The New York Times and USA Today bestselling series continues...
As the world tried to tear us apart, Alexander fought for me, claiming me as his own. I belong to him—body, heart, and soul. I found strength in his dominance. In his control. In his love.
Still I could always feel it: the darkness creeping toward our joy, threatening to overcome us. But I never imagined it would end like this. I thought I knew what marrying Alexander meant to my life. To my independence. To us.
I was wrong.
Ripped apart by tragedy, fighting for love, Clara and Alexander face their darkest hour in the stunning conclusion to their saga…
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Geneva Lee prefers fantasy to reality, especially fantasies involving powerful, dangerous, and sexy men. You can find her devouring a good romance while avoiding the laundry and the children. She lives in Seattle with her family.
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“I know I’m being silly.” She sniffed. “It’s not just her. We all have pasts. I’m overwhelmed. There’s so much to learn—who to curtsy to, what title belongs to whom. I can’t keep any of it straight, and it makes me think…”
She trailed away.
I drew her closer. “Yes?”
“That I’m going to be a terrible wife. I wasn’t cut out for this, X,” she confessed in a whisper. “What if I curtsy to the wrong person or forget to address someone? Did you know there’s an entire blog devoted to chastising me for breach of protocol?”
“You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I give a damn about any of that.” My hold on her tightened. “You could walk into that room and flip everyone off. Your place isn’t to impress them. They should—and they will—bow to you.”
“Bow, huh?” She laughed a little and tugged at my tie, even though tears continued to well in her beautiful eyes.
“Clara Bishop”— my hands dropped to brace her waist —“you’re going to be the Queen. Everyone’s place is at your feet.”
“Everyone’s?” She raised an eyebrow. “I think their place is at your feet, Your Highness.”
“But my place is at your feet. Or have you forgotten that?”
Her fingers twisted around my tie, her chest heaving slightly as our bodies urged closer. “I thought that was my place, X.”
“Sometimes.” I began to draw her skirt up, savoring the slow reveal of her stockings. “Sometimes I wish you on your knees, poppet. But you are my religion. I worship your body, so yes, my place is at your feet.”
I bunched her skirt in my hand and stepped back to admire the delicate lace garter belt and sheer stockings that complimented her curves. I pressed my palm to her thigh and she responded instinctively, spreading wider to grant me the access I craved. My cock strained against my trousers, but this wasn’t about me.
Dropping to one knee and then the other, I hooked a finger around one of the satin straps holding up her stockings and plucked it loose. A strangled cry of anticipation escaped her lips as I unhooked the others and drew her knickers down her hips.
“These are pretty, poppet.” My voice was hoarse as my hunger for her grew. “But unnecessary. Step out of them for me.”
Clara did as she was told. I shoved the scrap of lace in my pocket.
“I’ll hold onto them for you,” I promised her. “It’s better if your cunt is ready for me.”
I drew a finger down her seam, and she shuddered. Her responsiveness was my drug, it filtered into my bloodstream until I was lost in the haze of her. Her scent. Her softness. She grew wetter as I continued to run my finger along her folds, and I had to reach down and adjust myself.
“Yes, please,” she moaned, already lost to me.
“Long live the Queen,” I whispered, dropping a trail of kisses from her belly button down, curving to reach her inner thigh. I breathed her in until my mouth watered. Until all I could think about was fucking her with my mouth until she couldn’t hold herself upright.
My hand slid up to spread her open, revealing the delicate pink spot that was my favorite place in the whole world. My lips closed greedily over her cunt, sucking relentlessly until I’d drawn her clit out. I swirled my tongue over the engorged nub, a rush of testosterone washing through me as she whimpered. Her hips circled against me and my hands flew to her ass, encouraging her to rock against my mouth.
I wanted to devour her. I wanted to turn her inside fucking out on my tongue.
“Fuck my face,” I ordered her in a muffled voice, my mouth still full of her.
But she got the message.
“Oh god, yessss.” Clara pitched against me, my hands rolling her toward me until she lost control, bucking hard as my tongue stroked inside her. Her hands wove into my hair and yanked as she melted over me. Her thighs snapped closed on my face, but I wasn’t finished yet. Slowly I licked, savouring her taste and the way she quivered on my tongue.
“Stop,” she pleaded. “Please.”
I kissed her trembling sex softly as I pried her legs back open. Straightening, I gripped her hips in my hands and waited until she looked down at me. Even in the room’s low light, I could see the dark flush colouring her skin as she shyly met my eyes.
“When you go back out there and from this day forward, remember this,” I said, my voice thick with arousal, “you’ve brought me to my knees. You’ve brought me to my fucking knees, Clara.”
I nuzzled against her stomach, holding her steady until her shaking subsided.
“Can you stay upright?” I asked when she was still.
“You’re getting cocky, X,” she said, but when she let go of my hair, her hands dropped to brace themselves against the desk.
I smirked, pushing to my feet. “Wait here.”
A moment later, I returned from the attached washroom with a soft towel.
“Don’t want me walking around with wet panties?” she asked with a wry smile as I carefully dried her.
“Do you really think you’re getting those back, poppet?” I patted the slight bulge in my pocket. “I would have stayed down there until I’d licked up every bit of you, but you have a curious habit of just getting wetter.”
“Imagine that.” Reaching up, she fisted my tie and drew me closer. Her nose wrinkled. “You smell like…”
“Glorious, isn’t it?” I couldn’t keep myself from winking at her.
“But all of those people.” She shook her head. “Every single person out there is going to know that…”
“That I’m the luckiest man on Earth?” I finished for her.
“I happen to love smelling like you, and I happen to love knowing everyone will know that I just took you. I want them to know I can’t keep my hands off of you. I want every man out there to be jealous.” I tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. “I want them all to know you’re mine.”
“They don’t need to know I belong to you,” she whispered, “as long as you know.”
I gathered her in my arms, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I know, poppet.”
And God help me, I belonged to her.
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