Page 15 of Wedding Night In The King's Bed
Helene charted her own course down the length of his torso, eventually realizing that she was following the arrow of dark hair that led to that most mysterious part of him. The lower she went, lavishing attention on ridges and thick muscles alike, the more that part of him stirred.
And by the time she got there, he was hard again. And Helene still couldn’t quite believe she’d taken all of that, all of him, inside of her.
She wanted that again. But first she wanted to kiss her way around the base of his proud length, taking in all the ways he was so different from her. And then, following that urge she’d had before, and remembering all those books she’d read in secret over the years, she licked her way over the velvety tip of his shaft.
That made him make those sounds again, so she did it again. Then again.
Then she leaned in closer and took him in her mouth as best she could. And this time, when his hands clenched deep into her hair, it very nearly hurt in the most surprisingly thrilling way—
But he wasn’t stopping her.
On the contrary, he was keeping her there, right where she most wished to stay.
And as he did, he began to tell her precisely what to do.
His voice was low and certain, a current of dark, hot glory that wound around her and into her and held her tight as surely as his hands did, still sunk deep into the waves of her hair.
Helene thought she’d never felt more alive than she did now, with his hands on her and that male part of him surging over her tongue as if every single part of her was finally working precisely as it should.
And she had been taught to eat the finest foods. Drink the most exclusive wines. She’d been trained to have an exquisite palate, but none of that tasted like anything to her. There was only the taste of him. The sheer, dizzying, hot and hard taste—
Gianluca groaned out his release, then, and flooded her mouth, and that taste took her over—far better and hotter, saltier and more him than before.
For a moment, all she could hear was the sawing of his breathing, raw and loud. It took her long moments to recognize that she was trembling everywhere, her heart drumming wild in her chest, and she was once more slick and hot between her legs.
When he moved, she thought he might be about to do something about that. Instead, he rolled from the bed and looked back at her, the firelight making him seem almost soft, almost kind, though he did not taste like either.
He said nothing. He only bent down and swept her up into his arms.
Helene thought then that she would let him carry her anywhere. She trusted him completely. She let her head fall to his shoulder and watched him, not wherever they were going. He was a view that she imagined she would never tire of.
What a sweet magic this was that she would not need to try.
It took her a moment to understand where they were when he set her down on her feet, and she had to bite back a smile, as it seemed so incongruous to her that a mighty king did something as prosaic as reach into the great glass enclosure before them to turn on the water for his own shower.
Like anyone else.
Gianluca pulled her in with him, picked up a whisper-soft cloth, and stood her on one of the benches as he tended to her. He washed every part of her with the same focus and intensity, until the washing itself became a sensual pageant all its own.
Until Helene had her head tipped back, eyes nearly closed, as he began to use his hands instead.
She gasped a bit as he lifted her up. Then more as he pressed her against the side of the great shower enclosure, then hoisted her higher still, until she had no choice but to wrap her thighs around his neck and then reach out to grip the nearest showerhead—because he was gripping her bottom in his hard hands while he used that devastating mouth of his to lick his way deep between her legs.
And for a long while after that, it was all shooting stars and sheer delight.
She came apart again and again, riding his tongue and the sweet torment of his jaw and that focus. Then he slid her down the length of his sleek, wet body until he could thrust himself deep within her once again.
Only when they were both limp and hoarse did he slide them both down to sit on the floor of the shower together. The hot water pounded all around them, but the sound of his thundering heart beneath her ear was louder by far. Helene closed her eyes and let her head fall to his shoulder, thinking she might slip off into sleep and stay there for half a lifetime or so.
She still felt that way, sleepy and dreaming, as he toweled her off and carried her back out to the bed. She was barely aware of it when he tucked her in, then sprawled out beside her, but there was a small part of her that resented that her first night with a man was occurring right then and she was too spent to truly experience it...
But Helene woke up quickly enough sometime much later when he pulled her on top of him in the dark and taught her new ways to break apart and burn.
When she woke up again, there was light outside the windows and she was alone in the wide bed. She stretched where she lay, feeling new and intriguing twinges in all the different parts of her body. And she was smiling as she sat up, then finally looked around the King’s grand bedchamber, which had clearly been decorated to announce precisely who lived here. It was an impressive sweep of art, sculpture, ancient furniture, and the sort of resonant colors that she had learned in school were meant to softly underscore power and might.
It wasn’t until she tottered off to the bathroom, blushed at the sight of that shower enclosure, then walked back into the bedroom that she realized the windows were doors that let out onto a balcony. And more, that there was a figure out there in what had to be a rather bitter January cold.
Gianluca.