more comfortable if we turned off the light,” she said.
“I want to see you.”
“I-I don’t. Want you to, I mean.”
He let his lips close on the retort he had ready and waiting because her voice had gone thick again, and not in a good way. Lust would have made her bolder, more aggressive, even if she were shy. His Tess had never been shy. Something was in the way of the lust, and though he didn’t know what it was, he knew he hadn’t caused it.
He couldn’t hear her thoughts and, fuck, he wished he could, but he knew her tentativeness was something for him to troubleshoot.
But later.
Normally, he would have kept the light on and made her learn to like it, but being a businessman had taught him all about compromising. He switched off the lamp.
He could barely see her, but heard her relieved sigh.
She turned on the bed to lie in the correct direction, and reached for him. “I’m on the pill,” she said softly.
She’d best not tell her grandmother that. Muriel would be nervously anticipating an heir.
An heir! Fuck.
Was he ready for that? Kids? That part of the equation hadn’t even entered his thoughts when he’d stated his intentions to Muriel. He’d just been thinking about him and Tess. Given their childhoods, they were probably both a bit too fucked up to want kids in the very near future. They’d be too tentative.
Scared.
“Harvey…” Tess whispered, and her hands found his ass. She gave him an unequivocal little pull.
She wanted him, and she could have him.
“What do you have against foreplay, princess?”
“Don’t want it. Touch me.”
She wriggled beneath him, and he reached one hand down and pressed a finger into her slit.
She was dripping wet, and she clenched around him, tight and eager.
“Hmm.” He slipped his finger into his mouth, tasting her, and considering the possibilities. If she got wet like that just from a kiss, they could fuck anywhere.
Gods, the thought of the bending the queen over the hood of his truck and giving her a good, hard fuck in the great outdoors made even more blood drain south to his cock. If he’d had the foresight, he would have rubbed one out before she came to her suite. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that kind of psychic.
If his hunch was correct, though, she was going to come long before he did. That made both of them pretty pathetic. Nothing practice couldn’t cure, though.
“Please.” She wriggled again, and this time raised her hips up to meet him.
He pressed her hips flat with his own and whispered against her ear, “Patience. You need to learn it.”
“What job did my grandmother offer you? Chief torturer?”
He snorted and couldn’t help it. “I’ll torture you, all right.” He yanked her legs up to his shoulders and pushed into her in one unstopping thrust that had her moaning.
He lay there on top of her for a moment, chuckling while her cunt adjusted to his size. “Regret not being patient now?”
“Fuck me.”
That cheekiness earned her a strike he planned to follow through on later, queen or not. “I’ll fuck you all right.” He swiveled his hips, and stirred his cock in her, making more room for the workout she was about to get. Her pussy was going to be sore for days. “When I’m done fucking you, I want you to think about who’s in charge here. You hear me?”
He wrapped some of her gorgeous hair around his fist and tugged it enough to make her open her eyes.
“Do you hear me, princess?”
“Yes. Now will you fuck me, please?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Tess trusted Harvey implicitly. Always had. Even as a child, she’d known he was the one person she could trust—even more than her social workers. He always had her best interests at heart in his boyish way, and as a grown man, that didn’t seem to have changed.
Even with his bossy, authoritative lovemaking, she could perceive nothing beyond pleasure because giving up control to someone she trusted—someone who had her back—felt so good.
She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to keep stoking her and whispering little commands to her. She liked doing as he asked, being where he wanted her, but she wasn’t going to last. The barrage of sensations overwhelmed her. His big cock stretching her, his teeth on her jaw and pulling at her bottom lip. The infrequent tugs to her hair that made her pay attention.
She went boneless beneath him, hardly able to distinguish her body from the air, and unable to see anything but static.
Harvey put his hands on her cheeks and nudged her so her face was forward. “Fuck, she’s out of it.” The words seemed to float in her head instead of in the air.
“Tess?” Now his voice came sure and strong. “Look at me, princess, or I’ll stop.”
“Mm-hmm.” She clamped down on him hard, and doing so sent an electric surge up her spine and down her legs. Her toes curled and a giggle escaped her throat.
“Overstimulated.” Again, the words seemed to be between here and there. Not aloud, but not imagined, either.
His thrusts stopped, and Tess did open her eyes. She frowned at him. “Torture.”
“Just making sure you’re still there. If I wanted to fuck by myself, I could do that back at my place.”
“I thought you wanted me to behave.” She rolled her hips up and took him in to the hilt, biting her lip at the pleasure.
“Behaving and being present are two different things. Don’t float away on me. For all I know, you’re thinking about some other man while I’m fucking you.”
“Would that make you angry?”
Grunting, he pulled out of her and flipped her over as if she weighed nothing. He hauled her up onto her hands and knees and pressed her shoulders down to the bed. “What do you think, princess?” He thrust into her in one long stroke and then out again before she could get the gasp out.
Oh, he could hurt her at that angle if he tried.
“If you don’t want me, turn me out of your bed now.” He squeezed her hips and brought her ass back to him instead of the other way around to better control his penetration.
“I want you.” Understatement. This side of him she’d never known was sexy as hell, and she wanted to know how deep that dominant streak went. He wouldn’t hurt her—that much she knew—but he didn’t know she knew that.
“You want only me? From here on out?”
“Yes. Only you.”
She knew who was getting the better end of the deal in the relationship, and it wasn’t him. Any woman would be lucky to have him, and she knew if she weren’t set up to be some kind of royalty, he probably wouldn’t want to be bothered anymore. He’d moved on years ago, and likely wouldn’t have come back otherwise.
She’d take what she could get.
“I’ll stay out of your way, Tess, when it matters.” He resumed his strokes in and out of her, and on an out, pressed a finger into her ass.
She cried out at the foreign sensation, but he kept her from bucking up with the hand on her left
shoulder.
“Just relax,” he said. “Sometimes I like to play.”
Well, she didn’t know if she liked it. Her eyes were opened wide now, and she fixed her gaze on the curtained window. Through a slit in the heavy drapes, she could see the moon shining bright and a couple of stars.
There’d rarely been any stars to see in New Orleans because of the light pollution. Sometimes she’d wondered if that blank sky was a harbinger of the end of the world.
He pressed his finger in farther and swirled his hips, stirring his cock in her. The fullness wasn’t altogether unpleasant. In fact, the pressure was kind of nice. It had her curling her toes and gripping the sheets when he resumed his rhythmic strokes.
“You’re so tight.”
“A-are you complaining?” She reached for the mattress edge and grabbed it hard as the first pre-orgasmic waves began rippling through her body.
Tell him? Ask for permission?
Fuck that.
She bit her lip and concentrated on not bearing down on him and rushing him along. His pleasure was important, too. Or maybe even more than her own. She wanted him fulfilled and happy—wanted to see him smile when they fell into a hot, sweaty heap. She wanted him to wish they could do it all over again.
“I’m not complaining, princess. You feel like a dream.”
“Worth the wait?”
“Mmm.”
He slipped another finger into her ass, and she was through. The orgasm hit her hard and fast, and suddenly she could see nothing.
Feel nothing.
She shuddered in the cold darkness and vigorously chafed her arms to make heat.
But, she wasn’t naked after all. She wore a cloak made of animal skin and sat with her back to a ship’s mast. Not just any ship, but a long, narrow Viking ship, bobbing the ocean’s waves. Its red and white sail had an exact match in Nadia’s tattoo.
“Wow.”
She turned her gaze down to the dark-haired woman beside her, who grinned broadly and grabbed Tess’s hands.
Tess didn’t pull away from the stranger because, like everyone else she’d embraced on this night, the woman seemed familiar. Her surroundings, however, certainly weren’t.
“Finally, here you are,” the stranger said. Her words weren’t English, but Tess understood them anyway. Perhaps that was part of her magic?
