“Sweets?” Tor called, his free hand coming to mine on his chest.
“Mm?” I replied but he didn’t answer, or at least not verbally.
He moved both our hands to between his legs and wrapped my fingers around his rock hard shaft.
Jeez, apparently men of this world had superhuman recuperative powers.
“I’m ready for you again,” he murmured, I felt a spasm between my legs and then he shifted me over him.
I lifted my head and looked into his face lit dimly by the city lights.
God, he was beautiful.
He moved the tip of his c**k inside me then both his hands went to my h*ps and pushed me up to straddling him and as they did, he filled me.
Oh yes.
I bit my lip as I stared down at him and his hands took control of both of mine, leading one to my breast and the other between my legs.
“Give me what I want,” he muttered his throaty order, his hands leaving mine where he wanted them as his moved to my hips, his fingers curling in.
I swiped with a thumb and rolled with a finger at the same time moving up and down in a deep stroke.
It felt so good, my held fell back.
Oh yes. I was going to give him all I could give him for as long as I could give it to him.
“Eyes on me, my love,” he commanded and I tipped my chin down and caught his eyes.
Then I smiled.
At my smile, his face darkened and his h*ps bucked.
Then I rode my prince, giving him all as I could give him for as long as I could hold out.
Chapter Fifteen
Life Is Good
Six weeks later…
“Ready to go, Aggie?” I called to the fully recuperated, but unfortunately now flightless, bird who was hopping around on my dressing table.
“Chirpy, chirp,” Aggie replied excitedly, which meant, “Ready, Cora!”
Aggie liked our excursions. Being flightless, he didn’t get out unless I took him and he’d told me he missed the fresh air, uninterrupted vistas and daily adventures. I couldn’t give him any adventures but I did what I could every day to give him a change of scenery so he wouldn’t get bored.
I extended a finger to the tiny bird, he hopped on then I lifted my arm as he hopped up it and took his usual place on my shoulder.
Then I left Tor and my rooms and wandered down the wide hall toward the stairs.
I was down half the flight when, around a curve, I saw Lucinda, one of the maids, on her hands and knees scrubbing the stairs with a scrub brush, the marble steps behind her glistening wet and so clean, they could be in a commercial.
“Oh!” I cried and her head shot up, she spied me and her mouth formed a tentative (what I was sure was forced) smile.
“Your grace,” she said through her smile.
“I’m sorry, you’re cleaning. We’ll use the backstairs,” I told her, lifted my skirts and started backing up.