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At the same time he was undoing his belt, and she watched as he so easily took himself out. Beatrice had never been more entranced, more scared and more thrilled, and somehow all at the same time. Her throat gave a little squeak that it had never emitted before.
He was so erect, almost indecent, that she shivered with new pleasure. Just the sight of his tip, stroking where his fingers had been, was enough to make her squeak again. She felt sick with pleasure as she touched the soft skin that belied the strength beneath. She ran a finger the length of a vein...all the way to the gleaming tip.
‘Beatrice,’ he warned. ‘Bednow, or—’
‘I know.’
But there was no stopping it as they both watched their flesh connect.
‘Here,’ Beatrice said.
Because she was scared that if her feet touched the ground good sense would invade and she might never have this opportunity again.
And then even that became impossible, for at the first nudge of him she felt impaled. ‘Julius...’
‘I know...’ He stopped. ‘Have you got any...?’
She almost laughed at the fact that he thought she might have condoms in her work bag, in case she wanted to leap on a desk and have sex with someone.
Her head felt a little dizzy and she leant on him for a moment and could hear his heart thumping in his chest. ‘No...’
‘Then we—’ He stopped, his erection batting against her inner thigh as he paused. ‘Shh...’ he warned, and looked not at her, but at the room that existed outside of them, listening to the sounds of the outside world and the shudder of the lift further down the corridor.
‘No one must—’ Beatrice was aghast.
He put a finger to her lips to hush her, and very deftly pulled her to her feet. Then he ran two hands down her hair to smooth it. ‘Shoes!’ he said.
She was shaking as she put them on, while he tucked himself away.
‘Go and stand by the window,’ he said.
She was too panicked to listen, and instead knelt down and scrambled to retrieve the contents of the desk, which had been tipped onto the floor.
‘Leave it,’ he warned, but at least he retrieved her knickers and passed them to her. ‘Go to the window,’ he said again.
Beatrice did. She stared down at the lake, holding her underwear like a bunched-up handkerchief in her hand. It was far too hard to reconcile her thoughts, so she just stared at the water and the silver birch and the white willow, and willed herself to appear as calm as the lake.
‘Signorina?’
She turned her head and gave a brief smile to the guard. He nodded back, but then frowned at the spilled folders littering the floor.
Beatrice was trying to pluck a lie from the air to explain it, but then the guard saw Julius sitting there, apparently writing at the desk, and instead he gave Beatrice a small eye-roll and left.
She heard his footsteps disappear down the long passageway towards the Prince’s residence. She looked down, half dreading that her dress would be at mid-thigh, or worse.
‘You look fine,’ Julius said. ‘I mean, you look normal.’
Beatrice did not feel in the least normal.
She felt touched and kissed and still wanting.
But it felt so much better than wanting without having been touched or kissed.
‘He’ll be back in a few minutes,’ Julius warned.
‘How do I explain the folders?’
‘You don’t.’ Julius shrugged and carried on pretending to write, or whatever it was he was doing at the desk on which he had nearly taken her just a few seconds ago.
