The move was made out of practicality, not one ounce of intended enticement, and yet his cock was as hard as nails at the simple gesture.
“I can feel your hard-on.”
He cocked a brow. “That a complaint or a request?”
She snickered. “Would be a request if you hadn’t bought this dress for me.”
“What’s wrong with it?” he demanded. “You bitch about everything I buy, so you know what the solution is? Buy stuff yourself.”
She huffed. “I hate shopping.”
“Tough,” he retorted, tone succinct as he cupped her hips, then slid his arms around her waist to tuck her close to his chest.
She molded against him in a way that spoke of how she’d been made for him. He loved that about her. Her softness and his hardness came together like white on rice.
Perfection.
“Anyway, what’s bullshit?” he asked softly, dipping his head to press his lips to the curve of her throat.
“The dress is, silly,” she grumbled, tilting her head to the side to give him more access.
Smirking against her throat, he continued to trace his tongue along the sinews there, to nip and tease with his teeth and lips until she was shivering against him, her nerves a thing of the past.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked softly, loving how she shivered when his words washed over her skin. As he held her in place, he slid one hand over the silky fabric covering her belly and cupped her breast through the dress. “It looks and feels perfect to me.”
She let out a soft sigh. “You can see everything in it.”
“No, you really can’t,” he groused after a few moments of trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about.
The silk sheath fit her to perfection. All her ripe curves were embraced so she looked like walking, talking sex on goddamn legs. The bright blue silk was cut on the bias and it draped over her in a way that would have every man at tonight’s event drooling over her.
Not that they’d ever get a taste.
He’d share with his cousin and his brother, but with no bastard else.
Perry wasn’t some free-for-all.
She was his.
Theirs, he corrected himself, with no small amount of satisfaction.
His hand was pale against the bright cyan. The starburst of crystals that were sewn onto the bodice could have looked tacky on someone else, but not on her. Instead, with her creamy paleness and dark Stygian hair, the diamond-like accents looked like she’d been bathing in the starlit sky.
The boat-neck led to long sleeves, and a tight-waisted bodice. The two combined made her look svelte, then her curvy hips got in the way, before giving way to a frothy aquamarine, white, and silver skirt.
Truth was, she looked like a damn mermaid. Either that, or a siren. And hell, he’d never wanted to be led to his doom as much as he did at that moment.
Sighing at the sight of her exquisiteness, and at how right he’d always been when he’d recognized her gorgeousness underneath the ratty tees and yoga pants she wore way too often, he stated the obvious. “You look perfect.”
She winced, but beneath the crass words and pouting looks, there was a vulnerability there. He saw it, and was sensitive to it. Tonight was a big night, after all.
“You really mean that?”
He nodded. “Of course, I do.” He rubbed his nose along the line of her jaw where her perfume was strongest, yet didn’t overwhelm. She always smelled like linen and lilies. One overtook the other, and he could never decide which did. She was never cloyingly floral though, so he figured the clean linen scent won.
“You look like the queen of the sea. That’s why I bought this dress for you. It’s frothy enough to make you look like you’re rising from the waves itself.”
A soft laugh escaped her. “You’re such a romantic sometimes, George.”
“Well,” he complained, “someone has to be.”
She snorted, but raised her hands. One, she rested against his on her hip, and the other, she used to cup his jaw and hold him to her, keeping their faces pressed close. She tilted her head and rested hers against his as she whispered, “I’m nervous.”
“You don’t have to be. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”
“With boredom? Maybe,” she said on a grimace.
“Now that definitely is bullshit. There’s no way they’re not going to be eating out of your hands tonight. You just watch.”
She pursed her lips. “I doubt it, but I’ll settle for not making a fool of myself.”
He nuzzled her again. “See, that’s why this dress is perfect. You can wear flats. That’s why I bought it. The skirt covers your feet. You don’t have to worry about tripping over or falling.”
A laugh barked from her. “I never thought about that. You really did think about this dress when you bought it for me, didn’t you?” she murmured, her tone amazed with the prospect.
He shook his head. “I didn’t think about the dress, I thought about you inside it and you owning it.” He grunted. “You surpass my expectations, Perry,” he told her softly. “I never imagined that dressing you like a princess would be my personal version of porn.”
She hooted. “No way do I look like a porn star.”
“That’s because you’re not standing in my position.” He shot her a cheeky grin, then changed the subject and asked, “Did you get the jewelry Edward sent you?” His brother had requested that some basic pieces be sent to her for the early visits and interviews—earrings and the like.
She nodded, then bit her lip. “It’s very…”
“What?” he asked, cocking a brow when she seemed to take an age to put the words into a sentence.
“Regal, I guess, and I know that shouldn’t come as a surprise,” she admitted on a long, deep breath. “Considering I’m going to be regal soon.”
He turned his hand so that he could clasp hers, then bringing their joined fists to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles. “You’ve always been regal, Perry.”
She closed her eyes against the sight of them in the mirror. Their arms crossed her chest in a feudal salute, and the image of their union would forever sit with him as he watched her try to run from a future that had been hers from the moment they’d met.
“I’m not like that though, George. You know that. The courtiers… Xavier told me what they’re like. They’ll eat me alive.”
“You think Edward will let that happen?” he demanded. “You think I or Xavier will?”
She blew out a breath. “I notice you don’t disagree with Xavier though.”
“No. They’re bitches. The lot of them. Why do you think Edward and I haven’t married from within their lot? We’d prefer to stick pins down our nails. But they have nothing to do with life here, Perry. They’re part of the events, and that’s it. They don’t have to be a part of anything else.”
“You two can’t stick up for me. It will look odd.”
“No. It won’t. It’s well known the three of us are close. Always have been. We were raised together, for God’s sake. People expect it. And where you’re concerned, they know we’ll close ranks.”
She gnawed at her lip. “Really?”
“Of course. Xavier and I will protect you when Edward has to go off and speak to someone about some boring shit that’s to do with the throne.” He rolled his eyes in disgust, but he loved that he made her giggle. He kissed the side of her cheek again and whispered, “All will be well, sweetheart. You were born for this because you were born for me. For us.”
She sucked down a shaky breath. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
He nodded, trying to look sage and not just shaken. “I do.”
“W-Why, George?”
“Because I just… nobody could fit me so perfectly and not be ready for this life. You’re nervous because it’s your first event as a part of the royal household. Anyone would be nervous; it’s a nerve-wracking experience for someone not accustomed to this way of living. But after tonight, you won�
��t be. It’s boring, Perry. More than anything, it’s dull and tedious.”
“Xavier says that.”
“Xavier’s right. Just don’t tell him I said that.” He winked at her in the mirror, and smiled when she chuckled. “It’s dull and the only anxiety you’ll really feel during these events is when you think about how long you still have to go before you can come back to your quarters.”
“They can’t be that bad,” she reasoned sourly.
“Oh, I promise, they can be.” When she huffed, he grinned. “I told you I wouldn’t lie to you, didn’t I? Well, here’s me not lying.”
“Some lying might do well. Now, I’m not nervous, at least. Just dreading how boring it will be.”
“Then my work here is done.”
She hooted and shimmied against him. “Your work here is not done.”
“If I hadn’t watched that magnificent work of art being put together,” he told her, eyeing her updo, “I’d lean you over the dresser and take you right here and now.”
At the promise in his words, her color soared. She gulped, then her breath came quickly and her breasts heaved in response to his words. “Y-You could anyway.”
He snorted. “And have you scalp me later? Not bloody likely. You need your war paint on, Perry. I’m not going to weaken your stance by sending you in there anything less than pristine.” But even as he spoke, he reached between them and tugged at the zip that ran down the length of her side, hidden from view by her arm.
“What are you doing?” she breathed as she watched the fabric slacken from its taut caress on her curves, and viewed the hand sliding between the gap he’d made with curiosity. “I thought you wanted me ‘pristine’?”
“I do. That means you can’t move,” he whispered in her ear.
She let out a moan when his knuckles made an appearance through the silk of her dress. He really hoped he wouldn’t crease the fabric, but didn’t see why he would if he kept his hand flat against her body.
He wanted her to be ready for battle where her appearance was concerned, but mentally? He needed her to know, point blank, that she was his. To have the pleasure that he gave her ringing through her body, making her senses sing as she dealt with the tedious formalities that came with her introduction to court.
A whimper escaped her as he slipped a hand over her mound, but it was no less shaky than the moan he uttered when he realized she was bare beneath. “Tease,” he said on a grunt. “You’re not wearing panties.”
“VPL, George. Look it up.” She’d have sounded tart if her voice hadn’t been breathy as hell.
He ran his fingers over the smooth mound of her sex, then slipped two through the slit of her lips. She was wet. Already.
Fuck.
He sank those two digits down low, coating them with her juices before he rose and began to caress her clit.
She clenched her thighs about his hand, and sank heavily into him, so he was supporting her totally.
That was his right.
This here, all of it, was his right.
She was his. His to love, his to please. His to cherish and adorn.
He shared, willingly, and always would, but there was a part of her that would always be his alone. Just as she’d have parts that belonged to his brother and cousin, too.
She shuddered when his slick fingers rubbed the bud of her pleasure, and a keening cry ricocheted around the dressing room as she rocked her hips back and forth, riding his hand as they both worked for her pleasure.
She wasn’t quick to orgasm, usually. But now? He knew the situation was working against her.
She could watch herself as she came in the mirror, with them both fully dressed as he worked to give her everything she needed, as he strove to calm her down before tonight’s main event. She could see the contrast of their readiness: their elegance, but also the basic earthiness of his hand as he claimed her on a visceral level.
Her cheeks were flushed, hectic with color as she watched him please her. Her gaze darted from the bulge of his hand through the fabric at her groin to his face as he worked her over.
She let out a sharp gasp, her legs rocking beneath her, but he kept her up, using the grip he had on her to maintain her position.
She swung her head from side to side, once, twice, until he whispered sinfully in her ear, “Don’t move. Or everyone will know what you were doing before the event.”
Her eyes flared wide with mortification. They met his in the mirror, and then, the delicious act of anguished delight came cresting over her features as she burst in his arms. Climaxing over his fingers as he taunted and teased her clit, letting her ride out her desire as and when it came to her.
A low, breathy moan spilled from her lips as she collapsed in his embrace, and with a final, gentle caress to the delicate nub, he retreated.
His wet fingers slid along her belly, and she shuddered at the delicate kiss of her juices against her skin. When he pulled free of the gaping silk, he murmured, “You’re beautiful, Perry,” and then swirled his tongue around the fingers that had rubbed her.
She moaned again, this time in half despair as she watched him. “You’re a wicked, wicked man,” she whispered, her pupils like pinpricks as her gaze fixed itself to his fingers.
Though her words weren’t intended as a compliment, he grinned nonetheless. “That’s why you love me.”
Her gaze softened in an instant. “I do. You know that, George, don’t you?”
His smile was just as soft. “I do. And I love you.”
Breath whooshed from her lungs. “I can’t believe we’ve reached the point where we can say that to one another. I-I’ve dreamed about it for so long,” she confessed, and at that moment, he fell harder for her.
Slumped in his arms, her juices in his mouth, the delicate scent of her pleasure in the air, and her languid smile gracing the beautiful curve of her mouth… she was perfection.
He nuzzled her cheek once more. “Never doubt my love, Perry,” he told her, whisper-soft. “I might enjoy things that seem strange…”
But she cut him off, swiping her head decisively to the side. “No. They’re not strange. Not anymore.”
His smile widened. “My little hellcat,” he told her silkily. “Where’ve you been all my life?”
“Waiting, just waiting.”
He snorted. “You’ve never waited for anyone, ever.”
The languid caress of her eyes turned battle-ax hard. She pouted. “How do you know?”
“Because I know you.” With his clean hand, he bopped her on the nose with his fingertip. “You’re not a person who waits, my darling.”
She squinted at him. “Don’t spoil it. You were being so nice to me.”
Laughter fell from his lips and he couldn’t stop himself from rocking forward, his cock nudging her ass as he whispered, “I think I’ve been very nice to you.”
Before she could answer, a knock sounded at her door. She let out a mournful groan, then whispered, “Probably for the best.”
Her rueful comment had him grinning; he knew she wouldn’t have let his challenge fall by the wayside without rising to the occasion.
He winked at her. “Entrez,” he called out as he quickly zipped up the side of her dress and headed to the sofa in the dressing room that was just off the bathroom.
“Perry? It’s me. Marianne.”
Perry’s eyes widened as she glanced at him, but he waved a dismissive hand. He’d never outright tell his mother what was going on with Perry, because she’d never approve. But his maman knew Perry and he had been close friends… she’d just have to get used to the sight of him in situations that might seem unusual but could be construed as friendly visits.
The sight of him on the sofa in Perry’s dressing room wrinkled Marianne’s smooth brow. “What are you doing here, George?” she demanded, her intonation of his name, as always, French.
“Watching Perry get dressed, Mother.”
His lover cleared her throat. “He means he’s been wa
tching me have my hair done.”
Marianne shot him a look, and he could see the wry irritation in it as she murmured, “Your English hasn’t improved much from your time in America, my son, if you can make such a mistake in meaning.”
His grin widened. “Perry was nervous. I’ve been keeping her company.”
If Marianne thought that was odd, she didn’t say so. But the purse of her lips told him she hadn’t missed his ease in Perry’s dressing room.
She dismissed him a second later, however, and proffered a royal blue velvet box to Perry.
It was most definitely a jewelry box, and curious, George sat straighter on the chaise. “Which pieces?” he asked, out of curiosity.
Marianne tutted. “Let the girl see them first before we spoil it with their history.”
George huffed out a laugh. “Spoil it? The history, not the gems, will pique her interest more than anything, won’t it, Perry?”
Her eyes sparkled as she nodded. “He’s not wrong. May I please see?” she asked politely.
Marianne smiled. “Of course. Edward picked them for you specially. Unlike the pieces he gave you before, these will have to return to the vaults, though.”
As George pondered why Edward had picked them but hadn’t delivered them himself, Perry opened the box with a glee that only Pandora could combat.
Of course, there wouldn’t be the disastrous consequences afterward.
Her mouth rounded and, curious himself now, he got to his feet and sauntered over to where he’d made her climax mere moments before.
His brother, for all his faults, had good taste. And he’d actually listened when George had informed him of the dress Perry would be wearing this evening.
Perhaps it was unusual for a beau to play such an intrinsic part in a woman’s wardrobe, but considering Perry didn’t have a clue and had no care to educate herself in anything high fashion, George saw no problem dressing her up in things he wanted to see her in.
There had to be some perks to the job, after all.
For over five years, he’d seen Perry in yoga pants, black trousers, white shirts, and bland, overlarge tees— so overlarge that they’d have swamped him.
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