Page 35 of The Rest is History

I make a noise of appreciation for his compliment and he dips his dark head to my breast, taking one nipple in his mouth and sucking hard as his fingertips trace a path down my spine.

Oh my God. I’m so turned on right now, so full of anticipation.

My nipples and the space between my legs are aching with need for Charlie’s touch.

His long pulls at my breast are a gorgeous form of torture, because I need more.

He switches his attention to my other breast, his fingers moving over the nipple he’s just abandoned.

Rolling. Tweaking. Pinching, hard. Oh, God.

My nerve-endings are already on fire. I open my legs wider and pull him in closer to me, my hands moving through his hair as I will him to ramp up his exploration of my body. I need more .

Charlie gets to his knees and guides my legs open wider.

He hooks them over his shoulders and looks up at me with hooded eyes.

Slides a couple of fingers inside me. Crooks them.

I inhale sharply, because that feels unbelievable, and push against his hand as I ease myself back onto my elbows and buckle up.

His mouth is tantalisingly close to where I need it, his breath warm and teasing on my exposed flesh.

‘Remember when we had that conversation with Zara in the staffroom at lunch?’ he grits out.

‘Really?’ I gasp. ‘You want to talk about Zara right now?’

‘Not her. What she said.’ He’s having trouble forming words. His gaze flits back and forth from my face to where his fingers are disappearing inside me.

‘What…’ I have no recollection of anything right now.

‘Henry and Anne. What it was like when he finally got his hands on her, properly. He must have fucking devoured her. I swear I only want you, sweetheart. But it’s pretty fucking mind-blowing, seeing you like this.

’ He swallows. ‘Naked, apart from that necklace. So wanton, riding my fingers. Makes me feel like I’ve never had you properly before.

Like I want to consume you. Take everything.

I’m going to make you come so hard, sweetheart. ’

His words make the ache worse. My breathing more ragged.

The movements of my hips to meet his fingers more desperate.

Because that visual does it for me, too.

Big time. My king. My fully clothed, insanely sexy, all-powerful king stripping me naked and taking what he wants from me on a table, making me so crazy for his touch that all I can do is spread myself out for him and beg for him.

And beg I do.

‘God. Charlie. Please , darling. I need it. Give me everything.’

His tongue hits exactly where I need it to hit, and the relief is so great it practically takes my breath away. He’s right there. Exactly where I need him, his taut, flat tongue rubbing my aroused flesh with all the friction I need as he continues to fuck me with his fingers.

The heat, the bliss, builds and builds, radiating outwards from where his tongue and his fingers are working my flesh, rippling across my body, scattering over skin and coursing through veins.

It’s so fucking perfect. He reaches up with his free hand and pinches my nipple, and I squeeze my eyes shut and explode around him, climaxing so violently that the table shakes below me as my body rides out wave after wave of all-consuming pleasure.

‘Jesus fuck.’ He’s on his feet as soon as my shudders have subsided, scrabbling frantically at the closures on his doublet.

I pull myself up to sitting with herculean effort and make clumsy attempts at assisting him.

Together, we shrug off his doublet and untie his codpiece and yank down his tights, and I’m not laughing at his costume now, because I’m singularly focused on the huge bulge in his boxer briefs.

He pulls off his decidedly un-Tudor white undershirt, revealing rippling abs and those domed shoulders I’m so crazy about.

I tug down his boxer briefs and free his monstrous erection, rubbing my fingertips over the moisture leaking from the tip.

He tips my chin up and gazes down at me, a damp tendril of dark hair falling over his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead.

The poor guy looks to be on the brink of passing out with need.

I cup his gorgeous ass and pull him in towards me as he kicks his underwear away.

There’s a moment where we stare at each other, locked in shared anticipation, and then he’s grabbing my ass with his hands and pulling me in towards him as I use my fist to feed him into me.

I’m so ready for him, and yet it takes me a second or two to adjust to his size.

I blow out a breath, and he holds, then drives forward carefully, and he’s in.

‘Fuck me,’ he groans, and I laugh.

‘No. Fuck me .’

‘Jesus Christ.’ He begins to move, testing my capacity for him. ‘I can feel you stretching around me. You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.’ His lips find mine, our tongues a decadent tangle.

Everything about this is decadent. His generous muscles and gorgeous skin under my fingertips. The plush slide of his lips. His smooth thrusts—thrusts that keep me teetering just this side of overwhelm as the most exquisite pleasure builds and builds and my muscles undulate around him.

‘I cannot believe I get to do this with you,’ he groans against my mouth. ‘Can’t believe I get to be inside you. To make you come. It’s a fucking miracle. I’ll never, ever want anything in life as much as I want you.’

‘Charlie,’ I moan inarticulately. ‘Do it harder.’

He doesn’t seem to mind my unimaginative prose, because his hips ramp up their pistoning even as he asks, ‘You sure you can take it?’

‘Yes. I need… I need…’

Colours are swirling behind my eyelids. I drop my head and press my face against his chest, my nails digging into his back as he holds me by the ass and works me.

Hard.

Fast.

Smooth.

My entire consciousness narrows to the pleasure of Charlie filling me up. Again and again and again. The colours morph. My heartbeat fills my ears, and his skin brushes slickly against mine.

‘You close?’ he says, his voice shaky with effort, and I nod into his chest.

‘Mmph.’

‘Okay, sweetheart. Hold on.’

I do indeed hold the hell on, and he drives his hips harder against me. I’m there. I’m there. I’m?—

Holy bloody crap. Heat blazes through my body as the spot deep within me detonates. I’m awash with pleasure, shaking and coming apart for the second time in a few minutes, moaning and whimpering gibberish as I drool against Charlie’s pec, my face thrashing from side to side against his skin.

‘Fucking hell, sweetheart,’ he rasps, and then he’s detonating too, holding me still against him as he jerks and empties himself inside me.

My head lifts.

My palms frame his jaw and crush his face to mine.

My lips find his.

And I kiss him as he rides out his orgasm, telling him with my lips what I’m not ready to tell him with my words yet.