#rege jean page x black reader

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Butterfly Kisses & Lavander Fields {One Shot}***

Title: Butterfly Kisses & Lavander Fields {One-Shot} ***

Rege Jean Page x GF Reader

Warning: Cursing, Fluff, NSFW, SMUUT, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 8.7k

Summary: You and Rege have been together for several months but have both been so busy you haven’t had time to bask in your coupledom. Now with a much-needed vacation only hours away will the two of you finally get to enjoy some R&R couple’s style?

 As always, thank you guys for reading. I appreciate it & you. 

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 ***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

 ~~~~~~

 "Good morning sunshine."

 Your eyelids fluttered for several moments before they finally opened and found a beautiful pair of deep russet brown eyes on you through your facetime call. He slowly smiled and your insides turned to mush like a freshly roasted marshmallow still hot to the touch.

 "Jesus Christ, you're so beautiful in the morning. How is it bloody fair?"

 You smiled widely feeling like the actual sun; warm, bright, and jubilant. This man always had you feeling this way. You didn’t know how he did it. You didn’t know if he even knew his effect.

 "You shouldn't be talking. I'm talking to an actual bloody statue of the perfect man. David who? Michelangelo who? Yo’ mama did that!"

 Regé smiled his dorky but completely heart stopping smile. He was really meant to be a movie star. He had the looks, the charisma, and the megawatt smile.

 "I woke up like this," he teased.

 You giggled as you rolled onto your back and stretched. You then held the device in the air over you giving him a different angel.

 "Wow. What a view!”

His mouth was slightly agape as his eyes looked over every inch of you that you were showing him. Biting his bottom lip, he shifted in his bed; you could see more of his exposed chest, and you were grateful for that. He had every right to be shirtless matter of fact he should be that way all the time. You remembered the first time you’d seen him without a shirt. It was an accident as you’d walked into his trailer without knocking and there he stood in jeans that were hung dangerously low on his hips unbuttoned and shirtless in front of a full-length mirror. You’d stood there stunned silent and still and you couldn’t help but ravage all the skin on display. He was hot and from the half-cocked smile he’d given you over his shoulder he knew it too.

 “Eh-em. Wow, I’m sorry sunshine I zoned out.”

 “It’s okay, I guess I’m just that boring,” you teased.

 Regé playfully rolled his eyes. “Oh, stop it, you and I both know you are not boring, and I was just mesmerized by your beauty as I always am.”

 You raised your hand to your mouth then smiled widely, unable to hide your cheesy schoolgirl grin that would tell him just how head over heels you were for him. It had happened so fast, so effortlessly that you didn’t have a set time, day or moment when it happened.

 “What are you thinking when you look at me like that?”

 Your eyes widened as heat rushed across your face. There was no way you could tell him—not yet.

 “Uh—uh—well—nothing,” you blurted.

 Regé snorted, “Liar.”

 You giggled as you avoided his gaze.

 “It’s okay though. Keep your secrets, sunshine.”

 You rolled onto your side and propped your iPad on the pillow beside you.

 “I see suitcases. Are you all packed and ready to go?”

 “I am.”

 Your excitement bubbled inside you remembering that in a few short hours you’d be getting on a plane to meet Regé and then you’d be off for an extended vacation with him, your first together.

 “God you’re going to make me an impatient man smiling at me like that.”

 “Are you feeling impatient?”

 “Better believe I am. I haven’t touched you in a month. I hate that.”

 You did too. When you’d accepted his proposal to be his girlfriend ten months ago you knew who he was. Being a stylist and costume designer in the industry, you knew the life of an actor. You knew busy schedules, insane amounts of stamps in a passport, long days and even longer nights and lengthy trips away from loved ones. He wasn’t the only one who had those same demands placed on him.

 With your four clients you currently had your hands full with meeting their expectations for styling. Your schedule had been booked for the majority of your relationship and it was the same for Regé which meant you didn’t go through the whole physically obsessed with each other phase that most went through in new relationships. You’d been physically together maybe two and a half weeks in every month, but it didn’t have the effect most would think. It enhanced other parts of your relationship.

 You were able to see the many sides of him away from his body, or the effects his touch had. You were able to learn his preferences deeper than the surface. You were able to learn his quirks, his mind, his heart and every single nuance that made him the man he was. The absence you endured made the times you were together so much better. Every lite touch of his hand sent your heart into overdrive. Every press of his lips on yours, or your forehead, or neck easily made you wet. Hell, the sight of him did that too.

 “I hate it too,” you concurred.

 The absences made your relationship stronger and made your heart fonder, but you really were looking forward to this long stretch of time you’d get together with no work distractions. He’d promised you four weeks and you were planning on cashing in on every single second.

 Regé’s eyes went all doe like and seductive then he licked his bottom lip, “Don’t worry, seven hours then I can finally wrap my arms around you.”

 Your belly did flips as your nether regions moistened. Jesus, you thought. there was no way you’d make it through these four weeks un-fucked. It was going down the only question in your head was when.

 ~~~~~~~~

 -2-Weeks Later-

The warm Italian sun kissed your body blazing its heat all over. You moaned as a gentle breeze brush against you cooling the heat of your skin.

 “Ah,” you sighed.

 This was heaven. You were already used to the feeling of complete relaxation. It hadn’t taken long at all. The moment you’d stepped off that jet 2 weeks ago and looked into the impossibly blue sky that was over the equally impressive ocean you felt carefree. Now, you didn’t have to open your eyes to know the same azure skies looked down on you as you sunbathed on this yacht. You couldn’t help but sigh again. An actor’s life was the life for you.

 Suddenly, your skin cooled making you wonder if there was an unplanned overcast in the sky. You were tempted to lift off your eye mask and look but your body was way too releaxed to move. Something cold then grazed your shin drawing a path along the skin there up your leg, across your knee to the top of your inner thigh. You smiled softly knowing just who this was.

 “Is this your way of telling me I’m too hot for you to handle?”

 He didn’t answer, instead he continued the trail of the cold item until he was not going across your stomach, up the center of your body to your chin. He then traced your bottom lip, and you knew then it was ice.

 “Say ah.”

 You obeyed then tastes the sweetness of strawberry and the tang of lemon all in a cold frozen mix. Moaning, you sucked on the popsicle savoring the contrasting flavors. All the while you sucked, you moaned until suddenly Regé pulled it from your lips. In protest, you pursed your lips more then pulled off your eye mask. The man before you took your breath away. How the hell was one man so beautiful, you wondered to yourself. Regé’s eyes were dark, hooded and spellbinding.

“If I had known all I needed to do to have you look at me like this was to suck your popsicle I would have done it long time ago,” you teased.

 The corner of his mouth turned up before he smiled softly. “Is that right?”

 You smiled, licked your bottom lip and nodded. “If I promise to look at you like this from now on, will you do it again?”

 You snorted, losing the battle.

 “So fresh,” you said while playfully swatting his bare chest.

 “Hey, it was you who brought up sucking my popsicle not me,” Regé protested.

 “Right and you were the innocent bystander completely drawn in by this Jezebel.”

 Regé smiled again lowering himself over you, blocking out the heat of the sun completely but replacing it with the heat of his body.

 “Jezebel, oh no no no. I hold you in much higher regard than that. Jezebel just won’t do,” he teased.

 Your brow cocked while your lips quirked. “Oh really?”

 His eyes dipped to your lips as he nodded. “Absolutely. Sorceress, perhaps, enchantress maybe, or—goddess.”

 His lips were right above yours as he trailed the popsicle across them again, the whole time he kept his dark maple syrup eyes remained glued to yours. Suddenly his lips spread into a smile.

 “Yes, goddess. I like that. My goddess.”

 “Yours?”

 He nodded.

 “If I am yours then shouldn’t I be praised or—worshiped?”

 There was that smile again, you said to yourself as he focused on you as if you were his afternoon snack. His eyes slowly sank to your mouth as your tongue snaked out to lick at the melting sweet liquid.

 “You are absolutely right. You deserve praise, worship, tributes, and devotion. Here is my first.”

 Regé dipped down and pressed his lips to yours trapping the popsicle between you. Moaning, you matched his movements kissing him just as fiercely as he kissed you. Your moans melded together and as your kiss intensified the popsicle melted from your combined heat. Bringing your hands up, you dug your fingers into his hair and gave as good as you got. Regé moaned when your tongue snaked around his to suck. He then pressed his chest to yours leaving not even a centimeter.

 Within seconds, your hands were roaming down his toned back and you were enjoying every inch of skin you got your hands on. These last two weeks the two of you had quickly gotten into a groove and comfort with one another and often touched one another. There was no part of the day you spent together where you weren’t touching somewhere. Even while you slept, in the same bed now, you touched. The only time you weren’t was when either of you were showering or using the bathroom.

 Touching him had quickly become your new obsession.

 Regé groaned before he pulled away pressing his forehead to yours panting.

 “Mercy, Y/N. Mercy I beg of you.”

 You smiled and released him bringing your hands to rest over your head.

 “Mercy granted.”

 Regé took a deep breath trying to steady himself, then he pulled back slightly.

 “I came over for a reason and that reason wasn’t to seduce or be seduced.”

 You smiled. “No? Well good thing I wasn’t trying to seduce you.”

 He didn’t look convinced one bit and that made you laugh. “Okay what did you come over for?”

 Regé sighed, “To ask you on a date this afternoon.”

 Your smile faded for a moment as you took him in. This was one of the many reasons you’d fallen in love with him. His ability to take your breath away with the simplest gesture was astounding.

 “A date?’

 “Yes. There is somewhere I want to take you.”

 You caressed Regé’s cheek then smiled.

 “So, will you do me the honor of going on a date with me in about two hours?”

 Your smile widened as your belly fluttered. “Yes,” you whispered, not being able to muster anything else.

 The way he lit up didn’t help the swarm of butterflies taking flight in your belly. He kissed you once, then twice.

 “Good. Meet you on docking level in two hours.”

 “Okay.”

 He kissed you twice more then he was gone leaving you with the popsicle. As you watched him walk away your eyes were glued to his ass. He had such a great one and you’d seen it twice already. The first when you’d both gone skinny dipping on a whim your first night on the ship, and the second when he’d loosened his towel just before he closed the bathroom door giving you a view of one perfectly toned and shaped ass cheek. You wanted to squeeze it so badly.

 Dropping back down onto your back you ferociously bit at the popsicle that was now practically slush. You were massively sexually aroused. You lived on the line of continuous arousal. It had gotten so bad you’d begun to wonder if you’d turned into a sex maniac without even ever having sex with him. None of your friends knew how you’d gone so long without one of you pouncing the other. It was honestly a perplexing miracle it still hadn’t gone down seeing how the last 2 weeks had gone.

 You lost yourself in your thoughts for the next several minutes going over the many ways you’d intentionally and unintentionally teased each other. The ways your bodies just craved to be against each other no matter what you were doing. There was this certain aura around him that made him irresistible and every woman you’d encountered clearly saw it too. A loud ship’s horn brought you back to reality. Your popsicle was juice, and you were all sticky in more ways than one.

 Once in your room—the room you’d been sharing with Regé for the last two weeks, you showered taking your time to use the delicious smelling body conditioner you’d picked up from a mom-and-pop natural beauty store. It smelled like a tropical vacation mixed with country flowers. You didn’t know how they’d been able to mix the two, but you were glad they did. As you allowed it to soak into your skin, you focused on applying your face scrub and then the soothing gel that was supposed to make you look like you’d just stepped from in front of a misting fan. As you went through your routine, your mind kept wandering to what exactly Regé has up his sleeve. The way he looked when he asked you for a date was so tender so intense. You didn’t know what to expect and since you didn’t know your excitement was steadily increasing.

 By the time you finished your shower then made your skin supple and face effortlessly painted, 2 hours had nearly passed. The summer dress you pulled on hugged you in the right places while hoisting your breasts to ensure your cleavage was on point. The deep thigh split gave it the right touch of sexy while keeping it sweet and innocent. After dipping your perfume at your pressure points, you reapplied your lipstick then surveyed yourself once more.

 Knock, knock, knock.

 You opened the door after crossing the room and smiled at one of the crew members.

 “Good afternoon, Ms. Y/L/N.”

 “Hi.”

 “Signore Jean Page says he is waiting for you madam,” he said, his Italian accent heavy.

 “Yes. Give me one moment.”

 You scurried back to the bed and tucked your phone, a few credit cards, and your lipstick into your purse then grabbed your wide brimmed straw hat and your sunglasses then hurried back to the crew member. He led the way down the corridors and up steps. The further from the room you got the louder and louder it became. It sounded like helicopter blades. A few minutes later you were approaching Regé who was standing beside a helicopter. your eyes widened taking in the sight. What in the world, you thought.

 The closer you got Regé’s smile widened. When he took the remaining steps to you keeping his head ducked, he clasped your hands in his.

 “You look breathtaking.”

 Your belly fluttered. “Thank you.”

 He kissed your cheek then your temple.

 “Ready?”

 “What is all this?”

 “Lunch.”

 “On the chopper?”

 Regé’s smile widened then he tipped his head back and laughed.

 “Don’t laugh at me RJP.”

 You liked to tease him with the name sometimes and each time it only made him laugh and proceed to tickle you until you gave in. This time was no different.

 “All right, I give.”

 Regé pulled you flush against him. “And I take.”

 He kissed your lips gently, probably trying not to get your lipstick all over him. It was pointless though, you used your thumb and wiped at the berry blush shade now on his lips.

 “Shall we?”

 You nodded and allowed him to lead you to the helicopter. The whole while he kept one hand around your waist and the other atop your head ensuring you remained low. Once you were both in, you put on the headset as you readied yourself for lift off. When the helicopter began lifting, you looped your arm in Regé’s then laid your head on his shoulder. You felt his lips brush the top of your head and you thought nothing could be more perfect than this moment.

A few short minutes later, the view of the Italian countryside took your breath away. The greens were so much lusher than any you’d seen before, the blue of the ocean was more like the deepest turquoise ever discovered, then the wildflowers that were in a rainbow array of colors that decorated the fields completed the live canvas painting. You pointed things out to Regé as he did the same. The whole time you both snuggled together and giggled. It was the perfect picture of peace.

 Once the helicopter landed and you disembarked, Regé took your hand and led you down a field to a waiting man who held on to two bikes. He paid the man while exchanging pleasantries in Italian looking as if the man was his long-lost best friend. That was another reason you’d fallen in love with him. He had a way to make everyone he encountered feel comfortable and appreciated. He didn’t treat anyone as if he were better than them and always remained humbled.

 “Ready?”

 “You bet.”

 You climbed onto the old-fashioned bike making sure to tuck the hem of your dress between your legs to prevent any mishaps and placed your purse into the basket in the front. It was adorable. Glancing over to Regé, you smiled at his tall frame on the dainty looking bike.

 “Keep up slow poke,” you teased before you took off down the dirt path.

 “Cheater!”

 The two of you rode bikes along the path. One minute you were in front, the next he was, but the whole time you laughed and taunted each other. After a mile or two, you found a thicket of trees and got off for a rest under a tree sipping limoncellos like locals. Before either of you knew it you were making out under and up against the trees not caring if anyone was around to watch. When you got to a small town you explored while keeping a hold on each other. Every few seconds, Regé was snapping pictures of you making you feel like a model rather than a stylist. He was truly your biggest hype man.

 When the sun was a little past its peak, you rolled up to the breathtaking view of Provence’s Lavender Fields.

“Oh my god.”

 “Amazing, isn’t it?”

 As far as the eye could see lavender decorated the hills. It smelled like heaven and every time the wind picked up a wave of calm washed over you.

 “Absolutely amazing.”

 You felt Regé come beside you then wrap his arm around your waist. “Shall we?”

 “Huh?”

 “We’ve reached our destination.”

 You smiled and couldn’t help but kiss him. You climbed off the bike and allowed him to lead you down the path toward the fields. The closer you came the stronger the scent of lavender filled the air and the giddier you became. Soon, you couldn’t help but take off running through the rows of lavender tracing your hands along them. When you smelled your fingers, you moaned as they picked up the aroma the buds left.

 “Oh my gosh. It’s beautiful,” you stretched out.

 When you turned, you found Regé walking calmy behind you with a wide smile on his face as he watched you.

 “You’re beautiful!”

 Giggling you twirled and twirled. If this was what complete peace and joy felt like you wanted to bottle this moment to revisit every chance you got.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

 -Regé-

Christ, you were beautiful, he thought as he watched you run around like a child touching every bushel of lavender only to bring your hands to your nose to inhale deeply. When you began twirling with your arms outstretched screaming “weee”, he had to laugh. His chest tightened as his heartbeat increased. It was something that had been happening since he’d met you and even more since you’d been spending every day together. He’d pieced it together that it was a result of you. Everything he’d learned about you over the last 2 weeks has only increased the intensity of his heart’s beating.

 You turned to him again and stuck your tongue out at him before you winked. Just like that you took his breath away and the only thought in his mind was forever. It was a word he’d thought about plenty of times since you’d run into his arms at the yacht when you’d first arrived. That was several ports ago. After the second night on the yacht, he knew he couldn’t sleep away from you anymore. When you’d made it known that you felt the same way he had to keep himself contained so you didn’t know then and there just how hooked he was. You had him hook, line and sinker.

 He found this odd. No woman had ever had this strong of an effect on him. No woman had every done so little and had him wrapped around their finger so effortlessly. He knew it was more than the honeymoon stage, or the obsession stage of a relationship. This was something more.

 You stopped a few feet in front of him staring at something. As he came up beside you, he saw what held you captivated.

“Hope you’re hungry. I’ve worked up quite the appetite,” he said his lips pressed to your ear.

 Your body shook and he took that as a good sign. He affected you as much as you affected him. He kept his hand on your hip and when your eyes met his there went his breath again.

 “Did you do this?”

 He brushed his lips against your exposed shoulder, an action he’d wanted to do since you boarded the helicopter.

 “I did.”

 There was no need for words. He could see everything in your eyes, and he allowed his feelings to shine through to you as well. Lifting your hand to his lips, he brushed his lips against your knuckles. “Come on.”

 Leading you to the constructed wooden gazebo that housed a glass chandelier, a linen covered table and two chairs in the middle of the field he kept his hand planted on your hip loving the way you felt against him.

 “Oh my god, Regé.”

 You stopped in front of the table and looked around. When he saw the tears in your eyes he scoffed and shook his head. “Don’t cry. Come, sit.”

 He pulled out one of the chairs for you then pushed it in when you sat. Once he sat diagonal from you, he wasted no time popping the top off the rose what was sitting in the ice bucket and filling both your glasses.

 “I can’t believe you did this. How?”

 “A good magician never reveals.”

 He held his glass out to you and watched as you did the same. “To lavender fields and the taste of your lips.”

 You smiled, tapped his glass then downed the glass in one go. It was small surprises like this he loved about you. He could never predict your next move. Everything you did always somehow came as a surprise—a pleasant one. He followed suit and drank the whole glass then poured again.

 “Bon appetite.”

 He’d made sure to request all of your favorites and a few authentic Italian dishes and was happy to see the smorgasbord of options displayed on the table. The two of you filled your plates with bits and pieces from every platter then sat back and at in harmonious silence. Neither of you felt the need to fill the silence with unnecessary words. Instead, you ate and enjoyed the comfort of being together. It was something he hadn’t experienced before.

 The women in his past were the complete opposite. He always got the impression they were trying to impress him or prove why they belonged by his side. He could never get a feel of their authentic self. With you, he didn’t get that at all. You remained true to who you were, never putting on any false masks. You laughed wholeheartedly, ate without a care of who watched, danced freely, spoke with an animated joy that always held him captivated and that was just the beginning.

 When you did speak, the conversation easily drifted over topic after topic. Nothing was off limits. You pointed out the scenery, told him about other beautiful sights you’d seen. To that he said he wished to be with you when you saw others. That was when you bashfully smiled dipping your head and coyly hiding your smile behind your hand. He was a complete goner; it was pretty pathetic. He could tell you had no idea, and he couldn’t fathom how you hadn’t guessed. How could you not tell just how much he loved you.

 It hit him like a ton of bricks right then. He loved you. He was in love with you.

 “Why’re you smiling?”

 “How can I not smile when I’m with you?”

 “Dear god Regé, what in the world are you doing to me?”

 “What do you mean?”

 “I don’t think I’ve ever smiled this much. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this lite, this--,” you began then shook your hands around the air to emphasis something. “Ya’ know?”

 He snorted and shook his head. “No, I haven’t a clue what that was? That was--.”

 “Was it weird?”

 “A little.”

 You laughed loudly. Your laugh was so contagious he couldn’t help but chuckle along with you.

 “Don’t laugh at me. Jeez, I just mean—I’m happy. You make me happy.”

 Damn, he thought. Four words and he was putty in your hands. Again, that bashful smile of yours returned and you dipped your head down. Reaching over, he took your hand then raised it to his lips.

 “You make me happier than I’ve ever been,” he confessed.

 “I do?”

 Nodding slowly, he looked over every inch of your beautiful, glowing face. “How can you not know, Y/N? How can you not know how incredible you are?”

 You smirked, licked your lips then put your other hand on top of his. “You’re pretty incredible too RJP.”

 He snorted then shook his head. Of course, you’d tease him now. The two of you sat there comfortably holding hands and watching the fields like an old married couple. A few hours later when all the food was gone and most of the wine, you walked through the fields hand in hand with a bottle of wine in each of your hands, trying to top the other with the poems you each knew. When you’d gone through all you knew, you moved on to limericks and haikus. You called to every part of him, and he couldn’t believe how right you felt to him.

 When you broke away from him you bent over touching your nose to a bundle of lavender. It was the perfect picture, so he took his phone out and snapped it. You looked at him, smiled widely then stuck your hand out.

 “No paps.”

 He captured picture after picture of you using the field as your photoshoot set. You looked breathtaking with the lavender behind you, and he knew this sight would remain his favorite for a long time. You turned to him again and stuck a bundle of lavender behind your ear then blew him a kiss. It was an image he pressed to memory with the camera. As he looked over the picture, he got lost in it—in you. When he looked up again it was just in time to see the white of your dress swish out of sight behind a tall row of lavender.

 “Catch me if you can,” you sing-songed as you giggled.

 Smiling, he followed the trail of your voice, but he didn’t rush, instead he took his time and allowed his senses to lead him. Whenever he turned a corner, he only ever caught the faintest of white of your dress before it disappeared. As he moved, he snapped the pictures as he pleased, curious to later see what the camera caught. You continued to elude him for the next several minutes, but he didn’t stress it because somehow, he knew exactly where you were. When he completely lost sight of you, he stopped, closed his eyes, and used his senses to see if he could find you.

 He felt you first then smelled you, but he waited until you crept closer. Cute, he thought. When he was sure you were close, he spun, dipped down taking you over his shoulder and spun you around. Your laughter echoed over the open fields, and it sounded like music. He was too far gone. He flipped you down and gently brought you down atop a bushel of lavender. He watched you laugh some more and allowed his imagination to run while and envision you all dressed in white.

 When you opened your eyes to peer into his, he audibly gulped. You looked like a seductress, an image from daydreams. Lavender buds decorated your face, neck, and decolletage and his fingers itched to touch.

 “You caught me,” you softly said.

 “I have all the Gods in every religion to thank for that.”

 You smiled and he couldn’t fight the urge any longer. Bringing his hand to your cheek, he caressed it, gently brushing away the lavender buds.

 “Are you happy, Y/N?”

 “Do you really have to ask? I haven’t stopped smiling since we met and I’m lying here on top of a bed of lavender completely wine tipsy.”

 Grasping a stem of lavender, he used it to trace a path across your cheek then down your neck and to your collar. Where the stem went his eyes followed. The purple of the lavender complimented your skin tone in so many ways. He had a thought then to bring some of this lavender back to the ship so you could add it to your bath. It would be just as much a treat for him than you.

 “I’m completely under your spell,” he said.”

 “My spell? So, I’m a witch now?”

 “No, just absolutely bewitching in every--,” he kissed your nose, “Single.” He kissed one cheek. “Way.” He placed the final soft kiss to your other cheek before locking eyes with you again.

 You drew your bottom lip between your teeth and the fire he’d seen in your eyes plenty of times ignited.

 “God, Y/N. I have never been in love like this.”

 He felt your body tense, but you didn’t move away.

 “It has only ever felt like this with you. I swear every time I look at you or see you a hand squeezes my heart making it stop for a few seconds or until you touch me. It’s the most terrifying and intense feeling I have ever felt. I didn’t know what it meant until it hit me. I—I love you. I’m in love with you.”

 He waited, giving you time to comprehend what he’d just said and to decipher what you felt. Long moments stretched as the wind gently brushed against you sending lavender buds through the air and wrapping you both in a cocoon of fragrant bliss.

 You lifted your hand to his cheek then you smiled softly. “Wow. I love you too.”

 His smile was slow but full. You wrapped your arms around his neck then smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the thing he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to give to you.

 “What’s this?”

 “For you.”

 You took the red leather case then looked at him. “Regé, you didn’t have to buy me anything.”

 “I wanted to.”

 You smiled then opened the case. Your eyes went wide when you saw the bracelet inside.

 “Oh my god, Regé,” you gasped.

 “I’ve been carrying it around for the last 2 weeks waiting for the perfect moment. Thank God, I found it. It’s the vintage version of Cartier’s Love bracelet. I want you to wear it so you will always know that I love you and am completely obsessed with you. Wear it and know it comes with my undying faithfulness to you, my unyielding love for you, my unwavering devotion to you and unquenchable passion for you.”

 You laid there speechless with wide eyes never taking them off of him.

 “I promise to never take you for granted, to never get too wrapped up work and my schedule where I neglect you. I promise to always be here for you when you need a hand, a shoulder, a chest. Let mine be the first you seek and only you need. I promise to never ever get enough of you, to never let this passion fade. I promise to always make you feel beautiful, loved, and special. Most importantly, I promise you my genuine, honest, unconditional and true love.”

  ~~~~~~~~

 -Y/N-

Holy shit, you thought to yourself as this beautiful and perfect man hovered over you spilling his heart to you. This man who you’d fallen in love with was telling you he’d fallen in love with you too. It was a shock to say the least. You’d hoped of course but you hadn’t suspected he felt how you felt—not yet at least.

 The tear that slid out your eye was a happy one, but you saw his brows knit as he trailed his finger up wiping it away.

 “What’s wrong?”

 You shook your head, words escaping you.

 “Tell me, I want to make it better.”

 You smiled and brought his head to you, kissing his lips.

 “Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect. I just love you.”

 Regé slowly smiled and soon the two of you were smiling at each other like fools.

 “Will you wear it?”

 You nodded enthusiastically as you held up your arm for him to latch the bracelet on. Once he had, you both stared at it feeling the renewed connection between you as well as the weight of the jewelry that probably only equated to less than a pound, but it was the sentiments that weight more than the moon.  Regé kissed you again then trailed his lips to your neck then across your collar. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the feel of him against you.

 The lower he went the more your skin tingled and the more it tingled the wilder the swarm of butterflies in your gut fluttered. When Regé’s lips touched your cleavage, you opened your legs making room for him. A groan was his reply before he latched onto your neck once more. This time his kisses were more persistent. Then they turned to sucks and a moan fell from your mouth. When he pulled the bow tie straps from your shoulder, he replaced them with his lips.

 His lips were wreaking havoc on you. Everywhere they went he left trails of icy hot fire which didn’t help you, it only made you want him more. Regé planted kisses across your body dipping down to your stomach and then your bare thigh. When his lips pressed to your exposed inner thigh, you gasped, arching off the bed of Lavender beneath you. Glancing down, you caught Regé’s eyes and the look in them had a pool of moisture dripping from you.

 “Oh god,” you whispered as you angled your head backward looking up into the purple, pink and yellow decorated sky.

Regé’s lips went lower on your thigh until he got to your knee, he then switched legs and repeated the kisses showing both your thighs equal attention. You were dizzy at this point. The bottles of wine you’d drank were now teaming up to lift you into the sky. Everything was working against you, the aroma in the air calming you, but Regé’s lips on your flesh working you up into a frenzy and the wine making you want to do very bad, nasty things to him.

 “Regé,” you whispered as your hand dropped on top of his head.

 “Yes, sunshine,” he mumbled against your hip.

 You looked back down and found your dress was just at your crotch, he hadn’t gone any further, but you could see he wanted to. The question was in his eyes coaxing you to ask him—beg him even.

 “What do you want, princess?”

 You bit your bottom lip and tried to restrain yourself a little. “Please--.”

 “Please what?”

 “Please touch me.”

 Regé dropped a kiss on your fully clothed pubis. You groaned then huffed. A small smile spread across his face.

 “Can I taste you, Y/N?”

 You shattered then. You were his to do with as he saw fit. You nodded a little more enthusiastically than you’d wanted which made Regé smile.

 “Relax for me sweetheart. Let me do all the work.”

 With that, you felt his lips start again on your thighs before he made his way to your pelvis. Dropping back, you sighed as you stared into the sky. You felt him pull your underwear to the side then suck in a rushed breath. Your head snapped up to watch.

 “Fuck, you’re beautiful. So—perfect.”

 Who knew you had a praise kink. With those words you felt new wetness seep from you. It was something Regé proved as a fact when he groaned.

 “You are going to be the death of me.”

 With that, he tipped his tongue out and licked you from opening to clit. You gasped, then dropped back onto the lavender.

 “Haaaa,” you moaned out.

 Regé swirled your clit with his tongue. The action was so slow that you found yourself bucking against his mouth just to feel more. Regé chuckled softly.

 “Patience sunshine.”

 Your hips stilled and as if to reward you, he kissed your swollen and aching bud. You sighed again then settled allowing him to pleasure you. When he licked across you again, he flicked your bud then sucked on it. Your hands flew to his head, and you buried your fingers into his curls.

 “Mmmm,” you taste like rose, and strawberries,” Regé whispered.

 His beard gently scratched the insides of your thighs and you bucked again. This time Regé wrapped his hands around your thighs bringing you close to him while holding you right where he wanted. His movements turned greedy then. As he latched onto your clit he slurped against your skin making goosebumps decorate your flesh. You could feel the beginning stirs of your impending release. Regé released your touch starved bud, then sloppily kissed your inner thighs nipping and sucking his way back to your core.

 Once there he feasted starting a pace and rhythm that your body never memorized because every few seconds he switched it up. He dipped his tongue into your heat, then sucked before he brought his tongue to your clit. Quick butterfly flicks sent your back arching off the ground and your fingers digging deeper into his hair.

 “Yes, Regé. Yes. Haaa!”

 He mumbled against you speeding up his tongue before he sucked your flesh somehow getting your entire mound into his mouth. You saw stars in the lavender sky and imagined the buds of lavender floating above you in a swirling pattern. Hypnotized, you gasped loudly then clenched your thighs around Regé’s head trapping him as your body released all the pent-up desire within it.

“Aaaaaah!”

 Slowly your body relaxed then released him from it’s prison. When you looked down at him he looked so damn fuckable. His lips were red, wet, and swollen. His eyes hooded and filled with so much need that you nearly threw yourself on him. Whatever desire your body had just expelled came back full force.

 “I could taste you all day and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

 You smirked then laughed for some reason. Was it the wine finally driving you mad, or was it this man doing all the driving?

 “Come ‘ere.”

 Regé slid up you body pressing himself against you before he hovered over your face.

 “You taste delicious.”

 Looking him in his eyes you spoke. “Make love to me.”

 Any humor on his face was gone in an instant and in that instant yearning like you’d never seen filled his Russet brown eyes. He didn’t answer which made you wonder if he didn’t hear you.

 “Regé.”

 “Right here?”

 “Right now.”

 He searched your eyes for a few seconds. “I don’t have--.”

 “I trust you.”

 He looked as if he could have said “aww” which made you smile.

 “Make love to me.”

 For emphasis so he knew you meant it, you began peeling his latte-colored blazer off of his shoulders revealing his white crewneck t-shirt. Regé helped you undress him, moving to lift his white shirt from his body after your smaller hands peeled off his blazer. As he was shirtless over you, you couldn’t help but gawk at his magnificent flesh on display. He was built, not overtly so but more than enough. His abs bulged underneath the light of the setting sun, decorated by a dusting  of dark coiled hair that your fingers wanted—no needed to touch. So you did.

 Contradiction, you thought. It looked coarse but to the touch it was soft. You felt Regé’s midsection quiver as he released a jagged breath. Your eyes locked and it felt like air had turned electric. Your entire body felt like you’d stuck your wet finger into a socket. The clench in his jaw told you he had to also be feeling the same thing. At the same time, you and Regé went for eachother meeting one another halfway. His large hand held you around your back as you brought your hands to his pants.

 Your lips danced together, fitting together perfectly. You moaned against him when he splayed his hand at your tailbone and pulled you closer to him. This action sent your wet core against the hardened mass that was his dick.

 “Fuck,” you mumbled against his lips.

 Hastily, you undid the button of his pants then moved on to the zipper.

 Regé groaned and rocked forward sending his need flush against you. The impressive hardness was coaxing you, tempting you, driving you fucking insane. You couldn’t handle anymore. Regé latched his lips onto your neck right at your sweet spot. Your high-pitched panting rolled over the empty lavender fields. You lifted your legs using your now bare feet to push at the pants and underwear still separating you and Regé. You needed to feel him against you. You were tired of waiting.

 “How do you feel this good?”

 Regé sounded mystified, confused by how effortlessly the two of you complimented the other. 

You clawed at his back then smiled when you felt the strong muscles bunch and dance under your fingers. Regé shimmied from his clothing then you felt the weight of him pressing atop your pubis. You couldn’t help but look and when you did your jaw dropped. Fuck, you thought. You’d suspected he was hung but good golly miss molly. Not only was he lengthy but his girth was impressive. Your core clenched in anticipation of the battle ahead. You were so glad you were wet already.

 “Are you sure?”

 Regé’s voice was strained as if he was barely holding on. The sticky opaque liquid seeping from him confirmed it, he was just as on edge as you were. You met his eyes and nodded. You felt him rub his dick along your slit. Slowly down to your opening, around it then slowly back up to your hungry clit then around it. He did this a few times each time teasing your body more and more. Every time he circled your opening you took a small breath, held it, and waited for him to fill you but he didn’t. When he didn’t your body tensed. Soon, you were so tightly bound that if the wind blew as it had a few moments ago you’d come.

 “Regé,” you whimpered.

 His thick knitted eyebrows, squinted eyes and clenched jaws said he wasn’t just teasing you but he was teasing himself. He circled your opening again then locked eyes with you just before he thrust forward sending just the head of his invasion inside of you. You clenched around him sucking the very life from his dick. The action had Regé half collapse on top of you. His elbows dug into the lavender underneath your bodies sending the aroma to swim more around you.

 You couldn’t move, the stretch of just the tip of him had you stunned. It had been a while since you’d done this and while you were no professional, professional you definitely weren’t a novice. Lifting your legs off the ground, you wrapped them around his back giving him a different angle. Regé sucked in a breath as he dipped deeper inside of your body. Slowly he filled you, slowly giving you every inch of him. With every second your body slowly adjusted to him. It wasn’t painful per se, but you undeniably felt the stretch as your body tried to adjust to him. He felt incredible, powerful, and so damn hot inside of you that you knew you weren’t going to last long. You were surprised you’d held on this long.

 “Uuugh,” Regé grunted as you clenched around him again. He was fully sheathed within you and just waiting, allowing you to adjust. You loved him even more for it but your impatience was getting the better of you.

 “M—more!”

 Regé drew back only leaving the tip of himself inside before he thrust forward in one swift and powerful thrust.

 “Ah!”

 Again he did it. Each time he thrust back into you; his force was more bruising, more demanding. It felt as if he were demanding everything you had, every crevice, every inch of your canal, everything you had to give—he wanted. When he thrust into you again, you raised to meet him then circled your hips willingingly giving him everything he wanted. It was his for the taking. Regé’s shouldered tensed when you did it then you felt him bit your neck.

 “Yes, Y/N!”

 Feeling bolder from his praise you met him thrust for thrust, each time circling your hips fucking him as good as he was fucking you. Regé’s sped his thrusts sending your still concealed breasts swinging. His eyes locked on your globes then he cupped one and roughly pulled your dress down to reveal one breast.

 “Haa! So fucking beautiful.”

 His lips latched onto your pert nipple and he sucked as if there was life saving nectar within them. You moaned as your pleasure doubled and again your eyes locked onto the beautiful sky above you. You’d wondered when this would happen and couldn’t have picked a better one. You knew you’d always remember this.

 “I love—love—I love you,” Regé stuttered out.

He was shaking above you and you knew he was holding himself back. Rolling onto him, your bodies crushed another lavender bushel. You made a mental note to generously compensate the farmers before you left. The way Regé looked up at you as he laid under the bed of lavender only made your heart lurch, and core clench around him like a vampire needing more sustenance from its prey. You felt so full of him, so incredibly full that you couldn’t believe you weren’t trying to get away from him. Instead, you rocked your hips, rolling them as cerulean waves did in the endless depths of the ocean.

Regé planted one hand on your hip and one hand behind his head as his jaw slacked. Grinding on him, you put one hand across his abs and the other on your head. The sensations bubbling within you were becoming so intense—too intense. you were close. When you began bouncing on him you shook every time you came down on his thickness and every time you shook your orgasm crept closer and closer. Regé gripped your hips with both hands then jack hammered into you. With eyes locked and your desire for one another at peak you came undone.

 “Aaaaah! Regé!”

 His name echoed over the vastness of the field, and you didn’t care if anyone was around to hear it or see the carnal things you were doing in broad daylight. They were welcomed to watch, and you hoped they were enjoying the show, because you definitely were.

 ~~~~~~~~

 -Regé-

Taking advantage of your lackadaisical state of mind, he rolled onto you again, put your leg onto his shoulder then held the other down. You were wide for him. Every inch of your sex was on display for his eyes to feast on and he loved the view. Fucking hell you were gorgeous. Every single inch of you his eyes had seen he’d been met with nothing but perfection. You were perfect, perfect for him and he’d never let you go. Never. He thrust into you again and your hand flew to his stomach. He hesitated for a moment studying you.

 The look in your eyes and the way you bit onto your bottom lip told him it wasn’t that he’d hurt you. No, that wasn’t it. You were sensitive from your orgasm seconds ago, and if he did that again you’d come all over again. He knew it and he desperately wanted you to lose control, he needed to see you at your most primal, lost in the need of your desire for him. Probably because he was already there. He was holding back with every punch of control he still possesed.  

 With a smirk, he repeated the action. His swollen tip nudged against the tightly coiled bundle of flesh inside of you and when you released a breathy gasp and bite down harder on your lip he knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. He did it again and watched your skin prickle with goosebumps erupt. God he loved how you reacted to him. When he did it a fourth time you came again, arching off of the bed of lavender while pressing your hands flat against the ground. You looked like you were summoning the goddess of the earth herself using your orgasm as tribute.

 “Shhhhit!”

 He quickly plowed into you, his control was gone and all he felt was a deep burning need for you. Your moans got louder and louder and as they did you writhed underneath him. Locking his eyes on your sex, he watched himself slip in and out of your slickened heat and every thrust forward his mouth watered at how you sucked him in, how you took from him what you wanted. His body tensed, heart thudded rapidly, and his thrusts staggered as he lost control completely. With one, then two more thrusts he knew he was going to come, and he knew this would be one for the record books.

 You dug your nails into his back as you locked eyes with him and seductively whimpered his name.

 “Rege!”

 That was all he needed before his entire being left his body as he came, filling you with spurt after spurt of everything he had. It was yours, no matter what you wanted he’d give it to you and that included his first, second, third and last born. He was yours, unequivocally and quite possibly eternally. God help him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[cinnamonspicewritingroom]

More Than Diamonds

Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Princess! Reader Description: Britain has gained themselves a new royalty nearing the debutante ball of 1813. Princess Amelia of Siam was sent as the new Ambassador of Siam. In Britain Princess Amelia was able to find her family, but will that be all?  After the failed courting between Daphne and prince Friedrich, it was a surprise to everyone that he stayed in London. However, Prince Friedrich is anything, but a coward. He came to Britain to find a wife and one failed courting will not chase him out of the country with a tail between his legs.  What both Amelia and Friedrich never thought to happen is, the friendship that blossomed between them and their growing feelings for one another. Friedrich was never a coward, but he is when it comes to Amelia. Everyone said Amelia is a genius, but not when it comes to love, because she is truly lost on what to do with these butterflies in her stomach. Tags: Slow burn, Coming of age, Time-Travel, Back to the past, Friends to Lovers, Royalties, Oblivious!FLxObvious!ML, Jealous! Friedrich, Slightly Possessive! Friedrich, Black cat gf, Golden retriever bf Timeline: S1&S2

Chapter 3. Return

Twenty three years… 

That was how long it has been for them. 

Since they last saw her, hear from her. 

As if it was a nightmare from yesterday, they remember as if it was yesterday. July of 1790 when they discovered their dear daughter, only daughter… Felicia ran away, and disappeared to god knows where. 

They searched for her, everywhere in the country, and around Europe and America for about a year, but no result. Not until now, written on two pieces of papers is a letter from their dear daughter Felicia. 

“Oh my god… Dear–” Abigail, the Duchess of Gloucester and Edinburgh traced the words on the letter with trembling fingers, and eyes full of tears. Her husband, William, caught her fingers in his arms, and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. He is as well, emotional, as tears fill his eyes. 

“Yes love… A piece of news from Felicia, our little bunny…” By this point William did not care if his beloved daughter eloped, he was just glad that she was alive, well, and happy. This is the third time the husband and wife re-read the letter as Felicia told them about her marriage to the King of Siam, and becoming the Royal Consort, gave birth to two children, her eldest, a son, Somdet Chao Fa Gan Sirichai Tanawat, and her youngest, a daughter, Somdet Chao Fa Apsara Chaiya Kanika. 

“Abby, my love… We need to reach out to the Queen, and contact the ambassador-” The Duke quickly got up from the sofa they were seated, and to his study to write a letter to the Queen so they could reach Siam’s Ambassador to Great Britain.

***

Siam’s Ambassador to Great Britain is currently pacing back and forth in her office, clenching her fists hard in order to prevent picking on her skin, which could damage the aesthetic of her hands. 

God– Amelia really wants to throw herself off a cliff. What in the actual fuck is going on? How in the 7th circle of Hell did she ended up in the middle of bum-fuck Bridgerton series. Right now is 1813, so Daphne’s season. It has been almost 20 years since she thought about that series! When Amelia retrieved her memories after her death, never in her life would she thought her fucking attachment to that series is important.. Until now!

“Goddamn Davika-” Amelia sat herself on the sofa in her office as she ran her fingers in her hair, devastated. “Dear Ganesha, give me luck and wisdom for this new beginning. Lord, give me strength.” A plan. She needs a plan, and a timeline of the series, and most of all, staying away from the Bridgerton clan all together. Amelia stood up and went to her desk, grabbing several papers and a pen. 

“Let’s list down several things… I am currently in the 1st Bridgerton series, which features Phoebe Dynevor who played Daphne Bridgerton and Rege-Jean Page who played the Duke of Hastings.” Amelia mumbled as she wrote on the paper.

“It’s still February, so I have two months until the start of the series. Now, let’s think about what happened, Davika. You can do it… Daphne and Penelope made their debut…Then the… Featherington cousin, what’s her name? Came to London… Anthony kept being a nitpicking bastard, which led to Daphne not gaining any suitors and that’s where Nigel Berbrooke came in.” Amelia wrote on the paper before it stopped as she thought about what else happened throughout Season 1. 

“Simon came to London and got roped into the whole ball. That’s how he met Daphne-” Amelia’s brows furrowed in an attempt to remember what else happened. “How did they striked the deal again? And- That prince… When will he show up again– Wait a minute… The plot only revolves around Bridgerton, and people close to them…” Amelia mumbled, “If I don’t get near them, I will not get dragged into it…” A smile spread on her face as she placed down her pen. “Let’s do that. Avoid the main cast as much as possible.” Amelia walked back to the sofa and sat down, sighing in contempt.

***

Queen Charlotte’s brow furrowed as she focused on the letter in her hand. Apparently this is the same letter she sent to the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester and Edinburgh four days ago from the King of Siam through the Siam Ambassador to Great Britain.

“We searched for her high and low here, in Europe, and in America… Who could have thought that fickle nephew of mine ran away to Siam.” The Queen sighed, feeling a headache surging at the thought of her sweet nephew, Felicia. Charlotte opened her eyes, and directed her gaze at her brother-in-law and his wife sitting in front of her. 

“My Queen, sister… I beg for your assistance to connect us with the ambassador who brought this letter… We need to know more about how our dear Felicia is faring, and if there is a chance for us to meet…” Amongst all of her husband’s siblings, Charlotte is most fond of William, he is frail and soft-hearted by nature, so watching him whimper for any way to connect back to his daughter is very heart-wrenching for her. 

“Of course, we will contact Lady Chakri right away. Brimsley–” In a second, the Queen’s assistant, a plump middle aged man with dark hair, was at her side. “Yes, Your Majesty.” Brimsley greeted, ready to serve the Queen. “Send a letter to the Siamese Embassy. I would like to ask for a meeting with her as soon as possible, one that involves both Siam and Great Britain.” Brimsley nodded, and disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

***

Amelia and Hugo were in the middle of a meeting with a new Duke, Simon Hastings, replacing his father who is on his death-bed, when Lynn burst into the room unannounced, looking rather distraught.

“Apologies, Your Grace.” Lynn curtsied to Simon before turning to Amelia. “Milady, we received an urgent call from Buckingham Palace. The Queen requested an immediate audience with you.” This alarmed Amelia who quickly stood up from her chair. It is impossible for her to screw up this early, it’s not even a week yet since she arrived in Great Britain. 

“Your Grace, I apologise for cutting our meeting short, but I think it is best if we resume another time.” Simon nodded and stood up. “Alright, I hope everything goes well, Lady Chakri. Do send me a letter when you are available to resume our discussion.” Simon exits the room after exchanging a quick greeting with Lynn, and Hugo.

Lynn, Amelia, and Hugo exchanged a look before they all took a seat in the meeting room, no one would like to enter a battlefield without any sort of plan. “We made no mistakes. It is way too early to create any at all.” Amelia firmly stated, which Hugo and Lynn agreed to. 

“Was it one of the Princes?” Lynn speculated based on the debate between Amelia and Prince Frederick five days prior to today. Amelia furrowed her brows, well shit… Could be, but really? It is childish to burn down a bridge over mutual debate, and the Prince Regent and Queen know they are not in the position to declare another war when they are still in war with Napoleonic Wars with the French, War of 1812 with Americans, Peninsular War with Portuguese and Spanish, and Gurkha War with Nepalese, so the most they would demand is an apology, which she could demand back. 

“I don’t know, I don’t think this is due to the debate. If it is, they should realise that Prince Frederick started it first. On top of that, I do not think they would sacrifice their relationship with us, Siam is the only neutral land between Great Britain and France.” Amelia hopes so, but if not then what else? Back then she only had a debate, had tea with the Queen, saw her garden and peacock collections and- That damned letter!

“The letter…” Amelia uttered quietly, but Lynn and Hugo were able to pick up what she said. “The one from the King?” Lynn asked, uncertain, but Amelia nodded. “That’s the only unknown equation left. The only thing unknown to us, and the most possible to cause this chaos.” Amelia stood up, followed by Hugo and Lynn. They have taken too long, it’s time to face the music.

***

“Welcoming Lady Amelia Chakri, Lady Lynn Yontarak, and Lord Hugo Lamon.” They were declared as they were escorted inside the gazebo in the park. The three Siamese could see the Queen with two other people, a man and a woman, the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester and Edinburgh Amelia presumed. 

“Your Majesty,” Amelia and Lynn curtsies, and Hugo bowed his head in respect, before they all turned to the other two occupants in the gazebo. The Queen quickly hopped in to introduce them to the Siamese. 

“Lady Chakri, I apologise for summoning you urgently, however, I would like you to meet Prince William Henry and his wife, Princess Abigail nee. Bridgerton, Duke and Duchess of Gloucester and Edinburgh.” The Duke and Duchess smiled at the three youngsters from the foreign nation.

“Nice to meet you, Your Grace. I am the current Minister Plenipotentiary, and Ambassador of Siam to Great Britain, Amelia Chakri, and these are my co-workers, Lady Lynn Yontarak who handles the Public Affairs Section, and Lord Hugo Lamon, the Head of Office of Defense Cooperation.” The three Siamese quickly greeted the two, who smiled at the show of respect, and perfect mannerism. 

After the introduction, the three Siamese joined the British Royals in the gazebo, being served tea and snacks. It did not take long after they settled down for the questions to launch off. 

“Lady Chakri, the letter given by the King of Siam… Were you aware of the content?” The Queen questioned Amelia who sipped her tea, and placed it silently on the saucer. “Unfortunately, I haven't a clue on the content of the letter as the King handed me the letter when I was reporting on the day of my departure. I presumed that during his stay in Great Britain he made… a precious bond?” The Duke slammed his fist on the table. 

“Precious bond? Your King seduced my daughter and took her away with him–” The Duke almost shouted, but was quickly reprimanded by the Duchess and The Queen. “Dear!” “Your Grace!” Amelia choked on her scone at the exclamation. “Pardon me? Your Grace–That is a serious accusation you made against my country and my King.” Queen Charlotte could feel the surging of a headache. William’s temper could potentially cause a rift, and problems between the two countries; which is the last thing they need. 

“Lady Chakri, I apologised for his fumes, but please read the letter from your King– This will help to explain the situation.” Duchess Abigail handed Amelia the same leather pouch with Rattanakosin emblem on it. Amelia eyed the pouch, before eyeing the Duchess. This might be a rude gesture, but as the Ambassador whose country’s name has been besmirched by the Duke, this is a defence, and not an offence. 

Amelia took the pouch while maintaining a sharp eye contact with the Duchess, only breaking it to unbox the pouch, and get the letter inside. 

My Dearest Mother and Father,

It is with a heavy heart and tears in my eyes that I finally sit down to write to you after twenty-three long years of silence. The weight of time has been both a burden and a blessing, shaping me into the woman I am today, far removed from the young princess you once knew.

It feels like a lifetime ago that I first met Rama II, the Crown Prince of Siam, in the hallowed halls of the Siamese embassy in Britain. The moment our eyes met, I knew that my fate was sealed, that my heart belonged to him and him alone. Little did I know then that our love would set into motion a series of events that would lead me far from the comforts of home and into the unknown depths of a foreign land.

In 1790, I made the decision to leave behind everything I had ever known and journey to Siam to be with Rama, to embrace a future that was uncertain but filled with promise. The journey itself was fraught with danger and uncertainty, and there were many moments when I questioned the wisdom of my decision. But love, dear Mother, love has a way of blinding us to the realities of the world, filling our hearts with hope and our minds with dreams of a brighter tomorrow.

The wedding, Mother, oh, the wedding was a spectacle unlike anything I had ever seen before. The palace grounds were alive with the sounds of music and laughter, and the air was filled with the intoxicating scent of flowers and incense. As I walked down the aisle to meet my beloved at the altar, I felt as though I was floating on air, my heart overflowing with love and joy.

But beneath the surface, there was a sadness that lingered, a sense of loss that gnawed at my soul. For you see, dear Mother, despite the grandeur of the occasion, I could not shake the feeling of being an outsider, of not truly belonging in this foreign land. The Siamese court did not recognize me as queen due to my foreign birth, bestowing upon me instead the title of Royal Consort, a position that carried with it both honour and humility.

The years that followed were a whirlwind of emotions, a rollercoaster ride of highs and lows. In 1792, our son, Gan Sirichai Tanawat, came into the world, a precious gift that filled our lives with laughter and love. The birth was a joyous occasion, celebrated with feasting and merriment throughout the kingdom. And in 1796, our family was blessed once again with the arrival of our daughter, Apsara Chaiya Kanika, a radiant presence that brought light to even the darkest of days.

But amidst the joys, there was also sorrow, dear Father, a deep and abiding sorrow that gnawed at my soul. I found myself adrift in a sea of unfamiliar customs and traditions, struggling to find my place in a land that was so different from my own. The language was foreign to my ears, the mannerisms strange and perplexing, and the climate unforgiving in its intensity.

There were moments, dear Mother, when I longed for the warmth of your embrace, for the guidance and wisdom that only a mother can provide. I missed the familiar comforts of home, the laughter of family gatherings during the holidays, and the simple pleasures of life that I had once taken for granted. But through it all, I have found solace in the love of my dear husband and our two beautiful children. They are my rock, my anchor in a sea of uncertainty, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

My dear parents, I beg of you, do not hate me for the choices that I have made, for the path that I have chosen to walk. Know that I love you both with all my heart, and that not a day goes by that I do not think of you and the family that I left behind. Though the distance between us may be great, the bonds of love that bind us together remain unbroken, and I pray that one day, we may be reunited and that the pain of our separation may be eased by the embrace of our love.

With all my love and longing,

Felicia

Amelia wanted to bash her head to the nearest concrete as she could feel the surging migraine. She pinched her nose bridge, and let out a sigh as she passed the letter for both Lynn and Hugo to read. 

Damn, her parents are really out to get her ain’t they? To top it off– Sending a letter to her mom’s parents, her grandparents?? 

“I’m sorry, but I’ll be frank and ask this out front. What is your point in showing us this letter?” Amelia folded the letter, and put it back neatly in the pouch, handing it back to the Duchess. “Reading this letter, it is different from your claim, Your Grace. In fact Somdet Chao Khun Phra Felicia walked out of the country with her own two feet, without any force from Siam, or the King.” Despite the honesty, her words angered the Duke. Amelia could see steam coming out of his ears as his face reddened.

“How dare–” “Exactly, Sir. How dare you to mock our King, and our country in front of its Minister Plenipotentiary, when you yourself know the truth behind the situation. The letter clearly said that Somdet Chao Khun Phra Felicia decided to leave Great Britain to marry King Rama II on her own free will without force from any parties involved.” Amelia intercepted, which shocked everyone, even Hugo and Lynn. 

Prince William was about to retaliate, but was stopped by Queen Charlotte who raised her hand with her palm open in a stop motion.”Let us cease the hostility, shall we? If possible, I would like to continue our discussion without damaging the relationship between our countries.” The Queen gave Prince William a hard stare, which made him back down from any rebuttal he had.

The Duchess fidgets in her seat, and in her silence Amelia decides to analyse both of her grandparents. While mostly her mother got her colours and structures from her grandmother, her smile is definitely inherited from her grandfather.

Amelia understood their frustration, although she couldn’t relate to the pain they felt, imagine waking up on a random morning to find out that your only daughter, who is also your only child, escaped in the middle of the night like a band of thieves. Amelia composed herself, this ain’t her… She rarely lost her temper, but the fact that this whole thing just feels like a set up by her parents, now she has to deal with her grandparents and their grief of losing their only child, keeping her identity down-low, and managing the relationship between Siam and Great Britain. Amelia heaved a sigh. Be the bigger person Amelia. 

“Your Grace–” All the three British nobles perked up and turned to Amelia. “Look, it would be a lie to say I understand the pain of losing a child-” Looking that they are listening thoroughly, Amelia continued with her controversial opinion. “However, this situation has been more than 20 years ago, and the decisions were made without coercion from any Siamese party. Honestly, if it were a year or two after this situation happened, Siam may be able to do something, but what once was Princess Felicia of Great Britain is now the high ranking Royal Consort of the Siamese King who, not only have responsibility to the court, but also has bear an heir and heiress of the King.” Amelia tapped on the leather pouch motioning that everything she said were written on the letter. 

“While it is impossible to return Somdet Chao Khun Phra Felicia to Great Britain, I would suggest a… recognition–?” Her uncertainty made the three British royals confused, but Amelia quickly continued her sentence. “– of the King and the Royal Consort’s marriage.” She could see that the Duke was getting fired up once more, so she quickly added on to her points.

“Of course formally recognising the marriage will bring several benefits such as further strengthening the tie between Great Britain and Siam, after all it is between two high-ranking royals, and this will make it easier for the both of you to keep in touch, whether by letter or getting an attendance with the Royal Consort, and hopefully, the King, and granted easy visitation to the country.” Now this got her grandmother hopeful, and garnered the Queen’s interest at the mention of forming a stronger bond with Siam.

“However– vice versa I am hoping the same benefits apply for Somdet Chao Khun Phra Felicia.” Amelia blatantly stared at the Queen as she asked the last bit. 

Right now that is the only solution Amelia could think of. Giving a solution now will buffer her grandparents from bothering her about this matter, and hopefully help her to find a way out of this without interfering with the Bridgerton plot, considering her grandmother is a part of the Bridgerton family.

“Dear… I think what the Ambassador said made sense–” Prince William grumbled at his wife’s words, but he knew what Amelia said was right. His daughter is not someone they could just take out from a country, especially with her status as a Royal Consort who has birthed not only one, but two children of the King.

Amelia munched on her eclair slowly, almost therapeutic, as Prince William contemplated his decision longer. After Amelia’s 2nd eclair, the Duke sighed and nodded, there is no better solution than what the Ambassador provided.

“Alright…I agree to formally recognising the marriage. What step should I take from here?” Amelia smiled behind her cup of tea before proceeding to place it soundlessly on the saucer. “The next step is to bring your daughter back to Great Britain.” The Duke and Duchess turned their heads at Amelia so fast, she was scared it would snap.

“Y-You– Felicia?? Back in Great Britain?” Not yet gramps. Amelia prevented a laugh from escaping, covering it with a nod. “Of course. This is between Great Britain and Siam, no? We will need the Royal Consort in here, therefore she will be able to represent–” The Duchess grabbed Amelia’s hand, startling her. The older woman’s eyes were brimming with tears. 

“Lady Chakri, thank you very much. I truly– I do not know what to say, how to thank you–” Amelia felt really bad for her grandparents, right now the only thing she could do is clasped her free hand over the Duchess. “Do not thank me yet, Your Grace. I still need to contact the King and the Royal Consort, and it would take them approximately a month before she arrives here.” Amelia gave her a sweet smile, before sighing, and turned to the Queen.

“Your Majesty, while I am glad for being able to solve this dispute as peacefully as possible, unfortunately I have prior engagement I must attend to. If I may, I would like to excuse myself.” The Queen nodded in agreement, she called the Ambassador in a hurry, and fortunately she arrived despite her busy schedule. Hugo approached them to stand behind Amelia, pulling her chair to give her space to stand up. Amelia turned towards the Duke and Duchess. 

“Your Grace, we will be in touch soon after I receive an answer from Siam.” Amelia bowed and turned around, but before she walked away, she froze and turned back to her grandparents. They must have been worried sick about her mother. 

“Lynn, give me that newspaper.” The three British royals were confused as the Lady-in-Waiting handed the Ambassador a 2  of newspaper. Amelia gave it a look before placing it on the table, sliding it to the Duke and Duchess. 

“Here, I think you will like this. Take it as my apologies for earlier.” The Duke grabbed it to see a clear picture, not a painting, but photo of a familiar beautiful woman with dark hair sitting sideways on a chair, a raven haired male with tan skin leaning on the right side of the chair, one hand holding on the back of the chair while the other gripping the handle, and on the other side stood straight a tall young man with raven hair, they could spot several European features in him. 

They probably don’t understand what they are looking at, seeing that now cameras are a Siamese invention, and not yet expanded to Great Britain. 

“That is the photograph of your daughter, the Royal Consort Felicia, her husband the King, and their son, Prince Gan. Unfortunately this was taken while their daughter, Princess Apsara was away in Qing.” Choked sobs rising from both the Duke and Duchess, while the Queen stared at the photograph in awe. 

“And- What is this painting? It seemed… Extremely realistic?” The Queen turned to Amelia, who is in a dilemma on how to explain the concept of a photograph.

“That is not a painting, but a photograph. Putting it simply, a photograph is like a magic picture made with a special box called a camera.” Amelia tried to explain, and added hand gestures to help them imagine it better. 

“Essentially, the job of a camera is to capture exactly what's in front of it, just like a mirror. Different from a painting in which it's a picture made by hand with paints and brushes.” The Queen squinted her eyes, if such a magnificent device exists, why don’t they have it already?

“And why have I yet to hear about this ‘special box’?” The Queen asked challengingly, but Amelia is not one to back down, thus she lightly replied. “Maybe because it’s a Siamese invention. I would have explained more, alas, I have a meeting to attend.” Amelia and Lynn curtsied, and Hugo bowed his head before the three Siamese exited the gazebo.

Words: 4227

Edited: 17/04/2024

More Than Diamond's Master List

IMPORTANT NOTES A/N: Hello, how are you guys? I hope you are well. Regarding this story that is following Julia Quinn's hit series, Bridgerton, I would start by saying I read the book first before I watch the Netflix series, thus I apologize if there are some differences with the Netflix version, but I will try to make it as similar as possible. I would also ask the readers to be kind when criticizing this story as this is my first time to actually publishing my work in the open. For the story, as you can see there is a time-travel tag. Our reader was sent back to the past with all the knowledge from the future. If you are also confused with Davika's education, I actually based her using Spencer Reid, a character from Criminal Minds. I also made Friedrich to be a year younger than Benedict when in actuality, he was born in 1794, 2 years younger than Daphne. If you are not interested or felt like those 2 themes ruined a historical romance story, then please do not leave any bad comments as you can just stop reading this story. Thank You Very Much! Much Love, Cinnamon Meilleure's Writing Room

#bridgerton #prince friedrich #lisa #lalisa #thailand #prussia #writing prompt #historical romance #history #romance #friedrich of prussia #freddie stroma #queen charlotte #daphne bridgerton #simon basset #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #time travel #back to the past #historical #regency era #prince frederick #colin bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #kit connor #eloise bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #violet bridgerton

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Truth Hurts {One Shot}*

Title: Truth Hurts {1}*

Rege Jean Page x Reader

Warning: High Angst, Cursing, NSFW actions implied, 

Words: 3.3k

Summary: Some truths are spoken and that leaves you and Regé to face them in different ways.

Note: I saw some new to me pics of the newly crowned Most Handsome Man In The World and I just sat there in awe staring at him. 😍 He so puuurty! Anyway, this probably begins a Rege Jean Page binge. LOL

Note II: Part two coming.

As always, thank you for reading! 

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. ❤️❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~

"I’m done," Regé said his voice low but steady. He was now sitting at the edge of the right side of your bed, his bare back facing you giving you the view of the red welts your nails had left behind. For some reason, your hands always wanted to mark him in some way so when he happened upon it in a few hours or a day or two he'd instantly think of you. You hadn't worked out why you wanted that or why you continued having thoughts that were out of the normal all centered on this man. This man who'd taken you by complete surprise and put you in a state you were uncomfortable with--a state you'd now found yourself a novice in. His voice pulled you out of your disarrayed thoughts and brought your roaming eyes to the back of his head. "The question was always how long can I keep going on with this before I got myself in too deep." Regé hung his head while his broad muscular shoulders looked tensed. You thought to creep up behind him and massage the tension out of them so he could get some relief but just like the millions of thoughts you'd had over the last few months, thoughts to ease his distress, bring him comfort, or be vulnerable with him, you suppressed and remained where you were. Regé stood then, giving you a glimpse of his perfect ass. It was an ass that deserved awards, taut but still shapely, smooth, and toned like he lived every day in the gym. You wanted him again. When he turned around your eyes zeroed in on his still moist and half erect member. You could still feel the aftereffects of his powerful movements inside of you from mere moments ago. Regé sighed and with effort you snapped your eyes back up to his. He briefly shook his head, rubbed the back of it then continued. "To be honest, I was in too deep even before we started sleeping together. The first night with you just proved it--proved it so much I raw dogged." He brought his hands to his head and rubbed the mass of curls there; curls you'd just had your fingers dug into as his head was buried between your thighs. Curls you'd played in maybe a little over an hour ago. You loved his curls. "I don’t do that...ever and it made it very clear that I was in past the point of no return. I’m there at capacity." He paused staring at you. Your chest tightened and felt as if someone twice your size was sitting on it. Your body felt as if it were suspended in the air like right before you go rolling down the first and highest peak on a rollercoaster. It wasn't excitement or enjoyment it was something else, apprehension, anxiety, fear maybe. That feeling bounced all through you increasing with every millisecond. Though you were a mess inside and freaking out at peak levels, somehow you remained calm laying there in your bed staring at him waiting for him to continue though you were dreading it. Dread, that's what it was, you deciphered. Regé bent, retrieving the pants he'd worn then shoved his legs in one by one. "I can’t do this to myself anymore I want more from you then your body and no matter how patient I am or how slow I take things you will only give me your body." He turned away from you then grabbed his shirt off the top corner of the door, but he didn’t put it on. His head hung again and again your chest tightened. You could feel a panic attack rising within you, but you remained perfectly still. You couldn't move. Regé kissed his teeth then turned back to face you, "Which makes me very sad for you that it’s easier for you to give me your body than anything else. I can get a warm body to fuck any time, it’s easy for me." He took a step to the bed and attempted another but stopped, "I don't though, I don't even want to. I want you. YOU Y/N! You." Shit, you thought as the racetrack of horse hoofs erupted in her chest but faded out seconds later. What the hell was that you wondered. "I want to make a life with you, a present, maybe and most likely a future too. A real one. I’m not going to settle for less and 8½ months shows me I don’t matter to you." Your head echoed the words "make a life with you" and "future". It sounded like an overwhelming orchestra of feedback all in his voice attempting to shatter every barrier and wall you've ever built in your life, every protection ward or chasm around the part of yourself that your friends were convinced you no longer possesed. "Only my body matters to you, this dick does", he said motioning down to the front of his body. "Like Christ, it makes me sad to think you’ll let me fuck you 7 ways to Sunday, any way I want, whenever I want--raw." His voice was not taking on a different tone, one of anger and one of mocking hostility. While his face looked confused and hurt, a blunt weapon that still made impact, his tone of voice cut like sharp blades. "You let me inside your body unprotected time and time again but keep me a football field away. You give me your body, let me cum inside you, but push me away and keep me away. There is something wrong with that. Something wrong with---.” His words hung in the air. You waited for him to finish them. You waited with bated breath for him so finish it and say "you". He didn't though, he just shook his head and continued getting dressed. You felt as if you should have wanted to speak up and defend yourself, but you couldn't bring yourself to, couldn't bring yourself to take even the tiniest step toward him both metaphorically and literally. Perhaps he was right and there was something wrong with you. Now on your back staring up at your ceiling, every sense you possesed was fine tuned to him, every move he made, sound that came from him, every wave of scent that drifted over to you and even the change of the pressure in the room whenever he was around. You hadn't realized until this very moment how tuned into him you'd become. It wasn't the case 8 & 1/2 months. Something had changed along the way, and it took now for you to acknowledge that. "It’s been fun, I won’t lie, a lot of fun but--we’re done.” The pit of your stomach rolled like a storming sea ready to go topsy-turvey. Regé scoffed sardonically, "We were never a we were we?" You could feel his eyes on you. It was as if he was giving you the opportunity to tell him he was wrong. The tension in the room raised and you could feel him willing you, begging you to tell him he was wrong, tell him he didn’t know what he was talking about and tell him everything he wanted to hear, tell him everything he felt you did too. The seconds ticked by slowly and something inside you screamed to turn to him and do it, but your body remained still. Regé scoffed again, "Yeah. Never a we." The sheer disappointment and heartbreak in his voice was evident but you still helplessly remained lying there staring up at the ceiling as if he wasn't even there. "This is done." The finality in his voice hit you hard. Again, the horse hoofs in your heart went mad to the point where you thought it would burst but once again it faded out in a few short seconds. You felt him turn to your bedroom door ready to walk through it, but he stopped just before he did and half turned to you. He kept his head down and eyes to the floor. "Y/N--at night when you’re lying here wondering why you’re all alone and when you roll over and see an empty pillow next to you, one that still smells like me... just remember the last year and a half I spent trying to prove my worth, and feelings to you. I’ve never lied to you, never played games with you, never used you for a thing, never had ulterior motives, my intentions were true, and real. Remember the last 8 & 1/2 months of this and me showing you I’m a real man not one of those boys who hurt you, not a fuckboi who played with your emotions, but a real authentic, black man, but you’ll never know what I bring to your table because you’re the one to blame." Then he was gone. Seconds later, you heard the chime of your front door letting you know someone had left. And it was then, only then that everything that was inward spilled out. It started with the violent shake of your hands that were flat against your mattress, the painful thumping of your heart, tightness in your chest, ringing in your ears, and blurring of your eyes. If you didn't know any better, you'd think you were having a heart attack. However, as soon as it began, it faded leaving you still and numb.

-Regé- -1 Week Later-

He shouldn't have felt like he'd cut off a limb from his body. He shouldn't have felt as if he couldn't function or that something was missing. It was ludicrous how he was feeling. He felt like he'd suffered a major loss. Like he'd missed out on something, and it made him angry...so angry. "What's your problem?" His best friend's wife, Gia, who was also his friend inquired. She sat across from him in the cafe they'd gone to for a late lunch. "I don’t have a problem." "Liar," Zeke shot out as he took his place beside Gia draping his arm over her shoulder. He then leaned over and pressed his lips to her temple. He couldn't help the small smile that spread across his lips. He'd known Zeke, or Zekeriah as he liked to tease him with, since he was a kid and loved him like a brother. He liked how happy he was with Gia and liked how she treated him. They'd gone through their own struggles but made it through and had been married for 3 years now. "He's lying? Why're you lying?" He sighed and looked out to the street not in any mood to put words to what he was feeling. Zeke shook his head. "Y/N," he muttered. Gia's eyes widened as she went through the motions. She’d gotten close to you over the last year and change and now considered you a good friend. "Has she finally given you that date?" "Nah she's still burning him, Zeke countered, amusement in his tone. Sometimes he felt bad about keeping everything that had been happening between you and him secret. Sometimes he really felt like coming out with the truth, but he knew what would happen. Gia would make a huge deal about it and never stop with double dates and coupley stuff and honestly, he felt like it was too much for you. He'd always felt your distance. Always felt your apprehension in anything permanent. You'd both decided to keep your relationship or rather, situationship on the DL. He'd tried not to focus on your reasons and just the positives about your refusal to claim him. He sighed, "I've told you there's nothing there." It was another lie, but he quickly deflected, changing the subject. Neither Gia nor Zeke looked like they believed him. Why would they? For some reason since meeting, you he'd been an easy read. Gia quickly figured out that he was feeling you and had even tried to put in a good word or two for him. Zeke on the other hand loved to tease him joking about his game being gone to not have sealed the deal after so much time. To be truthful, he felt gameless. Though he hadn't spit a lick of game at you or tried to get in your pants at all. He'd had no agenda besides finding out more about the woman he'd seen twerking in the middle of LA's busiest freeway who'd held him captivated by the sheer joy on her face. From then he'd been hooked. Bumping into you at busy Trafalgar Square in London proved you were fate. He almost laughed today thinking about it and how stupid he’d been. Fate? Bullshit, he'd been made a fool of, and it was all his doing. After lunch, he found himself high above London looking out at the old fog. The weather matched his attitude today--gloomy. He was tired and he really felt it. His body felt like he hadn't slept a wink for the last 14 days. It was true, he'd worked more than he'd slept, agonized more than he'd been at peace, and resented more than he'd been grateful. The words he'd said to you that night constantly echoed in his head. Were they hurtful? He hoped so because the truth hurts especially the brutal truth. He’d been frustrated, hurt and part of him had wanted his words to hurt you the same way you’d hurt him but even when he got home, he regretted it. Yet another piece of evidence of how hard he'd fallen for you. This wasn't the first time he'd ever had his heart broken but this time felt the most profound. He didn't know how he was going to move forward. Rubbing his hand over his face, he groaned feeling the full weight of the pieces of his broken heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

"So you fucked it up," Savannah dryly accused. "Fucked what up?" "I'm not stupid Y/N. I know you and Regé have been seeing each other and sleeping together." You spun to her with wide eyes. "What you thought you were being clever and creepin’ on the low? Thought you were the fucking Pink Panther? I knew I just decided to let you rock telling myself you'd tell me when you were ready." You turned back around and shook your head. Of course, she knew. "What did you do?" You wanted to laugh. Of course, she thought it was you. "I didn't do anything. He was the one to tell me he was done. He was the one with quite a lot to say." "What did he say? Why is he done?" You hesitated telling her. You knew she would blame it on you. There was no denying that. She would know. The last now three weeks had been difficult. When he'd walked out of your house you hadn't focused on the repercussions. You hadn't expected that there would be any. You'd compartmentalized everything from the beginning. You had a mutual attraction, one that grew exponentially within a short amount a time. This attraction quickly morphed into something else, into something different. The way you connected was different than anything prior. The way you responded to him often frightened you while giving you this odd sense of comfort. Everything you’d felt and experienced with hm was some sort of anomaly, something you did what you did best…ran from. "Wow," Savannah said staring out into thin air. She looked speechless which was unlike her. She always had something to say and could always articulate what that something was. "I know. Complete left field. Like he rolled out of me and just went on this tirade, this speech no warning," you complained. Savannah looked at you then, cocked her head to the side then deeply sighed out as if you were taking her soul. "You fucked it up." "Me! Sav come on." "No. I don't wanna hear it Y/N. You fucked it up like you always do. I'm starting to think you don't want to be happy. You don't want love; you don't want someone beside you through this lonely existence we call life." "Love? Come on, you're reaching now," you anxiously deflected. "Girl, I can read you better than anyone else on this planet. Maybe it is because we've known each other practically since birth. I know you have feelings for him. If you didn't you would never have had sex with him. You would never have continued to, and you never would have allowed him into your space. The question is now, why?" The silence in your living room stretched. You didn't answer not because you didn't want to but because you didn't know the answer. Why had you fucked it up? Part of you didn't believe you had, but the other part did. "I've been honest since get go about what would or could be and what wouldn't. He is a full-grown man and made a choice for himself. He was good with it and now all of a sudden...." "Y/N!!” "What did you do now, Y/N," your mother's voice asked as she walked inside unannounced or invited. You groaned knowing Savannah would tell her everything and you knew she would eat every drop of gossip up. You hadn't decided to tell her any of it because she'd accidentally met Regé already and staked her opinion that he was a good man and she wanted him to be your plus one to every family function including your wedding. To your horror, she'd done this in front of him and when it was just the two of you. Regé ate it up, but you wished the ground would eat you up. From that day you'd noticed a shift in both of you. His shift was subtle he'd be even more attentive and sweet, he'd do more drop bys at your office or on set to your photoshoots, send flowers now to end the day and not just to start them. He even did little things around your house like fix things, replenish items all without being asked. It was like he was making his case for that plus one position. The shift within you though was more of a pull back. You didn't know what was wrong with you. Every sweet gesture he did you took a step back but with every step back his countering gesture pulled you back to him so it ended up looking like you walking in place, neither escaping or evading him. As expected, Savannah let it all spill. She didn't withhold not even one tiny morsal of info. You were quite shocked how she knew so much. Then the thought occurred to you that she may have talked to Regé and he'd filled in all the blanks. When she finished tattling like a child, your mother's critical eyes landed on you. However, you'd expected them to be angry, they were not. They were sad, weary, and disappointed. Every child hated their parent's disappointed look. She crossed the room in her fashionable stiletto heels then pulled you into her arms. Damn it, you thought as you fought the emotions this one embrace was raking up. The longer she held you the more emotional you became; and the more emotional you became the more you felt pain. You knew it was pain you'd been suppressing, and you also knew that further suppression would be futile.

“It’s okay. Whatever happened it’s okay. No one is going to judge you, no one is going to fault you. It’s okay.”

Damn it, you thought as you felt the tears spilling down your cheeks. Rolling your eyes, you wrapped your arms around your mother allowing her motherly aura to run through you. It felt so soothing, and you had no idea it was something you so desperately needed.

“I messed up,” you whispered, admitting it for the first-time coming face to face with your demons. The same ones you’d been running from.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#truth hurts one shot #truth hurts part 1 #rege jean page #rege jean page fanfiction #rege jean page x reader #rege jean page x you #rege jean page x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic

[royallyprincesslilly]

Truth Hurts Sneak Peek

Today would be the first time you’d be within touching distance. Had he known you were going to be a guest tonight? If he had, did he willingly agree to still appear or had he been strong armed? The nerves within you intensified like a twister ravaging through tornado valley wrecking all the work you’d done over the last weeks with stabilizing your emotions and coming to terms with the consequences of your behavior.

“All right ladies and gentlemen, our next guest needs no introduction. She is currently one of the world’s most recognized and sought after models, a budding artist, and an on and off again actress. Please welcome the beautiful, the talented, the devastatingly charismatic YFN/YLN!”

You took one more deep breath then stepped out with a smile on your face while waving to the audience. They stood and cheered like you were some famous athlete, making you feel so welcomed. You tried your best to not look over to where Regé was standing because you didn’t trust yourself not to throw yourself at him.

“Welcome.”

You kissed cheeks with the host and laughed as he made a joke about the reception you received. When they introduced you to Regé and your eyes met you didn’t know you were falling backward until arms wrapped around you holding you steady. Endless moments passed with the two of you staring into each other’s eyes as if you were the only two people in the world. In his eyes you saw so much. You saw longing, pain, desire, distrust and so much more. The longer you looked the more you saw and the more you saw the tighter your chest clenched.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m so sorry.”

Regé set you up as the audience applauded again.

“Ah, I see my audience aren’t the only ones burning for you.”

You fanned him off as both men led you to your seat both ensuring you were sat safely.

“Thank you both.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m currently two weeks into a juice diet and it’s taxing to say the least.”

“Juice diet? Why?”

“I have a Sports Illustrated shoot coming up and I would rather not be embarrassed when I can’t fit the strings I have to squeeze into.”

The audience laughed.

“So, you admit the outfits are pretty much string.”

“Oh absolutely, more like floss though. Look I show up to the job, get in and go home.”

“Is it ever nerve wracking?”

“Of course. All the time. It doesn’t matter how often I do it I will always freak out right before, in between takes and after. When the camera is on, I just have to tune it out and give them the shot they want.”

“Sort of like these?”

On the screen beside the host’s office desk, a few images from your most recent magazine spread popped up. You were dressed like many mythological figures with fantastical backgrounds that really embodied those Gods and Goddesses. From the three shots he chose, while they were all with you fully clothed, they were all rather sexy shots. There was some part of your flesh that was on display and the poses made them even more sensually suggestive.

There were sparse whistles from the audience as you covered your face feeling embarrassment fill you. You glanced at Regé who was studying the screen with his jaw tight. You knew the look and knew just what it meant. He liked what he saw.

#truth hurts one shot #rege jean page #rege jean page fanfiction #rege jean page x reader #rege jean page x black reader #rege jean page x you #truth hurts sneak peek

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Pleasing The Duke {6}*

Duke of Hastings/Rege Jean Page x OFC Jemilla “Jemi” Remmington

Warning: Plot, Regency Historical Piece, Angst, SLOW BURN, 

Words: 5.3k

Summary: After your four weeks on the marriage mart and the tumultuous way your and the duke’s budding friendship that turned into a faux courtship, then a real crisis that could have tarnished your name forever, you are now married to the duke. Only this is no traditional marriage. The duke has professed to never fall in love, never get married, and never sire an heir, a matter you know nothing of. Furious that his wanton, lustful desires have gotten him to forego one of those vows, he is determined not to break the other two. That would usually be an easy feat. Only with you, it might be more challenging to keep those vows, seeing as no matter what, you are the only thing on his mind.

Note: Inspired by Rege Jean Page’s portrayal of Simon Bassett. This fic will not have any other characters from the series, except Lady Danbury, mainly the portrayal version of her by the incredible Adjoa Andoh and maybe Queen Charlotte portrayed by Golda Rosheuvel. This series will focus on The Duke and an OFC female character and will be a sultry and erotic historical romance. Anyone under 18 is advised not to read.

***Glossary of terms at the end of the chapter for period-specific words/items for greater comprehension.

***Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Julia Quinn’s characters, nor the Characters established by Bridgerton.

I own the rights to the original characters created in this story.

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 

           Chapter Six: A Gentle Hand

Cold air raced up your spine, but a warmth was settled in your gut. The combination sent a shiver through your body. Moaning, you moved closer to the solid frame you felt against you. The warmth you found there was searing—comforting. Again, you moaned and tried to get closer. You wanted to be so close that the warmth was all your own. You draped a leg over the solid frame and settled falling back into a slumber. However, it was not restful. Your mind was plagued with visions of a storm. Raging winds wracked your person sending you this and that way. Thick, cold mud clung to you, almost pulling you deeper into the earth.

 When your visions calmed, you were met with hypnotizing eyes, full lips, and strong hands. Those hands touched you so possessively, so urgently. The face that came with those features was Simon’s. You could not make much out, but his words came to you in disorganized speech that was difficult to comprehend. When you thought you could make something out, the images changed. His lips remained and they were pressed to yours.

 Slowly, your eyes batted open. It took several moments for your vision to clear and steady. Once it did, you recognized your bedchambers. All was silent, only the soft crackle and pop of a fire could be heard. Early mornings were usually your favorite time of day. Everything was quiet, but you knew that everyone was on the move preparing for the start of the day. You liked to laze around in your bed listening to the birds chirp and watch the sunshine dance across your bed.

 You could hear the sounds of the chirping birds but though the sun brightly beamed through the windowpanes, it did not dance across the bed. Instead, you took notice of something else in your bed—or someone. You trailed your eyes up from the midsection of a body up, up, up until the bare chest of a man peeked from under the bed sheets—a very well-defined bare chest. Your breath caught then your throat tightened. Bringing your eyes higher, you found Simon’s glued on you. He did not move or speak, matter of fact, he seemed to be staring through you rather than at you.

 It took only a few seconds to realize he hadn’t realized you were awake. You glanced around again trying to understand what in the world had happened. On the floor beside the bed, you saw discarded clothes and your imagination went into hyperactivity. Again, you glanced up into Simon’s eyes. They were bloodshot with dark circles around them. He looked downright exhausted. Had he not slept?

 Just then, you recalled the storm and it slowly dawned on you that it had not been a dream, but a memory. Were you ill? Simon sucked in a breath then his body tensed.

 “Jamilla,” he breathed reaching over to you to press his hand to your forehead.

 The touch felt foreign but familiar. An image of him doing the same before filled your mind. Had he done it before? Simon continued to assess you with concerned eyes.

 “Someone come forth! Quickly!”

 You caught his eyes and noticed they looked tear filled. Simon avoided your eyes looking every which way. He tucked you tightly, so you now shared deep resemblance to a log in a lake. The doors opened and in came Mrs. Butler with your maids.

 “My lady,” Leesil began on a shriek. “Thank heavens we all were so worried.”

 Worried, you thought. Had things really been that bad? It was after all, just rain. You’d been caught in plenty of rainstorms. You looked to Simon again, but he still avoided your eyes.

 “My lord, the doctor has come,” Bridget announced as a tall man dressed in plain clothes entered the room.

 “Good. Come doctor, see to my wife.”

 With those words, Simon slipped from the bed whilst grabbing a discarded blanket that rested at the foot of the bed. He used the material to wrap himself from the waist down which told you he was very much nude while he was lying beside you. Oh my, you thought. While the doctor slinked to the side of the bed to tend to you, your eyes roamed Simon’s frame for a few moments taking in every inch of skin that was on display for you. Before long, Simon sprang into motion, excusing himself from the room entirely on some hushed whisper. What in the world was the matter with him?

 ~~~~~

 -Simon-

Blast it!

 The anger he felt was leagues past mere anger. He was fuming. This was all his fault. After hearing a detailed account of the events leading up to your disappearance, he’d learned just how at fault he truly was. If only he’d been more attentive, more accommodating rather than avoiding you. If only he’d been warmer perhaps there wouldn’t have been quite so many misunderstandings. Your words from your drunken delirium in the rain came back to him.

 “Th—they must all la—laugh at—at—m-me seeing you ca—cann—cannot stand to b—be near m—me.”

 Taking the steps two at a time he dashed down them needing to feel the cold morning air whipping against his flesh.

 “Do you not. You have said such in every way since I stepped beside you in that church. You have said such in every move you make, every word you speak no matter how nondescript. In every breath you breathe you wish me gone.”

 His chest hurt from the rapid beating of his heart and no matter what he did to hold the air in his lungs it never worked. He ended up feeling as if he hadn’t gotten any at all. Seeing the door across the stone lobby, he sped his steps.

 “You already hate me so this should be a blessing for you. Wifeless, free to resume your rakish ways.”

 Once the ornate metal doorknobs were tightly clasped in his hands, he yanked them open thrusting himself out into the elements. As soon as he stepped out, the crisp morning air slapped him in the face like a welcomed awakening to the new day. Taking gulp after gulp of the air he forced it into his lungs hoping that chased away the panic surging through his body.

 It did not take long to realize this would not be enough.

 “Horse! F----F--Fe--Fetch—my hor--horse!”

 “Yes, my lord.”

 He did not know who’d said it, he could hardly focus on breathing let alone whose voice he’d heard. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the tips of the doctor from his childhood. He had not had a bout of hysteria since he was one and six, He thought he was long past this stage especially having faced his father regarding his abandonment. Apparently not, he thought.

 Before long, a footman approached with his horse, Zeus. Not waiting for the horse to stop he took quick steps and leapt up swinging himself onto his trusted steed.

 With the reins in hand he shouted, “Hiyah!”

 Zeus took off into the open greenery much like a fast-traveling lightning bolt as it split the sky before rainfall. The breeze was now whipping around him sending his banyan flapping behind him. Lightly he flicked Zeus’ reins prompting him to go faster. For as far as he could see it was open land—his land and he had not one worry.

 “Then why have you abandoned me? You hate me so much you would rather not eat with me, not sleep beside me, nor see my face. Just admit it.”

 He clenched his jaw thinking of that word. Abandoned. He wanted to throw himself off the horse. Never in his plans had he wanted to ever make someone feel the way he’d felt his entire life. Discarded, neglected, repulsed, abandoned. You felt abandoned by him because of his actions.

 “Hiyah!”

Turning Zeus toward the dense tree grove, he steered him through the dangerous low hanging branches and broken wood. He only had seconds to make the right decision to keep his head firmly attached to his shoulders and it was what he enjoyed. He had learned long ago that he was somewhat of an adventure seeker. It was evident in his travels to exotic and distant lands and even his interest in boxing, fencing, archery, hunting and a few others. Many of his friends suspected he had a death wish and liked to see which sport would claim his life. Perhaps they were right.

 Giving Zeus a heel to the abdomen, he signaled him to jump over the coming fallen branches. Seconds later he had to duck to avoid his cause of death being beheading by wood. No matter the speed he was going or the danger he was thrusting himself into he still was not going fast enough to outrun your voice or the pain he saw in your eyes.

 He could not believe you did not know. It was in this moment as he ducked and from doom and leapt into the air from danger that he realized just how innocent you were. He had never entrained an innocent, never bothered, or dared to even attempt to. He knew he was far to damaged to be trusted to not twist and morph another to mirror himself. Horror filled his heart, but it was not from the shattered tree trunk that was in his path fiving him no way to avoid it.

 As Zeus’ impulses took hold skidding himself to a stop, he went flying through the air, over the broken wood and flat on his back several feet away. The collision knocked the wind right out of him making him see spots and fog. By the time his vision cleared he was leaned against the tree taking steady breaths.

 “Blazing Devils!”

 Flinging his head back he groaned as it collided with the tree which sent another torrent of curses from his lips. He deserved the pain; he deserved the agony he was in right now. Your face came to mind as did the memory of your body pressed against his all through the night. The ache coursing through him died down and was replaced with the fire of his desire for you. Gods help him he desired you more than he had ever desired any other woman. It baffled him beyond measure.

 Sitting there he slowly went over every detail of the night before, every feeling, every fear and came to terms with them. He was at fault in this situation, and he had to rectify it. He knew his mother would be ashamed of him and how he’s behaved around you. He also knew his father would probably be proud seeing his own coldness and aloofness in him. Perhaps he would finally accept him then.

 “Sod it all,” he mumbled.

 “You must conquer the past Simon, either you conquer it or it will make a fool of you in your present and all the days of your future.”

 Lady Danbury’s words never went too far from his mind. He had heard them echo all through his childhood at the most inconvenient of times. It was as if she knew way back then the struggles he would continue to have well into adulthood. Turning his head upward he caught sight of the sun that was now beaming down on him through the branches of the trees he was surrounded by.

 With the intense glare, more of Lady Danbury’s words flitted to his mind. These words she had uttered on the day you had wed.

 “She hath a kind and quaint heart, tread carefully and be gentle with her. Do not snuff her light out, let it in.”

 She was the closest to a mother he’d had, and he loved her dearly. She had often teased him asking how he could love her but swear to never love anyone. She understood the difference but enjoyed teasing him by pointing out he was capable of the emotion. He still needed proof and if the last few weeks were to be it, only one thing was clear, he was more capable of destruction than love. Something deep inside wished of him to be proven wrong. It was a wish he had never allowed to see the light of day. It lived in the darkest alcoves of his heart.

 After returning to the estate, he had a better hold of his emotions and thoughts. The guilt still wracked him, but it was easier to hold it at bay. As he jumped off his horse, his steward informed him of the doctor waiting in the drawing room to discuss your health. With haste he found the man in the midst of a cup of tea admiring the roses.

 “My lord.”

 “Please, no need for formalities doctor. Thank you for coming with such haste.”

 “Tis a pleasure to serve the Duke and Duchess of Hastings.”

 “Please continue your tea,” he said as he sat across from the man and allowed him to take another sip of tea.

 “To your liking?”

 “Very much, my lord.”

 “Good. How is she?”

 The doctor cleared his throat then set his cup and saucer down before he began.

 “The duchess’ breathing is quite labored, quite too labored if you ask me. I am inclined to believe she has some pulmonary infliction, and a minor draft. She has coughing bouts which is slight worrisome for me. If this is left untreated it could lead to more serious conditions.”

 “Will she recover?”

 “I believe she will. my advice is to keep her warm, ensure she gets plenty of rest, I have written the recipe for an herbal tincture that I wish to be made into tea for her to drink three times a day for sennight. Sun will also do her good. With this there is no reason the duchess will not recover.”

 The relief he felt must have been evident. The doctor smiled.

 “Tis refreshing to see a man who loves his wife so.”

 He nodded but did not reply. “I assure I will bring the duchess back to good health.”

 “Happy to hear it, my lord!”

 After allowing the doctor to finish his cup of tea he relayed the orders to the house instructing them on the proper way to care for Jamilla. Once that was squared away, he retired to his chambers to clean himself up from his impromptu ride.

 ~~~~~

 -Jamilla-

“My lady.”

 Snapping your head to the right you found Brigit and Leesil both standing there with concerned looks on their faces.

 “Y—Yes,” you rasped before clearing your throat ignoring the tightness in your chest.

 “Do you feel well? You gave us quite a fright,” Bridget added.

 “I am sorry to have worried you. But surly it was not that bad.”

 Leesil’s eyes widened even further. “Ma’am, it was a horror. You were unconscious, shivering cold one moment, hotter than a flame the next, your lips were quite blue. Mrs. Butler was certain the estate would have claimed another Duchess of Hastings.”

 Your curiosity piqued then. “An—,” A cough wracked your body that quickly escalated into a bout lasting longer than you liked. Both Bridget and Leesil approached you attempting to sooth and assist you any way they could. When the coughing finally passed you took the glass of water that Leesil held out for you.

 “Goodness.”

 You fanned your face and hoped that the burn in your chest would subside sooner rather than later. When it finally dwindled to a slight ache, you looked at Leesil needing to know more.

 “What do you mean the estate would have claimed another?”

 Leesil looked to Bridget hesitantly before she looked back to you. “Leesil please,” you urged.

 “Do you not know of the history of this estate or the Hastings’?”

 “I have heard the basics. The Duke and Duchess married and eventually had a child, but the duchess passed away.”

 “The previous Duchess did expire—shortly after she delivered the duke, in this estate in a room that has been blocked off for decades.”

 You’d heard that his mother passed on, but you did not know it was during childbirth.

 “She passed on alone, save for Lady Danbury,” Leesil finished.

 Your eyes widened. “Alone? Why? What of the Duke? Where was he?”

 Leesil’s face twisted into a scowl of disgust. “Flaunting his long awaited, newborn son to anyone with eyes. He cared not for the wellbeing of the Duchess. Quite shameful! Me mum loved the Duchess and has never forgiven the man for how her last moments went.”

 Your heart broke hearing the accounts of the past. The late duke sounded like a heartless man. Part of you wondered if that was who Simon aspired to be. Was the way he treated you the way his father had treated his mother? Suddenly a flash of a memory came to mind. It was a memory of Simon treating you completely different than he had for the last several days.

 “Is something the matter?”

 “Was—Was I alone while I was ill?”

 Again, Leesil and Bridget glanced at each other before they turned back to you.

 “No ma’am. The duke accompanied you,” Bridget informed.

 “All night,” Leesil added.

 Your eyes widened again as another image came to mind. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your body pulling you against his very much nude one.

 “The entire night?”

 “Yes, my lady,” they answered in unison.

 You squinted your eyes trying to press the edges of your mind to give you more memories. The more they came the more you did not understand. None of what you imagined made sense because none of it revealed more than flashes. Hands on your body, chest pressed to yours, your face buried in a neck, lips, fabric, and heat, plenty of heat.

 “I would say the duke must possess healing powers to have revived you within one night,” Leesil teased making Bridget giggle.

 Before you could reply, the door opened and in walked Simon like a ray of sunshine on a gloomy morning. Your eyes could not help but follow him as he walked in and around the four-post bed to you. Everything and everyone else faded.

 “Bridget, Leesil I will take it from here.”

 “Yes, my lord,” they replied in unison reminding you that they were there in the first place.

 Once the door closed behind them, you looked back to Simon who was now seated on the side of the bed he’d gotten out earlier in the morning. His eyes were on you as he was trying to read every hidden emotion or thought behind your eyes.

 “Are you well?”

 “Yes,” you whispered.

 Simon pressed the back of his hand to your forehead then hummed. “You are not as hot as you were in the night. That is a bit of good news. I have brought your breakfast and medicine. Would you be interested in eating?”

 Slowly you nodded. Simon began uncovering the dishes and bowls on the trey that was now on the bed. As he revealed the food your hunger awoke reminding you that you had not eaten since the previous day.

 “What shall we begin with? Perhaps a spot of tea?”

 Again, you nodded. As you moved for the teacup, Simon beat you to it and lifted the porcelain to your lips. You hesitated for a moment but took a sip from the cup and rejoiced inside as the fruit and floral notes hit your senses.

 “I found it a delightful surprise hearing you add rose and mulberries to your tea.”

 “It gives it sweetness and turns it--.”

 “Delicate,” Simon finished.

 Your eyes lingered for a few moments before he lowered the cup back to the trey. A soft scoff escaped him, “It suits you.”

 Bit by bit Simon raised fork and spoonfuls of food to your lips, taking care to not give you too much at once and to keep your face clean. You were practically beside yourself seeing this side of him. It was so unlike anything you’d seen from him before. Surly when you’d first met you’d made up your mind of him labeling him as a rake, then it slowly transitioned into him being a libertine. There is where it remained no matter how quickly you found yourself becoming mesmerized by his charm and alluring maleness. He was so unlike any other man you’d met before, so delectably unique. The more you learned of him, the more traits he begrudgingly revealed of himself you found him bearable and quite tortured. Along the way you got it into your mind that perhaps all he needed was a true friend, or someone to heal whatever tortured him so. Was it silly? Perhaps.

 Over the last weeks, his distance, aloofness, and complete avoidance of you of course changed your perspective of him entirely. You had begun to see how silly you were during those weeks of the season where you paraded around with him in hopes of steering prospective suitors away from the both of you. It was clear he was suffering from the ghosts he carried with him, and no one could save any man from that torment, he himself would have to best them.

 Here he was though, sitting across from you taking care of you with such gentleness it made your heart ache. His actions were not hurried, they were the opposite, it seemed as if he wished this moment to stretch on for as long as possible. Even the way he spoke telling you news from the residents of the acreage, well wishes for your health and the distinction between what the residents did for the land was different.

 His tone was softer, there seemed to be a calm melody to his words that relaxed you. It had been weeks since you felt this at ease with him. It was an ease that you did not worry what he was thinking of you or if he disliked you. In this moment you could read him clearly. He was behaving like a man who actually cared about his wife. You would be lying if you said having him there didn’t make you happier.

 Once breakfast and your medicine were finished you rang the bell for your maids, wishing for a bath.

 “Open water is forbidden while recovering.”

 You sighed at Simon’s words dropping your shoulders in disappointment. You’d gained an affinity to regular bathing. There was something peaceful of sitting in scented warm water and being left alone with your thoughts and the sunlight.

 “Yes, my lord, my lady?”

 “Worry not, Mrs. Butler,” you informed.

 “Mrs. Bulter, please begin preparations for the duchess’ evening medicine.”

 “Yes, my lord.”

 “Also, warm a basin of water and bring it here please.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 You were curious what he needed the water for but did not question him. He held up two books before you with a smile on his face.

 “Idealistic poetry or swashbuckling tales of adventure?”

 You smiled and leaned against the wooden headboard. “Only if this swashbuckling adventure you speak of is of a heroine and not a hero.”

 Simon chuckled. “I dare say I have learned my lesson and have steadfastly filled the library with plenty of tales of heroines thrust into in a variety of adventure, some more lewd that genteel company would not dare speak of.”

 Your eyes widened as you gently swat at his arm. “Simon!”

 Again, he chuckled. “Forgive me my lady, a swashbuckling adventure it is. Are you comfortable?”

 “Quite.”

 “Then we begin. “Ahoy, who goes there,” Lady Philomena Vanquest shouted with her sword in hand.”

 You sighed watched him as he read to you. Within the first few pages your eyes closed and you envisioned the story playing out before you. His voice serving as the perfect tool to bring everything to life. His voice was easily your favorite thing about him. He had a voice that could work magic on a lady in the dark pressed against a wall--the voice that could seduce even the most unwilling bedfellow. His voice easily conjured feelings of lust and desire and it had been this way from the very beginning.

 “Jamilla? Jamilla.”

 Your eyes fluttered open and there he was peering at you with concern. The sun that was once beaming in the room was slowly disappearing.

 “Are you well?”

 You moaned then sat up. “I fell asleep.”

 “You did. I did not know my voice bored you so to catapult you into unconsciousness,” Simon teased.

 “I promise it does not.”

 “No?”

 Your eyes met and locked. “No,” you whispered.

 Simon smiled then nodded. “Good to hear.”

 A knock at the door brought both of your heads to watch Mrs. Butler, Bridget and Leesil walk in, each carrying different things. Mrs. Butler carried a trey of clothes, Bridget a basin, and Leesil a stack of fresh clothing and small glass bottles.

 “What is this?”

 “While I cannot in good faith allow you to submerge yourself into water, I can offer a compromise,” Simon said motioning for the items to be put down.

 The steam from the large basin told you it was freshly heated. Across the surface of the water rose, daisy, peony, lilac, sweet briar petals danced while filling the room with the aroma of the garden you loved to spend your time in.

 “My lady, I have also added the honeysuckle and jasmine oils you enjoy,” Bridget added.

 A smile spread across your face as your heart warmed. “Thank you.”

 “I take it this option is to your liking?”

 “Yes, very much so.”

 “Good. Thank you everyone, you may leave.”

 Alarm rushed through you at the meaning of his words. Did he intend to stay as you did it yourself or would he do it himself?

 “Seeing as this terrible predicament is my fault entirely, I offer my services. Tisn’t been a fortnight since we married and already you are battling illness. I fear your mother and brothers would skin me alive.”

 “Twas I who--,” you began only for Simon to cut you off, claiming the blame for himself once again. Accepting defeat, you nodded.

 “Thank you for your consideration.”

 “Bridget you may stay to assist.”

 “My lord,” Bridget replied.

 You watched Simon roll the sleeves of his half unbuttons white shirt and dip his hand into the basin to swirl the water around. He did it so slowly that your eyes could not look away. When he dipped a clean cloth into the water, the flower petals clung to it. Once he’d wrung the water out, he came closer and brought the cloth to slowly wipe your face with gentle strokes.

 Your senses elated from the smells enveloping you. They should have calmed you, made you feel at ease but the way your heart was rapidly thudding in your chest said they were doing the opposite. However, you believed the culprit this time was not the flowers but the nearness of your husband as he for the first time assisted you with something so intimate as a wipe down.

 You wondered if he could hear your heart. Could he hear the horse hoofs’ gallops going off inside of you as loudly as you heard them? He dipped the cloth into the water again and repeatedly his actions then brought the cloth to your neck. Everywhere he trailed the cloth, the heat from the water soothed your muscles taking some of the ache of your ordeal away. When you felt him slip to the back of your neck you lowered your head giving him easier access. The feel of his fingertips along the bone at the back of your neck had you gasping and clutching the blankets across your lap.

 Simon slowly brought the cloth around and dipped inside the lite material of your shift to your shoulder. As he went over it a few times goosebumps broke out over your flesh.

 “Bridget,” Simon uttered, his voice sounded clouded, as if he had to force it out.

 You wanted to look at him so badly, wanted to see if his face gave anything away to how he was feeling or what he was thinking, but you could not. Something inside of you prevented it. As Simon busied his hands in the basin again, Bridget came to your side of the bed and began lifting the shift you wore off of your body replacing it with a lite muslin cloth.

 It was then your heart beating really took off. You were now nude in front of him for the second time and this time was not any less nerve wracking. Albeit this time you were still covered, even the thin muslin left little to the imagination. suddenly an image of your nude body underneath Simon’s came to mind. His lips were pressed against yours as was every inch of his hard, lean and powerful body. The feel of cool air brought you back to see your lower half exposed to Simon’s sight. The muslin rested atop you, but he brushed it aside revealing one leg. Bringing the heated cloth to your ankle he slowly wiped upward then down only to do it again and again until he wiped all around. Your belly was in flight and your heart was seconds away from bursting. How could one man elicit such a strong reaction?

 You watched as the cloth returned to your knee and trail a torturously slow path up your thigh. When Simon’s hand dipped to your inner thigh you noticed a shake. Bringing your eyes to him, you saw the focus on his features. It was as if he were pressing every inch of your skin to memory to revisit later. You could not help but wonder when later he would think of this? In bed perchance?

 When his hand made it several inches up your inner thigh he retreated and moved to your other leg. You watched every move he made but not because you did not trust him to respect you, but because you wanted to remember this for your own revisit. You wanted to watch his hands roam across your body as you envisioned the cloth not there.

 After Simon finished your lower half a new basin that mirrored the first came. On Bridget’s instruction, you leaned forward revealing your bare back for him to wipe. The chance of his fingers raking down your back made you arch, dipping it inward. A groan escaped Simon then, it was a groan that made a part of you that you’d never knew of awaken. It felt like part of you deep inside your gut had fallen and it ached. Oh, how it ached.

 Simon brought the cloth up and again his fingertips made a trail. This time that ache made you moan. Simon sighed out suddenly sending a puff of air across your flesh. Another image came to mind of the same thing happening only along your breast. That made you press your fingertips to your lips. Were these memories? Dreams?

 “My lady.”

Looking to your right you met Simon’s eyes, but he did not speak. You saw the action he inquired in his eyes. Consent. Hesitating you took several breaths, none of them worked to slow your heart, none of them helped to calm your nerves. Your governess’ words rang in your head.

 “Ones husband is entitled to look upon his wife in any capacity he chooses.”

 Before now you’d always wondered just what she meant. Look upon how? Now you understood. Your throat was dryer than barren land in the prime heat of the summer months. You swallowed then slightly cringed hearing a small gulp echo around you. He must think you such a naïve wallflower, you thought. He didn’t budge, he just waited and waited and waited for you to grant him said consent. biting your bottom lip, you chewed at it until you were certine it was raw. Then you released the muslin you grasped so tightly at. The fabric fell to bunch in your lap revealing you in the setting sun’s light to your husband. As it fell you felt his warmed breath brush against your newly exposed breasts.

 Before it was candlelight he’d seen you and from a distance. They both afforded you some mystery but now he was inches away from you with ample light. He could look as he willed. You watched Simon’s eyes lower and slowly rake over your bodice. Every second his jaw jumped showing the definition of his jawline. He was handsome from the front but from the side—his profile was a thing of beauty.

 As he dipped the cloth into the basin again you heard him mumble a curse, you’d heard plenty a time.

 “Blast it.”

 When he raised the cloth to your collar you held your breath. It was not intentional but you felt the only way to get through this without leaping off of the bed either into his lap or out the door was to restrict your brain of oxygen so it would decrease its ability to think. It was perfectly logical, you theorized. The folly in your thinking did not occur to you until halfway through when you realized Simon’s movements were so slow, so torturous that he hadn’t even made it past your collar before white spots danced behind your eyes.

 “Breathe Jamilla,” Simon whispered.

 On command you did just that and that was when you felt the cloth swipe across your breast. Immediately, you felt your nipple pebble as another huff of warm breath skirt across your skin. Simon wiped over, around and under your breast then did the same to the other before dipping the cloth down the center of your body to your stomach.

 Alarm rushed through you. Was he really planning on going that far? Your governess had not given you any tips or information about this. Was he going to touch you? The anticipation made you shiver and just when you were certain you would shoot off the bed into the air, Simon’s hand stopped just below your navel. His eyes were squeezed closed, jaw clenched tightly and hand shaking. Seconds later, he pulled away and held the cloth to Bridget.

 “You can assist the madam better than I.”

 With that, he abruptly stood beside the bed then bowed his head to you.

 “I bid you farewell, my lady. I shall return for dinner—if you will have me.”

 For far too long the silence stretched in the room when Simon’s eyes met yours and his thick brow shot up you realized you’d been sitting there incapable of speech. A nod was all you could muster. Simon’s eyes dipped to your bare breasts and again his jaw went haywire. He turned then strode to the door leaving you alone with Bridget, a body full of anxious energy and a head full of thoughts definitely not suitable for a woman from genteel society. 

One thing was clear, within these images you were having and the current encounter there was one commonality—he had not persisted. He had in fact pulled away from you. He really did not want you at all—in any capacity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glossary:

Term “One and Six”: In Regency Era it was common among some to refer to ages over single digits as both numbers. EX: 16 = one and six. Of course, this isn’t always the case, it would depend on the region and the class of people.

Hysteria: Commonly referenced in Regency time which we in modern times would call panic. Could also be referenced to regency word Vapors which is usually when someone is going through a “panic attack” with the hyperventilating, agitation and or bouts of fainting.

Banyan: A men’s dressing robe usually worn at home. Think of a woman’s robe but for men. Could be elaborately designed, thick, or as thin as preferred.

Sennight: A time lasting one week.

Blazes: Euphemism for hell or the devil.

Blast: Equivalent to the modern terms sh** or damn.

Sod It: Equivalent to the modern statement "F**k it" or "Damn it."

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