Page 25 of Untouched Queen by Royal Command

‘I would remove your clothes, provide your soap, wash your hair, towel you dry, moisturise your skin and dress you again. It can take up to an hour of your time.’

‘And what’s in it for you?’

‘Ritual soothes me. And also…’

‘Also what?’

‘You’re not going to like it.’ He wasn’t going to accept it. ‘I want to serve here, the way I’ve been trained to serve. It doesn’t have to be sexual. It doesn’t have to be complicated. You could find refuge and relaxation here if you wanted to.’

‘Do it.’

His words didn’t come from a place of acceptance. They came at her twisted and wrapped in loathing. Not a good start but at least she had permission to try to bathe him properly.

She ventured closer, until she was standing in front of him. Undressing a man wasn’t a hard thing to do. There was an order to the releasing of buttons and the removal of clothes. She knew what to do. Only her trembling fingertips betrayed her as she reached for one of his wrists, turned his forearm towards her and fumbled with the tiny cufflink there. She bit her lip, intent on her task, and wondered if the crazy throb of the pulse point at his wrist was for her.

She slowed her breathing and got on with her task, undoing first one cufflink and then the other. She stepped in closer as she undid his tie, and his eyes never left her face and hers never left his. Buttons, so many buttons on his shirt, tracking a path down his chest, the last of them hidden beneath his trousers as she pulled the shirt free and dealt with them too. Buttons and knuckles and air that had suddenly grown too thin for breathing.

‘This isn’t going to end well,’ he rasped.

‘Relax. I’m a professional.’ She pushed the front of his shirt aside and slid her hands up and over his shoulders, taking his shirt with her. By the time she’d smoothed her hands down his arms the shirt was on the floor.

She knelt at his feet, removing his shoes and socks and running her hands up his legs and over his thighs as if soothing a savage beast. She kept her hands on him as she undid his trousers, slid her hands beneath his waistband and down over his buttocks, taking the fabric with her, all the way down his legs. ‘Put your hand on my shoulder or my head for balance,’ she said, as she lifted first one foot from the puddle of his trousers and then the next.

His boxers were stretched tight over his manhood, plumper now than it had been moments ago but not yet at full stretch. If she removed his underwear in the same manner she’d removed his trousers she was going to get an eyeful.

And then she leaned in, her hands high on his thighs, and breathed him in.

Hours of video instruction had done nothing to prepare Sera for the impact of the man standing before her. The heat coming from his skin and the scent of him. The glittering black eyes and his complete attention.

She didn’t know where or how he exercised but he did, his body lean and his belly ridged with muscle. He had body hair but not a lot. His manhood looked thick beneath the thin stretch of cotton, and she wondered if her mouth would fit around it. Not just thick but long as well. The stretch for her mouth and throat would be considerable.

He took a ragged breath and stepped away from her touch and shed his boxers. He was beautiful naked. He was beautiful everywhere.

‘I’ll take that bath now.’ His voice whispered over her, making promises not kept by his retreating body. She felt the loss of his regard as he stepped into the water and submerged himself completely. The bathing rituals went unobserved as she knelt on a cushion and waited for him to need something more from her, hands clasped in her lap, back straight, head bowed. Still and silent until needed. Ritual.

She watched from beneath her lashes as he selected soap and started washing, his touch far rougher than hers would have been. She watched him rinse off, water running in rivulets down the hard planes of his chest, dripping from his elbows as he pushed dark tendrils of hair away from his face. He caught her watching him and stilled. Did he want to get out now? Should she anticipate his need for a towel? Would he accept one from her hand? Bathing rituals shot to hell by him, leaving her untethered and wanting.

‘Sera.’

Surely she could look her fill now that he’d called her name. She lifted her head.

‘Will you wash my hair?’

Finally, something she had previous experience with. She almost fell over herself in her haste to fetch the water jug and shampoo selection. Ritual, as he watched her prepare the edge of the pool and gesture for him to lie back with his head in the shallow dip. She leaned over and filled the jug, wetting his hair all over again, her hand firm on his forehead to prevent water trickling down his face.

She opted for a firmer touch than the one she’d used on the children of the High Reaches, massaging his scalp once the conditioner had gone on and drawing from him a groan that made her smile her relief.

‘Harder,’ he rasped, so she increased the pressure from her fingertips and leaned into it. With his eyes closed she could study his profile more closely. Inevitably, her gaze moved on from his lips to his chest, then his stomach and onto lower depths. His legs were slightly parted. His manhood looked erect.

When she finally turned her attention back to his face, he was watching her through narrowed eyes.

Hot-faced, she filled the water jug again and began to rinse his hair.

He let her finish, he gave her that, and then he was underwater again, and again, and then standing and heading for the steps.

To ogle his sharply defined muscles and the proud jut of his arousal or pick up a towel and have it ready for him? Sera knew what she ought to be doing. She’d trained for this.

By the time she reached the side of the pool and handed him a towel and he’d taken it and wiped his face and dropped it and stood naked before her, she met his gaze unflinchingly. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

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