Page 27 of American Queen (New Camelot Trilogy 1)
My cheeks are flushed as he says my own words back to me. I’m so embarrassed and yet…that he memorized my words, touched himself thinking of them, that he carried my words with him wherever he traveled…
“Greer,” Ash says, his hands sliding up to my hips and holding me tight, “I have to know you meant what you said. It’s been ten years since you wrote me that email, and while I’ve spent those ten years wishing to God that you were mine, I know things might have changed for you.”
Everything has changed. So much has changed. And yet nothing at all, because here I am just as breathless and squirmy as I was kissing him when I was sixteen. As infatuated and obsessed as when I wrote those emails.
“I want to know if I can be the man to hold you by the neck,” he says. “I need to know how much you’ll let me do to you, how far you’ll let me go, because you are the only woman who’s ever said those words to me. The only woman who’s wanted that from me.”
His fingers dig into my hips, and I nod, vigorously, desperately. “Yes,” I plead. “Yes, please.”
A certain tension leaves his shoulders, and the smile he gives me is luminous. “I’ve waited so long for this. Wanted this so hard, so painfully, and now…” He takes a breath, moving his hands down so that his palms rest on the top of my legs and his thumbs brush against the crease of my thighs. “Now you are here, and you are actually telling me you want to be mine.”
“I’ve wanted to be yours since I was old enough to want it,” I tell him. I can feel the warmth from his thumbs, the faintest movement of them as they gently rub closer and closer to my cunt, and it makes me ache so fiercely I can’t handle it. I try to subtly move my hips so that I get the touch where I need it, but he merely presses his palms against my thighs to stop me.
“What do you want?” I ask him in a whisper. “Let me give it to you.”
The words are like water to a parched man, and he presses his eyes closed for a moment. Then he opens them. “Don’t move,” he orders, pressing my legs wider apart. I’m so exposed to him, and his thumbs are so very, very close to the place where I throb and need.
“Yes, Sir,” I murmur.
And then the first press of his touch. His thumbs brush against my folds, up and down, up and down, until I’m fighting the urge to squirm, and then he spreads my pussy open. He can see every fold, curve and slick line of me, and the way he’s looking at my cunt, as if it’s something for sale, a thing for his pleasure and his possession, it makes it impossible to stay still now. I wriggle a little on the desk.
Thwack!
A sharp slap on the inside of my thigh.
I’m surprised by the hot flash of pain, and even more surprised at the way my pussy tightens at it, the way goose bumps pepper my flesh and the way my nipples harden. I can’t stop the whimper that leaves my mouth.
“I’m the first man to look at your pussy this way, aren’t I? The first to spread you open and just look.”
“Yes, Sir,” I confirm, heat flushing in my stomach as I remember Embry that night. There had been no looking then, no deliberate teasing. Just hands and mouths and need. There’s something that’s so inherently, deeply right about the way Ash takes his time and exerts his control. Embry treated me like a treasure he couldn’t stop himself from plundering. Ash is treating me like a jewel to be polished and then shattered and then polished again. Like I’m all the more beautiful for the ways he’d like to wreck me.
“I want you to show me what you did when you wrote to me,” he says. “I want to see what it looks like when you fuck yourself.”
I let out a ragged breath. “Right now?”
“Yes. Right now.”
All at once, my bravery leaves me. “I’m just… I’ve never done that in front of anyone. I’m worried I’ll look stupid.”
“For ten years, I’ve been dreaming about you,” Ash reassures me, his thumbs back to rubbing their sweetly teasing rubs. “Just having you here, on my desk and spread open for my pleasure, is more than I ever hoped to have. There’s no earthly way you can disappoint me.”
But, sensing my hesitation, he wraps his strong hand around my own and gives it a squeeze. “I’ll help you get started,” he informs me, guiding my hand to my waiting pussy. I’m bare, and the outer skin there is so soft, so deliciously soft. “Don’t think of it like anything other than what it is. I’m making you do this. You don’t have a choice. It doesn’t matter that it feels strange or embarrassing, because the only things you have to worry about are listening and remembering your safe word. Say yes, Sir if you understand.”
His words relax me, soothe me. There’s no way in hell I want this to stop, and he’s right—the minute I relinquish all control and surrender my body to his wants and commands, the fear of embarrassment slips away. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. Now show me what you did in that computer chair all those years ago. I want to see you come.”
I do as he says, letting my eyes fall shut as he moves my hand so that my fingers graze the wet folds and then move up higher to my swollen clit. The moment my fingers touch it, I nearly jolt off the table. I’m starved for this, needy, because even though I get myself off nearly every night, having Ash here changes it fundamentally. It’s no longer me and my blurry memories merging with my darkest fantasies, it’s me and Ash and Ash’s hands moving back down to grip my hips and Ash’s pulse thudding above his collar and Ash’s silver tie bar glinting in the dim light of the White House living room. It’s both of us together, and it feels just as intimate as sex, even though we are both fully clothed, even though the hand slowly rubbing my clit is my own.
It only takes a minute for me to find my rhythm, to find that perfect pace and pressure to send my body slowly spiraling upwards. I bite my lip to muffle the tiny moans coming from deep in my throat, but I can’t stop the rocking of my hips as my body wakes up and begins demanding more. I spread my thighs wider, Ash’s pleased hiss rocketing through me like a meteoroid, and I severely underestimated how much I needed this because I’m so close, so impossibly close, and it’s only been a couple of minutes.
“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?” Ash asks in a low voice.
I nod, panting. I’m wet everywhere, my body hot, my thighs tight, my clit feeling firm and puffy all at once. My other hand, still pulling my panties aside so I can work myself for Ash, begins to cramp, and as if Ash can tell, he hooks the fabric with his thumb, freeing my hand from its task. I place that hand behind me so I can tilt my head up and lean back farther, relishing the feeling of Ash’s hands on me, his hungry eyes on my pussy, and that thought alone is enough to push me right to the cliff’s edge.
“Tell me when,” he orders. “I want to know when.”
“Now,” I manage. “Right now.”
