Bumping Uglies

by Alice Coldbreath

  “We can rely on your utmost discretion I hope,” she twitters.

  Hortense gives me a baleful glare.

  “I would not dare betray my mistress,” I assure the queen glibly. She seems content with this though Hortense sniffs.

  “And um, where is dear Buttons?” asks Cendrillon pointedly.

  Euphemia settles onto the sofa.

  “Oh he’s gone to look at some horse flesh,” she confides. “He wants to put his best bay mare to stud.”

  Hortense frowns as if she doesn’t think this is a fitting conversation. She kills me, really. Cendrillon hurriedly skates over this.

  “It’s just that we wished to have some female conversation. Woman to woman.”

  “Cendrillon needs some marital advice,” cuts in Hortense. “You and Buttons seem very happy still despite having three children.”

  Euphemia smiles dreamily.

  “Oh yes,” she gushes. “Deliriously.”

  “And er… how do you manage that?” asks Hortense leaning forward. “Cendrillon has found that um – since she’s had Nicholas relations have fallen off somewhat….”

  As Euphemia frowns, the queen leans forward and clears her throat.

  “In the marital chamber,” she clarifies delicately and places her handkerchief to her throat.

  Euphemia’s eyes grow wide.

  “Oh I see …” Her red eyebrows snap together in a frown. “He hasn’t taken a mistress?” she gasps in horror.

  Hortense’s head whips around to stare at Cendrillon.

  “Oh no,” bleats the queen. “That is, I’m sure he would never do that.” Her voice wobbles uncertainly. “At least,” she gulps. “I do hope not!”

  “How long has it been?” asks Euphemia leaning forward. “Since he came to your bedchamber?”

  Cendrillon coughs.

  “Perhaps it is not a suitable subject…” she turns apologetically to Hortense. “For our unwed sister…” her voice trails off and my mistress’s cheeks turn quite pink as her meaning sinks in.

  “Don’t be ridiculous Cinders,” snorts Euphemia. “Haven’t you seen that manservant of hers? The brawny one with the muscles and the buns of steel …”

  I’m curious to see where this is going but my mistress cuts her off with a choked.

  “Effie!”

  Cendrillon’s startled gaze passes over me as if she hadn’t really considered me as a male before. That’s royalty for you. What she sees makes her blush faintly. She darts an alarmed look at Hortense.

  “Sister surely not…”

  Hortense clears her throat.

  “Let’s get back to the subject at hand,” she snaps irritably, her colour still high.

  Euphemia smirks in a manner which says ‘we will discuss this at some later point sister’ but goes along with it for now. She claps her hands together making her lacy sleeves fly.

  “Let us focus sisters!” she trills. “Cinders, you need to tell us the truth now. How long has it been since the King came to your bed?”

  The next hour flies by for me as I listen to Euphemia’s instructions on pleasing a man. Hortense refuses to meet my eyes after the first few moments of discourse. Let’s just say I can understand why the Baron has forgiven her for being such a bitch before he was elevated from his man-servant status. She’s more than made up for it since by the sounds of it. Both Hortense and Cendrillon have slightly glazed expressions on their faces by the end of her lesson. They interrupt her with the odd high pitched protest such as ‘in your mouth?’ or ‘you put your finger where?’. Euphemia gives them a demonstration with a banana which has Cinders jaw dropping with astonishment. I have to hide my amusement or I know I will be sleeping in the shed tonight. Eventually Euphemia breaks off to exclaim her husband will soon return from the stables and will be wanting his tea on the table. She gives her sisters a pep talk on knowing they can do it and bids them a cheery goodbye as I re-hang the mirror, carefully draping the cloth back over it. Hortense blinks and then notices that their tea tray has gone quite cold. She fusses over this noisily as Cinders absently pats her ringlets staring off thoughtfully into space.

  “How very extraordinary!” Cinders murmurs. “And to think dear Buttons would expect such things from his wife....”

  Hortense frowns at this doubtless remembering the eyeful she got of her sister pleasuring him with her mouth the day before.

  “I think our sister must know what she’s about,” she demurs. “After all, they do have three children.”

  The queen seemed struck by this observation.

  “True… true. And yet,” she hesitates delicately. “Buttons was common-born. It’s possible his tastes may be somewhat unrefined. Whereas dear Charmian was born a prince…”

  Hortense huffs heavily at this.

  “I don’t think that makes any difference,” she admits grudgingly. “All men are pigs in this department.” She looks me straight in the eye for the first time in a while. “Kiril, that trick with the banana…?”

  “All men would like that,” I answer with alacrity.

  “See?” she turns to her sister.

  Cinders splutters delicately, but it seems she got the idea. As well she should, I am a prince just as much as that twit she’s wed to. I can’t help but imagine my mistress on her knees before me, and have to force the image out of my head before I embarrass myself, my trousers are quite tight.

  How I got through the next few hours until bedtime is a mystery. I was hard as hell imaging Hortense in one of her resourceful sister’s scenarios. My mind was running riot! It seemed like an age before I had her alone to myself in the bedroom at the top of the tower. Immediately that we were alone I pounced on her, and in her determination to keep me from precious Cendrillon she was nothing loth, letting me kiss and nuzzle her neck although she was still stingy with her lips. I go to town on her nice plump breasts tonight before getting down to the main business of rutting her like a sailor on shore leave. I can’t help but feel I haven’t done them justice in our previous couplings. This time I pet and suckle and rub and squeeze to my heart’s content before she loses patience and demands I get to it and quit teasing her. This time I get her up on her knees, impaling her in one dizzying thrust before I seize her hips and start an easy grind from behind. The way her breath catches on a breathy little moan each time I surge forward starts getting to me immediately. I find myself craning to hear it. I want her vocal, I want to hear exactly what my dick is doing to her.

  “Is this good Mistress?” I ask her silkily. “Or do you want it harder?” I give a good hard buck of my hips making her give a startled groan.

  I grit my teeth against the pleasure which has me hardening even further. Oh fuck me, that is good… but no way I’d last long banging her like that. Unable to help myself I increase the pace anyway, thrusting against her so my balls slap against her warm willing flesh. Gods, her body drives me wild. She’s so soft and feels so good beneath me. My eyes are glued to her undulating back, her curvy little ass bouncing back against my hips. I love her body, but it’s not just that. It’s knowing it’s her allowing me these liberties, fucking me back. It makes my blood pound in my ears, I’m breathing like a goddamn bull. I want to hear her voice.

  “Hortense,” I plead.

  “Don’t stop,” she breathes. “Oh … Kiril! Yes! You feel so good…”

  “Like that?”

  “Yes – oh please…!”

  She tenses and I know she’s about to come. Her hands clutch against the bedsheets and she braces herself. I yank her back into my lap and drop back onto my haunches. She squeaks at the change of position but I’m nice and deep and I feel her start to tighten about my cock as I grab her jaw and angle her face for my kiss. Gods, her mouth on mine makes me want to explode but I want her to come on my dick first. I slip my fingers between her cunny lips and circle her clit till she’s mewling and writhing in my lap, still I won’t release her mouth, the fingers of my other hand plunging into the hair at the nape of her neck and
holding her fast. I mate my tongue to hers in a desperate hot wet slide. It’s like I’m trying to tell her something,

  To convey some message of belonging. Only when her hands slide down my back, clinging and grasping me tight as my hips roll do I tear my mouth away, gasping for air and bellowing as we come together. It’s intense. I’m not the most instinctive person in the world but even I realise this is not just a fantastic fuck. I’m in love with her. I groan as I tip us forward and lower us both to the mattress. I slide my hands around her waist and down to cup her pussy, holding her flush against my dick. I don’t want to pull out. I feel almost euphoric, but the sounds of our heavy breathing aren’t enough. I want words between us but have no clue where to even start so instead I kiss her soft round shoulder. I’m so screwed.

  The next morning I hear the heavy bang on the castle door and swear I’ve got déjà vu. I roll over with a groan and nearly squash my mistress who is pressed up against my back with her arm about my waist. Seeing her pale, dimpled arm about my tanned body makes my morning wood especially happy. Before I’ve done more than kiss the top of her riotous dark curly head the hammering penetrates my senses again and I sit up with a muffled curse.

  She stirs beside me.

  “Make them stop,” she implores, dragging a pillow over her head.

  I can’t help but grin at this sleepy display after I kept her up into the early hours with my athletic ardour.

  I make my way to the door, yanking on my leather pants over my bare butt as I start down the winding staircase.

  “Hold your bloody horses,” I grouch irritably.

  By the time I reach the front door I’ve worked myself into a right attitude. I wrench open the door and the twit in the scarlet uniform practically falls through the door. Yeah, it’s King Charmian, the guy doesn’t even knock his own doors. He looks down at his scrambling attendant and then at me in seeming confusion.

  “Yeah?” I snarl. “What d’you want?”

  He doesn’t even blink.

  “To speak to my sister-in-law,” he answers tiredly and I notice the stubble and the crooked wig. He looks like crap. I open the door wider and he sidles past me, scrubbing at his jaw. I’ve gotta hand it to him, if that little shit Nicholas was mine I’d be relishing the break but he looks a genuinely broken man. He turns his red-rimmed eyes to me mournfully as he troops through to the sitting room where he collapses onto a seat.

  “Please tell me my wife’s here,” he sighs mournfully.

  I look at the poor bastard and I know Hortense will put him through the wringer. Okay, part of it is jealousy that I don’t want my little cross-patch mistress bending his ear. That’s my role. But I do feel a genuine glimmer of compassion, and don’t forget I’m a prince of hell so this is not a natural phenomena for me. I look him up and down, the air of despair that hangs over his hand-dog expression. I tip my head significantly and spin on my heel. Either he’ll take the hint or he won’t. I hear the ringing footsteps behind me and realise he’s not as slow on the uptake as I would have thought. I lead him to the South tower where his recalcitrant wife is ensconced. I open the door for him and give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He starts up the stairs with a hopeful look on his face and I close the door firmly behind him. I briefly think of the highlights from sister Effie’s speech from yesterday and wonder if Cendrillon will succeed in setting the pedestal to rest. Or rather getting Charmian to fuck her over it. I don’t dwell on it for too long as I want to get back to Hortense all warm and sleepy in her nest. Sadly when I get there she’s already shrugging on a purple billowing robe. I frown and get under her feet as she twists her hair up and lines her eyes with customary smoky eyeliner. She snaps and snarls at me as I catch her about the waist and nuzzle the back of her neck.

  “Who was it? At the door?” she asks batting me away and stepping into sky-scraping spiky shoes.

  “Charmian,” I admit reluctantly.

  She wheels around.

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me?” she shrieks. “Where is he? Did you tell my sister?”

  “Uh-huh,” I avoid her gaze.

  She stomps over to me and yanks on my ear lobe.

  “Look me in the eye,” she growls meanly. God, she’s incredible. Unable to restrain myself I stroke her plump rounded backside. She slaps my fingers hard and whirls around in a swirl of silk and bushy eyebrows and stalks to the staircase on her spiked heels. “Stay out of my way,” she yells as I caper around her trying to stop her from breaking her neck on her precipitous descent. She doesn’t come up much further than my goddamn navel but I swear she thinks I’d come off the loser if we went toe-to-toe. And damned if she wouldn’t be right. She creates merry hell when I tell her Charmian is in the South tower with his wife. She paces and frets for the next two hours, scolding me and banging doors until her precious nephew emerges for his breakfast and then she tones it down although she finds ways to let me know I’m still in her bad books. I realise I’ve a smile playing about my lips the entire time I’m with her. I have to hide it when her eyes shoot daggers at me as I know she won’t appreciate it. I know it’s twisted, and I don’t really understand it but somehow when I’m with her, I’m always having a blast. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain it to any of my six brothers or even worse, my smart-arse sister. They all know me as a bit of a using bastard when it comes to women. Yeah, my track-record’s not great. But I never met anyone like her before. And then it hits me, I want to be with this scowling bad tempered wench for the rest of my life. It hits me right between the eyes. And pretty much instantaneously the realisation sinks in that I haven’t got a hope in hell of keeping her when she finds out the truth. That I’ve lied about pretty much everything. About being her familiar, about being an incubus, and well… not being a prince of hell. And when she finds out, there’s gonna be hell to pay. But not my own level of hell where I call the shots. No, I’m talking about my own personal level of hell. One where I don’t get to be with her. And once I realise it, I start to sweat. I start to feel vulnerable. I know it’s all going to go horribly wrong. Only thing is, I didn’t realise just how soon that would be.

  Charmian and Cendrillon don’t emerge until lunchtime and clearly all is smelling of roses between them which is lucky as their attendants are drifting round getting on everyone’s nerves and Nicholas is tetchy and whining about wanting his pony and his nanny Margaret who live at the palace. Luckily Charmian is keen to get on the road and not hang about. Hortense has me magic up a picnic basket for them and I even help strap their luggage to the roof while Hortense fusses over goodbyes with her nephew. Cendrillon hangs about her neck as much as the kid and extracts a promise of a visit to the castle which I know my mistress can’t stand. Hortense stands on the uppermost turrets of the keep waving a purple handkerchief until the carriage has disappeared from view then she turns to me and bursts into tears. She lets me hold her close and rub her back as she sniffs and sobs into my shirt. I realise that instead of finding this irritating I actually find it cute. Cute. A word that wasn’t even in my vocabulary until recently. And even worse, seeing Hortense fawning over Sticky Nicky has me wondering what kind of a mother she’d make. If she can dote on that little swine she’d be able to find it in her heart to nurture even my hellspawn. Yeah, that’s right I’m looking at her and thinking she’s the future mother of my children. I’m no sooner wondering if it’s too soon to start bleating about needing a power top-up after conjuring the hamper then I feel a pricking of my thumbs and catch a whiff of sulphur. Shit! Looking over my mistress’s shoulder I see them materialising and realise the jig is up. We’ve no sooner gotten rid of her family then mine have appeared. Goddamn it! Jorad, Merrell, Andarl, Ragnall they’re all here and glowering at me. Hortense stiffens in my arms and whips around,

  “Who the hell are you?” she yells finding six rippling leathered up interlopers on her property.

  I wince.

  “Now just wait a minute …” I intercede, holding up my hands palm fir
st. A set of iron chains instantly ping into place around my wrists and ankles.

  “Jorad!” I roar, looking at my eldest and most truculent brother.

  He raises an eyebrow at me.

  “This,” he growls incredulously. “Is what you’ve been squandering your time on. Shirking your duties over?”

  Hortense is following this with a formidable frown on her pretty little face.

  “Release my familiar at once,” she demands gruffly, pointing a finger at my chains. “How dare you come into my home and try to take what is mine.”

  Jorad glares back at her.

  “Who’s this plump little morsel?” he snarls.

  “She’s mine,” I growl yanking on my chains.

  He lifts an eyebrow at Hortense and then swivels to look at me in disbelief.

  “You’re neglecting your duties in hell for this?” he demands.

  I take a deep breath but that’s when Merrick decides to step in.

  “So this is the third rate witch who doesn’t know her arse from her elbow?” he cuts in sounding intrigued. “Finally, we meet.”

  Hortense stiffens.

  “What?” she seethes shooting him a murderous look.

  “His words not mine,” shrugs Merrick and I resolve to kill the bastard as soon as I’m freed from my chains.

  Hortense turns her head to look at me and I can see she’s wounded at my thoughtless words. She jabs a finger in my chest.