let me do that?”
There’s a moan mixed with permission, and I don’t wait for her to change her mind. I need to taste her. I need her on my tongue. My fingers close over the band of her thong and rend it cleanly. It snaps with ease, as delicate and easily broken as I hope she will be.
I drop to my knees and brush my hands down her thighs. “Spread wider,” I order, groaning silently when she acquiesces. “Beautiful.”
My hands move up, parting her so I can study her. Her skin there is silky and as soft as the delicate pink petals of a rosebud. I push a finger inside her, then another, enjoying the slick arousal I discover.
“Are you always this wet?” Fuck, I hope so.
I watch from between her legs as she shakes her head.
“Do I do this to you?” Is that too much to hope for? Because I’ll gladly do this to her over and over.
She nods, but it’s not enough. I want to hear her admit it. I want her to hand over that part of herself. “Say it, Clara.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what? What do I do to you?”
“You make me wet.” She moans, and my control nearly slips. I won’t take her here. There will be time for that later. I might want to destroy the last shreds of her modesty, but one matter at a time.
“Good girl,” I murmur. She deserves a reward, and I need to taste her. Leaning in, I find the rose-scent of her skin mingles sweetly on that delicate pink flesh as I draw my tongue over the swollen pink bud. Her hands splay against the wall as I lick her with slow deliberation. In this moment, she belongs to me.
I need her to remember that, though. Her breath is already quickening, her hips are bucking toward me. “Not until I say, poppet.”
Her whimper pushes me over the edge. I’ve been holding back, but I want to earn another moan, another little cry, another yes, please. I want to own Clara Bishop’s pleasure. I’m sure she’ll find I’m a generous master. But I need to prove it.
“Come,” I command before covering her with my mouth again. Her taste floods my tongue as pleasure rolls through her. I pause for a split second before continuing. She unravels again, and now my cock is becoming painfully aware of the situation. But even though aftershocks rock through her, I continue to nibble her clit like it’s my own private, fucking feast.
She comes twice. But that was with my mouth and hands. It feels like a challenge to take her over the edge again, especially with nothing more than my lips and tongue, but I’m game. I drag the orgasm from her, and her resistance makes it the most powerful.
“Now you’re ready for me to fuck you.” And God, am I ready to fuck her.
“Yes,” she whispers.
There’s no doubt. No hesitation. She’s given herself to me. I can’t keep the pleased smile from my face.
Chapter Six
I step from the lift, shucking my suit jacket from my shoulders, and toss it on the sofa. It’s sad how comfortable I feel here, but it’s one of the few places where I can relax without running into a curtsying staffer. There’s enough room to spread, although my private quarters dwarf it. Still, it has one perk that Buckingham will never have: she’s here. I considered carrying her inside, but the gesture felt too romantic. My feelings for Clara are mixed up enough.
A rose flush settles onto her cheeks as she stares out the window, her eyes wide. It’s been so long since I bothered to look out over London that I can’t imagine what’s caught her attention. Maybe it’s the dreamy distance in her eyes, but I’m almost jealous. I’ve never seen this city as anything other than a burden—a price I’ll one day pay for false power. Watching her, I want to see it as she does.
Moving behind her, I peek over her shoulder, already distracted by the press of her soft body against mine. “Enjoying the view?”
“I am. You?”
“Very much. The city isn’t bad either.” It isn’t, actually. From here, it pulses with life, mirroring how I feel. The Eye can keep spinning, and the tourists can snap their photos. I’ll take a stolen afternoon away from the world.
My lips find her neck, and I want to taste her again. My teeth graze her as I consider the possibilities, and then I give in with one small