Page 43 of Scandal Queen

“You came back.” He swept a searching glance over me. “Nice hair.”

I lifted my wrist. “Royal heirloom?”

His lips quirked and my heart began to race in my chest, booming my blood through my veins. “Where’s Daisy?”

“Asleep. She fought it, but I thought it best. Dad had her in the stables showing her mucking out.”

“Your dad?”

“He’s quite taken with her I think.”

For a moment I didn’t want to think about the King. Or the to-do list of engagements I’d been given—people I needed to talk to while they eased me into official life—or the fact that tomorrow I’d have a lady-in-waiting, although what she was waiting for I couldn’t tell you. Or the fact that next week I’d be seen out in public with the royal family but none of them seemed to see the issue with the fact the press still scandalised the charity worker who dared to date a prince.

I just wanted him.

Only him.

In the sort of way that if I didn’t touch him there and then life might just cease to exist.

I stalked forward, sliding my hands into the dark strands of his hair. His lips smiled against my mouth. “Is this your apology?”

“You can call it what you like.” I rushed my words, my mouth fastening to his, breathless and hungry. I tugged on his arm, silently asking him to follow me to the bedroom with the giant four poster I’d only slept on once but was now considered mine.

With electricity crackling in the air around us, he followed me down the hall to our room. I pushed on the door and pulled him in after me.

Inside, I pushed on the door. He watched me with a hooded gaze, and filling myself with the strength of my desire, I pushed through my reservations. Holding his stare, I worked the fly on his jeans, running my palm against the length of his hard-on.

Then without over thinking, I sank to my knees, my hands levering on the denim and pulling it over his hips. If I’d looked up it would have been comical to see the future king with his jumper still on and his large erection bouncing in my face. But I didn’t want to laugh. Didn’t want to do anything other than own him.

Reaching out, I grasped him firmly; then leaning forward, I flicked the tip of his hard-on with my tongue, relishing the soft sensation of his skin. “Leia,” he whispered, and it empowered me, made me take him in, drawing him into my mouth, savouring the feel of his shuddering against my touch.

Settling onto my knees I slid him in and out of my lips, pulling tight, flattening my tongue to make more room for him.

“Fuck.” He grabbed my head, controlling my movements as he tied his fingers into the roots of my hair.

A deep and dark pain shot between my legs as the power that I held rushed through me. He might be a prince, the future King of England, but right in the moment he was mine, brought to a shuddering standstill with my mouth, my actions.

He pulled me back and with his hands still in my hair, he lifted me to my feet. He turned me quick, pushing me against the bedroom door, kicking his feet out of his jeans so he could push one knee between my legs. I groaned. Desperate for him, it almost consumed me. His teeth nipped at my throat; his mouth hot as his fingers ripped off my shirt. The buttons pinged everywhere, but he didn’t stop to evaluate the damage. It just made me hotter, painfully so. My bra went next. When I was naked from the waist up, my body caught in some painful place between the heat of desire and the cool air of the room, he sank to his own knees. I pressed back into the cold wood of the bedroom door, my legs trembling as he yanked down my jeans and hooked my knickers to the side, fitting his mouth between my legs. Using his hands, he spread my legs further apart, and then his tongue stroked deep within me, running backwards and forwards. I groaned loudly and clamped my hand over my mouth. His tongue swept relentlessly across my core, and I shivered and trembled against the future king’s face.

Finally when I whimpered, my fingers grasping his hair, my legs almost incapable of holding my weight, he pulled back, straightened and then lifted me up, almost throwing me onto the bed as he climbed on after me, pulled my legs wide apart and then thrust himself deep inside.

I cried out, a wild tide of desire almost crashing off me the moment he slid inside.

“Fuck, I love you.” His fingers pulled at my hair, tilting my mouth to his.

I couldn’t answer though. My eyes were screwed shut, and I clung onto his shoulders as I swept out on a tide of soul shattering bliss.

A bang woke me and I sat up with a start. Ollie slept next to me and without thinking, I slipped out of bed.

Tiptoeing through the apartment, I sought out what could have made the noise but then gave a little shriek as a bang landed from the other side of the main door again.

A voice whispered from the other side. “For God’s sake, Bella, what are you doing out here?”

Bella? I walked for the door and opened it a crack, peeping through, finding John and Isabella the other side. Bella seemed to be wearing pyjamas—she obviously didn’t adhere to that rule.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, glancing back into the apartment.

“Getting some air.” Bella waved her hand at me and then fell sideways into John’s arms.