Part 6

Underneath

I step from the lift, shucking my suit jacket from my shoulders, and toss it on the sofa. It’s sad how comfortable I feel here, but it’s one of the few places where I can relax without running into a curtsying staffer. There’s enough room to spread, although my private quarters dwarf it. Still, it has one perk that Buckingham will never have: she’s here. I considered carrying her inside, but the gesture felt too romantic. My feelings for Clara are mixed up enough without sending mixed signals to her.

A rose flush settles onto her cheeks as she stares out the window, her eyes wide. It’s been so long since I bothered to look out over London that I can’t imagine what’s caught her attention. Maybe it’s the dreamy distance in her eyes, but I’m almost jealous. I’ve never seen this city as any thing other than a burden—a price I’ll one day pay for false power. Watching her, I want to see it as she does.

Moving behind her, I peek over her shoulder, already distracted by the press of her soft body against mine. “Enjoying the view?”

“I am. You?”

“Very much. The city isn’t bad either.” It isn’t actually. From here, it pulses with life, mirroring how I feel. But the Eye can keep spinning and the tourists can snap their photos. I’ll take my stolen afternoon away from the world.

My lips find her neck and I want to taste her again. My teeth graze her as I consider the possibilities and then I give in with one small nip to her shoulder. She melts against me and I note her response to the suggestion of pain. I know that Clara Bishop is not the type of girl who shares my tastes, but she continually hints she might be. The thought is enough to make me want her again. This whole city will be mine someday, but I only want her. Drawing her skirt up, I push the wadded fabric against her stomach and move her closer to the glass, exposing her bare cunt to the world below. She shivers like she realizes what I’m doing—showing her off like a trophy. Not that I would ever allow anyone to see her like this. For the time being, she belongs to me.

“I’m going to fuck you in front of this window,” I promise her, stroking my hand along her until I feel her growing slick against my fingers. “I’m going to show the whole city that I take what I want.”

Clara sucks back a gasp, widening her stance a little to grant me access.

“I’m going to make you come in front of the busiest street in London.” I’m playing a long tail game with her clit, drawing her closer and closer and then pulling her back down before she can spill over. I want to make her come, but I enjoy the little noises she makes too much to end it just yet.

“Please,” she whimpers, pushing against my hand. Her hips move in welcome and I have to force myself not to send her over. Clara might not be a virgin, but she’s never been with a man like me. I can feel how tight she is, which is reason enough to go slowly but nearly temptation enough not to. It’s going to take some adjustment on both our parts.

“Soon,” I whisper. “But not yet. I need to see how far I can take you. How much that beautiful cunt of yours can handle.”

Her ass grinds into my groin before she says the one thing I can’t resist. “I can handle anything you give me.”

I don’t think. She’s in my arms. I kick open the bedroom door and drop her on the mattress. 

There’s too much clothing. I want her naked and spread in front of me. I want to lick every inch of her skin. I want to see the prize I’ve won.

“Take that off,” I demand.

I suspect Clara is the type that waits until night to fuck—the girl who wants the lights off—because there’s just a delicious second of hesitation before she does as I command. She pushes up and lifts her dress over her head.  The sight of Clara on her knees in that delicate lace bra and nothing else will be with me the rest of my life, burned into my brain as the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

“I almost wish I hadn’t destroyed those panties.” Not that I want anything covering her but now I wish I could rip them off again. “I’ll have to get you a new pair so I can fuck you in that sweet lace.”

She bites her lip and I can’t wait any longer. “Spread your legs.”

Clara does as she’s told, watching me as I begin to undress. I’ve seen enough of her stubborn streak to assume she’s not always this obedient. Maybe it would get tiring to have her resisting me if we spent time together outside the bedroom, but knowing she would…I like that more than I’d care to admit. Because that means she’s giving me control regardless of what she said before. That means there’s hope that she might be exactly what I need.

Confusion clouds her eyes for a moment when I don’t take off my undershirt. Later, I’ll tell her it’s the price of admission. I don’t owe her more explanation than that, but I’ll make up for any disappointment she feels now in other ways. Sliding my belt free, I consider what she would do if I looped it around her slender wrists. Or what she would do if I turned her over and…

Clara stares at me as if she can guess what I’m thinking and there’s a flash of fear.

One thing at a time.

Dropping it to the floor, I distract her with what I do have to offer now. Pushing my boxers to my ankles, I wait for the reaction I know to expect.

Apprehension. That’s the inexperience looking at me.

Excitement. That’s the woman looking back at me.

Pure lust. That’s simply Clara.

It radiates off her and somehow it’s both impossible to consider that she’s so innocent and still wholly believable that she is. 

I stroke my hand over my shaft, considering how to take her first. I can think of quite a few ways I’d like to fuck her, but I’m still a gentleman and her needs come first. Literally. “Since I’m not certain your tight little cunt can handle me, I think it’s best if we try a more...traditional style.”

She giggles and she looks as surprised by her reaction as I am.

“Are you laughing at me?” I smirk. “Don’t be naughty or I’ll have to take you over my knee.” Another test, but this time the apprehension tightens through her so I plaster another smile on my face and push the desire to feel my palm against her backside deep inside me.

I could consider how far she’ll let me go all afternoon, but I’m tired of waiting. Grabbing a rubber from the nightstand, I sheathe myself before I drop over her. I’m nearly ready when her hand slides under the hem of my undershirt. The reaction is at instantaneous as earlier but this time it’s born of survival. 

I grab her wrist and nearly crush her as I lose my balance. “No.”

There’s a moment of heavy silence before she begins to push at me. I can’t blame her for having this reaction, but I want her to understand it can’t be helped.

“Clara, stop.”

She takes this order too far, freezing in place underneath my body and glaring up at me.

“This can stop now. We can stop now.” She needs to hear this. I have no interest in forcing her. “But I don’t want it to, and I don’t think you do either.”

“I think I do!”

I’ll change her mind. “Let me say one thing and then you can decide. If you say stop, that’s it.”

“That’s it?” She sounds like she doesn’t believe me.

“I only have one rule when it comes to sex.”

“Only one?”

I silence her with a single look. “I don’t take off my shirt, and before you ask, I don’t explain why.”

“That’s your only rule?” Anger gives way to incredulity, at least temporarily. 

I can imagine the kind of rules Clara has in the bedroom—ones I’d willfully ignore. But I’m a knobhead and she is an angel, so I’m likely to get my way on both counts.

“My only rule,” I continue. “I don’t like women to touch me there.”

She takes this as well as can be expected. “You want to put me on display for all of London, but I’m not allowed to touch your abs? That hardly seems like a fair trade.”

“I promise that you won’t feel that way by this afternoon,” I say. “I don’t think you’ll have any doubts about my generosity then. But you can say no now and leave. I’ll understand.”

“I assume others have said no to this then?”

“You know what they say about assumptions, Clara.”

In fact, no woman has ever turned me down. I don’t really feel arguing this point further will get me back in her good graces. 

Instead, I cheat. Slipping my hand down, I find her clit and rub my thumb across it until her eyes close. “Perhaps I could convince you?”

She’s either considering or toying with me, and I don’t care which so long as I’m touching her. Her breath picks up, each pant boosting my confidence.

“You don’t have to tell me why,” she breathes. “Just tell me one thing—do you not take it off for throwaway fucks?”

I can’t process her question. It nearly breaks my brain to try. I don’t even realize that I’ve stopped until she peeks up at me. 

“Throwaway fucks?” I repeat flatly. I get the gist of what she’s suggesting. I have no idea why she thinks so little of herself.

“Girls like me,” she practically squeaks. “Girls you fuck and forget.”

“I don’t like that term.” I don’t like her using it. “I’ve had casual sex before, Clara, but always with the understanding that that was what it was.”

“We’ve never discussed it,” she says, looking a bit frightened. “Look, I’ve never had a fling. I don’t know how this goes. I’m usually a relationship girl, so help me understand. Do you keep your shirt on to keep your distance?”

I bite back a groan of frustration. It’s all making sense now and as usual, I’ve cocked things up. “I thought I made my intentions clear. I wasn’t under the impression this was a fling.”

Clara’s eyes widen like a caught doe, and it occurs to me that maybe I’m the one getting the wrong idea. Why settle for snogging a prince if you can shag one? Why have a little fun when you can go temporarily mental and do something out of character? Because this is out of character for her. She’s made that clear, and I’ve been ignoring that fact.

“Do you want a fling?” I force myself to ask.

She stares for a moment. “I assumed...”

“There’s that word again. I’m not interested in you as a throwaway fuck. Why would you think that?”

“If it walks like a duck, and it talks like a duck.”

“I think this is one time where you could use fuck in that statement.” I let go of the hand I’m still holding and push off her. “I don’t know what to do with you, Clara Bishop. I’ve been thinking about fucking you since I saw you in that tiny black dress at the party. When you said no to me at the club I thought that was it and then you changed your mind and agreed to a date.”

“This is a date?” She starts like I’ve thrown cold water on her. I can only hope her body isn’t have a similar reaction.

“Isn’t it?”

“The Royals really are fucked up.” She grins a little at me and some weight lifts from my shoulders.

“Don’t I know it?” My answering smile isn’t nearly as amused. “So did you expect flowers? The cinema?”

“Usually, I expect a little more conversation on a date,” she says slowly.

I try to see it through her eyes. What would a normal chap do? Pick her up and take her to dinner? Bring her those damned flowers? She deserves as much and I’ve mocked her. “Maybe we should start over.”

My cock disagrees with this assessment and it takes effort to continue. Clara might deserve those things but if she expects them, she will be disappointed.  “I don’t court women. There wouldn’t be a point.”

“But we’re on a date.” She sounds confused.

“Dating and courting are two different things. You and I could go to dinner or to the country or we could stay here and fuck. That’s dating to me. Courtship implies expectations. I don’t do romance and I don’t do long-term. If you’re looking for more, I can’t give you that. What I can give you is pleasure. More pleasure than you’ve ever known in your life. I will spend every moment I have with you taking you to the edge and holding you as you spill over.” She squirms at my words and I realize that’s what she wants, but it’s not as simple as her throwaway fuck implies and she needs to know that. “Isn’t that what everyone is looking for when they go on dates? Why pretend we’re after something else? You’re attracted to me, and I’m attracted to you. I want to fuck you all day long and then I’d like to see you again and fuck you again. Could you agree to that?”

She bites her lip again and I move without thinking, my body taking control of the situation. My cock is pressing against her entrance before I realize she hasn’t agreed.

“Yes.” 

It’s enough. It’s what I need to hear.

I kiss her before she can change her mind. Slipping my tongue against hers, I roll my hips until her legs fan open. One thrust and the argument would be over. She gasps and I want to swallow her pleasure. Sucking her tongue languidly, I wonder how long I can make this last—how much more I can make her want me. I want her to forget her worries. I want to show her that my way means pleasure without the baggage of my family and title. I circle the crown of my cock against her clit until her nails clutch my shoulders. Then I slip a barely inside her.

“I want you inside me.” Her voice is soft but I hear her plea and it’s all I need. She’s not begging. Yet. That will come.  But that’s not the point. I push inside, her cunt clamping against me as her body arches into mine. It feels better than I’d imagined. It’s never been like this and I have to remind myself to move. Holding her to me, wanting to feel her breasts brush against my shirt, I bring us to the edge, our eyes still locked together.

She wants to look away—to close her eyes and fade into the safe and known. 

But I won’t let her. “Say my name.”

“Alexander.” She’s panting now, her arms tightening around my shoulders.

“Again.” I grab her hips and urge her hips against me harder and faster, meeting each movement with a thrust.

“Alexander.” She comes with my name on her lips and her eyes on me like she’s waited her whole life to be given what she’s needed. I wait, wanting to give her that without taking my own pleasure. But her climax clenches against my cock and  pushes me over. Digging my fingers into her hips, I empty inside her, already thinking of when I can take her again.

I don’t know how it’s been with other men. I only know that this is the part where the girl stumbles off to the loo in my experience, and I don’t want Clara going anywhere. Wrapping my arms around her, I draw her to the bed and hold her against my chest. With her in my arms, my racing heart settles. I don’t know what to make of that, especially with her still breathing so heavily against me. I want her to feel the peace she’s given me, so I kiss her forehead. She relaxes instantly, folding into me with an easiness I don’t deserve but finding myself wanting. Maybe I’ll always want her—want to fuck her, want to hold her, want to kiss her forehead.

But a man like me doesn’t get stolen kisses and a woman who still blushes when she undresses. We don’t get always.