Royal Treatment (Royals of Danovar 2)

She gaped down the hall, unable to form words for a moment. Over the last few weeks, Eric had been simply Eric to her: a generous lover and tutor, sweet and funny, gentle and sexy. But at moments like these, she remembered that she was with Prince Eric, one of the country’s favorite royals, who had enough money and connections to rent an entire five-star B&B for the night with only a few days’ notice. And he’d done it all for her.

To pay you back for the blowjob, whispered a little voice inside her. She wanted to shut it up, but she was nothing if not rational, so she forced herself to consider whether that might truly be his only motivation. Because if it was, she couldn’t accept it. She’d given him pleasure the other day because she wanted to, because she’d wanted the experience and also just because she’d wanted to give him this gift, but if he viewed it as a pay-for-play situation she didn’t know if she could continue to learn from him.

She scanned him carefully, taking in all the details. He stood with his hands in his pockets, a pose that always made her want to lick him like a lollipop, but his normal grin looked a little uncertain, and he held his shoulders a bit stiffer than normal. He was uneasy. He was paying her back.

But then she remembered something she’d overheard yesterday from Anderson, who loved to gossip. He’d said that Eric had gotten in trouble with some members of Parliament for skipping a meeting with them after his plane had landed—because he’d chosen to be with her instead that day. And he hadn’t even truly had a reason to come to the lab right then. He had all the memos, all the updates already. He could easily have waited another day or two, but he’d blown off important senators because he’d wanted to see her more.

She remembered something he’d written in one of his first memos: were I attracted to you I might find excuses to be around you…I’d focus on you to the exclusion of other people around me who might merit my attention more.

A smile spread across her face. He might think he was paying her back with the stargazing and the B&B and the whole thoughtful nerd-date thing, but in reality, he was thrown off his game by the growing attraction between them. He felt it too, the way things had changed, the way the two of them together was suddenly all that was important in the world, and it scared him as much as it scared her. And somehow, that made her fear disappear completely.

She took his hand, smiling softly, a thrill running through her. Eric wanted her. He really did think she was beautiful, and amazing, and all those things he’d told her. He didn’t care that she was inexperienced, he didn’t think she was too serious or intense, he wasn’t scared off by her confidence in her professional life. The way he accepted her, the way he looked at her like he saw her—it was everything she’d never known she’d always wanted.

“Come with me,” she said, and opened the first door she came to. It was decorated in Renaissance-era paintings and furniture, romantic in its soft hues and artistic furniture. The lights were on a dimmer, and when she flicked them on, they cast the room in a warm golden glow.

“What are we doing?” Eric asked, trailing behind her.

She turned. She took his hands in hers, and looked him in the eyes. “I want you to make love to me,” she told him. “I want you to be my first time. Not as my tutor. As my lover.”

Stunned, his head tilted back. “Anna,” he said, his voice heavy with wanting and uncertainty. “I…Are you sure?”

“I know you were trying to pay me back with tonight,” she said, and when he started to shake his head she leveled a look at him. Sheepish, he shrugged. “But it’s not necessary,” she continued. “Because what we did in the lab the other day, I did that because I wanted to. And I enjoyed it too. But the truth is, it changed something between us, and you know it as well as I do. I want to explore whatever that thing is. Together.” Her newfound confidence faded suddenly, and she swallowed. “That is, if you want to.”

He lifted her hands and kissed the left, then the right. His lips lingered, brushing across her skin, making her shiver. “Anna,” he said, “There is nothing I want more.”

“You’ll have to take the lead,” she whispered, her eyes still on his mouth. She licked her own lips, which felt full and swollen with her need for him.

He stepped in close, pulled her neatly tucked-in shirt free, and slowly unbuttoned it. His fingers brushed against her stomach, her chest, her neck. When he undid the last button at the hollow of her throat, he dipped his head and kissed the spot, and she caught her breath. His hands wandered, finding her bra—lacy white this time, somehow perfect for tonight, which felt pure and new—and sliding torturously against her nipples. His hands went lower, to her flowing skirt. His fingers whispered across her waist, her thigh. He pulled the fabric up, slipped his hands beneath it, followed her thong around and down until he was cupping her ass. “So perfect,” he murmured, squeezing lightly.

Overwhelmed by her need to feel him on her, she tried to press herself against him to hurry him along, but he pushed her back against the bed’s footboard, caught her wrists and put her hands on the wood. “No,” he said, “this is special. I want it to be worth remembering. I want to take it slow.”

She didn’t want to take it slow. She wanted him inside her, right now, but when she tried to move he pinned her wrists against the bedpost again.

“Don’t make me g

o find the yarn,” he said, a twinkle in his eye, and she acquiesced.

His hands moved below her skirt to her ass again, cupping, squeezing—and then his fingers dipped lower, moving her panties aside and brushing against the spot that was already wet for him. She gasped and spread her legs wider, giving him access as he rubbed her, right there, traced his fingers across her and lightly dipped the tiniest bit inside. She moaned at the way it felt: just the right angle, just the right pressure, just the right feeling of naughtiness to drive her mad in the best way possible.

“You like that?” he said, dipping his head to sear her neck with a kiss.

“Yes.” She had to focus on the word, push it out.

He moved one hand, pushed her shirt open until her chest was bared to him, tugged the fabric of her bra down and suckled her. The bedpost creaked under her grip as his fingers kept rubbing her, teasing her, while his mouth worked at her nipple. “How about that?” he asked.

“God, Eric, yes. I…I need…”

“Tell me what you need.”

She shuddered all over at the feel of him. That was what she needed—him, all of him, right now. She moved her hands off the bedpost and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He cooperated, letting her tug it off, baring that gorgeous chest for her again. She ran a hand, and then her lips, across his griffin tattoo. She splayed a hand across his abs the way she’d wanted to ever since she saw him in the MRI machine, marveling at the dips and ridges. Then she unbuckled his pants. His cock was stiff already, just waiting for her, and she reached for his boxers.

He moved before she could, though, and pulled her shirt and bra the rest of the way off. He slid a hand to the back of her skirt, unzipped it and let it fall to the ground. Then he hooked a finger under her panties and they were gone too, and she stood naked before him.

He stepped back, giving her a long once-over. The awe-struck expression on his face when his eyes met hers again was like wine, intoxicating, addictive. She’d thought she would be shy when this moment finally came, but she’d never felt bolder in her life. She advanced on him and pulled his boxers off, her hands lingering as she pulled the fabric over his cock.

Eric groaned and then, fast as a flash, had her pinned to the wall, his lips hard on hers. She opened her mouth to him eagerly, lifted her knee so his length rubbed against her need. The friction was amazing, better than anything she could’ve dreamed of on her own. She lifted her other leg too, wrapped them both around Eric’s ass, ground herself against him. He groaned again and carried her to the bed. With one hand, he yanked his pants from the foot of the bed, dug in his pocket, and found a condom. He rolled it on with a quick movement and then they were exactly where she wanted them to be—her legs spread wide, more than ready for him as he hovered over her, his powerful biceps bunched from holding his weight, his heavy cock pressing at her entrance. She gasped and squirmed, desperate for him.

He hesitated. “Anna, sometimes…the first time, it might hurt.”