Page 26 of Learning to Love

I lower my mouth to her parted folds and trace my tongue up and down the length of her slit before settling over her clit that’s emerged from its hiding place. One finger and then another push inside Elodie’s entrance. She’s warm, welcoming, and very tight around my dexterous digits. I use my tongue to flick over her clit a few times before pressing down hard on it.

I can hear Elodie’s breath quickening and feel her body heating underneath me.

“Please, harder,” she moans, craving even more of my touch.

I won’t ever deny it to her, not when her pussy tastes this delicious. It’s the most delicate feast I’ve ever had. I play with her at a quicker and harder pace, my fingers pumping in and out of her.

“Dalton, it’s…I’m…” She can’t get any words out as she shatters over my face, bathing me in her desire, and I nearly come at the intensity of the moment.

When Elodie stills, I tenderly pull my fingers from her, and she winces with over sensitivity.

“I think I proved my point.” I smirk as I lie down next to Elodie on the bed.

“And then some.” She giggles. “It’s a point you can repeat any time you want to.”

“You don’t need to ask me twice.” I wipe Elodie’s juices from my face and suck them from my fingers.Perfect.

A cough comes from the other side of the curtain.

“Yes,” I shout out, not opening the curtains as Elodie scrambles to get back into her bikini bottoms. A look of worry on her face.

“Lunch is served, Your Highness and Miss Nash.”

Elodie looks relieved.

“I’ve just had a banquet, but I’m sure Miss Nash is hungry,” I reply. Elodie’s eyes go wide, and then she playfully swats at my chest.

“Don’t.”

I wink at her. “Get used to it. I’ve just found my new favorite meal, and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon.”

Fifteen

Elodie

“Idon’t think I’ve ever eaten as much as this in a lifetime, and I’ve been to Indian banquets where the tables are overladen with food.” I sit back in my chair, patting my stomach.

Dalton and I are in the yacht’s dining room and have just eaten a lavish meal, which he told me is inspired by food from his country. I need the recipe for the pate starter of chicken livers—it was delicious and was followed by the most delicate cut of beef in a beautiful, pepper sauce. Dessert was a tart of apples with cream. Much better than anything I could cook. Each course was served with a wine to match, and the person pouring the wine was able to tell us something about each one. I listened with fascination—it was the most surreal experience of my life. I felt as though I was in a fairytale dream. In many ways, I am.

“It was certainly a good meal. I’ll send our compliments to the chef.” Dalton wipes his mouth with his napkin and places it down on the table next to his now empty dessert plate. “Shall we go through to the lounge for brandy and coffee? Decaf, of course.”

“I’d like that very much.”

Dalton gets to his feet and holds his hand out for me to take.

“Do you eat formally most evenings?” I ask as the butler opens the doors to the lounge for us—Dalton motions for me to enter first.

“Not always. I spend a lot of time in my rooms, so I tend to eat a bit less formally. My parents sit at a dining table most nights and are served. The formal banquets for visiting dignitaries or royal guests can go on for hours, especially with speeches. However, when my father has finished eating, that is it—everyone else has to stop as well.” Dalton takes my hand and leads me to what looks like a very comfortable armchair. He takes a seat opposite, and the butler pours us two drinks.

"I'll be back with the coffee, Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” Dalton acknowledges.

“What do you mean, when your father stops eating, everyone else has to stop?” I question in confusion.

“It’s tradition and a pretty selfish one if you ask me.” Dalton is interrupted by the butler, who has returned with our coffees. “Thank you, that will be all.” Dalton dismisses him before continuing, “My father doesn’t eat much. As soon as his plate is cleared, they start to clear the other plates in the order they were brought in. There’s been many a time when I’ve sent down for food after a banquet because I’m still hungry.” Dalton picks up his glass of brandy, and we chink our glasses together in a toast.

“But why?” I really don’t understand this concept.

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