Page 61 of Coronation (Royally Forbidden #1)
Thirty-Eight
Zelda
R ain is just beginning to fall over the grounds of Fernmoor House when we return.
Ben doesn’t get out when I do, the deep timbre of his voice sounding from within the car as he says words I can’t make out to the driver.
Closing my eyes, I allow my head to fall back, breathing in the scent of the damp earth as tiny drops of water fall over my face.
We’re married.
I haven’t managed to wrap my head around that quite yet.
Probably to be expected, when only yesterday, I was so terrified of what the future would hold.
There is still a lot that isn’t settled, of course.
Even with all that’s to come, though, the certainty of the ring on my finger seems to tether my constantly overthinking mind to a place of stability.
People may be angry, but I’m still Ben’s wife. That isn’t something that can be undone so easily, and even if it were, I trust that the man I married would never allow it.
Behind me, the car door closes with a heavy thud, and I turn, twining my arms around the neck of my new husband as the crunch of tires over gravel signals the driver leaving. Good. Ben’s lips meet mine in a kiss that tells me that His Royal Highness would not be down for an audience tonight.
“I have a confession to make,” he tells me, and one large hand presses to the small of my back, holding my body against his. We haven’t even stepped inside yet, and already I can feel the long, intimidating ridge of his erection pressed against my stomach.
Heat is flooding my body and loosening the muscles between my legs. My head falls back with a sigh, “What’s your confession, husband?” The new title makes his cock twitch against my belly.
With a low groan, Ben draws away from me, dark promise in his expression as he backs toward the house, my hand clutched in his. I allow myself to be pulled along, my breasts tight and wetness spreading over my lace panties.
No question about it, I’m extremely attracted to my husband.
“I had this dream when we were first here. After the party.”
There is something in the roughness of his voice that has my core temperature rising. “A dream?”
Ben hums, reaching behind himself to open the door to Fernmoor House.
Without further ado, he sweeps me off my feet and into his arms, a glint in his eye that tells me this was never going to be a tradition he would skip.
“It felt so real that when I woke up, it took me a moment to understand that it wasn’t.
I can’t remember ever having another like it. ”
His foot finds the first stair, and my fingers drift over the skin just above the collar of his uniform, hypnotized by the goosebumps that rise in their wake.
Leaning forward, I press my lips to the same place and feel the slightest tremor wrack his chest. “And what was this dream about?” I ask as we hit the halfway point of the staircase, kissing his neck again.
Ben doesn’t reply at first. In fact, he doesn’t say a single word until we’ve reached the second-floor landing and have started toward our bedroom at the back of the house.
“It unsettled me at the time,” he recalls thoughtfully, and though there is nothing especially heated about the words, I can sense the intensity of the night—our wedding night—growing with every step he takes.
“I didn’t know what to make of it. Now, I wonder if a part of me knew somehow. ”
“Are you going to tell me?” I tease, and my stomach swoops as we reach the bedroom and I find myself back on my feet, gazing up into the shadowy face of the man I just married.
The familiar space is lit only by a small lamp on the bedside table, its warm light reminding me of the very first night we shared together, when he fucked me by candlelight. Neither of us had known then what this could become, but we soon would.
Ben’s jaw tightens as I draw closer, the silence of the room broken by the sound of my hands sliding up over his chest to twine around the back of his neck.
“I dreamed that you were my wife.” My heart stalls, then restarts at double the speed as Ben lowers his head, his beard rough on my cheek as he murmurs directly in my ear.
“I dreamed that you came to me, asking for me to get you pregnant.”
The effect this confession has on me is instantaneous. I suck in a sharp lungful of air, my core contracting as a hook pulls beneath my belly button, and arousal floods my already soaked panties.
Oh my god.
“Ben.” My whisper is ragged and turns to another gasp as his hands slide beneath my veil and up my back, tracing the row of tiny pearl buttons that I’d needed the poor shop assistant who delivered the dresses to help me with.
He kisses my jaw. “Turn around.”
I’m intensely aware of every inch of my skin as I do as he says, facing the bed as Ben looms behind me, his hands moving slowly up my waist to my ribcage, then back to the long line of buttons holding my dress together.
It’s clear he’s forcing himself to take his time, to savor me, and his restraint is agonizing and arousing in equal measure.
A few raindrops hit the dark bedroom windows, but I can barely hear anything apart from my own thundering heartbeat as my new husband finally releases the top button.
“I thought I might fall to the ground when I saw you in this dress,” he tells me as he works more free from their little satin loops, exposing my skin to the warm night air.
It’s difficult to focus on anything other than the need for him to touch me.
He really, really needs to hurry this along.
I swallow. “It won’t fit me much longer.”
The reminder makes him groan. “God, darling, I can’t wait to see that.” His hardened cock brushes my ass, and I can’t breathe as I look back at him over my shoulder, my pulse reverberating through my entire body as I do.
Tension is strung tight in Ben’s body, his eyes focused on the task at hand, chest rising and falling heavily. I want him more than I can stand, but it’s more than that, too.
I want to fulfill this man’s every desire and filthy, unspoken fantasy. When the sun rises in the morning, I want his mind to be absolutely blown, and for him to know in some deep, primal way that there’s nothing I won’t give him.
Heat surges through me as my new husband finally reaches the last of the buttons, and I allow gravity to take hold of the garment, slithering over my body until I’m standing in only a tiny lace bra, thong, and my veil .
Ben stills as I turn, gazing up at him from beneath my lashes. My turn.
Only seconds ago, I was prepared to bend over and beg, my patience in tatters at the hands of his agonizing control.
Now, equipped with this new wedding night resolution, my hands are steady and slow as I reach up to unclip the floor-length veil from my hair.
It falls to join my dress and is followed in short order by my panties and bra, until I’m totally naked.
Ben’s chest heaves beneath his uniform, but he allows me to undress him, just as he did me. I’m careful to take my time, brushing my breasts against his chest as I push the jacket from his shoulders, and pausing to kiss the insides of his wrists as I remove the gold cufflinks from his shirt.
“You must have been hot in this,” I muse as the dress shirt beneath goes, too, and my hands drift to the buckle of his belt.
My words are met with a quiet grunt. “I had better things to focus on than the temperature.”
I feel myself smile. “And now?”
Apparently, his self-control must be as weak as mine was, because Ben lifts a hand to cup my breast, dragging his thumb back and forth over my nipple. “ Much better things.”
My soft laugh joins the patter of rain on the window, and Ben allows me to lift his undershirt over his head, exposing the masculine breadth of his chest. The muscles in his abdomen leap beneath my fingers as they trail down to the button of his trousers.
When it’s open and I’ve pushed them down, I make sure to send his boxers away with them.
We’re both naked now, and my lips part as I wrap my hand around the base of his stiff cock, stroking him.
“Come to bed, husband,” I whisper. My heart beats heavily as I draw back, stepping over our discarded clothes.
Excitement and desire surge through my veins as he does as I ask, stalking forward in a way that suggests I’m about to be fucked. Hard .
Not yet, though. I have other plans for us tonight.
“Christ, darling,” Ben growls as he reaches me beside the mattress, his fingers digging roughly into my waist. “You make my cock so fucking hard.”
He presses it against my stomach, smearing my bare skin with precum as his lips descend on mine, stealing my breath with the intensity of his kiss.
My body bows to his, taking this show of aggression and urgency as my inner thighs grow slick and sticky.
When he goes to guide me back onto the mattress, however, I press my hands to his chest, stopping him.
Ben’s questioning look makes me smile. “Will you lie back?” I ask innocently. “Just for a second?”
He obeys without question, and a warm weight drops into my pelvis as I follow, crawling over his body. I stop only when I’m sitting astride him, my hot, drenched pussy pressed snugly against the rock-hard length of his shaft.
I let out a loud, shameless moan as I rock over him, making him as messy as I am.
Beneath me, my new husband curses, his fingers digging into my hips. “Put it in. Now.”
Something hot and restless shifts beneath my skin as I lift up onto my knees without hesitation, reaching down to wrap my hand around him. I pant as I press his tip to my entrance, anticipation flooding through me at the promise of the fullness to come.
My cry breaks the stillness of the room as I let my hips drop, impaling myself on his cock, which is somehow far too big, and also just right. “Ben,” I pant, planting my hands on his chest and moving my hips in tiny circles, allowing myself a moment to adjust.