Page 44 of Wedding Night In The King's Bed

Instead, he could hold her rounded bottom in his hands. He could get his mouth into all that silky heat, that sweet delirium, that he thought about more often than he should. In places where his thoughts should have been far away from such private matters.

But he was here now. He licked his way into her and that roar of longing and relief soared in him. He lifted her off the vanity so he could lay her out on the floor. So he could really dedicate himself to what he was doing and so when she thrashed beneath him, as she began to do quickly, she would not knock over anything or hurt herself in any way.

Gianluca did not choose to question himself.

He did not ask why it was he settled down, took his time, and ignored the demands of his own body as he made her sob and moan beneath him. As he took her to that edge, and teased her there, again and again.

Too many times to count.

When he could take no more, and she had tears tracking down the sides of her face from the force of the many times she’d come apart, he finally freed only the hungriest part of himself. He pressed himself to her, working his way inside her.

She was still a tight fit. She was always a tight fit, no matter how many times he made her buck and sob, and something caught at him—

But he couldn’t hold on to it, because she was so soft, so scalding hot, and it was all he could do to thrust into her, over and over, until there was a hitch in her breathing again.

Until she was lifting her hips to his and arching up against him all over again.

Until she shattered once more, and took him with her.

And it took them both some time to find themselves again, lying in an inelegant heap on the floor of her dressing room.

“Do you have more to share with me?” Gianluca asked her, lifting a brow at her disheveled state, her hair a mess and every part of her flushed. “Tabloid stories, perhaps?”

And when all Helene could do was laugh, he carried her to the bedroom and started all over again.

Gianluca congratulated himself in the following days for finally understanding that there was only way to handle his wife. The more orgasms he gave her, the less she seemed to feel the urge to say such provocative things to him.

And if there was a part of him that missed the way she challenged him, he dismissed it.

Because this was better, surely.

This was what he’d wanted all along.

He might have actually found his footing in this marriage.

He assured himself that, finally, he had.

But one night, after they hosted a party in one of the palace’s private rooms, Gianluca stayed afterward to talk with some of the guests a bit more privately so that they could hammer out a delicate arrangement that would leave the crown out of a particular business issue.

He expected it to take some while, but was thrilled when he was able to wrap it up and tie it in a bow quickly.

Because while Gianluca had only and ever been a creature of duty, forever in service to the crown, he was learning to resent it when those duties took him away from his wife.

And from wielding those tools he had finally learned how to use properly.

Yet when he let himself into the Queen’s apartments, Helene wasn’t there. He headed back to his own rooms, assuming he might find her in his bed instead. But she was not there either.

He walked out to the guards who waited at the entrance to the King and Queen’s apartments, for none could pass without their knowledge.

“I’m looking for the Queen,” he said.

And then, to his astonishment, he watched members of his own guard exchange a look, and then...not answer their king immediately.

One stared at the ground. The other stared straight ahead.

Gianluca felt a kind of storm in him, first a hint of far-off thunder. “I beg your pardon. Was I unclear? Where is the Queen?”

The guard with his head up cleared his throat. “My most abject apologies, Your Majesty. But the Queen expressly commanded us to keep silent about her whereabouts.”