The Only King to Claim Her--An Uplifting International Romance Read online

  He stared at her, his eyes burning into hers. And that flame wasn’t banked. Wasn’t low or subtle now. Was more than a flicker.

  It was an inferno.

  “Then what do we do? How do we keep running?”

  “I know,” he said, his thumb dragging along her lower lip. “I know just how to keep it away.”

  “Please,” she whispered.

  And then he was kissing her, her wrists still pinned against her lower back, caught in one of his large hands, as he tasted her with a ferocity that shocked her.

  He had been so adamant that they could not. So adamant that it was bad, and now, he was kissing her with an immediacy that made a complete mockery of everything he’d said before.

  “Why?” she whispered, in the brief moment when their lips parted, so that they could both draw breath.

  “Maybe because I am a monster,” he said. “And maybe you are too. My darkness sees yours. And I cannot resist it.”

  Her heart pounded faster, harder. Because that at least seemed true.

  All the rest of this, all the rest was a farce. Playing a game so that the people of her country would accept her. Playing a game so that she would look strong while she felt like she was breaking apart. Allowing him to assume some kind of control when she didn’t want him to have any. But she also wanted him. And there was an honesty to that.

  She had no expectations of what things between men and women were like. Though the way that the women who worked for her spoke of it, she did not know if it was commonly such a dark and terrifying thing. A monster all of its own.

  But she wasn’t like them.

  She wasn’t like anyone.

  She’d known that for years. Lying in her dungeon room, she’d known it. There weren’t a lot of other girls who had spent their formative years like she had. It had made her feel terribly lonely to realize that. Made her feel very alone.

  Except, looking at him, she realized that he wasn’t like anyone either.

  This man who was capable of being so charming. Who was so beautiful, but at the same time so very deadly.

  Who was brilliant and charming, and also dark and terrifying.

  Who could give pleasure with his hands, and take life with them too.

  He was like no one. And neither was she.

  And in that singularity, they met.

  In their darkness, there was a bond.

  And so they didn’t speak again. She simply kissed him. Learning the movements. Learning the way that his tongue felt best sliding against hers. Learning to glory in the strength of his hold.

  Learning to love the way she was delicate, the way he was strong. She had never in her wildest dreams thought that she would like that.

  In fact, when she had first begun to fantasize about finding a lover, she had imagined that she might like one she felt most easily in control of, but from the beginning she had been enticed by Maximus’s strength. By the danger in him.

  What she really wondered was if she would ever truly be aroused if she did not feel she was overcome.

  Because there was some strange and wicked strength to be found in this. In the fact that she seemed strong even while he had her arms trapped.

  Because she could see that he had been pushed to the edge. That he was pushed to his limits. That in many ways, she had control over him.

  It was a magical thing. Mystical and quite beyond her understanding. So she didn’t try to understand.

  She simply kissed him. Simply reveled in the deep desire that coursed through her body as his tongue played games with hers.

  As her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest.

  She struggled, her breasts rubbing against the hard wall of muscle that had her trapped there. And a pulse throbbed between her legs.

  Oh, how she wanted him.

  She was mindless with it.

  And this felt right. In this sea of confusion, amid all the things she didn’t know, she knew this.

  That she was a woman, and he was a man. And this was everything that was good about those facts. This desire, this need and the sparks that it created between them, with everything wonderful about what it meant.

  And the idea that she might be closer to knowing one more thing about herself, to finding a sense of completion, gave her peace even in this storm.

  And so she kissed him.

  Finally, finally, he released his hold on her wrists, and she was free. She moved her hands to his face, to his shoulders, down the front of his chest. She grabbed hold of his tie and began to loosen the knot with clumsy fingers. She had no idea about the mechanics of a man’s tie. Did not have a clue how to begin undressing him, only that she wanted him undressed.

  He might not be her true King. But here, now, she wanted him to have this dominion over her body.

  Here and now, in the middle of all the lies, this was real. It was true. There was no one here to see. It was not a show.

  It was just her. And him.

  And there were very few moments in her life that had this kind of honesty. If any.

  And this was what she needed. Something real to hold on to. Something that felt good and not just sad. Not just like a tragedy that left a yawning, darkened void behind.

  Maximus was creating a need inside of her, while the sweep of his hands over her body was answering that need.

  He was making her want, but he wasn’t leaving her wanting. And it was magical to discover these sensations.

  He had told her to go to her room and explore her own body, and she hadn’t even tried. It wasn’t her own touch she wanted. It was his.

  She wouldn’t have known where to begin. Because she wanted what he was doing. And she was so ignorant she didn’t even know how to fantasize about it. But this...

  This was it.

  And it wasn’t all fairy dust and gossamer. There was an edge to it. Like the black velvet of the night sky had wrapped itself around them, cloaking them in darkness. A soft, brilliant darkness that enticed them both to sin.

  That enticed them both to satisfaction.

  She got that tie free and began to undo the buttons on his shirt.

  Oh, she wished she could see better. Because his chest felt magnificent.

  And she felt insatiable.

  “What is this?” she asked, panting heavily. “I don’t know if I want to lick you or bite you.”

  “Do either,” he said, his voice rough. “Both.”

  And so she did. She leaned in, and she bit his pectoral muscle, and then she soothed it with the flat of her tongue.

  “Is this normal? I am hungry for you.” She pressed her face to his body and inhaled deeply. The scent of him only made her that much more aroused. “I think it might be madness.”

  “It is madness,” he said. “And this is why I told you to stay away from me.”

  “You said you were not insatiable.”

  “But I looked at you and knew that I could be. And I don’t think even a woman with years of experience can handle me insatiable. I should not be asking you to.”

  “But I need it,” she said, tears gathering in her eyes. “I need something strong enough to block out the memories. To block out the bad things. I need something strong enough to make me feel good, because there is so much sadness. There is so much. And sometimes I feel like I might be crushed beneath the weight of it. But not when you kiss me. Because whatever this feeling is that you create inside of me, it is enough. It is strong enough... It is strong enough to make it feel good.”

  Because the pain was still there. The weight was still there. And this was not a light trip through a field of daisies. But it created in her pleasure at an intensity that matched the difficult things, and if that wasn’t a gift, she didn’t know what was.

  She moved back to him, burying her face in the curve of his neck and kissin
g him. Licking him.

  This was real.

  The whole facade of the marriage, of the two of them together, might be for show, but this was not.

  She was so very hungry for real.

  More even than pastries.

  “Don’t hold back,” she said.

  Because she had a feeling he would try. She had a feeling he would try, and she didn’t want him to. Didn’t want him to be able to.

  She wanted him to be as lost as she was. Utterly and completely, in the madness of this sensual haze. In this dark intensity of need.

  She pushed his shirt and jacket from his body, leaving him naked from the waist up. The moonlight shone over his muscles, and she could see that he was indeed a weapon. A lethal, masculine weapon filled with great and terrible beauty. It was exactly the sort of beauty that she coveted. For it was frightening and made her heart stutter, but it also made her feel strong. Safe.

  And she was a warrior woman in a red dress made of armor, and whatever they were about to do, the battle they were about to engage in, the war for pleasure, she knew they were both going to be well able to withstand it.

  She unzipped her gown, let it fall down to the floor, and suddenly she felt vulnerable. Standing out there naked in the moonlight. Wearing nothing more than a pair of red lace panties that scarcely covered anything.

  She was bare to him.

  His hands moved to his belt, to the closure on his slacks, and he took the rest of his clothes off. Even in the dim light, she could see that he was thick and strong, larger than she had imagined a man might be there. But it also thrilled her. Because she was not afraid of this. She had withstood a great many things. Had endured atrocities she had not wished to endure. And this was her choice.

  A great mystery of life that had not been taken from her forcibly, something she had always been grateful for. And she was choosing it. Here with this man who made her wild with desire. Who made her feel something better than normal.

  And then that big, warrior man knelt down before her, and she found his strong arms wrapping themselves around her waist and lowering her slowly to the stone bench as he leaned in, pressing his mouth against the needy heart of her, lapping at her with intensity that gave no quarter to her inexperience. Just as he had warned.

  She did not have the time to express shock. She could only hold tightly to his head as he feasted upon her. As the aggressive strokes of his tongue pushed her to that promised place that had been created in her with the touch of his lips to hers.

  Then he pushed a finger deep inside of her, stroking at her core, at a place inside of her that incited a riot of need. The invasion was foreign, but wonderful, and when he added a second finger, she gasped. It was too much, but it couldn’t be. For if she hoped to have that most masculine part of him inside of her, she would have to get used to this.

  And quickly, she did. Quickly, the intrusion, the friction, became welcome, as he lapped at her more firmly with his tongue.

  And then little ripples began to spread inside of her. Her need growing, opening up. Expanding, until she was made almost entirely of it. Until she thought she might die of it.

  And then he sucked that sensitized bundle of nerves into his mouth, the suction making her crazy. Causing her pleasure to break over her like a wave. She cried out, her legs draped over his shoulders, her heels digging into his back. And she didn’t care if anyone heard. She cared about nothing. Nothing but this.

  And then he was there. She was still seated on the edge of the bench, the thick head of his arousal pressing against her. He gripped her behind and impaled her with his length, and she gasped, the searing pain she felt a shock, particularly on the heels of such great pleasure.

  But he didn’t stop.

  He thrust into her like a mad animal, his teeth scraping against her collarbone.

  And somewhere, in the pain and uncertainty, a thread of pleasure began to wrap itself around both, binding them up. Until she couldn’t tell which was which. Until she couldn’t make out what was him, what was her. What was pain, what was need. Until they were both made of stars. And she could tell when he reached the edge, when he began to shatter as she had done. “Come for me,” he growled, and just like that, she did. Just like that, she broke again.

  Only a moment before she had been consumed by the amount of unknowns in the world. By how adrift she felt. By how not her she was.

  But lying there, sprawled indecently in the darkness of the garden with Maximus inside of her, she felt like she had an answer.

  She did not know what it was for.

  But as she held on to him, she felt rooted to the earth.

  Grounded in a way she could not remember ever feeling before. And it was...a revelation.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, gruff as he removed himself from her.

  “Don’t,” she said, feeling like she was made of spun glass. Not sure if she loved or hated it. “Don’t apologize.”

  “Why not?” he asked, his shoulders tight, his whole body gone stiff like a stone.

  “I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to apologize. It was wonderful.”

  He looked away, his face shrouded in shadow. “I was rough with you. I hurt you.”

  “Life has hurt me worse than you ever could. At least you made pleasure out of the pain. I did not know such a thing was possible. And there, I have learned a lesson.”

  “Don’t,” he bit out. “Don’t excuse me.”

  “Me, I am not forgiving,” she said. “If I wished to be angry at you I would be. But I wanted this. Choice is one of the most beautiful things in this world,” she said. “It is our own choices that spin together the being that we are, and I have had so many years of choice being taken from me. And the position I find myself in now, one where I must be a good Queen. One where I must protect myself... My enemies still take choices from me, Maximus. Back me into corners where only one option remains. To fight as I can. It is why I took you. It is why I agreed to this marriage. But this...this I chose. Do not take this from me too. I wanted to know. I... Sometimes I feel crushed beneath the weight of the things I don’t know, but at least I know this. At least I chose this.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said. “I was close to being out of control and...”

  “And what?”

  “I can’t afford to lose myself. There is a darkness in me that I keep on a leash.”

  “And you only let it out to play when you take a job that allows it? When you decide that you are engaging in a quest for vengeance? Is that it?”

  “You can’t possibly understand,” he said.

  “Alors!” She made a face of mock horror. “Of course I cannot. I’m just a virgin. And you know so much more than me.”

  “We must go back to the ball.”

  He dressed her, the movements perfunctory, and she felt herself beginning to crack. But she would not allow him to see. “There are some things you are going to have to trust me about,” he said.

  She stared at him, trying to figure this man out. What he wanted. Why he seemed so filled with regret. He was supposed to be a playboy who had sex as easily as most people breathed. And this was not easy.

  She did not like it.

  “Yes, I will allow for that when it comes to you teaching me how to look strong. But I will not allow for that when it comes to you teaching me what my body wants. When it comes to teaching me what my heart wants. If that was darkness, then I want more of it. For, me, I am a little bit dark myself.” She tried to smile.

  He was dressing, and he didn’t look at her. So, her show of bravado didn’t seem to matter.

  “I can’t love you,” he said.

  She jerked back. “No one loves me,” she said. “Why should you matter?”

  He looked like she’d struck him with her words. But they were a truth. Why should she know them and he be spared
them?

  “No one?” he asked.

  “No. My family are dead. My people... They certainly don’t love me. Look at the great lengths I’m having to go to in order to be accepted. And then there is my staff. They have become friends of a sort. But it is not love. No one loves me. It is no matter to me if you are added to the great list of those on this earth who do not.”

  “It’s not...”

  “People love you, though, don’t they? Your sisters. Your mother and father. Your friend Dante. Yes, I have done research on all those in your life. He loves you too. He’s like a brother. Is he not?”

  “Well, yes,” Maximus said. “Though him sleeping with my sister has complicated some things.”

  “He married your sister.”

  “Semantics.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “You are an image maker—aren’t semantics your business?”

  “To an extent,” he said.

  She swallowed hard, a sense of unfairness building inside her she could not quite come to grips with. Of course she didn’t want him to be unloved. But he did not seem to know how to accept love, and she would very much like some love. “How very good it must be to be loved by so many. Do they know...do they know how dark you are inside?”

  “No,” he said. “And I would do just about anything to keep the truth from them.”

  “It would hurt them.”

  “Yes.”

  This honesty was rare for him, she knew. And as gifts went, a small one she would take. An intimacy that somehow felt deeper than what they’d shared with their bodies. Though perhaps one had led to the other. Stripped barriers away that might otherwise have stood.

  “Why don’t you tell them?”

  He paused for a long moment. “There are some things you don’t want to burden other people with.”

  “I see.” She looked at him and recognized at that moment the weight he carried. It was not unlike hers. Not so different. “You can burden me. For I do not love you either. You do not love me. That is simple, eh? We help each other.”

  “You’ve been through enough.”

  “Yes. Just enough to be strong. To be strong enough that even when you hurt me it does not hurt so much.”