Page 13 of Coronation (Royally Forbidden #1)
Seven
Benedict
W hile it’s been some time since I was last in attendance, I remember well enough that sleep isn’t typically on the menu at events like these.
The sex was satisfying, impersonal, and when it was over, I left.
Others might have stayed, but once I had what I came for, I certainly never lingered long enough to see daylight.
In my mind, it was easier to excuse my transgressions if I left them in the dark where they belonged. God knows my former wife enjoyed far more than the occasional romp, but being unfaithful—even if my marriage was little more than a charade—never sat well with me.
I’m not married now, but it’s still unsettling to wake in a strange room, staring at the ceiling as morning sunlight creeps in through the gap in the curtains.
A warm body is pressed against mine, and I swallow, turning my head slightly so as not to disrupt the woman asleep in my arms. Each of Zelda’s slow, even breaths tickles the bare skin of my chest, and in sleep, she looks unguarded and innocent.
My pulse stutters, and for a long moment, I’m helpless to do anything but look at her, struggling to come to terms with the events of the previous night.
All of it seems too good to be true, a fantasy stolen from the life of another man, and my well-beaten ego searches for some way to deny it.
It can’t, though, not when the evidence is nestled into my side, her naked thigh draped over my own.
I wasn’t being at all untruthful when I told her that the sex had been the best of my life. That isn’t what I’m thinking of now, however, nor is it responsible for the brand-new sense of something expanding inside me.
No, what I can’t stop myself from replaying over and over is the quiet words we’d exchanged afterward, lying spent atop crumpled sheets, with sweat drying on our skin.
The candles on the bedside table had burned low, and yawns had interspersed our words more and more, and yet neither of us made an attempt to draw away.
Not even in sleep.
Outside the bedroom window, I hear the sound of gravel crunching on the drive and the distant slam of a car door.
This is the part where we’re supposed to leave and go our separate ways.
We’ve had our fun, after all. Fucking a beautiful woman and losing myself in her for a few hours was precisely what I’d hoped to find when I agreed to attend.
Yet, here I am, desperate to draw this out a little while longer.
I can’t help it. I could lock myself inside these four walls with Zelda Flowers for a full week, and it wouldn’t be enough. This goes beyond my desire to escape from my oppressive life, or even to fuck her senseless.
People have been, in my experience, a burden more often than not. I’m capable of being polite and tolerating someone when need be, but it’s been a long goddamn time since I actually found myself liking someone. I do, though. I like her. She’s incredible, and I just… I need more time.
Entwined as we are, I feel the first signs of Zelda waking up.
The hand resting on my chest slips an inch lower, and she presses her face into my skin, letting out a soft, sleepy sigh.
Reaching up, I brush some of the tangled dark hair from her face, and she cracks one eye open.
The corner creases as she sees me looking at her, and smiles.
My heart stalls.
Dear Lord, I need more time.
“Good morning,” I murmur, allowing my hand to fall to her bare waist, pulling her warm body more securely against my own.
Zelda’s toes brush mine beneath the sheets as she lifts her head a few inches, blinking sleepily. “Are we still allowed to be here?” she asks, looking back at me with a sheepish little smile. It turns to a giggle when I arch my eyebrow skeptically.
“Do you believe they’ll eject us from the building?” I retort, even as I’m hardly able to contain my grin.
She shrugs, her bright eyes sparkling in the morning light, and I release her reluctantly when she pushes off the mattress, sitting up with a stretch.
The satin sheets pool in her lap, and my mouth goes dry at the expanse of ivory skin now on display.
It’s only been a few hours since we last fucked, but one look at her has my cock hardening.
Glancing back over her shoulder at me, Zelda’s eyes catch on my bare chest, lingering for longer than what could be considered casual. She turns away, but the pretty pink flush that rises on her neck suggests she likes what she sees. I’m no longer able to hold back my smile.
“Are you objectifying me, Miss Flowers?”
Zelda splutters, whipping back around to face me with wide, disbelieving eyes. “We had sex, like, multiple times last night! You should be pleased I’m into you! ”
“Into me ,” I echo, chuckling. “Yes, I’m very glad.
Actually, now that we’re on the topic, would you mind listing off the features you find so appealing?
Alphabetically will suffice.” While speaking, my hand has been snaking out over the sheets, and Zelda squeals when I snatch her wrist and tug, sending her back onto the mattress.
In seconds, I’m looming over her, greedily cataloging every detail of the way she looks right now.
It seems mad that a woman this devastatingly stunning could be attracted to me, and even madder to even entertain the possibility of her tolerating me as a person, never mind actually enjoying my company.
Even after she very nearly left last night at the insinuation, I still can’t allow myself to forget that she’s an actress, a professional pretender.
Even so, the desire to run toward a person instead of away is rather unprecedented for me, and, even if nothing more lasting could ever come of this, I need more goddamn time .
My hand catches hers, and I lace our fingers together, allowing the pair to fall onto the pillow above her head. “Is it difficult?” I muse. “Being this beautiful?”
My heart leaps as Zelda buries her face in my chest.
“Stop it,” she protests weakly, “you don’t have to flatter me.”
I feel my eyebrows arch in surprise. “Flatter you? God, no. I’m only stating facts.”
The most desirable woman I’ve ever seen is naked and smiling, her body tangled with mine beneath expensive sheets. It’s quiet in the room, but I know what’s coming, can feel it looming above us like an ax waiting to fall, and I’m desperate to avoid the inevitable.
“Tell me something.” I kiss her jaw, and my heart lifts at the soft hitch in her breath. “About yourself.”
“Something? ”
“Anything.” I lift my head to look at her again.
Zelda hums thoughtfully. “I’m from California.”
“Obviously.” This earns me an eye roll, and fuck, I can’t stop myself from smiling.
“My favorite color is blue.”
I think of the dress she wore last night, currently crumpled at the end of the bed. “You look beautiful in it, but I think you can do better than that.”
“You told me I could tell you anything!” she objects with an incredulous laugh. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want to know!”
“A secret, Zelda. Tell me a secret.” Grinning, I shift my weight to cover her, but all humor vanishes as her thighs part automatically, making room for me.
My cock throbs as I press forward, my shaft settling against her cunt.
She’s already wet, but as I roll my hips, coating my length in her arousal, I feel a fresh wave of slickness gathering at her entrance.
Without looking, I reach blindly for the bedside table, fumbling for a condom. Zelda’s teeth find her bottom lip as I sit back and rip open the packet, watching shamelessly as I roll the latex over my length.
She reaches for me as I fall forward over her, covering her body with my own.
No one has touched me this way in a long goddamn time, and while the temptation to bury myself inside her is nearly overpowering, I’m determined to make this last as long as possible.
Lowering my lips to her breasts, I pull each of her nipples into my mouth in turn, sucking and licking as the moans of the beautiful woman beneath me grow louder.
Chances are, when I leave this house, I will never set eyes on Zelda Flowers again. Not in person, anyway, and that reality sends a deep ache spreading through my chest. It’s almost overpowering in its intensity, but I ignore it.
Still devouring her chest, I reach to grip the back of her knee, pushing it up as between us, my tip finds her hot, wet entrance.
A deep, guttural groan comes from my chest as I bury myself inside her, my forehead dropping to her shoulder as I rock helplessly inside her, lost in the pleasure her body is giving mine.
Her cunt is a miracle. It grips me from root to tip, so gloriously wet it leaves no room for doubt that she is as attracted to me as I am to her. This need is mutual, and—damnit—that makes me even more desperate to make her come.
“You feel so good,” Zelda whimpers, and my back burns in the places where her nails are digging into my skin. “Oh my god, Ben.”
My chest warms at the sound of the name, the one I only ever heard when I was a boy, and occasionally from my brothers as an adult.
I like the way it sounds in her voice and the way it slips out in the heat of the moment.
Until now, I’ve noticed she’s been wary of calling me Benedict, and the familiarity of this turns me on in a way I wouldn’t expect.
I want to hear her say it again and again, when she’s happy and when she’s cross.
I want to hear it when I make her come.
“Call me that again,” I hiss, bracing my weight on one arm so the other is free to wander, reaching down to pull her leg higher on my waist. Both of us moan as I hit a deeper place than before, and beneath me, my beautiful lover begins to shake.
“Zelda. Call me Ben,” I demand, nearly out of my mind with the urgency of it.