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And honestly, she felt as though succumbing to Petrus’s charms wasn’t much of a gamble at all. She trusted Petrus, trusted him with her life and her person. She trusted him to draw her across the apartment to his bedroom, and to help her undo all the fiddly fastenings of her gown. She even trusted him when he removed his own clothing piece by piece, revealing a powerful and somewhat intimidating physique under them.
“You don’t have to look if the sight is too much,” Petrus said just as he unbuttoned his drawers and prepared to remove them.
Charlotte had already finished removing her clothing and was just sliding between the cool, crisp sheets of Petrus’s bed. “Oh, no,” she said, twisting to her side and making herself comfortable as she watched him. “This is a sight I wouldn’t miss for all the world.”
Petrus’s brow flew up, and he failed to stifle a laugh. “Have I fallen in love with a minx, then?” he asked.
“You’ll never know until you drop those drawers and join me,” she said, hoping her look was as tempting as the sight before her.
Petrus laughed outright and quickly divested himself of his drawers. Charlotte had only the briefest sight of his bare thighs and the thick spear of his manhood—which made her gasp and salivate—before he hurried into the bed with her.
She didn’t need to see his naked body in all its glory then. She could feel it, and there was so much to feel. Petrus rolled her to her back straight away and settled himself between her thighs, prompting her to spread them wider, as he bent to kiss her. The beautiful sensation of his mouth on hers and his tongue teasing hers was eclipsed by the lean, heavy lines of his body as he pressed down on her.
He managed to cover her in such a way that wasn’t too much of a burden. The way he supported himself with his hands on either side of her as he kissed her and lowered himself until the hair on his chest tickled her breasts was a revelation of the highest order. Charlotte knew it made her wanton and wicked, but she circled her arms and legs around him anyhow, utterly not caring.
“I’ve wanted this nearly from the first moment we met,” she sighed as Petrus moved from ravishing her mouth to kissing and nibbling his way down her neck to her shoulder.
“You have?” Petrus asked, pausing to lift above her again so he could gaze down at her in the flickering light of the lantern he’d lit when they’d entered the room.
Charlotte laughed impishly. “Does it shock you to know that your sweet beloved is not quite the fainting violet that women are supposed to be?”
“You aren’t?” This time, Charlotte couldn’t quite tell if Petrus’s shock was feigned or if he really was upset by her forwardness.
“That is, I mean, I have never lain with a man before,” she rushed to say. “Only that I am not ignorant of relations, and I have dearly hoped that you might be the man to demonstrate in actuality all the things I have come to know in theory.”
Petrus both surprised and relieved her by laughing. His body softened a bit as he dipped down to kiss her again. “That might be the strangest and most endearing way anyone has ever tried to seduce me in my life.”
Charlotte wanted to come up with a reply to that, but all words were blasted from her as Petrus stroked one hand along her side, bringing it up to play with her breast. He kissed his way down her neck and shoulder again, continuing until his lips met his hand around her breast. The sensation was blissful, and she gave herself over to it, arching into Petrus’s touch and his kisses.
Part of Charlotte felt she should participate more fully as Petrus all but worshiped her body. He knew precisely how to kiss and stroke her to leave her shivering and breathless. Any fear or hesitance she might have had to give herself over so fully that way melted with the press of Petrus’s lips against her belly, her hip, and the inside of her thigh.
Time after time, she attempted to push herself to tell Petrus how much she enjoyed his touch and how deeply she trusted him to do what was right for her, and time after time, the words changed into sighs and moans of pleasure as he fed something within her that Charlotte had only dreamed to think of.
She should have been shocked when he brought his mouth to that private place between her legs, but she only writhed and moaned and opened her legs wider for him to do whatever he wanted with her down there. The things he was able to do with his fingers and his tongue had her body coiling tight and pulsing with need.
When he closed his mouth around a particular part of her and began to lick and suck with perfect strokes, Charlotte burst apart, crying out as her body throbbed with pleasure. She’d been able to produce a similar effect for herself in the past, but having Petrus wring that pleasure from her was a thousand times better in every way.
He didn’t hesitate—and she was glad he didn’t—in sliding his way up her body and bringing his staff right to her entrance. She was still caught up in the pleasure of it all when he pushed firmly inside her. The invasion brought with it a brief moment of shock and the feeling that something had torn, but thankfully her mother had warned her of such things. She allowed the sensation to pass without too much worry, canceling out any anxiety the moment might have caused by wrapping her arms and legs around Petrus again as he thrust into her.
It was so much better than she’d been led to believe it was. Her pleasure had subsided a bit, but continued to simmer as she held Petrus fast and let his desire build and build to the point where he moved and grunted and thrust into her as nature intended. It was exciting and humbling to hold so much power in her arms, and when his pleasure reached its peak and burst with a few final thrusts and groans of satisfaction, Charlotte smiled.
She’d done that. She had turned this magnificent prince into a wild thing that needed her. She had submitted to him, but he had given himself over to her with just as much completeness. It was the way lovers were meant to be together, the way two souls that belonged together were meant to join.
“I love you, Petrus,” Charlotte panted as Petrus pulled out of her and slumped to her side. She turned so that she could wriggle against him, even though they were both too hot for such cuddling. “I love you dearly, and I will do whatever needs must be done for the two of us to be together.”
There had to be a way. Family obligations and Lady Jenny Lindstrom’s feeling aside, there simply had to be a way for her and Petrus to be together.
ChapterSix
Petrus had not been some sort of saint in his life thus far, but neither had he been a complete rake, like his natural father, nor one to seduce women willy-nilly. Waking up with Charlotte in his bed, tucked against him and breathing softly in sleep, and remembering what they’d shared the night before was a singular and beautiful experience.
It must have been the high spirits of the game they’d all played and the general merriment of Christmas that had inspired him to take that extra step and to invite Charlotte into his bed. He’d been half in jest when he’d begun things the night before and had been surprised and delighted when Charlotte had come to him with no resistance. A part of him thought he should have been scandalized by a woman who would allow herself to be ruined so easily, but that part grumbled to him in Oskar’s stuffy voice, and Petrus didn’t feel as though anything about Charlotte had been ruined.
Charlotte was his and he was hers. They’d already spoken of marriage, and as soon as the moment presented itself, he would speak to his mother to secure her blessing and make the match formal.
Of course, he would have to gain Uncle Milas’s approval as well, but even the king wouldn’t deny true love.
Charlotte shifted beside Petrus, stretching as she woke up. Her movements against his body were sweet and tempting, and he had to draw in a breath and steel himself to keep from rolling her to her back and making love to her again. Once was beautiful, special, and memorable, but the more they indulged, the greater the risk that they would be forced to marry under less than respectable circumstances.
