His true queen, p.25
His True Queen, p.25Jodi Ellen Malpas
“Where the fuck are you?”
“Shit, are you in the walls?” He turns on the spot, looking everywhere except to the huge tapestry covering the secret door that I’m hiding behind.
Bates starts craning his neck too, both of them completely confused, their foreheads weighed down with lines. “Fucked if I know,” Bates grunts.
“Stop frowning.” I laugh.
“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”
He swings around, removing his glasses as he does, and in a second, he spots me. “Fuck . . . me.” He hangs up, gives Bates a slap on his shoulder without looking, and makes his way over hurriedly. And as soon as he’s within touching distance, I grab him and yank him in, my mind lost, attacking him with a kiss.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he growls. “I’ve missed you.” I’m up against the cold bricks being mauled to death, and it is absolutely wonderful, his tongue, my tongue, our lips reunited.
“The door,” I mumble around his mouth, blindly feeling for it to push it closed. I feel nothing and grudgingly release him to find it. We’ve somehow staggered a few meters into the passage in our lustful spin, so I shoot forward to close it, but as I’m about to shut out the world, I catch someone staring right at me.
I freeze, taking in the mouth hanging open, the wide blue gaze, the utter astonishment on her face. There’s a lollipop halfway to her mouth. She must be six, maybe seven. But she knows exactly who she is looking at.
I give her a smile, a wink, and then rest my finger on my lip. “Shh,” I whisper, closing the door.
Josh grabs me from behind and swirls me around. “You are fuckin’ brilliant. But tell me I haven’t got to spend all my time with you in these dungeons.”
“They’re not dungeons. They’re secret passages.”
“To escape the enemy. To take shortcuts. To sneak one’s boyfriend into the palace undetected.”
“I fuckin’ love secret passages, especially when they lead to you.” He’s on me again, pushing me up the cold wall with the force of his kiss. My arms naturally curl around his shoulders and my pace naturally meets his. I hum, over and over, peace that is only obtainable when I’m with Josh engulfing me. “I just paid thirty bucks to see my girlfriend.” He bites my lip and pulls away, giving the end of my nose a little rub with his. “I better get a refund on my ticket.”
“Are you quibbling over a few quid?”
“I don’t know what the fuck quibbling is.”
“Yes, I am.” He drops me back to my feet and makes a big fuss of me, brushing my hair over my shoulders and drawing across my cheek, as if he’s reminding himself of every detail of my face. “And do you know what’s really fucked up?”
How about everything? “What’s fucked up, Josh?”
He grins at my dirty mouth. “Your face on the bills, that’s what’s fucked up. I can’t pay for a damn thing here without having to see you.”
Wow. The Royal Mint sure didn’t waste time replacing my father’s face with mine. “Doesn’t that make you smile? That you get to see me whenever you like.”
“I want to see you, Adeline. Not just see you.” He pulls me into his chest and squeezes the life out of me, and I am absolutely fine with it. “What’s the grand plan, then?”
I take one last hit of his manly scent and look up at him. “It’s so easy, it’s brilliant.”
He gives me an interested look. “Is that why no one knows? Because you didn’t need any assistance?”
“Exactly.” I point into the dimly lit space. “This is one of five passageways. One leads to the Throne Room, one leads to the kitchens, one leads to the Picture Gallery, one leads to the library and the last one leads to—”
I choke on nothing, locking and loading my palm and swinging it at his bicep. “You animal.”
He catches my wrist, his face straight. “That’s a yes, isn’t it?”
I narrow playful eyes on him, not quite believing I’m entertaining such vulgarity. “Well,” I say. “It leads to my private quarters, which in turn, I guess, would lead to—”
“Your cunt.” He hauls me up onto his shoulder on a little squeal and starts marching down the passageway. “There is a god after all.”
“Josh.” I laugh, my stomach muscles tight as I bob up and down.
“So no one will come into your private quarters?” he asks, not slowing his steps.
“You better not be. We have lost time to catch up on.”
“No,” I breathe, spotting something poking out of his back pocket. “I told Davenport I’m unwell and I don’t want to be disturbed.” I reach down and pull out the paper.
“How is he settling in?”
“Very well. What’s this?” I ask, flashing it over my shoulder for him to see.
“Lines. I need to practice. You can help me later after I’ve fucked you so hard your screams will reach every corner of the palace.”
“Josh is home,” I sing, laughing as I get a sharp spank across my backside.
“Jesus, it’s creepy down here.”
“Are you scared, Josh?”
“Only of you, baby,” he counters softly, this time giving my bottom a rub rather than a slap. “Only of you.” He slows to a stop and lowers my dreamy form to my feet. “We can’t go any farther.”
“Which means we have reached our destination,” I declare, reaching up on my tiptoes and pushing my lips into his spikey, familiar cheek. “You have to be quiet. This opens up just down the corridor from my apartment door, so we have a few feet of open space to pass without being seen.”
He shakes his head in dismay. “I’ve wrangled wild horses easier than this. I just want to spend some time with my girlfriend, for fuck’s sake.”
I recoil, a little injured. “And I’m trying my hardest to make that happen,” I retort shortly. “But if it’s too much trouble, then feel free to—”
I’m silenced by his mouth on my lips, his body crowding mine. “Shut the fuck up,” he warns me. “I’m thinking out loud. I’m sorry.”
It strikes me in this moment that Josh must always be thinking those thoughts. Resentful thoughts. Living on the edge of irritation and stress. Not dissimilar to me. “I’m not your average girlfriend, Josh,” I whisper, damning the dejection that’s creeping up on me. “You’ve known that from day one.”
He groans, resting his forehead on mine and rolling it slowly. His eyes have dulled, and I damn that, too. This whole situation is making us feel things we shouldn’t be feeling when we’re so consumed by each other. Nothing should be powerful enough to penetrate our bubble. But the British Monarchy is.
“I didn’t expect to fall in love with you back then,” he whispers. “And neither you nor I expected you to fall onto the throne with a fuckin’ noose around your neck.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble pitifully. His analogy is rather accurate and equally agonizing. I do feel like I’m waiting to be hanged, and at the same time watching my mother and brother on the next platform helplessly. Their fates in my hands. Rope around their necks. My choices dictating whether the block is kicked out from beneath their feet.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Josh blows out a gust of stressed air and pulls me in for a cuddle. “I’m a jerk.”
“And I’m a weak queen.”
“No,” he states adamantly. “Don’t talk trash. What you’re going through, what you’re doing, probably makes you the strongest queen that’s ever lived.” He squeezes my chin between his thumb and finger. “We’ll find a way.”
Will we? “The only way would be for me to fire Sir Don, David Sampson, and every other member of my Privy Council, which in itself is impossible. I don’t h
Josh slides his hand down to mine and clenches firmly. “I can’t let myself believe this is it for us. Sneaky meetings, a secret affair. No.” He shakes his head as if to reinforce it, reaching up to remove his cap and mussing his flat hair. “Now, are we going to stand in the dark forever feeling depressed, or are you taking me back to your place?”
And there he is. Making me forget. Smiling, I turn toward the door and release the latch, pushing it open a little. “It’s clear,” I whisper, edging out with Josh trailing, holding my hand. “Run,” I blurt, making a mad dash across the carpet, dragging Josh along with me, laughing. We make it to the door and fall inside my apartment, slamming the door behind us. No sooner have I caught my breath, I’m pinned to the back, my dress yanked up to my waist. I don’t think to stop him, my hands taking on a mind of their own and shoving his leather jacket from his shoulders until he’s forced to release me and wrestle it off. It hits the floor with a thud, and I grab the hem of his white T-shirt, pulling it up and off in one swift tug. His jeans are next, unbuttoned fast and shoved down a little, and though we’re both working quickly, it doesn’t feel fast enough. My stomach turns and between my thighs is weighted down with heat and desperation. His erection springs free, taut and dripping.
I suck in air.
He reaches for my knickers and wrenches them from my body on a loud rip.
He regards me quietly, staring between my thighs as he takes hold of himself. He strokes once, and I pant in answer.
His eyes are low.
His mouth is open.
His chest is pulsing.
Stepping forward, he circles my lower back and pulls me close, purposely brushing the tip of his arousal across my swollen clit. I miss a few too many breaths, dizziness setting in as I let him pull my thighs around his waist. I lock him in tightly, hooking my ankles together as he nudges at my entrance. Bringing my palms to his shoulders, I maintain our eye contact as he slowly sinks into me.
The only sign of his struggle is his tight jaw. “Oh, fuckin’ hell,” he growls, his face twisting, almost evilly, as he bucks his hips and sends me up the wall on a cry. “Jesus, Adeline,” he breathes, sinking his face into my damp neck, retreating and jerking forward uncontrolled. I drop my head back, close my eyes, and let my senses take over, escaping everything other than right now. “What would the world say”—he strains to talk as he consistently thrusts me up the wall, slam after slam, stabbing me deliciously—“if they could see their Queen being fucked against a door?”
“I don’t care.” My voice is scratchy and raw, my hands wild and frenzied, grabbing at his back. I can feel his muscles undulating with his every advance, waves of sweaty flesh rolling under my touch.
“What would they say if they knew how dirty their Queen is?”
“I don’t care,” I yell, pushing back the building heat, knowing it’s taking me too close to letting go. I’m not ready yet.
“If they knew she loved it hard.” With that, he pounds into me unforgivingly.
I drop my head and find his eyes. “I don’t fucking care,” I grate, threading my fingers into his hair and fisting. I care about nothing in moments like these. But the second I’m down from the highs Josh takes me to, when my mind is stable and I’m not blindsided, it is a very different story. Not a passionate story, not one bursting with love and uninhibited lust, but one tormented by hopelessness and lies. A calm summer’s day chased away by black clouds and destructive storms. That is us. We’re cursed, in a sense. “I don’t care,” I whisper, forcing back my glum thoughts.
Josh could challenge my words, but he knows what I am thinking, and he will not challenge that. Instead, he brings our mouths together and ups the tempo of his claim, grunting into my mouth with each merciless thrust. My tongue stabs at his, rushed and clumsy. I have no room to focus on our kiss when every sense is making my head spin. The friction of his shaft entering me pushes me that little bit closer each time, until my hands start to smack at his shoulders, my only way of telling him I’m on my way and there is no going back.
“Yeah?” he asks, biting my lip hard. The pain mingles with the pleasure between my thighs, his claiming brutal but consuming. “I can feel it.” He bites up to my ear, never faltering in his rhythm. I yell and smack my head against the door, his hot breath in my ear accelerating my build. He slams one hand into the wood, squeezes my backside with his other. And then he whispers in my ear, “Come,” and it is game over. My body goes rigid, a natural attempt to control the power of the orgasm ripping through me, squeezing Josh’s hips to the point I’m hurting. “Fuck,” he chokes, nudging my cheek with his. My heavy head lifts with too much effort, but once I get a glimpse of his blue eyes rimmed with the familiar amber, it’s very easy to keep my attention on him. “I’m still coming,” he pants, swaying into me a little more calmly, allowing me to feel every pulse and surge as he spills everything he has.
“Me too.” My stomach muscles are rock-hard as I cling onto him, both of us struggling through the pleasure, the power of it taking its toll on our bodies. We’re charged, electricity rushing through us, making both of us shake violently.
“Christ.” Josh falls forward and traps me against the door, his body the only thing keeping me up as my muscles slowly unravel and loosen. “Okay?”
“I think so.” I let my head fall limply back and wait for my heart to thump its way back down to an even rhythm.
“The hospitality around here is second to none,” he says, still utterly out of breath, the words strained. I can’t find the strength to laugh, but I smile into my darkness. “You lost your tongue?” He dips his chin to his chest, looking out the corner of his eye. I just about manage a slight bob of my head. I’ve also lost all feeling in my legs, so he had better not let go of me just yet. A cheeky smile ghosts his lips. “You look good freshly fucked.” I hitch a brow. “By me,” he adds, pouting as he scans my face. “Sweaty, flushed.” On a tilt of his hips, he pushes deeply into me. “Warm and wet.” I hum, and he chuckles. “C’mon, let’s get you—”
“Your Majesty?” Olive calls. My eyes go all round. “Are you in there?”
“Oh fuck,” Josh whispers, and out of nowhere, I find some energy to slap my hand over his mouth.
“Pardon?” Olive says.
I land Josh with a warning look, my heart rate, that was just reaching resting pace, fast-tracking to a loud sprint. “I’m fine, Olive.” I see Josh grin into my palm, obviously finding my high-pitched voice amusing. “I’m just feeling a little—” Josh bucks his hips, his semi-erect dick punching me deeply. “Sick!” I cough, and he chuckles.
“Oh dear.” Olive sounds genuinely worried, and Josh and I both jerk forward when she tries to open the door. He pushes his weight into mine and slams it shut again, and Olive yelps in surprise.
“Fine, Olive,” I yell, failing miserably to strip the panic in my tone. Josh’s amusement grows, as does my aggravation. “Really fine.”
“Should I call Dr. Goodridge?”
Josh reaches for my hand and pulls it away from his mouth, winning easily when I try to stop him. “No to the doc, but yes to some Advil. My dick’s sore.” He takes my hand and places it back over his mouth, smirking again at my incredulous face. He’s a child, thoroughly relishing in my panic.
“Fine, Olive,” I grate. He can suffer a sore dick. “Please do leave me in peace.” Only a fraction of me has room to feel terrible for Olive. She’s just worried, bless her, just trying to do her job.
“Very well, ma’am.” Her voice grows distant. “Call down if you need anything.”
“I will.” I wait only a few seconds before I give Josh a few light smacks around his head. “Are you trying to get me in tro
He puts them straight back to where he wants them and replaces my arms around his shoulders. “Remember when we first met?”
My eyes want to roll, but instead narrow. “Yes. You were uncouth and inappropriate.” And I loved every second of my meeting with him, from the public garden party, to the very private spanking in the maze.
By the glimmer of mischief in his gaze, he knows where my thoughts are. “I asked you if you wanted to get into trouble with me.” He secures my nape and holds me firmly. “I never imagined this.”
“You’re a rogue.”
“Me?” His smile is all too loveable.
And it stretches as he moves in and shows me how loveable he is with a soft, swirling kiss. “So your master plan is to hide me in your room?”
“Yes. But room is lacking somewhat.”
“For how long?”
“You are my prisoner, Josh Jameson. Held at Her Majesty’s pleasure, quite literally.” I place my lips on his forehead, smiling into his skin. “I will keep you for as long as I please.”
“I can think of worse things.” Tilting his head back, he finds my throat and licks his way up to my chin, biting lightly before easing me to my feet. “Steady?”
“Just.” I pull my dress down as he refastens his button fly. “Want a tour?”
“Of your room?”
“Like I said, room is a little lacking.” I motion around the space we’re standing in, and for the first time Josh takes in his surroundings. “This is the lobby.”
“Your room has a lobby?”
“My private quarters has a lobby.” I walk around the circular oak table in the middle, with bright fresh flowers bursting from the glass vase upon it. “And this is the sitting room.” I take the handles of the double doors and push my way into the large, airy space, where soft blue couches have been placed on the center rug and gold drapes frame the huge windows.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Josh stands at the door, taking in the vast space. “And it’s just you?”
His True Queen by Jodi Ellen Malpas / Romance & Love / History & Fiction have rating 4.6 out of 5 / Based on41 votes