Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(123)

“There, that’s better,” he said.

His lips curved into a self-satisfied smile as he arranged her on top of him. Too startled to resist, Justine let him do as he wished. But then she realized with a mental jolt that her shift had rucked up around her hips. That meant that her most intimate parts—naked parts—were pressed firmly against his hard length.

When she wriggled, embarrassed to be so blatantly exposed, a spasm unexpectedly pulsed out from her most tender flesh. It felt so pleasurable that she gasped and grabbed his forearms, steadying herself.


“Ah, that was lovely,” he purred. “Did you like that, Justine?”

His voice brushed over her like a silk scarf, making her want to squirm again. “I take it that’s supposed to happen,” she said with a weak smile.

True, she’d felt nice things down there before, but not quite like that. Not so strongly that she wanted to slide against him, rubbing into his hard length. To her mind, sexual congress had always sounded like a rather messy and unpleasant business. For the first time she could begin to see its appeal.

But only with Griffin.

“Yes,” he said with a quizzical smile. “Did you never touch yourself down there? Make yourself climax?”

She felt her eyes go wide. “Or course not! Really, Griffin, where would you get such an idea?”

When he opened his mouth to answer, she waved both hands. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“Oh, but I think you will want to know what I have to teach you.” His hands crept up her thighs, slipping under the hem of her chemise. His slightly rough fingertips felt divine on her skin. “Take off your shift, love, so we can begin your first lesson.”

Her pulses jumped at the heat in his eyes, making her feel almost light-headed with excitement. Never had Justine imagined she could be so naughty. But with Griffin, it seemed . . . natural.

She didn’t want to examine that thought too closely, so before she lost her nerve she dragged her shift over her head. Still too rattled to look at him, she twisted a bit and tossed the garment onto their pile of clothes.

A low hiss startled her, and she turned back to him.

“What is it?” she asked, peering at him with concern. His eyes had narrowed to glittering slits, and his mouth was pulled into a tight line. “Did I hurt you?”

“God, no,” he said. His voice, low and harsh, sounded as if the words had been dragged from his throat. “Christ, Justine. You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Blushing, she looked down at herself as his long fingers settled at the top of her stockings to play with her garters. Her heart jolted to see her breasts, the nipples rosy and hard, and her auburn curls nestling against his erection, barely hidden by his smalls.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling shy all over again. “I think the same about you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You think I’m perfect?” He let out a low chuckle. “You would be in a minority of one, if that’s true.”

“Not according to the women at The Golden Tie,” she teased, tentatively stroking his arms and then letting her fingers trail to his chest. She explored his ribs, then traced the outlines of the mythic beast inked onto his skin. His muscles seemed to jump under her fingertips. Justine couldn’t help smiling.

“Did it hurt when you got this?” she asked. “It’s quite large.”

“God, yes. It was all I could do not to cry like a baby,” he replied.

“Then why did you go to the trouble?”