His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

"My lady," he said, bowing.

"Stephen."

"I shall leave His Majesty in your care." Stephen extinguished the last candle near the desk, and bowed himself towards the door. "Good night, my lady."

Henry was already in bed, propped against the pillows in his nightshirt, the coverlet drawn to his waist.

"Your Majesty," Livia said, and curtsied. She stood alone before the king.

"I am beginning to worry, Livia," he said. "Are you planning to stand there all night?"

She smiled then loosened the clasp of the cloak. The heavy wool slid from her shoulders and dropped to the floor.

The maroon silk clung to her body. Lace curved over her breasts, hiding nothing, and the long slits at her thighs parted when she moved, offering brief, dangerous glimpses of skin.

Henry lifted himself on his elbows. "Liv?"

Livia’s heart thundered as she walked to the bed. Last time, she had come to him with fear. Tonight, she climbed onto the bed without waiting for him to reach for her.

Henry went very still. Livia moved over him, one knee on either side of his hips, settling carefully across his lap. His body reacted at once, hardening beneath her, and the knowledge sent a dark thrill through her that made her fingers tremble.

He looked genuinely lost. "I think...I am beginning to understand the purpose of the dress." His gaze moved over her, lingering with enough heat to make her skin tighten beneath the lace. "What I do not understand is what you are up to."

Livia swallowed. "I was thinking...if you leave for France in the morning, I may regret not doing this should you not return." She kissed him.

The first touch of his mouth was meant to be her answer, but Henry caught her waist and deepened it instantly. A sound escaped him, and his hands tightened on her.

Livia kissed him harder. She let herself feel him: the warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his breath, the strength of his hands holding her. Beneath her, his cock pressed hard against the linen. Her hands moved to the ties of his nightshirt.

Henry did not understand at first. Then her fingers pulled the first tie loose. Another. The cloth opened beneath her hands, revealing warm skin and the strong line of his chest. He broke the kiss. "What are you doing?"

Livia’s breath shook. "Wanting you."

"Livia," he said hoarsely. "I told you."

"I know."

Henry caught both her arms and held her still. "Livia." His voice was strained, almost pleading. "It is my turn to beg you. Do not do this."

She stared at him, wounded, confused, burning. "Why? I thought you wanted me."

"I do want you, you stupid woman. I do," he said again. "God help me, I do. But hell itself will freeze before I give the Church a reason to cheapen what this is."

"The Church is not here."

"And if you come to be with child?" he demanded. "What then? Another FitzRoy? Another child the court may call mine but law refuses to crown? Tell me you will marry me right this minute," he said. "Tell me you will take my name. Can you do that?"

"There are ways to prevent a pregnancy, Your Majesty," she said quietly.

His eyes narrowed. "How would you know that?"

A humourless smile touched her mouth. "I lived in a brothel. Did you forget?"

"Right," he breathed.

Desire had made him speak as if she were some sheltered maiden. He loosened his grip on her wrists.

"I am beginning to hate everyone who ever made you learn such things." Henry lifted one hand and touched her cheek. "Let me help you with this desire tonight...Let me give you pleasure. But, Livia..." His throat worked. "I am not going to take you. I will not let anyone make you less of what you are to me."

For several moments, they only stared at one another. It was a battle of wills. Henry feared taking too much. Livia feared giving everything.

The silence stretched.

Livia whispered, "Come back to me." She did not know where the words came from.

"Love me," he answered.

Livia’s heart tightened. Love him? She did not know how to do that. She did not know if she had ever done it.

So she kissed him. Henry caught her gently at first, as if still uncertain whether to trust the offering. Then her mouth opened under his, and his restraint fractured into a groan. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer until the hard length of him pressed between her thighs through the fabric. He rocked her once against him, and the friction sent heat tearing through her.

Livia gasped into his mouth. His hand moved up her back while the other found the thin straps of the nightdress. He slid them down her shoulders with trembling care, baring her inch by inch to the candle-shadow. The silk slipped lower, catching at her breasts before yielding.

He broke the kiss to look at her. "Beautiful."

Livia’s hands returned to his chest, pushing the nightshirt wider. She bent and pressed her mouth to his skin, bolder when he shuddered beneath her.

"Fuck," he breathed, head falling back against the pillows. Henry’s hands tightened at her hips, guiding her against him again, letting her feel exactly what she did to him without crossing the line he had drawn for both their sakes. He should perhaps have thanked God that she was giving in to him.

But then again, he questioned the timing. He pushed the thought away and hoped that this was genuine, that the walls around her was crumbling.

Henry gathered the silk slowly up her thighs. The nightdress whispered beneath his hands. His fingers followed the revealed skin, tracing the warm line of her legs before closing over her ass and drawing her firmly against him.

She answered by kissing him harder. Well, that was clear enough. His hands travelled upward, beneath the loosened silk, over her ribs, until he found her breasts. His thumbs brushed her nipples one after the other, slow circles that made them tighten beneath his touch. When he pinched lightly, she gasped into his mouth and ground down against him again.

Henry almost lost his mind. Then her hands moved to his waist. He caught her wrist. "Livia."

She looked down at him, flushed, breathing unevenly, her hair slipping over one shoulder. "Trust me."

His fingers loosened. She held his gaze while she untied the fastening of his drawers. There was something ruinous in her determination, in the fact that she had chosen this, chosen him.

When she freed him, his cock sprang into her hand, hard and already wet at the tip. Henry’s head fell back against the pillows again.

"Fuck."

Livia’s fingers wrapped around him carefully. Then she stroked.

Slowly.

His hands clenched in the sheets. A small smile touched her lips. Her thumb swept over the slick head, spreading wetness down his length. Henry’s breath fractured. His body tensed beneath her, hips lifting despite his attempt at restraint. He wanted to bury himself inside her.

God help him, he wanted it so badly his bones ached with it. Livia bent lower. Henry opened his eyes just as her mouth touched him.

The first warm brush of her lips made the entire room tilt.

"Livia."

Her hair spilled across his thighs, hiding her face from him as she took the head of his cock into her mouth. Wet heat closed around him, tentative at first, then bolder when his groan told her what words could not. Her tongue moved, pleasure shot through him so sharply he nearly sat upright.

No.

He needed to see. He tangled both hands in her hair, gathering it gently away from her face. "Let me look at you."

She glanced up at him. Her lips were stretched around him, eyes dark beneath her lashes, cheeks flushed, one hand still wrapped around the base of his cock.

"You are beautiful," he whispered.

Her mouth moved lower in answer.

Henry cursed.

Her head began to move with a slow rhythm, up and down, her tongue flicking along the underside of him before circling the sensitive head. She learned him quickly, listening to every broken breath, every helpless lift of his hips. Her lips closed tight, drawing him in as if she meant to pull every dark, desperate thing out of him and leave him hollow.

He tried to be still but she took him deeper. "Love," he rasped.

Her hand worked what her mouth could not take, stroking in time with every glide of her lips. The pleasure built too quickly, viciously fast. His thighs trembled beneath her. His breath came harder. He could feel himself nearing the edge.

"Livia, I am close."

She looked up at him again and did not stop.

"I am sorry," he breathed. "I am so sorry. Forgive me." Henry held her head steady, his fingers firm in her hair, and began to move. His hips drove up into the tight heat of her mouth, faster, harder. Pleasure roared through him, savage and blinding, and his control shredded with every wet pull of her lips around him.