Riled (The Invincibles Book 4) Page 9

  He brought his finger to my clit and circled it slowly. “Do not come, Kensington. Focus your mind. Enjoy but do not let yourself go.”

  Soon, he lifted my other leg and held my ankles together with his hand. He changed the direction of the circular motion he made with his hips and punctuated it with a thrust every few seconds.

  He changed positions several times. Each, it seemed, resulted in me feeling him in a way I hadn’t previously. Our eyes remained locked on one another’s, and our breathing stayed in perfect sync.

  He was a masterful, tender, giving lover. No one had ever given me the kind of pleasure Cortez did, and I couldn’t imagine allowing anyone other than him to touch my body ever again.

  He rested his elbows on either side of my face and continued his thrusts, quickening and deepening them as he kissed me.

  “Now, my love,” he murmured. “Let yourself fly.”

  This time when I cried out, he did nothing to silence me. My orgasm went on and on. Just as I felt it beginning to slow, he looked so deeply into my eyes, I felt like his whole body was inside of mine. I watched as he came apart like I had. He kissed me again, and it seemed to go on as long as my orgasm had. His tongue moved within my mouth like his cock had in my pussy.

  I never wanted to leave this bed, never wanted our bodies to separate. Sustenance be damned. All I needed to live on was Cortez.

  When I woke with the sun, his arm was around me, holding me close to him. I’d never felt so relaxed or at peace in my life, and that was all thanks to the beautiful man whose front was nestled to my back.

  Even though we’d made love for most of the night, I wasn’t sore. I smiled when I felt his lips kiss my neck and down my spine.

  “I love these,” he said, as he kissed the dimples above my bottom. “And these.” He kissed each of my fleshy cheeks. He continued his way down, tickling the backs of my legs with his tongue until he reached the soles of my feet. “Feliz Navidad, Kensington.”

  “Happy Christmas, Cortez.”

  He flipped me over so I was on my back, and worked his way up my body, spreading my legs when he reached my heated core. I expected him to linger, but he didn’t. Instead, he rubbed his chin with his palm. “I am making your beautiful skin turn red.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He grazed my stomach with the side of his face, and I laughed.

  “Come,” he said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. He led me into the en suite bath and turned on the water in the jetted tub. I groaned, already knowing how good the water would feel, pulsing against my muscles.

  He stared into my eyes. “I love the sounds you make. I am learning what each means.”

  “Pleasure, Cortez. Each one means the same.”

  He helped me into the bath that could comfortably fit us both. “That is not true,” he said, nuzzling my neck and making me giggle. Moments later, he pinched my nipple hard and twisted it. I gasped, and my pussy flooded. That counted as pleasure, then, didn’t it?

  “Come,” he repeated, pulling so I sat between his legs, my back resting against his chiseled pecs and rock-hard abs.

  “You are in amazing shape,” I murmured, resting my hands on his powerful thighs.

  He laughed. “For an old man.”

  “For any man.”

  “What would you like to do today?”

  “Sleep?”

  He laughed again. “I will visit the chapel later. Would you like to join me?”

  “Very much.” My stomach rumbled. “I didn’t think I’d ever be hungry again after last night’s feast, but I am.”

  “As am I,” he murmured, reaching between my legs. He stroked me and then pushed me away from him. “Stand and straddle me,” he said, turning me to face him.

  He placed the tip of his cock against my pussy and pulled me down until he was as deep inside me as he could get.

  “Make yourself come, Kensington,” he said, placing his hands on my breasts. He went completely still as I found my rhythm. I stopped momentarily when the water splashed. “Keep going,” he said, closing his eyes in what looked like ecstasy.

  I started to move again, even when the water splashed onto the tile floor. His hands fastened on my waist as he inhaled a deep breath. He pushed his hips up, hard, and groaned his release.

  I hadn’t come, but I didn’t care. I’d lost track of how many times I had in the last several hours. Giving him pleasure made me feel powerful, and I wanted more. I sat back and grabbed the body wash, making a lather in my hands. Slowly, I washed him, cupping his scrotum with one hand while I made him hard again with the other. I reached behind me and drained the water from the tub.

  “Stand,” I demanded.

  He smiled, and I knelt before him, showing his cock the love he’d given me.

  14

  Rile

  I didn’t think I had another orgasm in me. Not this soon after I’d emptied myself into Kensington’s body. I was powerless against the magic of her mouth as she licked and sucked me. I weaved my fingers in her hair, holding her still as I felt a surge of power through me.

  This woman kneeling before me was magnificent. Our bodies fit together as perfectly as our souls.

  Forty-eight hours ago, I would’ve refused to believe I would open myself up to her. Now, I couldn’t imagine not having her in my arms. I pulled her to her feet and kissed her, tasting myself on her tongue. Already, I wanted her again.

  Kensington shuddered with a chill. I grabbed a towel from the warming rack and wrapped it around her. I led her to the bed and sat behind her, running my fingers through her hair to get rid of the tangles.

  Her stomach rumbled like it had in the bath, and I laughed. “Yes, okay, I must feed you.”

  She leaned back against me. “I don’t want to leave this room.”

  I didn’t either, but if I didn’t, I’d be back inside her body within minutes. I pushed her up, stood behind her, put a robe around her shoulders, and grabbed my workout pants and a sweatshirt.

  Once in the lift, I surrounded her body and kissed her hard. “A promise for later,” I murmured, reaching inside her robe to tweak her nipple. My efforts were rewarded when the scent of her arousal met my nostrils.

  The door opened, and I was pleasantly surprised to find the kitchen empty.

  “Sit while I make us something to eat.”

  “I can help.”

  I shook my head. “Marta left us a feast.” I reached for the platter of fresh fruit and set it on the table, close enough for Kensington to reach. I filled a pitcher with water and put two glasses on the table with it.

  Rubbing my hands together, I opened the pantry where I knew Marta kept baked items. There were Spanish crumble cakes like we’d had for dessert last night along with several other pastries. I opened the cupboard and took out a large platter, which I then filled.

  “What else may I bring you?”

  “Tea?”

  I hit my head with my palm, and she giggled—the sound was heavenly. “How could I forget tea?”

  Once the water was hot, I brought the teapot and cups to the table and then sat beside her, our arms and legs touching. I plucked a strawberry from the platter and brought it to her lips. When she took a bite and then licked my fingers, I made a plan to bring a bowl of fruit up to our room.

  Our room. I waited for the feeling of dread I anticipated with a thought such as that, but it didn’t come. Instead, the warmth from her body next to mine, blanketed me against my own guilt or recrimination.

  I heard the lift leave the floor and then return a few minutes later.

  “Happy Christmas,” I heard Angel say after the door opened. She sat down at the table and rested her folded arms on it. “By the look of you both, I’d say this is a very happy Christmas, indeed.”

  Kensington pointed to the end of the table where the Miró painting sat. “Cortez gave me a Christmas gift last night.”

  “Yeah?” Angel stood, lifted the paper that covered it, and gasped. “A Miró?”<
br />
  Kensington nodded. “Isn’t it brilliant?”

  Angel’s eyes met mine. “An original?”

  I gave a slight nod.

  “Wow. I’m impressed, Rile.”

  “By what?” asked Casper, coming in from the outside stairwell. “Oh, that? I peeked earlier.”

  “Please join us,” I said to the two of them, waving my hand at the table. “There’s plenty of food, more where this came from. Casper, you’ll find a French press in the cupboard and coffee beside it.” I stood and refilled the tea kettle and set it on the stove. “Angel, there is tea.”

  “You are such a gracious host, err, boss. We aren’t exactly your guests,” muttered Angel. “Thanks, nonetheless.”

  “You are very welcome,” I said, returning Kensington’s smiling gaze.

  Her back was to me, but I could feel the sorrow seeping off of Casper. This would be her second Christmas without her beloved husband, and I knew exactly how hard that would be for her. I rested my hand on her shoulder and watched her wipe away a tear.

  As much as I wanted to spend the day alone with Kensington, I had another idea that would allow the three women in the room with me to enjoy the holiday a bit more. It would also keep Casper’s mind off her sadness, at least a little.

  I went back and sat beside Kensington. “Last night, we spoke about Christmas at the Palacio de la Zarzuela.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Do tell Teagon and Casper about it, Cortez. It sounded enchanting.”

  “What if I were to show them instead?”

  “That would be brilliant,” she murmured.

  “Are you certain we’d be welcome?” Angel asked.

  “More than,” I said, knowing exactly my mother’s reaction.

  As I predicted, the duchess’ exclamation of glee could be heard across the room through my mobile.

  “Do hurry, Cortez,” she said before putting her hand over her mic, most likely to announce our impending visit. “Please plan to stay, darling,” she said before we rang off.

  I hadn’t considered the notion, but being there would allow Angel and Casper some time to relax, considering the security my family already had on staff.

  When we arrived at the airfield in Palma, I went inside the private terminal and made arrangements for our transport. Instead of driving to the DeLéon hangar, I drove to the helipad. When we arrived, I looked at Angel in the rearview. “Would you mind terribly?”

  She clapped her hands and let out an exclamation of glee similar to my mother’s. “Seriously?” she said, eyeing the Bell 429 helicopter that sat waiting.

  “Are you rated?”

  She nodded, practically salivating.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Wow,” said Kensington, running her hand over the supple leather once we were inside and seated. “It’s almost like a plane.”

  Angel delivered us safely to the palace’s helipad. “Thanks, Rile,” she said, looking back over her shoulder one more time before we walked away.

  “You’ll get to fly it again in a few days’ time.”

  Her eyebrows went up.

  “How did you think we’d get back?”

  She shrugged and laughed.

  The Palacio de la Zarzuela was one of nine “official” residences of the Spanish monarchy and certainly not the grandest.

  The Royal Palace of Madrid held that title and was the main residence of the rulers of Spain beginning in 1735. It was the largest palace in all of Europe, with 3,418 rooms and 135,000 square meters. Since the deposition of Alfonso XIII in 1931, it had been used solely for official and state functions.

  It was constructed after the Spanish War of Succession, which ended the reign of the Habsburg monarchy—from whom the wretch Konstantine descended—and began the Borbón monarchy, from which I descended.

  In the two-hundred and fifty years that followed, Spain experienced great turmoil. The monarchy was abolished, reinstated, and abolished again—many times over.

  It was Generalissimo Franco who’d restored the monarchy last, when he named Juan Carlos I de Borbón, my grandfather, as his successor in 1947.

  Rather than live in the Royal Palace, he chose the far less ostentatious Palacio de la Zarzuela as the site of his main residence. It had been built originally as a hunting lodge in the 1630s and suffered extensive damage in the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s. Abuelo Juan, as my brother and I called him, had it rebuilt into the compound it was today.

  There were several residences on the grounds, including the King and Queen’s—known as the Pavilion—as well as that of my parents, which sat virtually next door to one another on the five-thousand-acre grounds. My brother and his wife also lived within the compound but in a slightly more modest residence than that of our parents.

  My father, Juan Cortez DeLéon, and his older brother, King Ferdinand, were two years apart in age, had always been close, and remained so now. My father served as the king’s confidant and advisor since his coronation.

  Thus, our relationship with my aunt and uncle had always been like that of any other family. From the stories she told about spending holidays with her great-aunt, Kensington’s relationship with the Queen of England didn’t appear much different than mine with the King of Spain.

  My mother and father greeted us warmly upon our arrival, both appearing giddy, looking upon Kensington as a woman with whom I was in a relationship and brought home to celebrate Christmas with my family, as opposed to someone under my protection.

  My brother, Osvaldo, and his wife, Maya, along with their two sons, Luis and Alfonso, greeted us as well. I was astounded at how much my nephews had grown since the last time I saw them. Then, they’d been toddlers; now, they were little boys with faces full of mischief, just like Osvaldo and I had been.

  While Kensington and Angel appeared relaxed with my family, Casper remained tense and rigid. I was at a loss as to what to do to ease her discomfort when I saw my brother’s wife, Maya, approach her.

  Soon, the two were in an animated conversation while my mother monopolized the other two women.

  “She’s lovely,” said my father, motioning in their direction. “I’m pleased to see the change in you in only a few days’ time. Astounded, but happy.”

  “I am astounded as well, Father.”

  “There’s something about her… Does she remind you of anyone?”

  “Only of herself.”

  My father poured us each a brandy. “Here’s to the miracles of the season.”

  Kensington turned to look for me, and our eyes met. I raised my glass to her, and she smiled.

  “Few greater beauties on this earth other than your mother.”

  “I would agree.”

  Shortly before I knew dinner would be served, I put my arm around Kensington’s waist. I led her around a corner, pushed her against the wall, weaved my fingers in her hair, and kissed her. Her arms were immediately around my neck, pulling me closer. I rested my pelvis against her, and she quietly moaned.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whispered, kissing down her neck. When her body began to move against mine, I knew she’d missed me just as much.

  “Cortez? Dinner,” I heard my mother’s voice from the other room.

  “Come,” I said, kissing the back of her hand. “The sooner we finish dinner, the sooner we can be alone.”

  As we went back around the corner, I knew we would not be able to rush off by ourselves as I’d momentarily planned, for seated at the table, were my uncle and aunt.

  A traditional Pavo Trufado de Navidad was served, including turkey stuffed with truffles, a vast assortment of seafood, and an array of desserts similar to what Kensington and I had eaten the evening before.

  “We missed you at esta noche de dormir,” said my aunt.

  When I was a boy, the night before Christmas had been my favorite of the year. After the midnight service, La Misa Del Gallo or the Mass of the Rooster, it was Spanish tradition to walk through the streets, carrying torches, playing guitars, and beatin
g on tambourines and drums. This went on until sunrise. As the saying went, “Esta noche es Nochebuena, y no es noche de dormir,” which meant “Tonight is the good night and it is not meant for sleeping!”

  My eyes met Kensington’s, and she smiled. We’d celebrated the night not meant for sleeping in our own way.

  “My dear,” my uncle began, “I fondly remember the first time your grandfather took Juan and I skeet shooting…”

  By the end of the story, we were all laughing uproariously and Kensington was adding stories of her own. She was not only beautiful, charming, and intelligent, she fit in as though she’d known my family for years—because she had.

  Celestina had never been comfortable with them, even after we were married. Had I suggested we visit Zarzuela for the holidays, she would’ve begged me to stay on Mallorca. I momentarily closed my eyes. Forgive me, my love, for disparaging your memory.

  “You have kept me on a pedestal too long, Cort. You’ve made it so no one could live up to me, and yet this one is much better suited to you.”

  When my mother cleared her throat, I met her gaze and stood to help with her chair. “Join me, Cortez,” she said, leading me from the room.

  “Have you heard anything about Habsburg?”

  “Konstantine or Otto?”

  “Either.”

  “I have not, Mother.”

  “Please excuse yourself and check.”

  I knew better than to ever doubt my mother’s intuition. I sent a group text to Decker, Smoke, and Siren, asking for an update.

  Smoke responded first. OVH is awake and ready to talk, he reported.

  Interesting, I thought to myself as I rubbed my lower lip with my finger. Konstantine’s cousin was alive and ready to divulge who had tried to kill him—I had no doubt it hadn’t been an accident. I was also certain of his assailant. What I didn’t know was why Konstantine would want his cousin dead.

  After dinner, the entire family, the King and Queen included, left the palace grounds to deliver food and gifts to those less fortunate. Each year, where they went was kept a secret until the very last minute.