Page 39 of Royally Redeemed
“Fuck, fuck,” I pulled my hand back, gripping the bed for dear life.
I looked at Duncan while I came. He was taking me in, focused solely on where my head was at. Pleasure rolled over me and the pulsing within my folds and around my clit became too much. My legs quaked, falling to either side for a moment. I lay still, only panting and waiting. I reached to remove the toy and lay there.
“I... I gotta go,” Duncan said. “Please excuse me.”
He wassoadorably polite about it. I suspected he was off to wank for the second time today—like a desperate schoolboy. That was hot as hell. Weird, yes, but very, very sexy.
25
A DIFFERENT SPECIES
DUNCAN
Iboth adored and loathed Eloise Mills after whatever we were calling that run in. I’d already been on the edge before she had the audacity to touchme. In all my life, no woman had gone the extra mile to use me like that. Of course, my sample of thetypesof women I could sleep with ormeetwas limited. It's not like I could safely call up my neighborhood dominatrix for a good time.
No, Eloise didn't need much encouragement. I didn't know if she'd done this before—I assumed not—but I wasn't opposed to continuing. She got herself off through some sort of witchcraft. The way she looked at me with a steely glance while cumming would live in the spankbank for the next however long.
When I returned downstairs, I attempted to act like I hadn't nearly creamed my pants before I made it back to my room. Ella was down in the kitchen laying out everything she needed to prep dinner, all with a bounce in her step. I wanted a lie down but if I let the perky young woman know that, she'd know I was old and tired.
“You alright? Did I exhaust you?” Ella giggled.
“No. I'm quite alright. Uh. Fine.” I scratched my head nervously. “I can help.”
“You can cook?” She asked.
“No need for a bit of misandry this afternoon, Miss Mills,” I joked. “My mother didn't raise me to be clueless and incapable. My father's ineptitude still annoys her.”
“Your mom cooks? But your dad doesn't?”
She sounded terribly American—more than in recent memory. She continued to pull me into whatever web she spun whether she knew or not.
“My grandmother felt it necessary forallher children and grandchildren to learn to cook. So, we did. In contrast, Dad was raised by nannies and could burn water. Mum finds his helplessness somewhat endearing. She likes to be able to solve everyone's problems, but sometimes I think she'd like him to make her a meal. It's nice having dinner and not being catered to by half a dozen people.”
“Wait, wait, so Her Majesty was raised by hermother,but your father was raised by nannies?”
“If you recall, my grandmother was raised in America. While she was fabulously wealthy, incredibly clever, and kind to a fault when she married in, she was also quintessentially American. Mum appreciated that non-nonsense approach to parenting. My paternal grandparents were blue bloods who sent Dad to boarding school at age seven.”
“Let's unpack this all,” Ella said. “One, I gather you'd rather not have been an only? I can relate.”
“Really? You strike me as an oldest child.”
“And you strike me as the spoiled youngest child,” Eloise said.
“Miss Mills! You wound me!” I grabbed my chest.
She mimed pulling an arrow out. “If the shoe fits, Duncan.”
“No, no, it's fair. I was the child they were told they'd never had. But they wanted more. Dad was always lonely growing up, so he always felt bad.”
“But were your parents present? They sound engaged.”
“They were. I was always Dad’s priority, which is why it hurts when I step out of line. He wonders what he fucked up in a past life, and I wonder why I cannot just behave myself. Mum was always hellishly busy like any monarch is, but she was still there for me. And I had tons of cousins, aunts, and uncles around. It wasn't too bad until I was an adult and had the daily press asshattery I face now.”
“I have no cousins,” Ella said. “It was lonely. I had a nanny as my mother loathed being a mother—which is why I am an only. I don't blame her per-se. She had a hard time of it. But my father made it to every important thing—every school assembly, every horse show, every choir performance, every dance recital. I didn't know many people who got that lucky in my social circle.”
“You ride?”
Ella nodded. “Used to. Haven't in years.”
