by AJ Nuest
Misery wound its indifferent thorns amid the heated chuckle he grazed down her throat, the hot swirl of his tongue along the crest of her shoulder. Eventually, she must return to her realm but, for all the goddesses in paradise, how would she ever deal them both such a cruel blow? The mere thought cast a dim pall over the entirety of her heart.
“Hey.” He eased back from her and she blinked as the back of his finger caressed her cheek. “Where’d you go?”
Despite her worthwhile obligations, she did not want to leave him. Neither once the portal reopened nor in this fragile moment they shared. She skimmed a light touch over his full lower lip. Not whilst he lingered so close, longing for her just as she longed for him. “I am here.”
Desire shimmered in his gaze, and a smile came unbidden to her lips. “Perchance you should describe the exact location of these unsettling aches you mentioned, and I shall set about my most enthusiastic attempts in relieving your discomfort.” His pupils dilated. The sharp edge of his teeth nipped her fingers and she shivered. “Or would it better serve your schemes to seek out the bothersome throb currently plaguing my form?”
Tension sated with desperate hunger swelled between them, as forbidden as it was thick. A muscle ticked in his jaw a moment before he tackled her to the bed. “You know, one of these days that sassy mouth of yours is going to get you into deep shit.”
“Hmm…” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, twining her legs through his. The weight of his chest and hips, the dense muscle in his thighs pressing her into the blankets, were like a lover’s armor shielding her from the worries she faced. “Then perchance we should ascertain which abilities best suit my tongue.”
He groaned…shuddered against her. A torturous glide of his hands up her sides, and his nimble fingers released the hook of her dress behind her neck.
Faedrah closed her eyes, sighing as his calloused palms grazed her shoulders. Yes… At long last, she would become a true woman. Rhys would brand her, guide her…make her his.
The material hugging her breasts sagged. His hand swept her ribcage, and he tugged the tab of the metal seam down to her waist. The constraining fit of her gown went slack around her torso. He slipped his fingers inside, tickling her skin as he dragged the tips back and forth over her belly. She pressed the collar of his shirt off his shoulders, longing to experience her lover skin to skin, so she could drown in his scent and satisfy her curiosity about every part and parcel of his riveting male form.
The mattress dipped as he shoved to his knees. He stripped the garment down his arms, fisted the back of his sleeveless shirt and yanked it over his head. Longing coiled in the pit of her stomach at the ripple of tendon, the stark definition of each ridge and muscle flexing along his torso and chest. Arousal surged and moistened her inner thighs. Anything he asked of her, any demand he made, she would readily give in exchange for the taste of him upon her tongue.
Her hand shook as she reached for the downy line of hair below his bellybutton, the tension in his abdomen so tight, she yearned to test the resistance with her fingers.
He seized her wrist before she made contact. Apprehension spiked in her belly and she snapped her gaze to his.
A perilous storm stirred within his eyes. A craving so fierce, she daren’t look away. “Do you trust me?” His words were clipped, honed by the tight set of his jaw.
Yet it was anticipation which had tautened his body. The same incisive awareness which heated her skin and crackled in the air between them. “With every breath of my being.”
He searched her face. “And you’ll do whatever I tell you? For however long I decide?”
A thrill coursed her veins, pulsing hard and fast between her legs. Proof enough that, in matters of pleasure, she was the student…and he was the master. “You have my solemn vow.”
One of his brows rose. “Something tells me I’m going to pay for that at a later date.” He released her wrist as she chuckled, thrust both his hands under her arms and his biceps bulged as he lifted her to her feet.
Her dress slithered down her body, a pool of red silk at her feet. Her skin pebbled and she shivered in the cool air, crossing her arms over her chest to hide how her nipples had peaked like the buds of rose.
A growl issued from the base of his throat and he pinned her with a stern glare. “No. Hands at your sides.”
“But—”
“Hands at your sides and keep them there. I need to see you. All of you.”
Just as she wished to crest a wave beneath the pitch and roll of his thrusts.
Lowering her arms, she did as he asked, wavering on unsteady knees.
Tendrils of light sparked through her body as he skimmed his hands up her thighs, over her hips, until his fingers snagged upon the thin bands of the diminutive bit of red lace her uncles insisted she wear to hide her cunny.
A pop of this thumb and the strap on her left snapped with a slight sting, recoiling along her ass. She stifled her gasp of surprise, her lashes fluttering.
Others had described the extravagance which awaited her. His fingers curled, the short nails scraping, and he gathered the slack, sliding the ball of fabric to her ankle. Her core spasmed and she swallowed past the dryness in her throat. Yet if she was to crash upon the shores of ecstasy, what man more deserving to lead her there than the one who’d sworn to protect her? He ran his palms along the backs of her thighs and tugged, widening her stance. If she was to be tossed into the abyss of rapture, what better tongue to propel her from the ledge than the one upon which he’d confessed his love?
She gazed down at the man kneeling before her, the smooth expanse of his brow, the strong set of his jaw, the rigid tension in his shoulders all displaying his rapt devotion.
He licked his lips, glanced at her face, and a second shiver wrenched her shoulders as his warm exhalation feathered her lower belly. “Don’t move.”
Not one doubt in her heart lingered. In gifting Rhys her innocence, she’d made her destined choice.
The first stroke of his warm tongue along her slit and starlight ricocheted down her inner thighs. She tossed her head back, her spine bowed. Embers ignited in the soles of her feet. The tips of her fingers tingled. His hum vibrated slick and deep, fingers digging into her ass as he latched onto her clit and drew her hard between his lips. She gasped and seized his shoulders. The bristle on his cheeks teased and rasped. Heat unfurled in her belly as he flicked his tongue, strumming her higher. The walls of his chambers wavered out of focus. Her knees gave and he caught her in his arms as she crumpled, guiding her down to the bed.
Nothing in all her imaginings had prepared her for the all-consuming stimulation, the quivering of her core or the desperate longing to be filled and stretched.
He propped one of her legs and then the other over his shoulders, parted her with his thumbs and blew a steady stream of air along her folds. She squeezed her eyes tight, a breath lodged in her throat. Her hips jerked, and he darted the tip of his tongue low. A flat swipe across her sex, and nothing else existed. He became the center of her world. The coaxing swirls ebbed and flowed like the tide, raising her higher then easing back to whet her need. She twisted the blankets in her fingers, writhing in pleasure as he nipped and sucked. A furious tap back and forth along her clit and a drone roared in her ears; she thrust her hand in his hair to fist the thick strands.
“That’s it, baby. I got you.”
The lust in his voice, the flex of his fingers kneading her ass and, with his next prodding sweep, the ground split. Her body convulsed as an eruption burst and stars cascaded through her vision. Surge after surge of warmth washed her skin. At once, she chilled and trembled.
Like a man driven by greed, Rhys increased the pressure. He lapped and sipped, extending her orgasm until he’d wrung every last shudder from her form.
As her trembling subsided, he dotted soft kisses down one thigh, up the inside of the other. “Well? How was it?”
“Give me a moment to regain my bearings and I shall
tell you.”
His knowing chuckle wafted through her nest of dense curls and a thrill trickled along her nerve-endings. “Not a chance. I need you nice and loose or I’ll never fit.”
She closed her eyes and moaned. The man was sure to be her undoing.
The tip of his tongue prodded her over-sensitive clit and her eyes snapped open. She squirmed as the ball of his thumb rubbed and tapped. “Wait—”
The firm pull of his lips drew her in and she was pitched headfirst into another soul-shattering orgasm. Her hips rose from the bed. She thrashed as he wrapped his arms around her thighs and held on, jabbing her with tongue, feasting and humming as if the taste of her beheld some savory delight.
The light pouring through the windows took on an ethereal quality as she coasted back to earth. Dust motes danced on the beams like miniature sprites. Her limbs were languid, as if she floated in warm water. Sweet honey flowed through her veins.
Rhys kissed her slit in parting and crawled from between her legs, and her hips rolled side to side with the press of his hands against the sleeping pallet. Each touch of his lips on her stomach and torso sent a network of shimmers racing outward like ripples on a summer lake.
He pressed his lips to the underside of her breast, dragged the bristled side of his face across her nipple and she arched into the teasing rasp. The sting was soothed by the supple brush of his mouth, and she clamped a hand on the back of his head as he scraped the tight peak with his teeth.
His scalp was damp. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin. For all the pleasures he’d gifted her, the delay of his fulfillment had not been easy for him to bear. She smoothed her palm down the defined planes of his stomach to his waist and popped the row of buttons on his breeches. He hunched, closing the distance, licking a searing path up to her ear as she eased her hand inside.
Her eyes widened at the length and width cradled in her palm, the sheer weight of him. She wrapped her fingers around the raised veins, lifted him out of his breeches and took the measure of the head with a sweep of her thumb.
A groan rolled up from deep inside him and he pumped against her grip thrice. His concerns had not been unwarranted. The fit would be exceptionally tight. “I’ve been hard for you so long, I may have to take you twice.” His whisper was coarse, bathing her skin like the heat of a banked fire. Her core spasmed, dousing her folds with arousal, and she bit her bottom lip against the ache to have him fully seated inside. He would fill her, mold her to receive him and only him.
He pushed up on his arms, the extended muscles straining, and squeezed his eyes closed as she stroked down to the base of his shaft. “God help me, I want you bareback, Faedrah. Nothing between us so we both feel everything.” A shudder dislodged the set of his shoulders. “But you should also know I’ve been tested, gotten a clean bill of health.”
She frowned. Most assuredly, he had. He was hale and hearty, a man in the prime of his life. “All right.”
He gritted his teeth as she applied a series of squeezes back up his manhood to the bulbous head, the texture a fascinating combination of rock-hard inflexibility covered in satiny skin. “When is the last time you got your period?”
One of her brows rose as a clear bead wept from the slit. She wiggled her thumb, smearing the liquid along the tip. “My period of what?”
A breathy moan blurted from his lips, and he shook his head. “Your monthly…bleeding.”
Ah. He spoke of the risks of embedding his seed in her womb. Her mother had cautioned her regarding the timing of such things. Indeed, the king and queen had used this same method to thwart the result of an additional heir. For all the love they shared, they’d oft stated being blessed with Faedrah as their child and future queen achieved the pinnacle of their creations.
Yet her lover worried unnecessarily. She shoved her other hand down the back of his breeches, using the space between them to aid the roll of his hips as he worked his legs and kicked the last of his garments to the floor. The beauty of his naked body, the muscles fixed and trembling, the way his cock jutted proud and flushed into the air, set the floor spinning. She trailed her focus up the edgy tension in each perfectly formed ridge and locked her gaze to his. “The completion of my womanly course came two days past.”
“Thank God.” He collapsed on top of her and devoured her lips, the surge of his clever tongue mimicking the way his erection nudged and prodded for entrance. The sweep of his mouth soothed the stretching sting as he eased the head inside. Her body involuntarily stiffened at the invasion, and she breathed deep as the massage of his hands along her hips and bottom aided her relaxation.
The end of his shaft bumped the wall of her maidenhead and he eased back, his elbows bracketing her head. His large hands cupped her cheeks, and he nibbled the corners of her mouth. “You ready?”
Her internal walls quivered. She slid her hands past his hips and dug her nails into the sweet curves of his unyielding backside. Never before had preparedness been so securely ingrained in her heart. “Goddesses’ tits, yes.”
He huffed, rocked forward and pain tore through her body. Her spine arced off the bed. He hissed, shifting from side to side as he withdrew, snuck a hand between them and pressed his thumb hard against her clit. The hair at her nape tingled. Pleasure sparked alive and anew.
With his next slow drive he penetrated a fraction deeper, held firm while she squirmed and adjusted to his width. A growl rumbled in his chest. He stroked and teased her swollen bud as he retreated. The absence of him made her heart rebel, and she clenched his ass as he sheathed himself a third time, her silent consent she longed for him to be fully seated. Their bodies met, the base of his shaft bearing down upon her sex, and the pressure initiated a rippling tremor through her core.
He sharply inhaled, shaking his head. “Jesus fucking Christ, you feel good…so god damned tight, I can’t…” The tendons in his neck popped and he bowed into her, roaring his release as the warm spurt of his essence melded and heated her from within. He seized her hips and joined them again and again, and with each of his movements, her comfort increased, he slid more easily inside her.
At the last, he fell on top of her and tended her with soft kisses, her lips, neck, eyelids and even the tip of her nose and chin. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? There at the end?”
“Not the least bit.” She enveloped him in her arms and urged his cheek to the slope between her shoulder and neck, enjoying the delicious heat of his skin, how the rise and fall of his chest and the beat of his heart pounded in perfect harmony to hers. The comfort and ease with which he nestled inside her made her curious where his attentive love-making might lead them next.
Had he spoken true? She’d been privy to rumors some men exaggerated their stamina in regards to reaching the apex twice. Especially so soon after a long-anticipated release.
The slightest wriggle of her hips and his cock twitched and flexed. He moaned against her neck. Answering flickers of arousal reignited where they remained joined and she smiled, cupping the back of his head. “’Twould be an unfortunate waste, do you not think? To so carelessly ignore the conditions of such a pleasant circumstance?”
He laughed, happiness shining in his gaze as he lifted his head. She swept her thumb over his injured eye, brought him down to tend the wound with a gentle kiss.
“Princess, there will always be one thing you can count on.” He ground against her and she gasped as his lengthening shaft nudged a wondrous place high inside. “When it comes to you, ignore is not part of my vocabulary.”
Chapter 3
As the second only woman in Austiere history to have ever trained with the Royal Guard, Faedrah had believed she held a firm grasp of every muscle and its function contained within the human body.
Oh, how wrong she’d been.
Rolling onto her side, she slipped her hands beneath the pillows, casting her gaze over the tapered expanse of Rhys’ back. Metal clinked against glass from where he stood on the opposite side of his chambers. Helios’ aftern
oon rays streamed through the windows to blanket one of his shoulders, the bulging bicep in his right arm and the delicious tiers stepping down his ribcage as he whisked eggs in a bowl. The dark-blue drawstring trousers he’d donned were tied low on his hips, exposing the mouth-watering dimples perched above his perfectly squeezable ass.
He pivoted and poured the egg mixture into a pan he’d placed atop a singular coil glowing orange with heat, and the sizzle and snap of melted butter spattered onto the wooden planks doubling as his kitchen counter. A pause with a flat utensil in hand and, as if sensing her lazy perusal, he glanced at her with a knowing wink.
A swarm of butterflies flipped and twirled their whimsical flight through her stomach. Her artistic lover had not merely followed through on his promise to take her once, but twice after their initial joining, and subsequently finalized the enthralling achievement of her first dalliance with a massage of his lips and hands from the top of her head, to the tips of her ticklish toes. Every measure of her skin tingled and buzzed as if she’d been struck by a lightning bolt…and, indeed, she had. Enough times, she’d lost count.
The edge of a sharp blade rapped the cutting board in rapid succession, and he scraped some diced vegetables into his palm before tossing them into the pan. His lips pursed, and a merry tune echoed inside the cooling box as he swung the door wide to retrieve a vessel filled with the juice squeezed from several oranges.
Faedrah grinned, shaking her head at his buoyant disposition, and yet the moment he hefted a stack of plates and silverware and conveyed the finery to his wobbly table, her smile faded, and bleak despondency crept in like long shadows leaching the ground on a summer’s day.
Their intimate repast was sure to be ruined once she recounted the details of her arrival in this realm. Rhys would undoubtedly gaze upon her as if she were a bewildered child or, perchance, with his spirits so light, he would become bound by fits of laughter. Nevertheless, the passion in his gaze would fade; the connection between them would be severed. And she’d be left no choice but to either argue a lost cause or leave his chambers, abandoning him to the conclusion she was a witless dope who suffered bouts of lunacy.
