Sekhemkhet's Promise Pt. 03

In a matter of seconds, Anabeth was standing in the middle of the room with William's arm firmly around her waist and her hand dwarfed in his. "Are you a good dancer, Miss Brightbury?" William asked her. Just as with his aunt, Baroness Sophia, Beth knew that she liked him instantly.

"I have some practice," Beth smiled. "And you, Mr Egerton?"

William laughed. It was an infectious sound, and it made something bubble up in Beth's chest. "I suppose we're about to find out."

The music started up again, a traditional waltz, to her great surprise. Even the worst of dancers could keep up a simple waltz for two minutes.

"Your aunt is Baroness Sophia?" Anabeth asked once they were into the dance.

"Yes," William smiled again. It was strange to her that the German aristocrat could be related to an American. Perhaps it was because her father had drilled into her head for so long that Americans were the opposite of classy -- they lived in a relatively new country and 'behaved like fake royalty', her father had said. "She is my mother's sister. My mother married my father thirty years ago and moved to the states with him, where I was born."

"What does your father do?" Anabeth asked. It was a sly question -- one that was of great importance to most people. She may as well have asked him if he came from money, or if he was worth her time.

"He owns a shipping company; Egerton Steam, he called it," William's eyes twinkled a bit, the corner of his mouth pulling up. He knew what she was asked, and she hated herself for it. "I, on the other hand, travel. I explore the world. I was fortunate enough that I was in Italy when my aunt told me of this whole affair. I was able to jump on a ship and come see for myself." William leaned into her ear. "I'm so glad I've not been disappointed," he whispered, and she felt goose bumps raise on her arms.

William pulled back as they continued to dance. At a few points he twirled her under his arm, somehow keeping time with the music. It was clear to Anabeth that he had been either falsely modest about his dancing abilities, or he had successfully hustled her. Either way she didn't mind. There was this wonderful feeling in her chest; she couldn't remember the last time she felt this happy.

"Where are you travelling next?" She asked him. Their eyes hadn't left each other's throughout the dance and the closeness of his body was creating a dampness between her legs. All at once she felt guilty and excited. If Sekhemkhet was ignoring her then there was nothing wrong with her finding pleasure elsewhere.

"I plan to stay in Egypt for a while. Explore what the country has to offer. You should join me," he smiled. His voice had such a pleasing drawl to it, a low, manly affliction that made Anabeth want to agree to anything he said.

"I intend to," she grinned as the music ended abruptly and the crowd clapped gently.

"May I cut in?" A voice asked from behind her.

A low voice, a seductive purr. Sekhemkhet.

"How can I say no to our esteemed host?" William laughed, looking over Anabeth's shoulder. She dared not turn around.

She hadn't been doing anything wrong, she knew that. So, then she feel so guilty? She felt like a child who had been caught doing something naughty. There couldn't really be any true repercussions for this.

William bowed his head to her. "Until we meet again," he smiled slightly, turning from her and walking into the crowd. It was like a safety blanket had been pulled from her. Anabeth felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Perhaps we should go somewhere a little more private," Sekhemkhet murmured in her ear. She felt him move away and turned to follow him.

************

Sekhemkhet led them to the part of the museum which housed the offices. He stopped at the door before the meeting room where she had first seen him as Akhenaten, before opening the door and striding in before her.

"What do you think my purpose is, Henutsen?" He asked, turning on the lamp on his desk once she had softly closed the door behind her. She turned to look at him.

She felt as though she'd been slapped. It had been too long since she'd last been alone with him and she was struck again by just how perfect he was. Tall, masculine and powerful. Anabeth struggled to make eye contact with him, she was nervous in way that she only felt around him. But she hadn't been around him, had she? He had all but abandoned her for weeks. And, really, how difficult would it have been to write her a letter -- just something to let her know that he remembered her?

"My name is Anabeth, and you'd do well to address me as such," Anabeth finally hissed. Her nerves had her in a foul temper and she had no wish to acquiesce to him.

Sekhemkhet smirked. "Do you think, Anabeth, that I was brought back to this earth to see relics displayed in a museum? Do you truly believe that the Gods would have allowed me such a petty mission? No. No, my purpose here is much greater." Sekhemkhet pulled away from her and paced to his desk at the front of the room, picking up a map of some sort. "Egypt was a stronghold of wealth, power and knowledge for thousands of years before the city of London had ever been dreamt of," he spat the word London as though it was dirty. Anabeth could not help but feel affronted.

"I was brought here to lead this country back to greatness -- to fight our oppressors and re-establish ourselves as a world power," Sekhemkhet looked back at her. "I want a Queen to stand beside me. I want you to stand beside me."

Beth had no time to think about what he had said -- the implications that it held for herself and the world as a whole. He was speaking about war, but she couldn't focus on anything else but Sekhemkhet striding towards her.

He took her face in his hands and searched her eyes.

"I need you with me, Anabeth." His dark eyes swirled, hypnotising her. She would have done anything he asked in that moment. "I need you to be mine, to be loyal and trusting. Do you understand?"

Sekhemkhet's hand slowly and gently slid down her face, over her neck -- his finger long enough to wrap around it with ease. The slid lower, over her collarbones, onto her bare shoulders and to the tops of her arms. Anabeth's eyes closed, her breathing was shallow. A hum had begun between her legs -- she could feel her sex beginning to slick.

"This is a truly beautiful dress," he murmured. His head fell forward, nuzzling into her neck, his nose skimming the shell of her ear. Anabeth couldn't help but release a small whimper as he kissed her neck.

His hands continued in their descent, skimming her chest to dip inside her bodice. He found her breasts and fingered the already hard nipples, eliciting a gasp from her mouth.

"I hope you purchased it with the intent of me removing it," he growled, biting her earlobe.

The next thing Anabeth knew, his hands had undone the laces at her back and her bodice had begun to slip from her. This dress was different from others she owned -- there were not so many parts to it: it was simply a gown, held in places by a lace corset. Underneath she wore nothing but a thin pair of drawers.

The dress fell, pooling around her ankles, leaving her breasts bare, though not for long. Sekhemkhet's mouth came down hard on her, licking and kissing every inch, making her writhe with the pulse that was pounding inside her.

Anabeth's hands came to entwine themselves in his slicked back hair, grasping for dear life. This was what she had missed so much -- this erotic pleasure which she had been denied; that only Sekhemkhet could ignite in her.

Sekhemkhet pulled at the delicate ribbon that kept her drawers up and they fell immediately. He was wasting no time.

Anabeth kept her shoes on as she pushed the dinner jacket from his shoulders, his waist coat quickly following. She had such little experience in disrobing men, but she was desperate and eager and tried her best. The buttons on his shirt put up little resistance as Anabeth tugged at them.

"Calm, my love," Sekhemkhet chuckled, and Anabeth gloried in the low rumble. "We have time."

"No," she shook her head. "No more waiting."

Her lips found Sekhemkhet's before he could protest; her tongue snaking into his mouth immediately. She knew she had been angry -- she knew there were things to discuss but none of it mattered anymore.

Sekhemkhet moved back, pulling Beth with him. The room was dark, save for the small amount of light that the lamp provided. The soft glow illuminated Sekhemkhet's body -- his golden-brown skin stretched atop well-defined muscle. When he moved, Beth could see the muscle ripple in his arms and stomach, like a predator stalking its prey.

He pulled her down onto a brown leather couch, conveniently placed in the middle of the room. Beth straddled him; her sex spread open over his tented trousers. When she dropped her weight, she could feel it rub against him.

Sekhemkhet growled low in his throat as she moved her hips, grinding against him, letting him know how much she wanted him.

"Undo your trousers," she commanded him. With one hand he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her down to devour her again; with the other, he pulled apart the buttons and let his cock spring free.

It was as glorious as she had remembered it -- hard, thick and almost twitching with need to enter her. There was so much more that Beth wanted to experience -- his lips on her, his tongue inside her; she wanted him to bring her to her peak until she was screaming. She wanted his sex in her mouth, gagging her, leaving her totally helpless and at his mercy.

But all of that could wait. What she needed now was this connection -- she needed him inside of her, scalding her insides and reminding her of where her loyalties lay.

She didn't have to wait.

Sekhemkhet lewdly spit on his hand and brought it to his cock, spreading the wetness around the tip. He needn't have bothered. Anabeth had been ready for weeks.

She felt the spongy head of his cock nudging around in her folds, dragging harshly across her clit, and down, down until it was just right.

Sekhemkhet thrust into her on a growl, spreading her apart, stretching her, forcing a guttural moan from her throat.

One of his hands grabbed her hip to hold her just where he wanted her -- the other hand flew to her neck, holding her gently, but reminding her who was in charge.

She ground her hips down, reveling in the feeling of total completeness, before lifting herself up slightly and grinding back down.

"Allaena!" Sekhemkhet hissed through his teeth. He raised his hips to Anabeth, forcing himself as deep as she could take him.

There was no more waiting, no more hesitation. Sekhemkhet set his own pace, burying his cock in her with his hips and controlling her movements with his hands. He grasped her neck, cutting off her airways only slightly -- only enough to make her gasp, to force her to trust him. It was intoxicating, a hedonistic feeling of pure terror and lust and want.

Sekhemkhet could only last so long in that position, Beth knew he would change. He needed more control -- needed to feel her underneath him, completely helpless.

He tipped her over, her back lying on the leather, and spun himself so he stayed between her legs. From this position he was able to lift her legs over his elbows and use his weight to thrust into her.

She was allowing the noises to flow from her throat as they wished now, she had no way to stop them. Beth could feel the muscles inside her dancing, seeking relief.

As though he could read her mind, Sekhemkhet liked the pad of his thumb, staring her in the eyes as he brought his fingers to her clit. Small strokes -- little circles on the bud of nerves that made her hips jerk up to meet his thrusts.

"Finish for me, Henutsen," he leaned down over her, maintaining his forceful tempo, his cock scraping the front wall of her sex. "I want to feel your pleasure."

Beth waited for no further instruction. She had been waiting too long now for pleasure, her body was completely tensed and ready to let go.

"Gods!" She began to scream as her orgasm ripped through her, squeezing his cock and sending shocks down her body. Sekhemkhet did not stop, continuing to plunge into her and wring out more cries from her throat.

It was too much. Once she was done, her sex was overly sensitive, beginning for relief -- a reprieve from the onslaught of sensation. But Sekhemkhet wasn't finished yet.

His pace got faster, pounding into her without mercy. Anabeth lost all control, her volume rising, her body writhing, but Sekhemkhet held her still, grasping her waist in a vice-like hold. She was forced to take what he gave her, enduring the thrusts until they became erratic. Sekhemkhet let out an animalistic roar as he began to climax, pushing into her as far as he could as he came inside of her.

A few, staggered, erratic thrusts later, he fell forward onto Beth, his head resting on her chest as they tried to catch their breath.

Anabeth didn't fall asleep on purpose, but it was impossible not to. She felt so completely content.