Author: Vivienne Emme
WhatWhat: Jane Virginia Bennett (apparently there’s overlap between littles and Austen fans?) is a lady-in-waiting at Buckingham Palace, because of course she fucking is, and she’s in search of her perfect billionaire Daddy. In the meantime she fucks a tradesman, and then an old school friend who is himself a future Baron and whom she hilariously addresses as Honorable. Because that’s how titles work, sure.
“Down, slowly” he whispered once I was in, the days growth on his face tickling my ear. (loc 28)
I do hope that’s just a beard and not a tumor.
So, he was naked as well. (loc 32)
Sweetheart, you’re taking a bath together.
I pushed back against his hardness and returned the kiss. This was his lust, slowly ebbing out, bit by bit. He was trying not to lose control but it was coming. The water splashed as his hand slipped down my stomach, straight into the gap between my legs. My knees clenched against him, even as a bolt of pleasure shot up from my button.
“Open for daddy, please” he ordered, pushing against my thigh. (loc 41)
Immediately after he brings her to orgasm in the bath (using the handle of a hairbrush, God help us all) she reflects that next time they meet he’ll punish her for not having gotten him off. It’s a good thing she clarifies that, because with all the ebbing out bit by bit and the losing control and coming, I would have been under the impression he’d come, or at least…leaked a lot?
Then he gives her a teddy bear. We’re on familiar ground, here.
Only NOT FOR LONG, because Elliot Jones (“my new internet daddy”) disappears after his one scene, and when next we see her Jane is at work at Buckingham Palace, reflecting that it’s been a month since her encounter with Mark (who?) and getting ready to fuck “the Baron.”
I don’t know, guys, I’m a bit shocked that she’d accept a teddy bear from someone outside of a committed relationship.
I reached for something to stop my fall but the gold furniture was too far from my grasp to soften the landing. I hit the deck about as ungracefully as possible, which I supposed was in tune with my breeding. If some snobbish Royal had seen the fall, he would make a comment about my ancestry for sure. (loc 127)
Right, the Royals are known for insulting people who faceplant in front of them. It’s a hallmark of the upper class. WHAT. Also, gold furniture doesn’t particularly sound like it would soften anyone’s landing. It sounds painful.
Perhaps these weird fantasies about soft gold and rude Royalty are a specific kink?
Then we meet “The Honorable Charles Guy Westey,” currently my favourite character in all of erotic literature.
He was a good, old-fashioned, aristocratic playboy straight out of the 1930’s. (loc 135)
So he either has a pageboy or is into Nazism, or maybe both. Got it.
He was in the Royal Air Force, so they called him Flight Lieutenant, but to everyone else he was just Honorable. Except to me, I called him Charlie. But I also called him Baron, which wasn’t actually his title, at least not yet, not until his father died and he inherited it. (loc 144)
I’m assuming from this that she’s run face-first into the gold furniture before now.
I should have known. You see, Honorable and I have known each other since school. My father had money though we were low born, so I’d been raised well at least, alongside the newest children of England’s oldest families. I was a late bloomer, of that I was sure, but so was Honorable…(loc 171)
Verdict: This is golden. GOLDEN. Entertaining in all the ways, reader. By the end of the story she’s (briefly) met some other guy (a prince, so I can’t WAIT to find out how she addresses him) and is hoping he’s her forever home. I mean, her daddy billionaire. Whatever.