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She had no friends here. She couldn’t allow anyone to get too close, to study the edifice of lies she’d constructed. And she missed having someone. She’d gorged herself on all kinds of romance and love stories, filling the hole inside her with borrowed warmth and vicarious touches.
But this was real. This was a king. This was Augustine touching her, Augustine kissing her. And he made her whole heart catch fire.
She was panting now, trying to reach for him to touch him too, wanting more, but he’d shoved her skirt up to her hips, and then his hand was between her thighs, his fingers stroking through the slick folds of her sex.
She cried out as pleasure rippled through her, becoming more and more intense by the second. Then his hand vanished and her legs were being parted more forcefully. His head was down between them, his mouth on her, his tongue exploring and tasting, and the pleasure wound so tight she almost screamed.
She reached down, burying her fingers convulsively in the rough silk of his hair and holding on tight as he propelled her fast and hard into the most incredible ecstasy. Then she did scream as the orgasm hit, a rush of pleasure so intense she was blinded by it.
He didn’t pause.
One minute his head was between her thighs, the next he was there, the rough denim of his jeans scraping her inner thighs. She could feel him move, feel the press of him against her and then she gasped as he pushed inside her, the exquisite stretch of him making her tremble.
‘Augustine.’ His name escaped like a prayer, her hands splayed against the hard wall of his chest. ‘Yes, Augustine.’
He didn’t move for one long, aching second, the expression on his beautiful face taut and hungry as he looked down at her. There was no green in his eyes now, they were a deep, dark blue, and they burned.
‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,’ he murmured in a rough, ragged voice was that was as unlike his own as it was possible to get. ‘And don’t think for a moment that I’ll forget.’ Then he drew his hips back and thrust inside her, and pleasure fractured every single thought in her head. Her hands slid to his shoulders as he drew back once more and he gave another deep thrust. ‘There will be consequences for this, Freddie.’ Again, his hips flexed and he slid deep. ‘And you will bear them.’
Her senses reeled. She could barely take in what he was saying. Then he moved in a relentless, hard rhythm and all thought left her.
There was only him and the exquisite ache he was building once again, the need, the desperate hunger, the fire he stoked inside her.
She gripped him tightly, moving with him, and when he caught her knee and hauled it up around his hip, she called his name again, drunk with ecstasy and with him.
It didn’t take long for another climax to hit.
And this time, her name a growl whispered against her throat, he joined her.
Augustine lay on top of the woman he’d just taken like an animal, his breath coming fast and hard, all his bones molten and liquid inside him.
He was having a hard time holding on to any rational thought, but at least his headache had gone. That stunning, annihilating orgasm had chased it away, taking all his anger and tension along with it.
Freddie was breathing fast too, little puffs of warmth against his neck, the delicious scent of sex and sweetness filling his head. He wanted to peel her out of her clothes, lay her out on his bed, and spend the rest of the day revisiting all the places he remembered from that night, doing all the things he’d done once again. Then maybe trying a few more he hadn’t.
But he couldn’t.
He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected her to grab him and kiss him, not his good little Freddie who never did anything he hadn’t told her to do.
It had shocked him to his core how he’d gone up in flames the minute her soft, delectable mouth had touched his. How every part of him had roared with hunger as her hand had closed over his hardening sex.
He’d tried to hold back. He’d tried to stop. But it had been three months since he’d last had sex, a long time for a man like him. A long time to be fixated on that one, unknown woman. The woman that had made him lose his mind so completely.
Freddie. That woman had been Freddie.
There had been a fleeting, deep surprise that even knowing who she was now, without the covering darkness and mystery, that he’d responded to her so intensely, when he’d never responded to her in that way before.
But that surprise hadn’t been enough for him to stop.
He knew what she was doing though, trying to distract him from his question about what she was going to do with his child, and he’d told her as much.
He hadn’t forgotten and he’d told her there would be consequences. And he was starting to get ideas about what those consequences would be.
Children and a wife hadn’t been in his future. He’d decided that in the long, terrible months of his recovery after the car accident. Where he’d had to relearn all the most basic functions. Where even a year later he could barely move for the fatigue and even the smallest light was like a knife through his skull. Because how could he? He could barely care for himself and his nation let alone adding a wife and child to the equation.
Even later, after he’d recovered as much as he was ever going to, he hadn’t changed his mind. He couldn’t be the husband and father he’d wanted to be so he wouldn’t be either.
He’d lost his mother so early he had no memory of her. But he knew what it was to have a loving father, a father who was proud of him and everything he did. An exacting father, yes. Who encouraged his intellect and who’d taught him that a king needed to be the best man he could be in order to rule, because how else would his subjects respect him? He had to be the best of the best, the first amongst equals. He had to be worthy of the crown, worthy of the privilege of leading a nation.
