Chapter 4 🌶️The Clock Struck Twelve
Paige
The gravel crunched beneath my slippers as I hurried toward the waiting carriage, trying not to think too hard about whether I was fleeing the prince or the version of myself who had nearly forgotten there was anything beyond his mouth.
I had almost reached the first lantern when footsteps sounded behind me.
“My lady moves as though escaping scandal.”
I turned. He was walking toward me without hurry, moonlight catching at the gold on his cuffs.
“Perhaps I am.”
“Then I ought to assist.”
His smile should have warned me. Instead I stayed where I was while he closed the distance between us.
The night smelled of roses and cool stone, but underneath it lingered the warmth of his skin. My body remembered the hardness I had felt beneath my palm before my mind decided what to do with the memory.
His hand rose slowly, giving me every chance to stop him.
I didn’t.
His knuckles traced the side of my throat. “Still trembling.”
“You seem very pleased by that.”
“I am trying not to be insufferably pleased.”
“That sounds difficult for you.”
His laugh was quiet. “Excruciating.”
He slipped one finger beneath a loose curl near my shoulder. “You undo me, then expect me to behave like a gentleman.”
“I never asked you to behave.”
The amusement vanished from his face, replaced by heat.
“Well,” he murmured, “that was a dangerous thing to say.”
The back of my calves met the carriage step before I realized how close we had moved. One hand braced against the door beside my shoulder while the other settled at my waist.
He paused.
Waiting.
I should have climbed into the carriage.
Instead I caught the front of his coat and pulled him down to me.
His mouth met mine hard enough to steal my breath. The earlier kisses had been slow, almost courtly. This one wasn’t. He kissed me with open hunger, and I answered with just as much, gripping his lapels while his hand slid from my waist to my hip.
When his mouth moved along my jaw, I tipped my head back willingly.
“You should go,” he said against my throat.
A breathless laugh escaped me. “You’re the one following me.”
“I know.” His lips brushed beneath my ear. “I am demonstrating terrible judgment.”
“So am I.”
His hand moved down my side, gathering the midnight silk. He stopped before lifting it higher and looked at me.
The question was unmistakable.
My heart pounded.
I nodded.
His mouth returned to mine while he raised the gown slowly, giving me time to change my mind with every inch. Cool air touched my calves, then my knees, then higher.
He drew back enough to look at me. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
The words settled something inside me I hadn’t realized was tense.
“I will.”
“And now?”
I looked at his mouth, then at the hand holding my skirts.
“Now I want you to keep going.”
His eyes darkened.
The gown bunched around my hips. His fingers skimmed the inside of my thigh, and I sucked in a breath when he discovered there was nothing beneath it.
“Your fairy godmother is dangerously thorough.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
Then his fingertips slid between my thighs, and the laugh disappeared.
I was already wet enough that his expression changed with raw satisfaction, but he still waited until I shifted toward his hand before touching me fully.
The first stroke of his fingers made me gasp.
“Still want me to continue?”
“Yes.”
He kissed me as two fingers slipped inside me, slow enough to let me feel every inch. My knees threatened to buckle, and I caught the carriage door while his thumb circled my clit.
“Oh, God.”
“Not quite,” he murmured against my mouth.
I laughed once, helplessly, then lost the sound when his fingers curled.
Pleasure gathered low and tight, sharpened by the cold night against my bare thighs and the prince watching every reaction as though he intended to memorize them.
“Please.”
He slowed instead of assuming. “What do you want?”
I swallowed and made myself say it.
“You. Inside me.”
His restraint snapped.
He withdrew his hand and turned me toward the carriage, but before bending me forward he caught my gaze in the dark window.
“Say it again.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
The smile he gave me was devastating.
He gathered my skirts around my waist, and I heard the rustle of his clothes behind me. A moment later the blunt head of his cock pressed against me.
He paused.
I pushed back.
That was my answer.
He entered me in one deep thrust that punched a cry from my lungs.
For a second neither of us moved. He was bigger than I expected, stretching me so completely I had to breathe through the intensity. His hands tightened at my hips, holding still until I rocked back against him.
“Move.”
He did.
The carriage shifted beneath us as his rhythm built, each thrust deeper than the last. I braced my hands against the velvet seat and met him as best I could, startled by how quickly embarrassment disappeared once pleasure took over.
His hand slid around my waist and between my thighs.
“Harder,” I gasped.
He obeyed.
The pressure of his fingers over my clit sent heat streaking through me. My climax hit hard enough to steal my voice, leaving me shaking against the carriage while he drove into me through every aftershock.
Then the first bell rang.
Midnight.
The sound cut straight through the haze.
I froze.
So did he.
Another bell rolled across the grounds.
“I have to go.”
His hands left me immediately.
No argument. No attempt to hold me there.
“Go.”
I scrambled upright, dragging my skirts down while he stepped back and gave me room. My glass slipper caught on the carriage step as I climbed inside and slipped from my foot.
The carriage lurched forward before I could reach for it.
I twisted around.
The prince stood in the moonlight, breathing hard, my lost slipper gleaming on the gravel between us.
Another bell sounded.
He bent and picked it up.
The world blurred.
The bells grew louder until they no longer belonged to a palace clock tower.
They belonged to the clock beside my bed.
I gasped and jolted upright in my apartment, the blue book open across my lap.
My skin was damp. My pulse raced. Every nerve in my body still remembered hands that could not possibly have touched me.
At the bottom of the page, one line shimmered faintly in silver ink.
At midnight, all enchantments become choices.
I slammed the book shut.
