Page 22 of Coronation
How strange for entire, beautiful houses like this one to sit unused for decades. It is indeed less grand than The Crown’s other properties, but even cold and unused, this place has an unassuming atmosphere which makes it more of a family home than a showpiece. There are a few aged oil paintings on the walls and not much else. On the far side of the room, an enormous stone hearth stands dark, logs stacked neatly inside, ready to be called to duty.
Unable to tolerate any distance between us, I stroll forward, holding Zelda’s gaze with my own. She comes willingly into my embrace, her slim arms twining around the back of my neck as I lower my lips to hers, kissing her slowly. The fire that existed between us a few moments ago is still there, a peripheral entity waiting to be brought back to life.
I can’t control myself with her.
“Are you worked up?” I murmur as we break apart, my lips skimming over her jaw and down her neck, greedily inhaling the scent of flowers and honey on her skin. There was something else there last night, perfume, I would imagine, but it’s faded in the hours since we met, and what’s left behind is better by far.
Zelda trembles, her head falling to the side to allow me better access to the delicate skin there. “You know I am.” Her voice is breathy and strained, illustrating the truth of this statement.
My hands drift to her ass, pulling her more securely against me, and ensuring she can’t miss the evidence of my arousal. I’m surprising even myself with my stamina where she’s concerned. “I’d better take you to bed, then, hadn’t I?”
A tremble passes through her body and into mine as she presses herself closer to me in response. Another kiss, this onemore feverish than the last, and I groan as her fingers find my hair.
The memory of her pulling it as I ate her pussy comes to mind, and I break our kiss, eager to recreate that scenario as soon as possible. “Let’s find our room,” I murmur, pressing a chaste kiss to the place just beside her mouth.
Zelda nods, and as I draw back to look at her properly, the sight of her wide pupils and kiss-swollen lips sends a fresh surge of blood to my cock.
Neither of us speaks as I take her hand in mine, leading the way up the old wooden steps, which creak and groan under our weight. The upstairs hall is adorned with faded wallpaper and a runner, which is threadbare with age. There are perhaps a dozen polished, dark wood doors, but only one stands open at the very back of the house. I feel my heart beating faster as we draw nearer, Zelda’s palm warm against my own.
The bedroom isn’t grand. An old wooden bed dressed in plain white linens stands in the middle of the space, flanked by mismatched tables. Whoever tidied the space left the windows open, and as we watch, a warm morning breeze rustles the old tartan curtains. Truthfully, I can’t say I’ve stayed in such a worn place in quite some time, but as I turn to the woman at my side, I find I couldn’t be less bothered.
Nobody could ever accuse me of being a romantic man. My stiff, absent nature has lent itself well to a string of disappointed lovers, and a wife who despised me before we ever said,“I do.”As I look at Zelda Flowers, though, this woman I’ve known for barely twelve hours… Jagged pieces inside me seem to settle into place.
How utterly, terrifyingly mad.
Something flashes behind her pale eyes, and I wonder if she can see these feelings written in my face, and whether she is reading them with the same ease she’s displayed since the first moment we met. Is it her effect on me? Is my obsessionwith this woman loosening whatever emotional block I’ve kept in place nearly all my life. Or, even more daunting, can she simply understand me in a way I haven’t yet encountered?
Releasing my hand, Zelda draws forward, gazing up at me from beneath her long, dark eyelashes. I expect her to kiss me, or to pull me backward toward the bed, but the woman of my dreams does neither. Instead, she drops to her knees.
The house is so still that I can hear my every heartbeat and the soft clink of metal as Zelda works my belt open. I’m viciously hard, and groan in relief when she finally pulls down my briefs, allowing my cock to fall freely into the space between us. Her lips are parted, and the look of unguarded desire I see in her face is nothing short of pornographic.
Zelda wraps her slim fingers around my base, and I watch, entranced, as she leans forward, dragging her hot tongue over the underside of my shaft. Automatically, my hand flashes out to grip the doorframe as pleasure twists at the base of my spine.
She takes her time, licking, sucking, and kissing every inch of me. It couldn’t be more apparent that she’s turned on by this, and I know that the sight of her, squirming at her feet as she showers attention on my cock, will be all the fantasy material I’ll need for a very long time.
“Don’t make me come,” I rasp, my chest heaving as her grip on me tightens. “I want to be inside you again.”
There is no missing the way her thighs press together at my words, or how her ministrations grow more fervent, confirming the theory I formed in the car. Shelikeshaving this effect on me. She enjoys me coming undone and losing control with her.
It is no burden at all to give her that.
Heat is beginning to spread outward from my cock, as is the impulse to hold her face in my hands, andfuck. If I don’t put an end to this now, my seed will be on her tongue. I wantit there. I want it on her tits, too, on her ass, and painting her lips. It’s instinct, a dark, animalistic need to mark this woman as my own, to ensure no other man will ever touch what is so clearly mine.
More than any of that, I want it inside her.
My tip hits the back of her throat, and I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from erupting. “Get up,” I snap, my tone harsher than I’ve ever used with her in my desperation. “Take your dress off. Now.”
Every muscle in my body is coiled tight with the effort it takes to stop myself from lunging at her as she rises gracefully to her feet. I watch as she slips the thin straps over her shoulders, gazing at me through pupils blown wide, a needy flush spreading over her cheeks and chest.
The dress slithers down over her curves and falls to the ground in a silvery blue puddle. Every perfect inch of her is bare and on display, and my chest heaves as I finally allow myself to draw forward until Zelda sucks in a little gasp as her tightened nipples brush my chest.
I lean forward, my lips grazing the shell of her ear, and feel a tremor wrack her body. “On your back.”
The order is obeyed instantaneously, and I pull my T-shirt over my head as Zelda hurries naked across the room and crawls onto the center of the mattress. I’m so aroused that my gut aches as she lowers herself back against the pillows.
My steps are controlled and steady as I follow her path, pausing at the end of the bed to tilt my head, shamelessly examining every inch of her. There isn’t enough time in the world for the number of depraved things I would like to do to her, but we can certainly make a start.
I swallow. “Spread your legs.”
