Unsuitable_Part 1 of a Reverse Harem Royal Romance

by Penelope Wren

  CHAPTER TEN

  Violet

  Though my conversation with Kostas hadn't gone as easily as I'd hoped, I wasn't in the worst of moods when we returned to the palace. I wasn't in the best of moods either, but little did I know that was going to change before the evening was over.

  George had been leaving me alone past few days, likely hoping that I'd use some of my alone time to pick one of the princes. Which was funny because I was technically going above and beyond in that respect.

  I was pretty sure he wouldn't like that I planned to marry both Etrian Princes. He'd like it even less that I had begun, and had no intention of ending, a relationship with Kostas as well.

  Well, if Kostas didn't want to end it, that is.

  Tristan must have noticed my melancholy mood, because his hand tightened in mine. I looked up at him, catching his gaze and smiling gently.

  He returned the smile and looked back out the window.

  Gideon was talking about his plans for that night. My father had gotten them tickets to… something. I confess I wasn't listening completely. I would just have to assume it was some kind of sports ball and leave it at that.

  I couldn't really concentrate because Tristan's thumb was sweeping in a delicate arc over the back of my hand. Every soft brush from it made my belly swoop in anticipation.

  I hadn't ever noticed how utterly beautiful his hands were before that moment. He had long, tapered fingers and a delicate touch. He kept them behind his back so often, it was no wonder I hadn't had the chance to admire them.

  Gideon was laughing when I looked up again. "What?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

  I felt Tristan's laughter, too, as he worked to keep it silent.

  "What?" I repeated.

  "Gid's been talking for a good two or three minutes, and you've been staring at my hands," Tristan said between bursts of laughter.

  Giving him a look of utter indignation, I haughtily replied, "You have really nice hands, okay?"

  It might also have to do with the way he'd handled himself today, how he'd supported me through what felt like the longest visit in the entire world. The way he'd spoken with Kostas, gone out on a limb to make things easier for me.

  While I'd already changed my mind about Tristan upon reuniting with him at the beginning of his visit, I was floored by all he'd done to prove to me that he wasn't the boy I knew before, but had grown into a man I wanted to know better.

  The driver pulled into the palace's garage and we stepped out into the palace's spacious parking garage.

  "I'm going to leave you two alone tonight, I know we'd talked about doing something, all three of us…" Gideon trailed off. "But I suppose Vi could just stare at your hands, Tris. Until you find something to do with them."

  That thought was certainly a yummy one. What could those hands do?

  I was halfway through a daydream in which Tristan dragged the tips of those beautiful fingers over every inch of my body when he scoffed loudly at what Gideon had said and brought me completely back into the present.

  Tristan offered me his arm. Gideon offered me one as well, and I ended up taking them both as we walked towards the exit. It was probably a good thing they were holding me up, because my aforementioned daydream was making my knees wobble upon standing.

  "How will this work?" I asked, looking between both of my handsome princes. "I spend one night with Tristan, one with you? One all together?"

  "If that's what you want," Gideon replied.

  "We should write all of this down. Have a schedule."

  "Because that's romantic," quipped Tristan.

  "Hush you," I said. "I'm still unpacking all of this. I've only been polyamorous for a day."

  "I hate to break it to you, Vi, but you agreed awfully quickly. I'd wager you've been polyamorous for a touch longer than that," Gideon said, winking.

  "Agreed," Tristan replied.

  I rolled my eyes and kept walking, plowing through the regular sized door and into one of the palace's entryways. I left my beaux spinning in my wake as they struggled to fit through behind me.

  "Rude," Tristan muttered.

  "Ow," said Gideon, rubbing his nose.

  "Serves you both right."

  Time alone, as it turned out, was really what Tristan and I needed. We decided to spend the evening watching a movie, and retired to the guest suite where he was staying because I insisted the sofa was better in there.

  It was mostly because there was a sofa in there. There wasn't one in my suite, just a couple of arm chairs. And I intended to not watch the movie as much as was humanly possible.

  I smooshed myself close to his side when we sat on the sofa, reaching for his hand as the movie began.

  If he guessed at my intentions, he didn't comment on them. Tristan, was, of course, the perfect gentleman. Even when I leaned over to kiss him, missing his mouth and kissing the corner of it instead.

  He smiled, "What are you doing?"

  "Watching a movie," I said coyly.

  "Apparently so. You missed my mouth." He cupped my face with one hand, pulling me closer to meet his lips. They popped softly when he ended the kiss, running his thumb slowly across my bottom lip. His eyes never left mine.

  We'd turned down the lights before the movie, so the screen was the brightest thing in the room. His dark eyes glittered in the limited light and I made some sort of awkward sound in the back of my throat as I leaned forward to close the distance between us once more.

  He kissed me firmly, our hands unwinding as I rose up on my knees to better reach him. He slid one arm around my waist, hauling me closer as his lips plucked at mine. "I've wanted to do this since…"

  "Since yesterday?" I asked, moving into his lap to get better access.

  "Since… longer than that," he murmured.

  The declaration brought a shiver of sensation through my body. "Since how long?" I asked.

  "Years."

  I wanted to say something, but I apparently wanted to kiss him more than that, because that's what I did. Kissed him.

  Tristan moaned softly into my mouth and I pushed myself up above him. He shifted below me and winced.

  "Something wrong?" I asked, quickly checking to make sure I hadn't put my knee down on something important.

  "This sofa's digging into my neck. Let me change positions."

  "Or… we could go into the bedroom," I said tentatively.

  He paused, eyes searching mine. "Do you want to?"

  "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," I replied.

  Tristan smiled, watching me as I shifted my weight to move off him so he could get up. And get up he did, scooping me into his arms and turning towards the bedroom.

  I giggled, wrapping both arms around his neck as he carried me.

  He had to set me down to open the door, but once we were inside, he wrapped both arms around my waist, hauling me closer for a searing kiss that I almost didn't want to end.

  I nudged him backwards in the direction of the bed, climbing into his lap when the back of his legs hit the mattress. I straddled his hips, my slacks tightened around mine drawing attention to the fact that I was still wearing them.

  "Should I…" My breath caught when he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth. "Should I take them off?" I murmured, reaching for the button on my slacks.

  "Only if you want to."

  "Do you want me to?"

  He grunted and pressed his hips up, those beautiful hands gripping and holding me in place. "What do you think?"

  I shifted, my eyes closing as I wiggled my hips slowly against him. "I think I should take them off."

  "Do you want me to as well?" he asked as I rose off him. His hands were poised at the button of his slacks.

  I nodded. "Just…Just the pants and the shirt. Leave your underclothes."

  I quickly unbuttoned my pants, tugging down the zipper. I shimmied and pushed them down and off, folding them over his desk chair. I crossed my arms across my torso, gripping the hem of my blouse to pull it of
f too.

  I was thankful that I'd gone for the matching underwear that night. Light blue silk with black lace trim. A little bow at the center of my bra. Two more on my panties, one on each hip.

  Tristan stared at me, eyes raking up and down my form. Stuck in the same position I'd left him in, having obviously watched me remove my clothing and done nothing to further his own state of undress.

  I crossed my arms, tapping my foot. "Ante up, Your Highness. Tit for tat."

  He chuckled, lifting his hips and tugging his pants off. As they cleared his thighs, they revealed a very noticeable (and sizable) bulge in his boxer briefs. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, making to yank it off, only to get caught on the cuffs that he'd neglected to unbutton. After a few more moments of cursing under his breath and pulling at the the cuffs, he finally tossed it on the floor with his pants. I crossed the room to climb back onto the bed with him. I tucked myself in beside him. Under his arm. I was a little scared to straddle him now that I'd seen what I was dealing with. Or the outline of it, anyway.

  Tristan's breath came out in hurried puffs as I ran my hand from his shoulder all the way down his chest and stomach. He stifled a laugh when I tickled a spot near his waist. My gaze wandered further south. Back down to that aforementioned bulge that was looking bulgier than ever up close.

  My breath was shallow as I inched my hands closer, stopping just shy of the now straining form of his length. "Can I touch you?" I asked, my voice no louder than a whisper.

  "Please," It came out almost like he was pleading. Begging me.

  The first brush of my fingertips against his arousal was tentative, light. He still moaned softly, bucking up against my hand.

  "Does that feel good?" I asked, surprised that I could elicit such a reaction from so little.

  "Everything you do feels good," he murmured, his hands clutching the sheets underneath him.

  As I stroked him, I noticed a wet spot forming where the tip was pressed. And the more I stroked, the bigger it grew. Both the spot and his erection.

  "I'm sure you get this a lot, but it's big," I whispered, looking up to meet his hooded gaze.

  "You flatter me."

  "I'm a little worried, um, about it fitting?" My hand shook as I continued to stroke his stiff member. "Is…Is it going to be difficult?"

  He reached for my hand, stilling it and tugging it up to press to his lips. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." He leaned down to kiss my forehead. "And if you decide that we should, I'll be gentle. I'll make it good for you, I promise."

  I slid my arm across his stomach, resting my head on his chest. "I thought I was ready, but…"

  "No, you are not ready. Sweetheart, you're so impatient."

  "I'm twenty-two, Tristan. Not getting any younger here."

  "There are other things we can do—other things we SHOULD do before we do that. I haven't put my hands on you." He stroked my belly with his thumb, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to my lips.

  The words held such promise.

  I sucked in my breath, clutching at him, overcome with desire. "Please. I want those things, Tristan. Put your hands on me… Please?"

  I didn't finish my sentence because I was in the process of devouring his mouth.

  I reached behind my back, popping the clasp of my bra and tugging it off and down my arms. "Please, Tristan. Touch me."

  Touch me. Gods, I couldn't believe how forward I was being, and yet I wasn't ashamed because I didn't know what I'd do if he didn't put his hands on me right now. Fortunately, I didn't have to find out.

  Tristan reached for me, his hands enveloping my breasts completely. He let his thumbs drag lazily over my nipples, making my breath hitch in my throat. It felt amazing. My hips rocked against him instinctively. His hands were big. His skin was hot. He rolled the peaks under his thumbs until they pebbled, impossibly stiff and so sensitive to his touch.

  "You're so beautiful," he murmured reverently. "So beautiful."

  I shifted slightly, wanting more than anything to shed my panties. The bothersome garment was keeping me from being completely bare. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband, pushing them down over my hips. I kept my eyes on his face, watched his reaction as I revealed myself, inch by tantalizingly slow inch.

  I thought I'd at least be the tiniest bit nervous to be completely nude in front of him. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me that made me brave, like he'd never seen anyone more stunning. Or maybe it was my hormones in overdrive, because my skin felt too heated to be confined. Quite possibly, it was the combination. As it was, I was considering never wearing another stitch of clothing ever again.

  Tristan pulled me back down in his lap, his hands pressing against my back, pulling me close. His mouth closed around my nipple and I moaned, my hips rocking against his in a way that I was sure must be clumsy and ungainly, but he didn't seem to mind. He moved his hands around to grip my waist so he could rock up against me and meet my thrusts. I could feel him, hot, hard and pressed against me. The gentle scrape of his boxer briefs against my increasingly sensitive flesh was blinding.

  His underwear…That should go too, right?

  Before I could think about it any longer, he lay me down, back against the pillows as he slid in beside me on the bed. His hand trailed down my body, between my legs, down to my warmth. I parted my thighs to give him better access. Two of his fingers stroked me open, rubbing from my opening up to my clit.

  No one had ever touched me there like that save myself. I moaned explicitly when he circled the tense bundle of nerves, his fingers barely grazing against me.

  He stopped too soon for my tastes, sucking his fingers into his mouth and making me want him even more. He sat back, reaching for my right hand and tugging it down between my legs.

  "Show me."

  My breath caught in my throat as the words sank in. He wanted me to… In front of him.

  His eyes were dark with desire, flicking down to where my hand trembled on my inner thigh before his gaze slid back up to my face.

  Still shaking, I let my hand slide down the familiar path, down past my belly button, through the wiry hair and into the smooth slickness of my sex. His hand stayed over mine as I showed him how I touch myself.

  Slow, tentative brushes of my fingers against my labia, sliding through the slickness gathering there.

  Small tight circles around my clit with two fingers.

  I showed him how hard to press, how fast to go. He was a quick study, leaning over to kiss me as he took over, rubbing my clit just like I had.

  My moans sounded like the loudest thing ever in the quiet of his room. The sound reverberated off the walls, growing noisier as his fingers slowed.

  "Tristan," I grasped at him, pulling his face towards mine. I kissed him with wild abandon as he let his fingers slide down, down, down towards my opening.

  He teased one fingertip in and out of me, delving in a little further each time.

  I was surprised by how big his finger felt as he slowly, slowly inched it up inside me.

  I whimpered, letting my head fall back against his pillow.

  "Tell me if it hurts. I don't want to cause you pain," he murmured, his voice was deep and raspy. Throaty, even. It dragged delightfully in time with his fingers. Like a bow across strings.

  "You're not, it's not hurting," I managed, grinding myself up against his hand. I could still feel him against my hip. Hard and unyielding. I wanted to touch him. Wrap my hand around his girth and make him feel as good as he was making me feel. As beautiful.

  It almost hurt when he slid in the second finger. I must have clamped down on him because he withdrew, pumping his fingertips lightly in and out while pressing kisses to my neck. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

  I really liked being his sweetheart. I promised myself that I'd tell him later, when he wasn't trying to drive me to completion with his fingers.

  I nodded, closing my eyes so I could concentrate on relaxing my pelvic muscles. "S'just a li
ttle tight," I mumbled.

  He made a sound in the back of his throat. A groan. A sound of agreement. He shifted so my breasts were level with his face. His lips closed around my nipple, his tongue flicking lightly at the stiff peak.

  That certainly helped me relax. He started working both fingers into me again and this time, instead of stinging, I just felt full. So full. More than I'd ever felt before. And this was just with two of his fingers.

  I didn't want to think about how I was supposed to fit anything larger inside me. I knew, logically, that things would stretch. I'd had 'the talk', learned about how vaginas opened like flowers. I'd read all the necessary books, with all their illustrations and information. But when it came down to it, I wondered if maybe they—the sex-expert powers that be— hadn't taken into account for Tristan Stalswift's considerable…size.

  Not that I'd seen any male genitalia up until this point, beyond those illustrations. Well, technically, I still hadn't. But his jockey shorts were tight. And he was considerably aroused. I saw the outline of it. Saw how thick, how engorged it was. I'd felt it in all its stiff, proud glory.

  I had no idea how it was going to fit up inside me considering how snug his two fingers felt already.

  Tristan added his thumb into the mix, causing me to very nearly jack-knife off the bed. At the first brush of the pad over my thoroughly teased clit, I swore loudly and squeezed his fingers so hard I was sure I must be hurting him. .

  He just chuckled, the noise muffled by my breast as he kept up his exquisite torture of all my erogenous zones. He was very good at multitasking.

  Then he started stroking me inside. Caressing my walls. He moved his thumb in tandem, massaging me slowly. I felt warm all over, almost like I did while drinking alcohol, except this was better, more manageable.

  Tristan shifted his fingers around inside me, as if he was searching for something. A sudden, hot pressure inside had me panting his name and tangling my fingers in his hair as he growled against my breast. Whatever he'd been looking for, I was damned sure he found it.

  I couldn't speak, couldn't think coherently. All I could do was make sure he didn't stop. If that meant crying out his name and pulling his hair then so be it. I could feel him hard against my side again as he ground himself against me.