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He licked and suckled, plunging his fingers deeper, working her until all she could do was whimper and writhe and grind herself against his fingers. His free hand clamped around her thigh, holding her in place.
Her fingers tightened on the bench, white-knuckled. “I’m going to come. Simon, I’m… I’m so close… Harder, harder,” she pleaded.
He added another finger and thrust them as deep as he could, working her clit with his lips and tongue, and her muscles clenched around him with her climax. She muffled a wordless shout, arching off the bench, driving herself hard onto his fingers as she came for him.
After a moment, he sat back. She leaned bonelessly against the wall as she recovered. “God, Simon,” she whispered. “That was…”
But whatever she was about to say was interrupted by a knocking on the door. “You okay?” called the stylist’s voice. “I thought I heard some banging. No one fell, did they?”
Simon stifled a laugh. There’d been banging all right, but not the kind the stylist was probably picturing. “We’re fine,” he called. “We had an idea for some alterations to one of the dresses, we’ll be out in just a moment to show you.” Or, well, they’d be out as soon as he wasn’t sporting a painfully obvious boner.
Pen sighed. “Couldn’t we just fuck more instead?” she murmured.
Now Simon did laugh. “I’d love nothing more,” he said, “but you do have a duty today, remember?”
“The sacrifices I make for my kingdom,” she said, eyeing him as she stood and pulled her Spanx back on.
10
Penelope knew she was skirting the rules of queenly modesty with her new dress, but she couldn’t help but wear the one Simon had picked out for her. It turned out the stylist had known what she was doing after all, and the alterations—which the woman had done with amazing speed—had turned out beautifully. The outfit clung to her curves, adorning them in a layer of sheer lace atop the silky white fabric, and Pen had felt Simon’s eyes on her all evening as they made their rounds of the room. His attention felt like a physical weight, something draped around her shoulders, bolstering her confidence and making her feel wanted and beautiful.
The event had gone splendidly. Simon had done his research, and he could now answer any question about school lunches and the benefits of expanded play time that the executives and members of the nobility threw his way. Pen had answered her fair share too, though she’d dodged the comments that called into question her continued involvement in her toy company. No one knew yet how invested she still was in her store, but she knew that the questions should serve as a warning bell. If she didn’t step away from her company soon, people might start to think she was pushing her playtime plan to line her own pockets with money she made off the sale of her toys. That wasn’t true at all, of course. It was just difficult to let go of something that had defined her for so long.
She spotted Simon across the room, chatting up a lord by the bar. Maybe she should tell him about it, ask his advice. They had promised each other complete honesty, after all. And he always seemed to know the ins and outs of politics so much better than her—maybe he’d be able to figure out a solution. Though she hoped he wouldn’t be upset that she hadn’t told him sooner.
He felt her eyes on him and glanced at her, his gaze intent as it swept over her figure. She happily eye-fucked him right back. He was wearing his military uniform again, but now that she knew what was under that starched suit, it felt like a tantalizing secret just between the two of them. Let everyone else see Clark Kent. She’d seen what he was hiding, and she knew who he really was.
The party ended half an hour later, and it was torture to wait through all the goodbyes until they could retire to a sitting room. A big part of her wanted to jump him the second the door shut, but she stopped herself, wanting to be open with him about her toy store problem first. Before she could speak, though, a maid bustled in with some brandy for them. Pen waited silently while she set the drinks up, checked to see whether they needed anything else, and then strode back out the door.
Then Simon locked it behind her, and all thoughts of the toy company fell straight out of Penelope’s mind.
He turned, smiled at her, and flicked off the lights. The room plunged into darkness, lit only by the dim silvery light of the quarter moon out the third-floor windows. She inhaled, her blood singing. The conversation she needed to have with Simon could wait. It would be difficult, and right now she wanted just this: something easy, something that felt more right than anything else had her whole life.
Deliciously blinded by the dark, she waited for her husband.
The absence of light made her other senses feel heightened. She heard his footsteps brush against the plush carpet. When he touched her shoulders, goosebumps rose up on her arms. He undressed her slowly, lovingly, one article of clothing at a time, until she stood naked in the darkness. He ran his fingers across the span of her shoulders, down her back, over her ass, across her thighs. “Beautiful,” he murmured.
She felt for him, found his shirt, unbuttoned it and tossed it aside. She needed those abs under her fingers right now. She slipped her hands across him, felt the ridges of his muscles, the definition of his pecs, the way his biceps bunched when he picked her up. She reached between them, stroking him through his pants before she unzipped them and shoved them off. His boxers went next. Then his full length was hard and hot against her, and she was helpless to do anything but wrap her legs around his back and grind herself against him.
He stepped back, turned, pressed her up against the wall. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time we met,” he said in a low voice, trailing kisses up her throat. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all night. You up against the wall. My cock inside you. I want you so bad, Pen.”
“Yes. Do it,” she gasped. “I can’t wait any longer to be with you, Simon.” She was beyond ready to consummate—not just because she physically wanted him, but because of the way she felt when he was nearby, like he was a magnet for her, an anchor, her rock. She was still uncertain about this whole Queen thing, but where he was concerned, she no longer had any doubts whatsoever.
He lifted her. She hooked her ankles behind his ass, anchoring herself as his cock hovered at her entrance. And then he was pushing inside her. One inch, two inches. The tension of it, the amazing pressure—it was so much, and not nearly enough. She wriggled and squirmed, trying to push herself down harder onto him, wanting him so much deeper inside her. “God, Simon, fuck me now,” she groaned, unable to take it for another second.
Obligingly, he shoved her against the wall, holding her hips down with his hands, and thrust hard into her. She pushed off the wall, using it as leverage to meet him thrust for thrust, their bodies already slick with sweat as he drove her toward her climax. Then he reached between them and rubbed her clit, lifted her ass to just the right angle and squeezed it. His thrusts grew faster and more chaotic and she gasped and panted and moaned, both of them nearing oblivion, the moonlight gilding their skin in silver as they made love.
“Yes,” she managed, barely able to think straight this close to her climax. “Yes, Simon, this is so good, so perfect.”
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Yes, it is. So perfect. Come for me, my love.”
One more thrust, one more tweak of her clit, and she was coming hard around him. She yelled, caught in the throes of a pleasure greater than any she’d experienced in a long time. A moment longer and he tensed against her too, shouting as he pumped into her.
And then it was done. They’d consummated. Penelope had bound herself to Simon for good, and nothing could feel more right.
Still inside her, her carried her to the bed and laid down with her. Sated and shaken by the intensity of their lovemaking, they stayed connected for a long time, stroking each other and kissing and murmuring.
Pen fell asleep in Simon’s arms, and her last thought before sleep was that she might just be falling for her husband.
