Page 54 of Wicked Queen

She eyed me with suspicion, but as soon as she settled against me, she sighed happily.

“You know what I’m looking forward to?” I asked her, running a hand over her stomach. “When the baby arrives and we can tell everyone to sod off.”

“I’m not certain that paternity leave applies to the King.” Her palms slid down my thighs as she relaxed further into my body.

This was how I wanted her—calm, content, and completely safe. When I’d realized I wouldn’t be able to go with her to today’s event, I’d nearly cancelled my meetings. With Jacobson free, the thought of my wife attending a public outing without me terrified me. But I couldn’t keep her locked away if I wanted to keep her. Instead, I’d tripled the security we’d sent ahead and failed to mention it to her.

“At least I’ll be home,” she said, guessing what I was thinking.

“Where I can take care of you.”

“We don’t have to be home for that.” She nuzzled into the crook of my neck. “You’re doing fine right now.”

“There are many components to taking care of you.” I kissed the top of her forehead, the chaste show of affection somewhat undermined by the hand palming her breast. “And you want me to stay out of your knickers, so I’ll need you at home.”

“You offered to stay out them,” she said, her body arching to press against the fingers kneading her nipple through the fabric of her dress. “I never accepted that offer.”

“In that case…” I gripped her hip with my other hand, urging her ass against my cock. “Allow me to demonstrate how attentive I can be.”

Drawing her skirt up, I stroked her thigh, relishing the small whimper she made as she spread her legs in response to my touch. My fingers dipped under the lace of her panties, delving into her folds.

“We shouldn’t, X,” she said, even as her hips began to circle against my touch.

“Shhh,” I hushed her. “Everyone here serves at the King’s pleasure, and I serve the pleasure of the Queen.”

I would never get enough of her—touching her, listening to her, holding her. Most of my life I’d been impatient, moving recklessly from one passion to the next, and reacting to crises with equal abandon. I wanted to be a student of her body. I wanted to study every inch of her skin, record every sound she made, catalogue a thousand different ways to make her come.

“Do you touch yourself like this when I’m not around?” I nipped her ear.

“Sometimes,” she whimpered, her breath speeding up.

“Tell me what you do.” I slowed my fingers, keeping her climax from her.

She pushed against my hand, her answer coated in desperation. “I close my eyes.”

“And your hand does this?” I continued my assault on her swollen nub.

“Yes,” she moaned.

“But not like I do?”

“No.” She shook her head slightly, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.

“What else?” I pressed, reducing the pressure again and earning a frustrated grunt from her.

“I think of what you do to me and what I want you to do,” she confessed.

“Are your eyes closed now?” I waited for her nod. “I’ll do the work but you tell me what you imagine.”

“Ropes,” she breathed, and my balls tightened as memories of her bound body flashed to mind. “I can’t move. You’ve tied me up and I show you how much I love it with my mouth.”

Fuck. I’d wanted to study her and she was giving me my first lesson.

“What is your mouth doing?” I asked in a strained voice.

“I’m sucking you off.” She groaned and buried her face against me, her limbs contracting in inevitability. But I wasn’t done with my education. My fingers paused, wanting more of her fantasy, so that I could make it come true.

“Why do you need to be tied up, Poppet?” It was a test with no wrong answers.