by Ruby Dixon
I think of the poetry book, hidden under the guise of a book of prayers, and cannot help but grin to myself. Even in such a holy place, she dreamed of something more. I plan on giving it to her. “I have always loved you,” I tell her as I push her sleeve up and kiss her wrist. “Ever since I was a small boy, I told everyone who would listen that I would marry Princess Halla of Yshrem. That there was no one as beautiful and kind as her. No one as glorious.” With each word, I press my mouth against her skin, traveling up her arm.
“I wonder how your father felt about such devotion,” she says, and her voice is breathless and sweet, her gaze fixed on my mouth so intently.
“He disagreed,” I say, and lean in to kiss the crook of her elbow. “But he is dead and I am now king, and I do what I want.”
She shivers, and I don’t know if it’s from my mouth or my words. It doesn’t matter. Nothing will change my mind. Halla is and always will be mine from this point forward.
When I can press her sleeve no higher, I nibble my way back down her arm and then give her hand one final kiss. I gaze up at her and she watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips parted. She looks so ready for my cock that there is a deep, intense ache in my groin.
I slide an arm around her waist and pull her close, until her breasts are pressed up against my chest. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t protest. Instead, her hand slides up to my nape and she touches my hair, curling her fingers in it.
And waits. She’s so beautiful as she looks up at me with breathless anticipation.
I lower my mouth to hers, and her lips part under mine. The kiss is just as good this time as I remembered, and I stroke my tongue into the sweet heat of her mouth. I love the little moan that escapes her, and the way she clings to me as I deepen the kiss, using my tongue as I want to use my cock, claiming her with every possessive stroke. Our lips meld over and over, until I forget all about who else is in the room. There’s no one that exists outside of the gorgeous princess in my arms. She shifts against me and I hitch her closer, until she’s practically in my lap, and her thigh is pressing up against my cock in an almost-painful reminder of just how very hard she makes me. Panting, I release her mouth from mine with a last reluctant nip, because I could spend all night kissing her, lost in her lips.
Halla’s fingers tighten in my hair and then she presses her mouth shyly to mine. “There’s nothing that says I cannot kiss you back, is there?”
I bite back my groan. “Nothing at all.”
And then the lovely creature takes control of our embrace and begins to kiss me all on her own. Her kisses are small, soft, nipping ones that tease rather than conquer. I am fascinated by this, because I know it’s purely instinctual. This is how Halla works, I realize—with small nibbles and little caresses, unlike my brutal conquest of her mouth. It is another reason we will be good together as rulers.
Of course, my cock could be making me think of all kinds of assumptions, but I don’t care. In this moment she could hold me down and ravage my mouth and I would think she was the loveliest, most delicate creature ever. She could do anything to me and I would willingly submit.
My princess makes a little noise in her throat as she kisses me, her arms twining around my neck, and I realize she wants me to kiss her back. Her playful nips stop once I kiss her back, and then we are using our tongues to dance along each other’s mouths in a sensual alternation of licks that make me imagine her mouth everywhere.
I kiss her softly one more time and then pull away. “Let me lay you back on the bed, love.”
Wariness flares in her eyes, and she gives me a nervous nod. She sits back on the bed and then smooths her skirts down her legs. “What now?”
I see the tips of her slippers peeping out from underneath her skirts. I take one foot in my hand and casually pull the shoe off, tossing it aside. Her eyes go wide and she gazes at me, frozen in place. I can feel her quiver as I caress her ankle, and I remove the other shoe and then just rub her feet for a moment, trying to get her to relax. If anything, my touch only makes her more nervous.
“Tell me about your time in the temple,” I murmur. I’m trying to distract her, and I hope it works.
“The temple?” she echoes, a confused look on her face. Her gaze flicks back and forth between my hands and my face.
“Yes. Did you enjoy your time there?”
Halla looks at me as if I am growing a second head. “Did I enjoy living as a fugitive? Wondering if this is the day that assassins will arrive to kill me and resolve all claim to the throne? Being looked at as an outsider by the peacekeepers because I was not one of them, and them unable to do anything about me because of who I am?”
I should not have asked. “I hate that you went through that.”
She softens at my words and shrugs her shoulders. “It was not what I had anticipated my path to be.” Her voice is low, sad. “I had been trained since a young age that I would make a marriage to strengthen Yshrem. I admit I didn’t know what to do with myself for a very long time when I arrived at the temple. No one wants a spinster once-queen who gave her throne to the barbarians.”
“You did what you had to do to save lives. Surely you see that?” I’ve stopped rubbing her feet, because this is going in a direction I don’t want. Instead of relaxing her and distracting her, she’s growing sad.
“Not everyone understands a decision a ruler makes.” Her smile is small. “I should not complain. You saved my life sixteen years ago when you told your father I protected you. You made it sound like I stood before the sword like the bravest of warriors.”
“Were you not? You faced your men as calmly as any queen.”
“But I was queen.”
“Aye, and it would have been very easy for them to cut your throat, blame my father’s men, and then take the throne for themselves. Instead, you stood up for the enemy because you felt it was the right thing to do.”
“I would never let someone kill a child simply because he had the wrong father.”
“Neither would I.” I grin and slide to my knees, and then I am kneeling on the floor in front of her feet. “See? We are agreed. You saved my life, and I saved yours. We are equals.”
“Mmm.” She doesn’t sound as if she agrees with me. That’s all right. She doesn’t have to agree. Now, I am in a position of power. I am king and I do and take what I want.
And right now, I cannot wait to take my bride.
I lift her foot carefully and kiss the arch.
She gasps, shaken by my touch. Her eyes go soft and she watches me intently.
“Ticklish?” I ask, loving how responsive she is. She can’t hide how she feels, and I love that her normal dignified manner has disappeared and there’s a skittish, fascinated woman with me instead of the aloof, regal princess. She’s both, and I love both sides of her, but there’s only one I want in my bed.
“I don’t know,” Halla admits. “No one’s ever touched my feet like that before.”
“How does it make you feel, then?” I lean in and kiss the arch again, letting my tongue brush against the underside as I pull away.
She sucks in a breath and squirms on the bed, her gaze locked onto me. “I…I don’t know.” She’s breathless. “This is all very…new.”
My bride is very untouched. I can’t help the fierce surge of pleasure I feel at that. “Tell me if you don’t like something that I do, then.”
Halla nods and remains still as I kiss her foot again, then move up to her ankle. She’s silent as I continue to kiss my way forward, pressing my mouth against the soft skin of her ankle and calf. I love her delicate bones and how I can feel every tremor that moves through her. She doesn’t pull away, though, and when I pause, a flicker of disappointment crosses her face until I lean in once more.
Perhaps I’m going too slow to please my bride. I want to take my time to ensure that she is comfortable, but perhaps I should push things further. I slide a hand up her graceful calf and push her skirts back until her legs are revealed all the way
up to the knee. She says nothing, but the pink flush brightens on her cheeks. She reaches down and gathers the skirts in her hands…and then slowly pulls them higher, revealing white thighs and a tantalizing glimpse of pantaloons that ruffle just below her hips.
It feels like an invitation. And when she bites her lip and gives me an anxious look, I know it is one.
I press forward and graze my mouth over her ankle again, then begin to work my way slowly upward, just as I did with my arm. She’s trembling, but the soft rasp of her breath tells me that it’s excitement more than fear. I kiss her calf, then her knee, and then move up to the creamy flesh of her thigh. At this point, she gives a little whimper in her throat, and shifts on the bedding.
I kiss higher, caressing her hands before I push her skirts even further up her thighs. Her pantaloons are fully revealed to me and she squirms under my gaze, restless as I stare down at her. “You’re beautiful,” I murmur, keeping my voice low so it feels as if we are the only two in the room. I know Pen and Ishera will be as quiet as possible, but I want Halla to forget that they’re there. I want her to focus on me and only me. “May I take these off?”
And I lean in and bite the ruffle gracing the edge of one pantaloon leg.
Halla’s lips part, and she gives a shuddering breath. “I…should I get undressed all the way?”
“Do you want to?”
She hesitates. “I don’t know.” Her gaze flicks to the women at the edge of the room.
“I can pleasure you under your skirts, too, you know.” I give her my cockiest grin, as if my own heart is not pounding as loud as a blacksmith’s hammer. “No one will see your beauty but me. Perhaps we’ll save the rest for tomorrow night, yes?”
She flushes prettily and bites her lip, then nods.
I smile at her, because she’s beyond beautiful, and then slide my hands up her thighs, all the way to the waistband of her pantaloons. Slowly, I edge them downward, revealing more pale skin and a gently rounded belly. The way she looked yesterday in the throne room has been burned into my mind, and I’m eager to see her naked once more. More than that, I’m eager to taste her. I’ve longed to put my mouth on her cunt for ages. I’ve dreamed of marrying her in the custom of my people, and in my dreams, she reacts with pleasure and is hungry for more. Thus far, the real Halla has surpassed every one of my dreams.
I cannot wait to see how this plays out in comparison.
I gently slide the fabric all the way down to her thighs, and the peep of the curls between her thighs is fully exposed to my gaze. Even here, she is delicate and feminine, and I cannot resist moving forward and pressing my mouth there in a kiss.
The breath rushes out of her, half gasp, half moan. One hand clenches against my shoulder and then falls away.
“You can touch me,” I tell her, grasping her hand and pulling it back against my skin. “Touch me all you want. I like it.”
“Mathior,” Halla whispers, and she caresses my jaw. Her eyes are soft. “Sometimes this feels as if I’m dreaming. Am I dreaming?”
“Let me show you how real this is,” I say, and then I rip her pantaloons away. I don’t care that I’m destroying delicate, embroidered fabric. I want her naked and under my tongue right now. I’ve hungered for this for far too long. I push her thighs apart and then my mouth is on her.
She cries out, her hands going to my head. A second later, she twists her fingers in my hair and her hips buck up against my face. I grip one of her hips to hold her as she writhes, and keep my mouth on her flesh. The seam of her cunt is incredibly wet, and I drag my tongue over it, determined to take my time and learn her.
And with that lick, I get my first taste of my woman. It’s musky and intense and my mouth waters, hungry for more. She’s perfect, even here, and I give her another deep lick, pushing apart her folds with my tongue and burrowing deeper into her sweetness. I learn her with the tip of my tongue, tracing the layers of her cunt and learning which touches she likes. When I come to the nub of her clit, the breath explodes from her body. “Mathior!”
“I have you,” I tell her between urgent licks. I don’t want to let her go. Being here, my face cradled by her thighs as I nuzzle and lick the most intimate part of her? I could stay here forever, lapping at her cunt and enjoying every tremor that rocks through her body. “Let me taste you, Halla. Let me taste all of you.”
She whimpers, and her hips quiver in my grip. Her hands tighten in my hair, but I ignore it, because when I lick her clit, her body gives a little jerk and she gasps. I want more of those little gasps. So I circle her clit with my tongue, then lick it directly. Halla arches up against me, and so I do it again, and again. She’s responding, but I have not yet made her come.
And I want to make her come, very much. I will not be worthy of being her husband if I do not give her pleasure.
I flick my tongue against the underside of her clit, then experiment with the pace of my licking, watching her responses. She shudders when I suck and press directly against her clit, but she makes sweet sounds of pleasure when I rub near it, but not quite touch. Fascinating. I focus in on rubbing around her clit instead of on it directly, and when she moans, I grip her thighs a little tighter, my own excitement spurring me on. It takes everything I have not to grab her and frantically lick her to a climax, because she’s not like me. The quicker and rougher I touch her won’t make her come faster. So I continue to give her the teasing touches that she needs, my tongue dancing and flirting along the hood of her clit and never quite touching it.
I love when she starts to pant, her body wriggling against me. “Mathior,” she gasps, and the hand in my hair tightens. “I don’t…wait…I don’t know…”
“Tell me to stop and I will,” I murmur briefly and then lower my head again, devoting more of my attention to her. I want to take her to the next level, to make her wild, and so I slide one hand under my mouth and begin to pet her cunt in the places that I cannot yet devote my tongue to. I stroke a finger against the entrance to her core and when she tightens, I tease the tip of it in even as I continue to lap at her clit.
“No,” she pants, arching up underneath me as if she can press herself against my mouth. “No…don’t stop. Please. Mathior!” Her voice grows more urgent and full of need with every stroke of my tongue.
My cock strains against my leathers and I force myself not to rub back and forth against the edge of the bed, lest I come and not finish pleasuring my woman first. I need her to come, and come hard and so good that she aches to marry me. An unsatisfied female can turn away the man that asks for her hand in marriage, and I aim not to be that man.
I push a finger into her cunt and nearly lose control at how tight and wet she is. Halla moans in pleasure, and I feel a new rush of her honey against my tongue. She’s close, if the flex and quiver of her cunt is any indication. Her gasps and cries increase with frequency and she rocks her hips wildly against my mouth. Her excitement is spurring mine, and it’s taking everything I have not to spill into my leather breeches. I thrust into her with my finger, pumping into her cunt as I want to with my cock. It’s not part of the “tasting,” but I can’t help myself. I’m too addicted to the soft cries she makes and the sensation of her body clenching around my finger. I push another one in alongside the first, and then I’m slowly fucking her with my fingers as I lap at her cunt.
Her thighs quiver and she gives a guttural cry. Her cunt spasms around my fingers and then her honey floods my mouth. She arches up against my mouth as she climaxes, and I keep on nuzzling her, determined to wring out her climax for as long as possible. With a whimper, she shudders and then goes limp on the furs, as if she’s lost all the strength in her body.
I continue to lap at her cunt, unwilling to let this moment end. I feel fierce satisfaction that I’ve made her climax so hard. Halla trembles with every stroke of my tongue, and I keep going until her thighs start to slide together and it’s clear she doesn’t want me there any longer. I still want to do more, of course. My body throbs with
awareness of her, and her scent is in my nose, her taste on my tongue. How do other bridegrooms possibly stop when their woman is sprawled in bed in front of them, bare to the waist? I give the inside of her thigh a fervent kiss. “My Halla.”
She makes a breathless sound that might be a response.
I move forward on the bed, crawling over her. My pants are still on and I won’t do anything—not tonight—but I want to hold her, see her face as she recovers from her climax. I move next to her on the bed and caress her cheek, rubbing my nose against her skin. I want to kiss her, but I also don’t want to lose the taste of her cunt on my lips. “My sweet love.”
Halla’s eyes are glazed, her lips pink and plump from biting them. Her hair is disheveled and there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her face. I’ve never seen her look more beautiful.
She moans and puts a hand to my face, kissing me ferociously.
I pull her into my arms, slicking my tongue into her mouth, giving her all the urgency I feel. We share hungry kisses and then she pulls away, panting. “That was…I…there are no words.”
“Did I please you?” I rub my nose against hers. I want to stay here forever, I think, and just drink in…her.
“Oh yes,” she tells me, breathless. Her hand skims up and down my chest, as if she cannot stop touching me, either. “But you…”
“Tomorrow.” I close my eyes and press a kiss to her hand. My need for her nearly overwhelms me and I hold her hand to my mouth, breathing deep.
