The Prince (The Original Sinners 3)

As she watched him sleep she couldn’t help but think of all those nights she’d stood in the doorway to his bedroom and listened to the slow, rhythmic breathing that signaled he’d fallen into deepest sleep. She didn’t know quite why it comforted her so much, hearing Wesley breathe in his sleep, but she couldn’t get enough of it. After leaving Søren, she didn’t make much of a habit of sleeping with others. She’d get in, get what she wanted and get out. An 11:00 a.m. breakfast on her own worked just fine for her. Then, suddenly, she had this kid in her house who got up at 7:30 a.m…even on the damn weekends. And he cooked breakfast for her. And balanced her checkbook. And made sure the bills got paid on time. During that one summer they’d lived together, he’d even mowed the lawn once a week.

Living with Wesley had given her the most horrible thoughts. One night she’d sat on the edge of his bed and read the first chapter of her new novel to him. Later, in her own bed, she’d wondered if being a mother would be that much fun—reading books by Dr. Seuss or Lewis Carroll to her own son. Then, a week later, Wesley would have to unclog her bathroom drain—too much of her damn hair had gotten caught in the U-bend again. And she’d watch him under the sink and think that maybe being married to a semi-normal guy wouldn’t be the soul-sucking nightmare she’d always imagined it would be. And when she’d written at her desk for too long, and every square inch of her body ached like it had been beaten in the not-fun way, and Wesley dragged her to her room, put her into bed and rubbed her back with his big, strong hands that knew how to make the pain go away inside and out, she’d think that not only might it be okay to be married to semi-normal guy, but she might even kind of like it.

Maybe more than just kind of.

Nora reached out and touched Wesley’s dark blond hair. Maybe she could get used to it being this long. Maybe. As long as it didn’t cover his eyes. Wesley stirred in his sleep and pushed closer to her. He settled back down again quickly and Nora smiled when he grunted softly and buried his face in the pillow. Gently, so as not to wake him, she lifted the sheets for a second. Naked. They were both completely naked and in Wesley’s bed together. After they’d made love on the dock, they’d straightened their clothes and returned to the guesthouse. Nora had assumed she and Wesley would get into bed and sleep, but sleep had been the last thing on his mind. As soon as they’d entered the house, the clothes had come flying off. They’d had sex twice before they’d even hit the bed—once in the entryway the minute they’d gotten in the door and once in the hallway only feet from the bedroom. Both times Nora had ended up on her back with her legs wide-open and Wesley on top and inside her. So strange…she never had sex like this, in basic missionary position. No pain, no bondage, no nothing but their two bodies joined together. Never had she imagined she could enjoy sex that simple. Wesley had been on top both times, but he certainly hadn’t been dominating her. With every initial penetration, he asked if it was okay, if he needed to do something different to make her feel better. She whispered words of instruction in his ear, words of encouragement. She’d never done anything like that with Søren. Sex with Søren was one of the rare times Nora shut up. He needed no instructions, required no encouragement. Had she tried either with him he would have gagged her in seconds and not let her speak again until he was done with her. And when inside her, he was always on top, while Nora ended up on her stomach or her hands and knees. They did have sex in missionary position on occasion. The last time, he’d sliced her open with a razor blade first.

All she ever said to Søren while he was inside her was, “yes, sir” or “no, sir” or more often simply, “I love you, sir.”

Once in Wesley’s bed, Nora put the boy on his back and climbed on top of him. Wesley seemed immediately uncomfortable with the position.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked him as she came down onto her hands and let her ni**les brush his chest.

“I…it feels weird.”

“Weird? How?”

“I don’t know. Just weird. My…it’s sort of a weird angle. Good view, though.” He caressed her br**sts and Nora sighed.

“Okay, but I’ve got to get you into something other than missionary. Vanilla is bad enough,” she’d teased as she rolled off him and onto her side. Wesley spooned into her and she felt his erection pressing against her lower back. Moving up, she tossed her top leg over his, took him in her hand and slid him inside her. Wesley gasped as he moved deeper into her. “Better?”

Wesley covered her neck and shoulder with kisses.

“Definitely. This…good. Very.” The words were lost in a mumble of more kisses all over her shoulders and back.

“Missionary and spooning,” she said as Wesley nuzzled her hair. “The Underground must never hear of this.”

Wesley had stopped moving then.

“Is this bad? Do you not like it?”

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop...” Nora reached behind her and grabbed his hip.

Laughing, Wesley resumed moving as ordered.

“I will never stop again.”

Nora pulled a pillow to her chest and rested her head on it as he continued his slow, sensual thrusts.

“No…I like it. I do. It’s just different for me. I’m either really dominant in bed—on top, him under me, usually tied down. Or…”

“Or?”