Continuing where we left off ... Love this man so much.
William held her face, turning it up to him and kissing her so powerfully she took a staggering step back. Victoria let herself be held by him. She wondered if she had left the ground, if she were flying. Her mind reeled, her belly writhed with sensation. This was all. He was all.
His kiss felt unending, as if he would die if he stopped. It had been modest at first, closed mouthed, but soon his lips moved against hers in a way that made her open for him. They breathed through each other, tasted and felt each other. It was new and extraordinary and she wanted to learn it all, but it was as if she knew exactly what to do, for she had imagined and wanted this from the first moment he strode into the room on the morning of the King's death.
William seemed unable to let her go, but at length, to grant them a moment's breath, he drew back, only to kiss her hair and her face.
'Yes … yes, yes, yes,' she murmured over and over again.
And then he was back to her mouth and she was open and ready for him. She felt something darting, testing, and realised with only modest surprise that it was his tongue. His bold wickedness thrilled her. Had she not wanted this? To know the man beyond the mask of protocol? She met his tongue with her own and let the lines of her body fit along his. His right hand clasped her head to him, the other ran down her back, each finger igniting a response.
'I cannot stop this now,' he slurred through consuming kisses.
She raised her head, offering her slender neck to his searching lips and being rewarded. 'Then do not stop.'
And then she was indeed lifted off her feet. William had picked her up. She curled her arms around his neck and let herself be taken by him. But even as he walked his mouth sought hers. They kissed as he bore her out of the room and along corridors. They kissed as he bore her up the staircase. He carried her swiftly along and, when he reached a door, he still did not relinquish his hold on her but kicked it open brusquely.
Once inside the room he at last lowered her to the floor and stood slightly apart from her, letting his breaths come deep and rapid. Victoria steadied herself, her eyes bright as they both stared across at the other, the magnitude of events making them pause momentarily. But then, after only a moment's hesitation to sanctify the moment, she raised a hand and tugged her hair from its fastenings. He studied her intently, yet with that same slight smile he always used when appraising her. When in the past he had averted his eyes and said something to dissipate any brewing tension, he now simply watched her.
It was like a ritual for her, a dismantling of the façade. She pulled and tugged at the braids and coils until her hair was completely loose. Victoria gave her head a shake, enjoying its release and letting it tumble around her shoulders like streams down a mountain.
And then he stepped towards her and, unable to be away from her mouth too long, bent to kiss her again, but tenderly this time, slowly, savouring every morsel of her.
They seemed to kiss for hours, or perhaps it was seconds, but when he brought his hands to the back of her gown to find the hooks, she was barely aware. It was only when she felt the release that she realised what he was doing. Her eyes widened and he drew back briefly as if to question her acceptance, but when she reached for his mouth again he continued. Soon the fastenings were undone and her world was turning as it should, as she wanted it. This was what she was made for, this was what she had dreamed.
Carefully but deliberately, he pushed the gown from her. It tumbled in a pool of azure silk to her feet and she stepped out of her skirts quickly to stand before him in only her undergarments. He took a moment to look at her, but her patience would not last and, with a stunning boldness, she turned herself around, offering him the laces of her corset.
For a moment he stilled, not, she sensed, due to doubt, but simply to heighten the delicious anticipation which hung around them, coiled and brilliant. Victoria waited, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He was close; she could feel the fall of his warm breath on her exposed neck. And then she felt tugging as he nimbly pulled the laces from their eyes.
Despite the rush of air that came with the release of her corset, her breath was ragged and quick. William remained behind her and ran his fingers slowly up her arms. She closed her eyes and waited, the anticipation agony. She was hot but her skin seemed to be cast with ice. She was cold yet burning up. He lowered his head to the warm, inviting join between her neck and her shoulder and his kisses were once again her life.
When at last he turned her around to him, he tugged off his waistcoat and let it fall haphazardly to the floor. And then, through their endless kisses, Victoria was being guided towards the bed.
A sudden tension gripped her, not fear, not doubt, but a realisation that she was here, in a man's bedroom. Here, she was not Queen, but woman. He must have felt her tense as he drew back and searched her face, his beautiful eyes casting over her for a sign of consent.
She smiled and reached up to kiss him again, and, with need making her bold, felt for his shirt and tugged it up. It was his turn to be surprised, but she merely gave him a smirk and he acquiesced, raising his arms and letting her pull it off.
At the first sight of his naked chest, that sensation inside pranced madly. He was slim yet broad, and the muscles flexed as he took the shirt from her to cast it aside. His chest, dusted with dark hairs, rose and fell before her, seemingly demanding her touch. Gently, he took hold of her for another kiss and moved her so that she lay back upon his bed, and then he was slipping down her body, running his hands over all of her. She could feel each burning touch of him through her thin chemise.
William moved further down and her teeth bit unbidden into her bottom lip. He glanced up and met her gaze, and his eyes were alight as never before. He gave her another smile, slight but with more intent this time, and it made her belly leap. Her teeth were digging into her lip so hard she feared they would draw blood.
He made light work of ridding her of her shoes, then focused on her stockings, grazing his hands up her legs before slowly unrolling each one in turn. His newly revealed sensuality staggered her. She was concealed from him now only by her drawers and chemise, but still no shame came, no regret.
William moved over her again and gazed down at her body with a look of such devotion that her heart sang. After guiding her to sit up, he took hold of her chemise and lifted it smoothly off, leaving her breasts exposed to the expectant stillness.
She sat there, hair tumbling wild, her nakedness heaving under his gaze. But as he looked at her she saw his eyes bright with dampness.
'You are utterly beautiful,' he said, the slightest catch in his voice. And then he was kissing her again and guiding her back. She was aware of his hands on her drawers, and without hesitation she lifted her hips and let him remove them. But still he kissed her and for a moment she forgot that she was now entirely naked.
Again, he began to move down over her body, nuzzling along her collarbone. His hands explored her nakedness and every part he touched became inflamed, as if crying out for more. She arched up into him as he reached her breasts. Those he kissed too, soft, searching kisses. Her eyes darted open at this new sensation but she held him there without question. Victoria watched, hypnotised almost, as he found a nipple and closed his mouth around it.
She sucked in a gasp. Was such a thing possible? Oh, but it was wonderful and glorious and good. A jolt of ecstatic feeling rushed through her and she craved more. She coiled her fingers through the dark thickness of his hair and luxuriated in the newness and wonder of it all.
William stayed at her breasts for some time, drawing each nipple in turn to a hard little peak of perfect sensation. And then, as he continued to lick and suck on her, she grew aware that his hand had found its way between her legs. And instead of alarm, there came only deep certainty. His fingers worked their way up her inner thighs to that place where her desire was focused, where her longing throbbed and writhed, urging him closer and nearer, sure of it.
At last he relinquished his hold on her breasts and raised himself slightly to look at her. She held his gaze, but for the first time felt her cheeks reddening with the intimacy of it. His lips pursed briefly, almost to tease, and then she felt it. There. Touch.
She drew in a gasping breath but her body instinctively sought more. She was rewarded when he moved his fingers skilfully and assertively, right into the intimate heart of her.
A little moan of surprised pleasure escaped her, but he merely hushed a settling 'Shh' and continued, circling, stroking, enticing that little bud which she had long suspected was the secret to happiness. She had touched it at times – by mistake rather than deliberation – and the strange and unknown feelings made her ashamed and she would stop. Now, no shame came, only conviction. She stroked his arm, affirming her acceptance. He smiled softly, the same smile he would give when she commented wryly on a sticky piece of Tory rhetoric.
His fingers worked perfectly, slow then quick, circling and teasing. All the while he leaned close to her, not breaking his gaze. How often had she longed for his touch? How often had she dreamed of this? Now that it was upon her it was more perfect than she had even imagined.
His fingers glided through her slickness. He had done that; he had drawn the most profound desire from her. He rested along her and their bodies instinctively pressed together, demanding closeness.
That ball of tension, that knot of longing was building now, both growing and tightening, uncoiling and spinning. What was happening to her? Her breath caught and her eyes widened. The sensations were so extraordinary as to be terrifying, but with him she would never fear. With him, all was right and good, and so she moaned out her joy and gave herself to him, arching her back for more of his touch. His mouth curled up at her reaction but he did not slow and his eyes did not leave hers.
Now he was in control, now he was her sovereign. Her breath came in short little pants and that twisting turning inside was unbearable. His smile, almost wicked in its intent, deepened.
Victoria gripped his arm with claw-like ferocity and stared unblinkingly into him in delirious confusion. With that he worked ever harder, rubbing and circling with focused potency. It was as if he were lifting her, crafting her … and then …
She broke, but was instantly rebuilt. She shattered but was formed. Her body melted, soared, and she cried out, a sharp, bewildered cry of discovered abandon.
His fingers didn't slow and it carried on, that release from her own self, grounded only by him. When at last the feelings ended, lifting from her body like a thousand butterflies taking flight, she found his gaze again. He was looking at her with satisfied wonder. She needed his kiss and lifted her head for it. He kissed her deep and slow, and intense satisfaction seeped through her like molten rock.
When at last they broke the kiss, he asked softly, 'Are you alright?'
She could only nod. Her eyes were hot and wet and, when she blinked, a single tear was forced from the corner of one. He kissed the wetness away.
'I didn't know …' she murmured. 'I didn't know I could feel that way.'
'If all is right between two people, that is the only way it can be.'
'Can I feel that again?'
'Yes.'
'Can … you feel that?'
He smiled and blinked twice before answering. 'Yes.'
'Did you feel it then?'
'No, but … we haven't finished yet.'
'Do we … do you … now?'
His face grew beautifully concerned again. 'If that is what you want.'
She nodded and pulled him down for another kiss, opening his mouth with hers and slipping her tongue in to give him all she was. Her ardour fed into him and he groaned into her mouth and took hold of her head in his hands, returning the kiss with nearly brutal passion. 'Yes, yes,' she slurred when they broke away. 'I want it with all I am.'
She felt a shift in him, a sudden and unstoppable force. His kisses were now possessive, hot and open, and his body's heated strength thrilled her as never before. She could feel something pressing hard against her thighs, as if seeking her out. She moved her leg along it and he moaned through his devouring kisses, deep and ready, 'Victoria …'
'Please, please,' she whined and found herself reaching down to help him out of his breeches. He did not hesitate and together they pushed them off.
She saw it but she was not shocked. It was perfectly, beautifully him and it was right. It seemed to have a mind of its own, standing so large and proud and clearly intent on its course, and she wanted it for herself. She clasped him to her, gripping onto his smooth, firm back, and felt the urgency of his manhood between them.
He guided her legs open, glanced down and positioned himself carefully. Then he locked eyes with her again and whispered, 'Now?'
She nodded, 'Now,' wanting beyond want.
He pushed forward and pressed into her. Her eyes widened and her soul surged. Again he pushed, harder this time, with a low grunt. She felt resistance but he did not stop and pushed through again. There was a sharp pain but she took it and adored it. He pushed again, again, and then he was in: deep, hard, filling her. Another groan rose from him and she loved that sound so much she moved her body to hear it again.
'Are you hurt?' he panted, restraining himself from further movement.
'Barely. You are inside me, that is all.' He kissed her again and flexed within her and she wanted more. 'Move in me, please, move in me.'
He gave the briefest smile before withdrawing slowly and sucking in a breath as pleasure caught him.
It panged a little as he pulled out, not only with the pain, but with the loss of him. But before he could fall from her, he pushed forward again, powerfully this time, entering her in one thrust, then again pulling back before surging into her. She gasped this time with sheer joy. She could feel every inch of him, every thick, hard part of his love for her. He built up a steady rhythm, moving through her wet warmth, taking her, teaching her. And now, deep inside, she felt those same sensations as before, brewing, stirring, pleasure rising up to take her hostage again. She clung to him and met each of his strokes, tightening around him as if she would keep him within her forever.
He let out another of those delicious groans and his eyes closed. She looked up at him as he worked inside her. His face had lost its usual expression of careful control and was now utterly open and human. Never had he been more beautiful. His mouth was relaxed to pull in fevered breaths and his brows furrowed in concentration. When he opened his eyes, he immediately met hers and she smiled up at him in wonder. 'Is that nice?' she dared ask, enthralled at what she was doing to him, wanting to hear the confirmation.
'It is heaven. You are my heaven,' he murmured before another moan took his words and his body tightened amidst rising pleasure.
'It is my heaven too. It feels glorious, it feels right. Tell me,' she implored, still clenching on him and watching his every reaction. 'I want to know.'
He stared down, his breath ragged. 'Tight, so tight and warm and … home.'
'Yes, yes, my darling. You are home.' Her tears came freely now. He began to move faster, almost desperately. He buried his head at her neck and brought his hands under her, cupping her backside. She thrilled to this and drew her legs up around him. He groaned, but this new position made the pleasure inside surge. Still he moved, and she wanted that sensation again: to feel it with him inside her would be her greatest achievement.
He moved faster, harder, deeper if possible, every thrust forward accompanied by that gorgeous moan, and with that it broke in her, harder this time even than before. She released her pleasure with another wild cry, and felt her body pulsing on him.
And he was there, feeling what she was feeling, pouring himself into her. His body tensed on her, his fingers dug hard into her rump, and his deliriously prolonged groan was barely muffled against her skin.
At length, their bodies came down, still joined, still entwined. He lay upon her panting, hot and heavy, and she held him to her, stroking her fingers with slow, new found sensuality along his back.
After some time, he lifted himself up gently and looked down, his brows knitted in tenderness. 'Are you well?'
She nodded through her tears. 'Never so well. Are you?'
He smiled and let out a slight laugh before kissing her with sweet adoration and whispering, 'I am happiness.'
She held him against her again, one hand splayed on his back, the other tangled in his hair, which was now deliciously ruffled and disarrayed. She could still feel him inside her, large and warm.
'Can you stay within me forever? I do not wish you to leave.'
He smirked. 'Neither do I wish to leave. Does it not hurt?'
'I suppose, a little. I cannot call it pain for there is too much wonder.'
'You came again?'
'What?'
He laughed softly. 'I am sorry. It is an expression. You … felt that again, as before?'
'Oh yes. More so. With you inside me it was even more extraordinary.'
He ran his fingers up along her side, from her hips to her breasts. 'That is fortunate the first time. The first time for a lady is usually dictated by discomfort.'
'Then you, dear Lord M, have achieved something wonderful.'
'Not I. Us. These things work only if there is complete compatibility.'
She smiled and stroked his face. 'That is us, is it not? It has always been. Complete compatibility.'
He smiled, a gentle smile tinged with sadness, she thought, and kissed her again.
They lay quite still and silent for a time, but after a while he slipped reluctantly from her.
'You will have bled. We should see.'
Tenderly, he pushed her legs apart to study the aftermath of his actions. 'I will cleanse it. Wait a moment.' He rose from the bed and she gazed on his fine body with a smile as he strode across to the jug and basin. 'There is little blood. Perhaps that is why you did not feel too much pain.'
'You are my first, I assure you,' she stressed.
He gave a soft laugh as he poured the water. 'Oh, I am fully aware of that, but sometimes these things can happen through activities, riding for example.'
'I ride a lot.'
'Indeed. You ride with me every day.' He glanced over his shoulder and cocked a teasing eyebrow.
'Is that a pun, Lord M?'
'I aim to amuse, Ma'am.'
'Oh, you amuse me most satisfactorily.'
He smiled deeply, but then it faded a little as he said, 'In all seriousness, that is something to bear in mind on your wedding night. Your husband will be expecting proof of your virginity which you … no longer have. You may have to explain that riding was the culprit.'
'Then I will.' She was determined of that and he returned to her with his perfect smile again etched deeply.
He sat on the bed and, gently, like the most caring nursemaid, cleansed and soothed her. She tried hard to appreciate his actions for what they were, considerate ministrations, but instead the rubbing and stroking stirred those now familiar longings inside her again.
When he'd finished, he returned to the bed and lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, as close as he could be, gazing down at her. They did not speak; there was a profound contentment between them which needed nothing further. Time passed or stopped, neither could tell.
'Do you know when I first fell in love with you?' she asked eventually.
He gave the slightest shake of his head, still not tearing his gaze from her face and coiling a length of her hair around his forefinger.
'When you first walked into the room at Kensington Palace the morning of my uncle's death and kissed my hand.'
He allowed himself a quiet smile before giving a little tut. 'How rude of me, to kiss on a first meeting. One should at least attempt conversation first.'
She giggled with delight and he turned his gaze to follow his fingers, which now traced a line down over her collar bone and through the valley of her breasts. 'I suppose …' he began.
'You suppose what, my Lord M?'
'I suppose I should also tell you.'
'Tell me what?'
'When I –' He looked back at her and she thought perhaps she would be lost in his eyes. '– first fell in love with you.'
Victoria lost her smile and swallowed in sudden shyness. 'If you wish.'
He gave one of those deliriously slight smiles which entranced her. 'When we danced at the coronation ball.'
She frowned in honest surprise. 'Truly? But I thought …'
'You thought what?'
'I thought I displeased you that evening. I thought you found me flighty and foolish.'
'Perhaps it was right that you thought that … but I did not, or if I did, your flighty foolishness only served to intoxicate me as much as the champagne you drank intoxicated you.'
The deepest happiness melted through her at this and she brought her hand up to stroke his hair while his fingers circled her belly button in an endless spiral which seemed to fascinate him.
'So I intoxicate you, Lord M?'
'You know you do.'
'Then you wear your drunkenness very well. I suspected little, although I hoped greatly.'
His assured, warm hands were now curling around her waist and pulling her closer to him. He lowered his head to kiss her again, deeper than ever and with a powerful determination that made her dizzy. She was struck by his sudden show of strength and she adored it. Victoria clung to him, running her hands along the firmness of his back and feeling that need inside assert itself again.
'Can we …?' she slurred when he broke away to kiss her exposed neck.
'What?' he asked, the word muffled against her skin.
'Can we do it again?'
He barely broke away from his kisses. 'You are not sore?'
She shook her head, desperate. 'I miss you.'
He raised his head and cocked a teasing eyebrow. 'I am not far away.'
'No … I miss you … inside me.'
His smirk deepened with intent. 'In that case … Ma'am … we should remedy the situation.'
And he will. One more chapter. Show this story some love (or otherwise) if you're so inclined. Thank you. LL x
