(Henry POV)
I lay in bed, looking at her. I made it priority to wear her out last night:
"Aaahhhhh!" she screamed as I drove her hips up and down an my cock. She gripped my shoulders, her head falling back riding out the previous orgasm. "I can't—"
"You can," I growled, turning her under me. My tongue snaked to her mouth, moistening her dried lips. I went down on her again and she let out a whimper. We both moaned as we felt her passion flow again. "Ah, that's it." Her hips raised off the bed and I crawled between her legs, nibbling her inner thigh on the way back up, and aligned my hips with hers again. I rubbed my meatus against her slit, kissing her neck.
She gave a kitten cry as my tongue surged inside her mouth, my cock thrusting into her at the same time. The sound struck the base of my neck and lit a path down my spine, making me ache to pound her again. How I loved hearing that sound, feeling her body become pliant in my arms but feeling her fingertips rake my back deliciously as her sex pulsed and pulled me, her eyes half open as if under a spell...my spell. Doesn't she know what that does to me?
I get it. She wants to establish her own identity in this new life here in the U.K. She didn't see it coming, and she wants to try to start anew, get her bearings, as it were. I understand.
But I DON'T understand why she has to do it this way. I am being selfish, and I know it, but I barely care. Yet I do care about her and how she feels, and I am going along with this. Did I sweep her off her feet? I must have not done a good job. She seemed stable the whole time we were together in all three film sites.
I hate games. Is that what this is? It's hard for me to believe that. Our relationship started so differently from most. Our whole history is different from most. And I have never ever had a woman be so understanding of my quirks, like my gaming and such. She seemed fine when I went to work, didn't even show a bit of insecurity until...until I put it there...damn, am I still paying for that?
And I gave her my ring! How can she question everything when she is wearing my crest on her finger? She had to know I was working up to popping the question. I looked down at the one she gave me. She thought it wasn't good enough. How can she think that?
"Henry?"
I look at her. I'd been quiet too long.
She looks dejected. "Can we just...go outside awhile?"
I swallow hard. "Yeah, in a bit."
"Oh, okay," she nods, but she looks like she's going to cry. "I'll take Luna out. You bring Kal, alright?"
"Yeah."
She gets Luna's harness, and she, thinking she is part dog, trots over to be leashed. I can't help but smile at that. "Okay, then."
The second she's alone, I get on my phone. I see all these numbers I'd conveniently blocked out—actresses and such, women I could call up. I slowed at Emma's.
I call up my brother. I can't believe I'm calling him. As the line rings, I realize how serious I am about her and how much I want to truly understand and not lose her.
"Hold on," he says. "Let me get this right. She wants to not move in with you yet?"
"No."
"Oh, she might be a proper lady, Henry."
I roll my eyes at that. "She is."
"No, you know what I mean," he chastises. "She wants to establish her own status."
"She wears my ring."
"A ring, or the ring?"
"The ring."
"Well, Good Lord, Henry, the horse is out of the barn!" he is quiet for a moment. "Did you ask her? Does she know what that ring means?"
"No."
"Henry!"
"Good Lord, you sound like Mum."
"No, she'd probably hit you in the back of the head with a paper," he mutters.
"You're not helping."
"She loves you, and she wants to make a name for herself before you change it. She wants to be sure it isn't proximity but really a desire to be together. She wants other people to at least have reason to feel that way too. Good enough?"
I sigh. "Good enough."
"I kind of like her already."
"She's American."
He lets out a low whistle. "Told Mum?"
"Met Mum online."
"Well, well, well," he teases. "When are the rest of us going to meet her?"
"Soon."
"Good man," he encourages. "Remember, it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind—"
"--And a man's prerogative to change it back," I finish with my brother. We have a laugh. Mum always hated that quote.
"Good luck."
"Thanks." I hang up and look at Kal. "Well, I guess that's that, Kal. Let's go."
We join her and Luna outside. She looks worried. I can't help but soften. She wants my understanding.
"So, tell me about this place at Stella's," I exhale.
"It's in Brixton, not far from you," she says hopefully, her eyes widening. "It's a studio."
"Small?"
"I don't know, but it's furnished and I can still afford it even with the pet fees."
I look at the stars in the sky, the Northern Lights beginning to fade. For the first time I hold to the fact that they are still there. I take a deep breath. "I can help you settle in."
"You will?" Painful relief crosses her features as she leans into me.
I drag her to my side. "If this is what you need, pet, but I want you to know that ring means something to certain parts of society."
She is quiet for a moment, and swallows hard, looking at the ring on her finger. "Should I give this back—"
"No," I say flatly. "And you can take my ring off my cold dead hand!" I earn a laugh from her. I gather her close. "I don't fully agree, my love, but if this is what you need—" I was cut off by her pulling me down for a kiss. It was tender and vulnerable, tasting of tears.
"Thank you," she whispers.
We look at the skies. "They are fading."
"They're still there," she whispers with a shrug. "They'll be back. We'll be back."
"We should camp next time."
"No plumbing?" Her eyes widen. "No thank you."
We finished our playtime with Luna and Kal and head inside. We ate all of our leftovers and curled in bed that night, warming each other. Snow and rain had fallen in the time we were here, only to melt and warm again. "Brixton."
"Yes, Brixton," she whispers. "It's not Group A, but I can afford it and Stella says it's nice. I know it's not the most desirable area."
It dawns on me that she is afraid of London, really afraid of it-the society. She knows the groups and levels? Dear God...
"I may be in middle middle and you are upper, and I know that I think your line was Baronet but now Gentry, and that I am...well, essentially, no one to that, but..."
"I assure you, it's not as strict as you think." I look into her eyes and see real concern, real fear.
"Well, your father is in finance, so he still has the status, your brothers are in professions that adheres to the same—"
"And I'm an actor, love."
"Line and wealth, Henry."
I chilled at her words. She was truly afraid of not being considered good enough. And what's more, she really thought I cared. "I love you!"
"I love you," she whispers, framing my face in her hands. "but what of James Bond? What of the Knighthood?"
I laugh, albeit nervously. "Knighthood?" I pull her on top of me. "Stop it."
"What?"
"Do you really care about all that?"
"I guess the real question is, do you?"
The question hung in the air. "If it comes, it comes, darling."
"And if the door is closed without consideration?"
"If I do great works that improve or enrich over time, I can be considered." I tell her.
"Like Durrell?"
"Among other things."
"I want to be an asset to you—"
"You already are," I pull her down and squeeze her for a hug. "Good God, woman." I pull her back, looking at her. "You are beautiful and brilliant with a heart bigger than the skies we're under. That's why I love you." I slap her arse. "This bum doesn't hurt, either."
"You're so bad!" she playfully slaps my chest, making me laugh.
I take a deep breath. "I will back you, whatever you do, pet. I see you need this now." But in my eyes it was far from necessary.
"Thank you," she whispers in my ear, hugging me. "thank you for understanding this."
I hug her close. I hug her as if she is all I have. I hate that she feels this way, though there may be some truth to it, but it will be so subtle that she shouldn't notice. Smart as she is, I should have known she would. But I have never felt like this before. I get the feeling she hasn't either. It means something-we mean something...