His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 239: Pull Your Sleeves Down

Henry’s hands moved to her thighs. His fingertips traced the bare skin just above her knees, featherlight. The touch travelled upward, circling the boundaries of temptation until her breathing betrayed her. "Beautiful," he whispered. His fingers stroked higher. "Soft."

Another inch.

"Gorgeous."

"Henry..." Her voice broke around his name.

He looked up immediately. The desire in his face was fierce. His hands drifted, skimming the outside of her thighs, then inward just enough to make her tremble. The night rail bunched higher beneath his fingers, thin linen sliding over her skin inch by inch. He did not look away from her face as he did it.

His gaze held hers. Then his hand paused at the edge of her underlinen. He could feel the warmth of her cunt through the cloth. Every slight shift of her hips dragged pleasure through him. He wanted to pull the fabric aside, sink his fingers into her and feel her wet, feel the truth of her desire coat his skin. He wanted to push into her slowly and watch every argument flee her face.

"Pull your sleeves down," he said.

"Your Majesty...Maybe I should consider retiring in my room."

"All I want is to hear you moan, love," Henry said. "That is all."

Livia’s fingers tightened in the linen gathered at her thighs. "Henry, please..."

Henry watched every battle pass across her face. "Why do you torture yourself to prove a point?"

She shifted again, trying to find some arrangement of limbs and willpower that did not leave her seated directly over the hard length of him. It was impossible. Thin layers separated them. Take that away, and he would be pressed snugly against the wet heat of her, exactly where her body seemed determined to welcome him.

Henry’s hands held her waist. He smiled, but the darkness in his eyes glinted. "Look at me, begging you to use me. Go on, love," he murmured. "Move." His hands guided her hips, suggesting the rhythm. A slow drag forward. A softer pull back. The pressure of him slid against her through the damp linen, and Livia bit down hard on her lip to keep the sound trapped in her throat.

No.

Absolutely not.

She would not give him the satisfaction. She focused on anything else. The ache in her bitten lip. Henry’s jaw tightened as she resisted him.

"You are the most stubborn woman God ever placed in my path."

"Then perhaps God is warning you."

He leaned up and brushed his mouth against her collarbone. His lips moved over the warm skin there, while his hands slid down to her bare thighs.

Livia shivered. Henry smiled. His right hand left her thigh and slipped slowly between them. His fingers moved lower, finding her through the soaked linen. He stilled for half a breath, and a rough laugh broke from him.

"Well, fuck me," he breathed. "This is familiar."

Livia shut her eyes. Mortification burned through her. His fingers pressed against her, rubbing with wicked patience. Her body responded instantly. Her thighs tightened around him. Her breasts rose sharply beneath the lace, nipples drawn taut and visible enough to make Henry’s mouth go dry.

He licked his lips. His thumb found the place that made her breath break. The touch circled slowly.

Livia’s hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him hard. He pressed more firmly. A tiny sound escaped her.

Barely anything.

Henry’s eyes darkened. "Come on, darling," he whispered. "Stop fighting it."

Her toes curled behind him. Her hips shifted against him.

"There," he said, breath rough. "There is my queen." He moved his hips beneath her, meeting the next helpless roll of her body. The hard length of him dragged against her exactly where his fingers worked her, and the pleasure struck so sharply that her eyes flew open. Henry watched her as if the sight was worth a kingdom.

"Again," he said.

She shook her head. Her body disobeyed. Her hips moved against him once more, then with a rhythm that made his throat tighten. The wet linen between them turned slicker. Each time she rocked forward, his cock pressed against her, and each time his thumb circled her clit, she came closer to the edge she was so determined not to fall from.

Henry’s restraint frayed. Her body remembered him. Her heart might still argue, but her body remembered. He kept one hand at her waist, guiding, tormenting. His other hand moved faster between her thighs. "Now moan for me..."

Livia threw her head back. Pleasure swallowed her so suddenly that pride had no place. It rolled through her in bright, merciless waves, stealing breath, thought, and every last sensible objection she had been clinging to. Her body moved helplessly over his, chasing the friction she had spent several minutes pretending not to want. He watched her face with dark devotion, hungry for every broken sound she tried to bury.

"Do it," he said.

She clenched her jaw.

Still fighting.

Still stubborn.

With his other hand, he brought his palm down against her ass. Livia gasped.

"Do it," Henry ordered again, voice rough with need.

A cry tore from her throat, a sound so naked she did not recognise herself in it. Her body convulsed over his hand, pleasure rushing through her until she could do nothing but tremble against him. She came hard, shuddering, helpless, her face falling into the crook of his shoulder as though she could hide from what he had made her admit.

Henry groaned.

The feel of her undoing ruined him. Her hips jerked against his, and the hard length of his cock slipped between the heat of her thighs through their clothing, catching just right against the slick, soaked fabric. It was not enough. It was nowhere near enough.

His cock twitched violently, and he spilled into his drawers with a shuddering breath, his arms closing around her as the release tore through him. He could only hold her, breath ragged, body still locked beneath hers, the scent of their mingled heat filling the dark space between the bed curtains.

(This has been a while hasn’t it? I mean since we had some mmmmmmmm....moments. Seems like they are a fewer in this book than UMG.)