His True Queen

I cock my head in interest, seizing his neck and slowly lifting my arse until he is only just breaching my entrance. The head of his cock throbs against me. And he waits. And waits. He waits, shaking, while I dip and withdraw, taking only half of him each time, sending him crazy with my teasing. And when he’s got to grips with my new pace and tactic, his body somewhat relaxed, I shock him and smash onto him again. I grit my teeth through the pang of pain, feeling him hit my womb.

“Adeline,” he barks, seizing my boobs and squeezing hard. I grab his throat and start rolling and flexing again. He’s sweating. “When I’m done with you, your throat will be scratchy from your screams and your body sore.” He slips a finger between us, adding to the fullness. “Most of all here.”

My smile could be deemed provocative. It is. “Being sore after I’ve seen you is a given.” Whether my arse, my pussy, or my heart. Or all three. “But that pain only reminds me of the time we’ve had together. So hurry up and make me scream.”

I’m on my back a moment later, not quite sure how I got there. He’s looming over me, his chest slightly raised with the help of his hand braced over my head on the edge of the tub. There was no splashing in the process of flipping me. “Where is the water?”

“I pulled out the plug a while ago, baby. You miss that?”

All that remains are suds coating the enamel and two very slippery bodies. “I missed that,” I admit. Most things escape me when Josh is consuming me.

Like the fact that I am Queen.

He takes my thigh and pulls it up to his hip, keeping hold of the bath. And he re-enters me on a brisk, smooth drive, pushing me up the edge.

“Hold tight,” he whispers, sending my hands straight to his shoulders. “And breathe.” He doesn’t give me a moment to put his second order into action, all air stuck in my throat when he lets loose, slamming into me repeatedly and punishingly. My throat is instantly hoarse from my yelps, and Josh’s smile is instant from his satisfaction. His conviction is hampered only a little bit from the slippery bath, his focus too set on achieving maximum depths, maximum indulgence, and maximum noise. His penetrations are dizzying, the emphasis of each pound mind-blowing. I squirm, grapple at his back, try to pull his mouth onto mine to muffle the sounds of my screams. “No,” he says, keeping his position so he can watch me unravel beneath him. My thigh held snuggly to his waist, he drives on, his brutality, the sheer strength behind his strikes, completely ruling me. I’m at his mercy, his to control. Just how I want it.

Just how Josh wants it.

My hands go to his hair and grip, my jaw tensing as I climb and climb and climb. “Oh God,” I yell, throwing my head back, oblivious to the impact of it hitting the bath. I’m on the cusp of shattering, the vibrations of my body out of control.

“I’m coming, baby,” he gasps, raising the bar, starting to shout with every hard hit. As he crashes into me, various limbs crash against the bath, the whole scene crazed and desperate. Blood rushes to my head, and I drop my heavy eyes, finding a sweat-drenched face creased with concentration. Dashes of amber shoot from his eyes, and when he groans and rolls those dangerous hips, coming hard, my world seems to split straight down the middle, and I disappear down the crevice, tumbling, my body weightless.

My climax takes hold, bending my body on another scream, my nails sinking into the flesh of his shoulders, clinging on. And it lasts and lasts and lasts, to the point that I’m struggling to deal with the intensity, shaking like a leaf. “Oh, Jesus Lord above,” Josh whispers, losing his grip of the bath and falling on top of me, panting into my neck. My internal muscles are in spasm, constricting wildly around him, probably in shock. I’m out of breath, satisfied, and absolutely beat.

The hard bath beneath me is inconsequential, but Josh still maneuvers us, rolling to his back and breathing out raggedly when I flop my useless body across his chest. Throwing my lifeless arms around him, I settle and let my heavy eyes close, our hearts colliding, fusing on every beat.

I’m his.

Nothing but his.

I HEAR HIS VOICE, DISTANT and rough, but what he is saying I can’t tell. I also can’t be bothered to ask him to repeat himself, burrowing deeper into the crook of his neck. Then my body is shaking a little, from his laugh, I suspect. I can’t be bothered to lift my heavy head to confirm that, either. I’m utterly beat.

“C’mon, lazy bones,” Josh says.

“Um-hmm.” I’m not certain of what I am being asked to do, but I am certain I’m not doing it. “Tired,” I grumble groggily.

“Sore throat?”

“Um-hmm.”

“Sore between your thighs?”

“Um-hmm.”

“Cold?”

“Um-hmm.”

Strong arms surround me and squeeze me tightly. “Horny?”

“Um-hmm.”

He chuckles and starts moving my dead weight, holding me with one arm while he uses the side of the bath to pull us up. I find my feet and blink my eyes open, and as soon as the light hits my pupils, I plant my face in his chest to hide from the harshness. “You’re hard work when you’re sleepy.”

I ignore him and reattach myself to his front, with my arms and legs wrapped around him like ivy. “That’s the best I’ve slept in weeks. I’d like more.” I’m not ready to take on the world again. Hiding in this suite is highly appealing. And highly impossible. There’s a job to do, responsibilities to uphold. But the only responsibility I’d like to maintain is my current state of tranquility.

Josh steps out of the bath, sets me on my feet, wraps me in a towel, and then reclaims me and carries me through to the bedroom, laying me on the bed. He sits on the edge while I curl onto my side, bringing my knees to my chest and burying my hands under the pillow beneath my head. “These beds are exceptionally comfortable.”

He laughs, his chest swelling as he does. “Only the best for my queen.” Brushing some damp hair from my face, he dips and kisses me sweetly. “Are you hungry?”

“No, but I’m thirsty.”

“I’ll grab some water.” He gets up and pulls some jeans on as he heads for the door, and I pout, disappointed I’ve forced him to partially dress. There are a lot of men somewhere in this suite. Far enough away to miss my shouts of ecstasy? I cringe as Josh reappears with a bottle of water. “What’s up?” he asks, motioning for me to make room for him as he pulls off his jeans. I shuffle across the bed, and he rests his back against the headboard, unscrewing the cap off the bottle and handing it to me.

“Where’s Damon?” I ask, sitting up and accepting. The cool liquid as it glides down my throat is glorious.

“He got a call.”

I hold the water in my mouth for a moment, regarding Josh closely as I swallow. “Oh?”

“I don’t want you to panic, but—”

Well, isn’t that the worst thing someone could say to me? I sit up, pulling my towel in. “What’s happened?”

“Your brother’s gone AWOL.”

Right now is over. I scramble to the edge of the bed, searching for my clothes as I go.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re goin’?” He’s before me in a second, stopping me from pulling on my dress.

I don’t fight him, stilling in my movements. “I don’t know.” I look to the door, realizing I’m stuck here until Damon returns, because I’m certain he’ll have given Josh firm instructions.

“Come sit.” Josh takes my clothes from my hands and drops them to the floor, pulling me back to the bed. My sore backside skims the sheets just as I think of something. “My phone.” I’m up again, pacing to the bathroom. I find my mobile on the vanity unit, but there are no calls or messages. Damon didn’t want to worry me. He let me stay in my heaven—the saint that he is—while he tended to the increasingly deviant misbehaviors of the Fallen Prince. I go to Josh and strain a smile when he opens his arms for me to join him on the bed. A cuddle. I could do with one of those. What kind of Queen am I, if the task of a delinquent brother sends me into a meltdown?

Josh is my haven, but he’s not readily available for me to crawl into his warmth each time I’m challenged. But he’s here now.

I drop my phone on the bed and crawl up, falling heavily onto Josh’s chest with a defeated sigh. “The PR people will be in a right old pickle,” I breathe, imagining them running around in circles trying to locate Eddie and implement damage control. “And Felix will vomit all over his Italian loafers.”

Josh’s slight hitch of his chest is the only evidence of his amusement. “The man’s been dealt a heavy blow, baby. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“You don’t get any slack to cut when you are a Royal, Josh. You simply have to put up and shut up.”

With my cheek squished against his pec, his hands work soothing circles across my back as I stare blankly at the wall, taking a little comfort from the sound of his heartbeats in my ear. “That is a very different tone from when I knew you as the Princess of England. You were all guns blazing, so determined not to put up and shut up. What’s changed?”

“You mean apart from the tiny detail that the crown has jumped two heirs and landed on my head?” I ask, getting a little pinch on my back for my sarcasm. “So much, Josh. So much has changed. I never expected this to happen, so I never contemplated failing. I don’t want to fail. All I can hear is my father’s words, everyone’s words, telling me I’m a disgrace. An embarrassment to the Monarchy. Standing in that office in front of the Accession Council put all other feelings of suffocation I’ve felt to shame. But I also felt something else. Do you know what?”

“What, darlin’?”

“Determined. The weight of their quiet disapproval only made me more determined. The way they looked at me, judged me. I had the strong desire to run, but I also wanted to order them all to bow to me. How silly is that?” I look at him, searching for an answer. Does Josh think I’m silly? I can’t see evidence of it in his soft smile as he combs through my hair with his fingers. “One feels like she is cutting off her nose to spite her face.”

“One is too cute when she calls herself one.”

“Oh, stop.” I roll my eyes in exasperation, though I’m truly grateful for his teasing, and settle my cheek back on his chest. I’ve known Josh such a short time, and I’m surprised—given I’m so fiercely independent—by my inexplicable desperation for him. His input. His smiles. His ear. His impertinence. Everything seemed more bearable with him in my life. I was lighter, happier. I was determined to keep him, no matter the cost. “I want to be lighter and happier again,” I whisper to myself, hating the unstoppable sting in my eyes. “I knew my family were nothing more than fraudsters. But this? The lies, the deceit. My mother, Davenport, my father’s cruelty?”

“Smoke and mirrors,” Josh says quietly, encouraging my face up to his so he can see me. “You’ve always known it. Maybe now you get to change it. Maybe now you show the world that the Royals are real people, just like them.”

I smile at his naiveté. “You think that because I am the Queen of England I get to dictate how the Royal future progresses? That I choose anything?”

“Hell, yeah,” he replies simply.

Oh, how deluded he is. “I feel the need to hire a private tutor to teach you a little about the British Monarchy.”

He nudges me playfully, dipping and biting the end of my nose. “Don’t make me spank that royal ass. I’ve done nothing but research the British fuckin’ Monarchy all week.”

My eyebrows jump up. “Really?”

“Really. And let me tell you, I think it’s scandalous that, as Queen, you don’t need a passport. What the fuck?”

I laugh, thoroughly amused. “I can’t issue a document in my own name to myself.”

“And did you know you own every dolphin in British waters?”

“I know that.”

“And you have to sign every law passed in your country, so make a law up that says you can be with me. And anyway, isn’t it the Sovereign’s power to approve?”

I shake my head. It feels terribly heavy. “The Privy Council would never allow it. My army of advisors would never allow it. That’s why there are laws. Ancient laws to protect the bloodline, but still laws.”

“So, for the avoidance of doubt, a lowly Catholic American actor doesn’t stand a chance with the Queen of England?”

I balk. “You’re Catholic?”

He balks right back. “You’re the Queen?”

I smack his shoulder. “You never mentioned you were Catholic.”

“Yes. It’s one more reason why we can’t be together, because God forbid the head of The Church of England falls in love with a Catholic.” He’s truly exasperated, and despite it all being rather awful, I smile.

“Just invent a new law,” he says. “There’s got to be some perks to being the Queen of England, for fuck’s sake.”

“I might sign off laws, but I certainly do not create them. Besides, signing them off is a mere formality. Laws are passed in parliament before getting the seal of approval from the palace. It’s called royal assent, by the way. The only proposed laws I can veto are those that have a direct impact on the Monarchy.”

“The Queen’s consent,” Josh mutters grumpily. “I know.”

“Well done, you.” I grin when he snarls. “So that’s today’s history lesson over. Tomorrow we discuss my ministers.”

“Oh, you mean the dudes who wield all your prerogative powers? Awesome. Can’t wait.”

“Oh, stop moaning and kiss me.” I grab his cheeks, yank his face to mine, and land him with a deep kiss that has us both immediately moaning. And all obstacles are forgotten. All heartache masked.

I’m home. Pulling back, Josh is quiet for a few moments, his eyes roaming my face. Every inch of it. What’s he thinking now? I bite my lip and wait. And he eventually breathes in and speaks. “My life is in your hands, Your Majesty.” His murmured words hit me hard. “I love you. You love me. In today’s world, it should be as simple as that.”

It should be. But we both know it is not. “The controversy would end the royal family.”

“Be the controversial queen, baby.”

I smile and cup his cheek, willing him to understand. “All the secrets will be spilled, everyone I love ruined. I can’t do that to them, Josh.” I’m surprised when he balks, almost offended.

“But they can chain you down to a job you don’t wanna do?” I know he’s angry because his accent is sharp.

“It’s not that simple.” I push myself up and move away a little, if only because his irate vibes are burning me.

“Bullshit. Fuckin’ bullshit, Adeline. It should be that simple. So you and I, we’re going to do this forever, are we? Sneak around when I happen to be in Ole Blighty?”

“What else can we do?”

His eyes widen. “Oh my fuckin’ God.” And then he laughs. “You really think this is good enough for me?”

I keep my mouth shut with a lack of the right words to say. What can I say? He’s the one who has pursued us, even when I told him there was nothing we could do. And now he blames me? Confirms that I will never be enough?

“You do,” he murmurs. “You expect me to live in the shadows of your life.”

“What happened to right now?” I reply pitifully.

“Fuck right now. I want forever, and I want it out there in the big, wide, terrifying world.” He’s off the bed, yanking his jeans on. “I want to go out there with you and tell the world I’m with you.” He throws his arm toward the door before going back to fastening his jeans. “That I love you. That you are fuckin’ mine.”

“It’s a very romantic notion, Josh.”

His hands pause on the fly as he keeps me in place with his cold stare. “I can’t sneak around forever, Adeline. And it’s fucked-up that you would expect me to.”

“Will you stop swearing?” I yell. “So what would you have me do?”

“I’d have you walk away from the one thing that makes you miserable and be with the one thing that makes you happy.”

I recoil, taken aback by his bluntness. “You cannot ask me to do that.”

“Yes, I can. In fact, I’m not asking, I’m telling you. We both know you don’t want it. So give it up, for fuck’s sake. Give it up for me.”

I’m completely gobsmacked. “You selfish pig.” I stand, shaking with rage. “Give up acting.”

“Oh, shut up, Adeline. I love acting. It’s my calling. Wearing a crown is not your calling unless I’m fuckin’ you from behind with one on your head.”

My mouth falls open in complete shock. Not my calling? Is he saying I can’t do it? Doubting me like everyone else? “I should slap your face.”

He sneers, daring me, and it’s a mockery to chivalrous men everywhere. “Be my guest, darlin’.” He steps forward and juts his chin out, goading me.

I can’t believe I’m thinking what I’m thinking—it’s shameful—but what I actually want to do is head-butt the chauvinistic bastard. “I’m leaving.” I pivot and sweep up my dress from the floor, wrestling to get it on.

“Wrong. You’re not going anywhere until Damon gets back.” He waltzes off into the bathroom, cocky as can be, and slams the door behind him. Then I hear a roar, followed by a bang. His fist meeting the wood of the door.

“We’ll see about that,” I spit, collecting my things and making my getaway. I open the door, and with my feet moving so fast, I nearly crash face-first into a suited back. “Goodness!”

One of Josh’s men looks over his shoulder, a little alarmed. “Okay there, Your Majesty?”

I don’t get the chance to reply, as I’m pulled back into the room with a forceful yank. “May I remind you of who you are manhandling?” I yell, shrugging Josh off me.

“No, you may not.” He holds his palm against the door, blocking my escape, his face twisted in disdain. I huff, matching his threatening stance. His glare is deadly. “And don’t turn on your ultra-posh shit with me, just because you’re mad.”