by Vivien Vale
It’s tighter. It’s wetter—although that’s helped by the juice from her pussy and my own spit, but whatever—and it’s certainly slippery enough.
I feel like I’m swimming in the ocean—the deep, beautiful, salty ocean of Ash’s pussy, even though I’m deep inside something else.
“Drew,” she says, moaning again. “Don’t make me go another minute without coming. Please.”
She’s begging now, and her tone is importunate, almost whiny. But it’s also adorable, and I can’t imagine anything naughtier, or nicer, than this interchange of having power and relinquishing power—all part and parcel of the dance of seduction, all that begins and ends in the horizontal position—or standing up, if you’re creative. And we certainly are.
There’s nothing more desirable than a woman who doesn’t feel imprisoned or enslaved by your demands but rather wants you more and more, just you and not what you can give her, with each passing day.
I continue to suck on her neck, feeling slightly like a vampire as I do so.
“You like it when I’m in here?” I ask her, thrusting again and again as I, with one hand, twist her hair back and jerk her face toward me so she can face me as I slam into her, deeper this time.
“Uh-huh,” she says.
She’s drooling now, barely able to contain herself as she pushes back lightly on my cock so that the entirety is swallowed up by her cheeks bouncing against me.
Christ, this is sexy, I think to myself as I reach around the front to finger her clit, hoping that she can come again—the way she’d done just a few minutes ago.
“I love watching you come,” I whisper to her with my lips buried in her neck and my tongue tracing the line of her pulsing artery through her skin. “I love feeling the wetness of your pussy all over me. I love tasting you when you come on my face, and I love watching you smile as I fuck you in the ass and make you come over and over.”
Just the fact that I can get her to do it—that I can order her around and make her spread her cheeks, or her pussy, whenever I ask her to—feels like the key to the secrets of the universe.
I know we should be thinking of the peace treaty. I’m sure Ash hasn’t forgotten about it either. But when we’re together, everything seems irrelevant.
And how could someone expect me to think of anything but Ash when she’s right in front of me?
That’s certainly true now, with her naked and my cock up her ass.
And, ultimately, that’s the far more pressing matter at hand—namely, me unloading my cum inside her.
God, what did I do to deserve Ash? I think as I pick up the pace.
I grunt alongside Ash’s increased, urgent moans; part of me doesn’t quite know how much of that’s from pleasure or pain. I hope, at least, if there’s any of the latter, that it gives her enough to convert it to the former in her mind.
She’s ready to come, and almost on instinct, she spreads her legs against me and bends to the floor, whipping her hair around wildly as she moans and only just bites back a desperate scream, lest someone discover what we’re doing.
That does it for me: I grunt one last time and let go, unloading load after load of hot cum in her ass, marveling as Ash also reaches orgasm simultaneously.
As I pull away from her, I watch as her legs twitch and shake, her cheeks standing slightly agape. She’s still moaning, still coming, still closing her eyes and imagining the feel of my huge, hard cock in her ass—or, at least, I hope that’s what she’s thinking of.
I smirk, enjoying the view of her ass in my face as her orgasm finishes spreading through her, ebbing and flowing with the tides like the waves.
Glorious.
Chapter 10
Ash
The soft hay cushions our bodies, but I feel like I’m on cloud nine.
I can feel Drew underneath me as I lean my head against his chest and listen to his heart beat rapidly through his shirt. His fingers gently smooth my hair as we take a moment to catch our breaths.
I’m so comfortable around Drew; I feel safe in his arms. I can’t imagine being like this with any other man—especially not King Fergus.
Fergus is attractive, sure. He’s not the physically strong type, but he can hold a room. Though, if you take that away...
There’s an energy about him that I simply don’t trust. When he looks at me, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It’s almost as though he’s not looking at me, or he’s not seeing me; I don’t know how to explain it.
And that’s not even taking into account his obvious disdain for my ‘dirt poor’ country. If he’s not willing to see past what he views as valuable, then I can’t imagine how his attitude toward my nation—or me—is likely to change.
I know for sure that he’s nothing like King Andrew, and that I’ll never be able to feel for Fergus the way I do for Drew.
“Drew,” I murmur, keeping my voice low, so no one outside the stables will hear us.
“Yes, Ash?” He continues to stroke the hair out of my face and holds me tight in his arms.
“Let’s go further. I want to sleep with you properly.”
I feel Drew stiffen underneath me. Though he’s only silent, thinking for a few moments, my heart pounds against my chest and makes it feel like lifetimes.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, Ash, but we can’t.”
There’s a heavy sense of regret in his tone.
I know that Drew is speaking to me now with the mind of a king and a political leader, not the mind of a man naked in his stables with a princess in his arms. But that still doesn’t stop me from wanting to convince him.
“But I want you. I want to be with you.”
“And I wish I could be with you.”
I sit up to look at him, and I bite my lower lip.
Drew’s tone is so soft, and it’s almost as though he’s speaking to me like I’m a child. He doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, and I’m not going to let him see me cry.
Even though I kind of want to.
Okay, I really want to.
“I wish I could stay with you like this forever, Ash, but we can’t. We can’t sacrifice the future of our nations and peace for the sake of our lust.”
He’s right, but that doesn’t take away any of the pain.
I sigh, and Drew kisses me on the head gently.
“I’m sorry, Ash. You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”
I can’t stick around and listen to this. My heart’s slowly breaking, and I don’t think I can bear to listen to Drew’s sweet, soft words while it happens.
“Do you hear that?” I ask, pretending to hear something outside.
“Hear what?”
“We should get moving—get back to our lives.”
I tear myself away from Drew and pick up my clothes from where they had been tossed before. I dress quickly; I can’t bring myself to look at Drew as I straighten out my dress.
“Aisling.”
Drew speaks my name, and I pause for a moment, my hands lingering on my buttons.
“I’m sorry. I wish it could be different.”
I can’t see the look on his face, but I can feel his remorse.
The pressing, unavoidable futility of our short-lived relationship hangs in the air all around us, and I have to get out of here.
“But it can’t,” I bite out in reply.
I don’t mean to snap at Drew like that, but the words leave my lips before I have a chance to think about my tone.
“Ash...”
“I have to go. I’ll see you around, King Andrew.”
I finish with my buttons and sweep out of the stables, leaving Drew in the hay. I don’t dare to look back.
I lied, of course; I don’t have anywhere to be. So, instead, I all but run through the corridors, sweeping up the stairs and past the servants, until I reach my bedroom and slam the door shut.
Dramatically, like a true princess, I throw myself down onto the bed—or rather, I take a few steps forward until my knees be
gin to give out. I fall into the mattress as my chest heaves with sobs. Salty tears drip down from my eyes and dampen the sheets beneath me.
Why do I have to marry Fergus?
Drew is also a king. Marrying him would bring equal prosperity to the kingdoms and secure an alliance; arguably, it’ll secure a better one! If I’m to be a political pawn and used for securing peace, I’d rather secure peace with a man who also treats me like a person.
I feel pathetic. This isn’t like me. I’m not the girl who cries over boys she likes and boys who reject her.
But I’ve never really liked someone the same way that I like Drew. To feel like that about someone and then to throw it all away...it’s not fair!
There’s a quiet and timid knock on my door. I hold my breath to silence the sound of my tears, but I feel as though it’s too late. The knocking happens again, and when I make no response, I hear a familiar voice through the door.
“Ash?”
It’s Gwen.
I take a few seconds to think for a moment more—can I bear to let her see me like this? I’m a mess, all over a guy. But she understands what it’s like; she knows what I’m going through—except she got a happy ending.
But I’d rather be with Gwen, who will at least be sweet and understanding, than wallow on my own. At least, if I’m with Gwen, it’ll look like I’m too busy to be forced to meet Fergus or keep a brave face around Drew.
I don’t want to see a man again—at least for a couple hours.
“I’m coming.”
I climb off the bed and try to wipe away the tear tracks on my cheek. Putting on a brave face, I open the door, and I see Gwen standing before me.
“Oh, Ash...” she trails off, taking in the sorry sight of me.
“Hey, come in.”
I open the door wide enough for her to enter, and we walk back to the bed. She perches on the edge of the mattress, and I throw myself down next to her.
“Ash, honey, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look terrible.”
Gwen leans toward me and reaches out to take a strand of hay from my hair, tilting her head to the side in confusion. I watch the cogs in her mind turn, until she realizes what happened.
“Why did I have to fall for him, Gwen?”
“Because he’s hot as fuck?”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh and look at the ceiling, blinking away more tears. “He’s hot as fuck.”
“And he’s super kind and sweet, and he actually seems to like you and care about you as a person and a princess.”
“I get it, Gwen. Drew’s perfect.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Gwen smiles sheepishly and places her hand on my leg. “He’s not perfect though, is he? Because if he was perfect, he’d find a way for you to be with him...”
“It’s not that easy though, is it?”
“I know. I was trying to make you feel better.”
“Now, I have to marry Fergus.” I sigh and look at her. “I don’t even like Fergus—let alone love him!”
“Yeah, I think Fergus is the type of guy only a mother can love, you know?”
I sigh heavily and shift closer to Gwen.
Despite how petite she is, she wraps her arm around me, and I lay my head down on her shoulder. We look out toward the door, sitting in silence for a short while.
“I’m gonna be married to a man I don’t like. And a man who doesn’t like me.”
“Hey,” Gwen says quietly, as though she’s half-talking to herself, “you might not.”
“What choice do I have? I need to do this for my father and for my kingdom.”
“Well, Edward and I...”
“This isn’t really like you and Edward, Gwen. The marquis wasn’t going to offer your kingdom stability.”
“Edward and I,” Gwen presses on, her voice a little bit harder and more determined than before, “managed to find our happy ever after in the span of, like, two days.”
“So?”
“So, you have another three days!” Gwen lifts my head up, so she can look into my eyes. “Drew might have told you no this time, but do you think he’s really going to settle for that?”
“But the alliance...”
“Love finds a way, Ash. Trust me.” Gwen smiles at me, and the twinkle in her eye tells me that she really believes in what she’s saying.
I want to believe her, too.
“You’ve got to stay strong.” Gwen smiles at me. “King Andrew isn’t going to let you go without a fight, and I, personally, am rooting for Fergus to get punched in the face.”
I laugh, and the image of Fergus on the ground lifts my spirit slightly.
Perhaps Gwen is right.
I love Drew. He’s the man I want to be with. I just have to stay strong.
Love will find a way.
Chapter 11
Andrew
I don’t think I’ve ever been as furious with myself as I am now. I can’t believe I let Ash run off, heartbroken and crying.
Or maybe I’m furious with the hand I’ve been given—in other circumstances, I’d be with Ash in a second with no negative consequences whatsoever.
Okay, I’m probably furious at both.
But mostly myself.
There must be a way I can be with Ash without interfering with the peace treaty, after all. And I’m not a stupid man; I should be able to work it out.
But there’s simply…nothing. Nothing I can think of that I can do.
The alliance talks have been going well, and Fergus hasn’t done anything wrong, per se.
Except for being a snob towards Ash and her country. But the last time I checked, being an arrogant, narcissistic prick wasn’t a crime.
Unfortunately.
Still, I can’t help but think that Fergus is the weak link I can work on to get my own way; he must be up to something unsavory.
For me and for Ash, I need to find a valid reason for why she shouldn’t marry him.
Knowing that I definitely smell like horses and stables, I head up to my chambers and run a bath. I’m usually a shower man, but considering everything I have to think over, a long, hot soak in a bath is definitely called for.
I strip off all my clothes and throw them unceremoniously to the floor. The action reminds me of Ash’s striptease, which feels like it happened in another life instead of merely an hour ago.
When I slip into the steaming water, I let out a long, low sigh that I feel as if I’ve been holding in all day.
How I’d love nothing more than to have Ash join me in the bath tub—it’s too spacious for just one person. It was made for two.
If I had things my way, I’d have carried Ash back from the stables and up, up, up the stairs to my chambers, removed the straw from her hair and then thrown her in the bath. I’d wash her hair, her back, her thighs, her breasts, her…
God fucking damn it; I’m rock hard just thinking about it.
I slide my hand angrily up and down my cock as I continue to think of all the things I could do to Ash in my bath, knowing that I will never get the opportunity to do so.
It’s only after soiling the water with my cum that I can finally somewhat relax, sinking down below the water’s edge to mull over the situation I’ve found myself in.
Fergus. I was thinking about Fergus before Ash sauntered into my thoughts.
There must be something I can do about him.
His behavior towards Ash goes beyond snobbishness and disinterest; at times, it has genuinely seemed as if Fergus actively does not want to marry Ash.
Surely, no prejudice towards the presupposed lack of wealth of a country could account for that? If that were truly the case, all Fergus had to do was suggest that I marry Ash for the sake of a peace alliance which, even before I had met her, I would have happily agreed to.
Which means that, despite not wanting to marry Ash, Fergus feels as if there is a personal reason for why I must.
He’s definitely up to something.
But Fergus has an almost impeccable faça
de of politeness at all times—I have only seen him break it once or twice, and even then it was only momentarily. The man is clearly a pro at hiding his intentions.
I have to be sneaky.
With an altogether different sigh that the one I emitted upon entering the bath, I haul myself out of the water and dry off, putting on a clean, white shirt and plain, dark trousers.
Looking at myself in the mirror, it really is no surprise that Ash believed me to be a blacksmith when we first met. I can’t help but think that maybe I should consider dressing more ‘kingly,’ though I lack the motivation to do so.
And besides, more formal attire is so restricting. Of course, I’m thinking of Fergus’ clothes in particular, the ones he takes such pride in. And it’s true—the clothes look good on him.
Because they hide the fact that he’d lose in a second with a direct fight with a man like me. But I need a reason to instigate a fight, and Fergus needs to provide it himself. Otherwise he’ll simply deny anything I throw at him.
After toweling my hair dry, I leave my chambers to wander down to the kitchen to find out what I’m having for dinner—I remember, belatedly, that Ash is having a private dinner with Fergus tonight, so I’ll be dining alone.
I don’t want her to have to entertain Fergus on her own, especially not after the way we ended things in the stables.
Suddenly, I hear the sound of footsteps and not quite knowing why, I retreat back down the corridor and behind a staircase.
It’s Fergus and one of his military advisers, though from their interactions so far, I can tell that the two of them are also good friends.
“…have dinner with her tonight,” I hear Fergus say.
“Look, Fergus, she’s fucking hot. I don’t really see what your problem with her is. And you get what you want by marrying her. So what’s the issue?”
“The issue is she’s too bloody smart and cautious. And she’s trying to get out of the marriage—otherwise, why’d she postpone it? She has no interest in getting to know me. All she does is pine after that bear of a man.”
