by Plum Pascal
Gods, I’m such a bastard.
I turn away from her so she won’t see the warring impulses playing out on my face. Kiss her, take her, plead with her to be mine, and be a fucking selfish animal that values my own happiness over hers. Or continue on as I have, placing her first, even though the taste of her is going to drive me fucking mad at some point.
“You’re angry with me,” she says.
“No, I’m just... angry.”
“Why?”
I shake my head. I can’t tell her why. “It’s foolish and my own fault, Princess. Don’t mind me. I’m not upset with you.”
“Carmine.”
One of her soft hands comes to rest at the small of my back. I jump and crane my neck to peer down at her. I didn’t even hear her approach. She’s tucked herself against my side, leaning her head against my arm. The contact makes it harder to think, harder to do what it is I know I must.
“What?” I bark, not meaning to sound so angry but I can’t help it. I’m frustrated.
“Call me Carmine. It’s so tiresome to hear you all call me Princess all the time. As if I’m ruler of anything any longer.”
Her words warm me, tug a smile into something more genuine, not something I slap on for her comfort.
“It’s nothing you need to fret about, Carmine,” I amend quietly.
“Well, if that’s true, you ought to have no problem telling me what’s troubling you.”
I open my mouth, then snap it shut again as I struggle to find an answer. She’s backed me into a corner, the clever little minx. She peeks up at me, lips threatening to form a tiny triumphant smile. Those quicksilver eyes dance with mirth.
“I stepped right into that one,” I say with a sigh.
“Tell me, Draven. I want to help.”
“I need you to... take off that shirt.”
Carmine’s cheeks unexpectedly flood with color, silver eyes flying wide. I realize too late what my words must sound like and rush to add; “It’s the scent, Carmine. I don’t like Titus’ scent on you.”
“That’s why you’re angry?”
I nod. “As I said, it’s foolish and it shouldn’t bother me but…”
I don’t have time to fumble with my explanation. Carmine undoes the belt with sure fingers and, before I have time to protest, she whips the shirt off in a smooth rolling motion. The act bares most of her skin to the cool night air. I think the dress has frayed further, because I can see the full underside of one breast, and the teasing possibility of one of her nipples under the pathetic strip of material.
I should be fucking glad Titus preserved her modesty with the shirt, because I would have been forced to gouge the eyes out of any man who caught a glimpse of her like this. It’d be so easy to half-form my talons and rip away the remaining scraps, leaving her bare.
Take her, take her, take her...
“Better?” she asks breathlessly.
There’s still color high in her cheeks. Embarrassment at her almost nudity, probably. I’m a prick. I can’t form an intelligent response, all the blood in my brain migrating south. I’m painfully hard now, aching to be inside her.
“Draven, is this better? Is his scent still on me?”
No, it’s mostly gone, but I can’t focus for an entirely different reason now. “You... you ought to go back to camp,” I croak at last.
Hurt flashes across her face. “Why?”
“Because you look incredible, Prin.... Carmine. And I want to do things to you I shouldn’t. You go and find Titus now. I won’t make you choose between us.”
It’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to say. To my surprise, she laughs, a short, disbelieving bark of sound.
“Gods.... he was right, wasn’t he? You really have no idea.”
I don’t know what she’s talking about and I shake my head. “I know you want him, Carmine. I can scent it when you want a man. It’s driven me mad for years. I don’t want to make you unhappy, Carmine. If you want him, you should go to him. I won’t stop you.”
“Draven,” she says, exasperation bunching her brow into lines, turning her kissable lips down into a half-scowl. “I can’t believe you’re such an imbecile.”
“Imbecile?” I’m surprised.
“Yes, imbecile,” she snaps. “When you watched me, had it ever occurred to you there was one common denominator every time you scented my arousal? The fact that you were in the room? Had you ever scented me in my bedchambers, when you came to find me in the mornings? Did it ever occur to you that it was you I dreamed about? You that I pictured when I touched myself at night?”
My mind churns along slowly, like the first rock tumbling down the side of a mountain, dragging more debris loose until the thoughts slam into me with the crushing obviousness of it. “You want... me?” I ask slowly, sounding out the words. They don’t make sense to my befuddled mind.
Carmine stretches up on her tiptoes so she can place her soft little hands on either side of my face. Someone has thankfully had the presence of mind to bandage the poisoned patches.
She sniffles again, more tears spilling down her face, but there’s a sweet smile on her lips. “Yes, you idiot. I always have. There’s been no one in my heart but you. I can’t believe you couldn’t see it.”
Neither can I. I’m cursing myself for all those hours spent dealing with the frustrating desire alone when I could have had her.
No, you couldn’t have had her because she’s a princess and you’re a huntsman, I tell myself. It’s the same reason I still can’t have her.
She stretches as far as her height will allow, putting her lips only inches from mine. Honey and clover rides out on a breath, fucking intoxicating.
“Do me a favor, please,” she whispers against my mouth.
“Anything,” I breathe.
She removes one hand from my face so she can rip at what remains of her bodice. It comes away without much effort, fraying to pieces in her hand. It leaves her chest bare. I can’t help a small moan when she takes my hand and guides it to her breast. Small perhaps, but soft, pert, and warm. I can’t help but draw my thumb across her puckered nipple.
“Make love to me,” she murmurs. “Draven, I want to feel you inside me.”
TWELVE
CARMINE
The sound Draven makes is caught somewhere between a moan and a growl and vibrates through me like a shiver of pleasure. His lips crush mine, his big, calloused hands securing me to him, one on my waist, another in my hair, just as he had in the clearing.
This time, he doesn’t pull away from me. He steps into my embrace, firmly guiding me backward until my bare back hits the smooth trunk of a sycamore. His grip loosens on my waist, sliding instead to my hip, fingers digging into the remnants of my skirts, tearing away the only barrier that keeps me from being completely bare.
Molten desire pools between my legs at the very casual show of Draven’s strength. I shudder, and gasp when his fingers quest along my inner thigh. He takes full advantage, stroking his tongue along the seam of my mouth, delving inside when I arch my back and moan aloud. His tongue tangles with mine for the second time in as many minutes, and I can’t seem to get my body close enough to his. I cling to his biceps, digging nails into the hard muscles as he rubs warm, teasing circles into my inner thigh, almost but not quite where I need him most.
I’m afraid I’ll wake and find this is a dream.
I drag a hand up to his hair, tangling my fingers in the strands at the nape of his neck. I wish his hair were longer, like it used to be, so I could toy with it. But I’ll take him however I can.
The kiss becomes harsher, more urgent and I moan. It’s so good. Better than I imagined a kiss between us could be, all those times I touched myself. Draven is so strong, so tall, his shoulders broad, his body caging mine against the hard tree, giving me no chance to escape.
But Gods, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. So many years of responsibility, of being proper, of being a good girl. I just want someone to strip all of tha
t away. I want to be conquered, utterly dominated by this man.
Draven’s fingers finally play along my folds, but he doesn’t part them.
He draws back enough to allow me to drag in a ragged breath. His exhale is equally unsteady, warm against my lips.
“Princess?” he ventures, still holding at least some of himself back. Asking permission when I just want him to take.
“Carmine,” I correct. “Please, Draven. I want you to say my name, not my title.”
He shakes his head and some of the lust in his eyes empties. “I have a duty to you. I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s…”
“Don’t you dare say it’s wrong, Draven! It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I need you.” I take a breath. He can’t change his mind now. I won’t let him! “Don’t stand on ceremony. Right now I’m not a princess and you’re not a huntsman.”
“I am though,” he murmurs, easing just the tip of one finger through the folds of my sex, sliding through my slickness. I’m embarrassingly wet. Wetter than I’ve ever been, because he’s so close. If he would just stop being so damn honorable...
“Am what?” I breathe.
“A huntsman. Your huntsman. I failed Neva, but I won’t fail you, Carmine. If I fuck you... I’ll lose that objectivity. Because all I want to do is hide you someplace where the war can’t touch you. I can’t lose you. I just... I can’t. You don’t know what you mean to me.”
“I do,” I whisper. “Because I love you too and I always have.”
He goes still, even his breath catches for a moment. His eyes flick down to meet mine, to search my face for the truth.
“You love me?”
“Since I was a girl. And I’ve wanted this for as long as I’ve been aware it existed, Draven.”
“I have wanted you all this time, as well.”
I smile. Broadly. “Then could you please fuck me?”
“Carmine,” he starts, looking confused again.
“No,” I insist. “I want to be under you. On top of you. Take me any way you want me. I want marks, Draven. I want to ache in the morning, just so I know this is real, that you’ve been inside me. I want the world to know I’m yours.”
Draven lets out another sound that’s a mix of growl and groan. Then he parts my folds and thrusts his fingers inside my channel all the way up to the knuckles. Something inside me pinches, sends a mild flare of pain through me, but I ride out the sensation, moaning as his fingers settle inside of me. I feel so full already, with just his fingers. Will I truly be able to accommodate his manhood? I haven’t seen it yet, but I feel it pressing against my thigh. Are all men so large? It doesn’t seem possible it’ll fit. I’ll be walking bow-legged for a while, I fear.
But, I want it.
My nipples pucker to painful peaks as I think of him taking me so hard, I’m boneless, unable to walk. I know he’ll carry me. I shouldn’t want to be such a liability. But fucking Draven will be worth it.
Draven’s free hand finally releases me, tracing along my body in curious exploration, even as his fingers pump in and out of me, firm and demanding, sending a sweet ache pulsing through my channel.
“You want this, Carmine? Are you sure?”
“Gods, yes! Please.”
“You want me to touch you? Where?”
“Everywhere. Please...”
His hand comes up to cup one of my breasts, skimming the underside in an almost ticklish fashion. The texture is rough, adding delicious sensation as he pinches the nipple, kneading it to even sharper attention. A mewling sound of pleasure comes from my throat and he chuckles.
He kneads the other to painful attention as well, kissing my jawline, and then presses his teeth into my skin, hard enough I cry out.
Pain. Pleasure.
The snarled mass of sensation in my head sends shocks of confused pleasure through me. Every nip sends want shooting downward, throbbing need making me clench tight around his fingers. His pace stutters for a few seconds and he hisses a curse.
“Fuck, Carmine. You’re tight...”
“I want you inside me,” I pant. “I need you inside me. Please, Draven.”
“Not yet,” he says. “I want to taste you.”
Almost without warning, he slides his fingers away from my body. I whimper at the loss, tempted to take his hand and guide it back between my thighs again. He brought me close to orgasm, only to leave me hanging. Perhaps I should find it typical at this point. Infuriatingly handsome and oblivious Draven always leaves me hanging.
Then he drives us to the ground, him on top of me, one hand bracing my skull, his descent measured. Moments later, he’s settled on top of me. As the warm weight of him presses me down into the mossy softness of the bank, it truly hits me. It’s happening. This is finally happening! After years of wishing, secretly pining, it’s finally going to happen. I’m bare, spread out before my handsome huntsman like a feast.
He looks as if he wants to devour me whole.
Our eyes meet, and I see the fevered want dancing in their depths. It’s the beast, a side of Draven I so rarely have cause to see. Civilized and impeccably mannered, it’s easy to forget he’s not wholly human. That inside him, there’s a creature that prioritizes sleep, food, and fucking over everything else, if it comes down to it.
Draven descends on my breasts with a hungry sound, the warmth of his mouth closing around one hardened nipple. His mouth is incredibly tender and it’s almost painful around the sensitive bud. He lavishes it with attention until I’m writhing beneath him. The keen edge of pain-pleasure zings through me, makes my skin feel tight, like I might burst out of it any second. I arch my hips into him when he begins on the neglected breast, giving it lavish attention as well, try to press my wet, aching core against the cock that strains the front of his trousers.
Inside me, I beg silently. I need you inside me. I can’t wait any longer.
He reads the frustration on my face, sliding one hand down my body to my mound, sliding his fingers into me again. He smiles a little against my skin.
“I’d always wondered,” he says, stroking the bud at the apex with his finger.
It draws another mewling sound of pleasure from me. Tears form in my eyes. It’s so fucking good, so right, so incredible. But, I just want more. I need more.
“Wondered what?” I manage to pant.
“Your lovely, little mound. I wondered if it would be bare. I know you don’t tend to grow much body hair anywhere else.”
“Please, Draven, no more talking.”
That elicits a wicked smirk. It’s an alien expression on his face, but not one I dislike. It makes him look a little roguish, something I associate more with Titus than Draven. It adds a hint of danger that makes him impossibly more appealing.
He kisses one breast before his mouth trails lower, alternating between nips and feather-light kisses. I jerk every time his teeth graze me, jolts of surprise and pleasure only spurring me on. Gods, at this rate I’m going to be soaked. He doesn’t need to do more. I’m more than ready.
He pauses above my mound, inhaling deeply, getting my scent. My cheeks flame, remembering what Titus said. Draven can smell me. Can tell just how he affects me. I have a moment to worry before he groans.
“You’re so wet for me, Carmine.”
“I want this more than anything.”
It’s all the encouragement Draven needs. He parts my folds with his fingers, and then his wicked mouth is on me, his tongue stroking along my clit in a move so sensual, it ought to be a crime. I chase the feel of it, trying to keep him right in that spot. His fingers curl inside me, tracing along a spot I can almost never reach with my own fingers. The sweet ache that accompanies the motion tips me over the edge. My back bows, coming completely off the ground, my head rocking back, mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy.
He doesn’t stop. My response only seems to encourage him. Anchoring my hips to the ground again, he keeps ruthlessly on, drawing another climax from me. Then another and another, bringing me to a s
obbing orgasm the final time. And even then, he seems reluctant to take his mouth off me. I finally sink to the ground, boneless, my body supple, so completely satisfied, I can’t even speak, can barely drag in enough air to moan.
Finally, Draven reaches between us, shoving his trousers down. It’s an effort, but I crane my neck to see his erection. I’ve been so insatiably curious for years now. It only seems fair, now that he’s touched me so intimately.
I swallow, my throat a little dry from the screams of pure pleasure he’s drawn from me. I admit the sight intimidates me. He’s enormous. I’m not sure how he’ll fit inside me.
“I’m going to fuck you, Carmine,” he says, voice rough with desire. My heart lurches toward him, so painfully sharp in my chest.
“Please.”
He guides himself to my entrance and then I have to bite my knuckles to hold in more screams. The blunt head stretches me to an almost intolerable level, and then the first few inches of him slide into me. He pushes and stretches me until he’s fully seated inside. My body thrums with renewed desire.
He stills above me with a satisfied groan when he’s driven himself home.
“So fucking tight,” he hisses.
I urge him on, slinging a leg around his waist, pushing myself as close as I can from my position. He rocks his hips into mine gently at first, then with more vigor, thrusting hard against me as I urge him on, whispering filthy things I can’t believe I have the audacity to say aloud. I drag my fingers down his back, carving my pleasure into his skin. It actually rips the material of the shirt he wears. He hisses a little and speeds still further, harder, until I spasm around him again.
He lifts my hips, driving himself into me as fully as he can. I climax again, sobbing once more. It’s so much. Too much almost.
I love him. I love him and he loves me! And now we’re one, closer than I ever dared hope.
Finally, after he’s managed to bring me to orgasm again, he stills with a hoarse sound of pleasure. He claims my lips in a fierce kiss even as he spills inside me. Maybe that ought to scare me. But I can’t imagine anything I want more than to bear Draven’s child. To be his wife, his lover. I crave that sense of normalcy.
