“I DON’T WANT TO REMEMBER anything else right now.” Gemma’s voice shook and her knees quaked. “Not yesterday, not what we lost, or what will happen tomorrow. I just want you.” Tears built behind her eyes and she tried to breathe.

Through the cotton shirt, her nipples rubbed against his sash and they felt heavy. Aching. André’s eyes darkened and his lips parted on an inaudible gasp.

She opened her lips to say more, but André smothered her mouth with his own. His tongue swept inside like a conqueror, tasting every corner. Like she was a spring of eternal water and he couldn’t drink enough. He cradled her head and tilted, delving deeper. Pulling her closer.

His hands were more gentle, tender and careful. Dragging his grip down, he found her skirt and drew it up in his fingers until he reached the skin of her thighs, never releasing her mouth. His touch trailed up her legs and a groan rumbled in his throat. “You may not like skirts, but your legs are made for them.”

She lunged for his mouth again, desperate to suck on that sunbeam taste she adored. Those plump lips that ignited her fires and drove her wild. Though she couldn’t lift her arm higher than her waist, he worked around her inability, careful when lifting her shirt over her head and sliding it down her arm. Without a thought, her black bra came next. The wound was still bandaged and she hated the mobility restriction. André didn’t seem to mind as he caressed her skin, moving to her aching breasts and teasing her nipples with the palms of his hands. Shocks rocketed to her sex, instantly wetting her folds.

“Maravillosa,” he moaned. He bent his head to suckle one between his lips. Everything ached. That sweet coil building everything inside to a breathless torture. Every flick and swirl of his tongue drove her a chord tighter and weaker. She clung to his shoulder, her fingernails digging into his muscle leaving red indents. One of his hands braced against her back, pulling her closer into his mouth, while the other slid up her thigh to the apex and cupped her. Her hips involuntarily ground against him.

“As much as I love this skirt,” he murmured against the valley of her breasts. “I like you better in nothing.”

“You’re wearing more than me,” she panted. “But I’ll admit this is a good look for you.” She pulled on his sash, loving the feel of the silk along her peaked nipples. He slipped two fingers in the side of her panties and stroked her clit, swollen and sensitive. She jerked at the surging heat, and winced at a stab of pain radiating through her shoulder. He pulled back instantly, but she urged him on by gyrating her hips to the same rhythm as his fingers.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he stammered.

“You will if you stop.” She slipped his coat off his shoulder. With a single roll of his arm, the coat dropped to the floor. He unbuttoned the vest and then the shirt. Gemma used her good arm to pull the sash over his head and draped it over her own. The silk caressed her breasts like his fluttered kisses she loved. The grin he gave with flashing eyes made her heart flutter.

He slipped her skirt and panties down together, slowly skimming her legs to her knees, then let the fabric drop to the floor. He took a step back and drank her in. She wore nothing but his royal sash and her boots. The hunger in his eyes, that feral gaze would have made a timid rabbit skitter away, but not her. She slid a finger up and down the silk, slow and sensual, giving him a chance to drool while he shucked off his belt and pants.

Everything about him was toned and tan. Everything. But her eyes focused on his thickness, fully erect and near dripping from the tip. He was as ready for her as she was for him.

He leaned down and pulled a condom packet from his pants pocket. She watched him tear it open with his teeth, and then slip it on with those skilled hands. He was like a tropical tiger, fixated on his target with intense hunger. Her heart raced.

He prowled up to her and slipped a hand over her fleshy bottom. With a squeeze, she bit her lip and raised her knee, wrapping her leg around his thigh. With her legs opened, he didn’t wait for a further invitation, and slipped himself inside her tight sheath full to the hilt. She gasped and clutched onto his shoulder for balance, letting her body adjust to the fullness of him. The coil wound tighter, and she bit back the urge to let it spring loose. Her arm trembled, but her other wasn’t strong enough to hold onto him. With a roll of his hips, he gripped her ass and hoisted her up onto himself, letting her wrap both legs around him.

In an instant he’d moved to the bed and carefully—slowly and lovingly—laid her back on the comforter, still buried inside her. The jostle was only painful for a moment, but once settled back into the bed that wrapped around her sides, she relaxed. The bed was the perfect height for him. He adjusted himself to her entrance and rolled his pelvis into her. A moan crept up her throat with each ripple. André grabbed her leg and removed her boot, and then repeated with the other leg. All without pulling out.

“You’re a drug,” she whimpered. With another swirl of his hips, she clutched the comforter. “So addicting and hard to break free of.”

“Never,” he grunted on a thrust. “I won’t let you break free of me. Just fall into me, Gemma.”

She whimpered and arched her back, feeling him drive deeper into her core. The rhythm increased, and the heat escalated. Every muscle throbbed with a coiling ache only he could quench.

“I love the little sounds you make. Your fight for control, to ride me into submission.” As he continued to thrust, his raspy voice made her wetter with every syllable.

“This will be your only chance to dominate me without a fight.” She smiled and placed a hand on his chest, feeling the muscles flex and quiver. His skin was steaming.

“Fighting with you is the best thing in the world, next to this.” He thrust hard and she cried out. Her body jerked at the painful pleasure. He leaned over her further, their faces only inches apart. “You’re too much to let go. You consume me, mi amor. Love me. Fall into me.”

Something squeezed tight in her chest, and she almost sobbed. She gripped his neck and held his gaze right over hers for several more thrusts. His eyes had darkened, full of primal lust—or was that her reflection?

The coil wound tighter, tighter…then a final plunge sprung it loose. Every muscle quaked and throbbed as she screamed her release. André continued driving into her, panting with beads of sweat on his neck. Her channel clenched and pulsed around him, and she squeezed her legs around his thighs. He was building, on the verge of release himself from his pushes more jerky and urgent. His eyes clamped shut and his mouth fell open. A guttural groan erupted from his throat and his hot seed shot into her.

“Open your eyes,” she panted through her own throbbing climax. He stared straight down into her open soul. Every fleck of brown in his irises lit up as he finished his orgasm with slow swirls of his hips. The hottest thing she’d ever seen. She pulled his head down and smothered her lips over his, plowing her tongue into his mouth. His body shuddered and he angled his head, massaging every inch of her tongue with his own.

This was the man she loved. Free, animalistic, loving the fight as much as she, but not afraid to let her win. Letting her consume him.

This life could work. As long as he stays like this.

André collapsed to her side, careful not to jostle her more. Tingles raced all through her body, especially into her face, as she savored the delicious moment staring at the chandelier above their heads. A breeze fluttered through the curtains, kissing her skin with cool relief. Everything here was beautiful, exotic, even hypnotizing. Foreign.

A tear trailed down her cheek. Gemma went to wipe it away, but winced when she used the wrong arm. Everything around her was foreign. André was the only part that she understood. The love for his family, his people, his country, determined to make up for any previous shortcomings. She envied that. Mostly because she had hoped for something similar in herself.

André fell asleep at her side. As the afternoon sun drifted across the comforter, she watched his peaceful slumber, loving how he smiled in his sleep, instead of being plagued by more nightmares. The peace, the love, and the hope between them filled her aching soul.

This is what she wanted. The freedom to love without restriction. A family. A new beginning with purpose. Whatever else came with it couldn’t possibly be harder than what they’d already gone through.

Crystals and gems covered almost every inch of the room around her, and through the balcony doors promised a paradise only seen in her dreams.

Now it was time to make herself worthy of the dream. Worthy of the prince.

 

 

To Be Continued