by Anthology
“Do you want me to untie you?” he asked when his kisses reached the middle of her thigh. The offer certainly suggested Ashel was not quite a prisoner. But something was also intriguing about the idea of being ravished while bound at the wrists. She shook her head.
The highwayman smiled wickedly.
Perhaps he was intrigued by the idea, too.
He slid his hand up the inside of her thighs, spreading her knees apart, not exactly roughly, but not gently either.
Ashel flinched at his sudden boldness and the twinge of pain in her hips.
The highwayman sprung back, kneeling back on his heels and looking down on her. “Forgive me.” Remorse glinted in his eyes, so genuine, so warm. “Did I hurt you?” He reached out, tentative, and softly caressed her thighs.
Her heart awoke for the first time since she had steeled it in the months after Hobby’s departure. “No. You just startled me, that’s all. I…I wonder if I could know your name. I mean if this is to be, should we not know each other’s names?”
Smiling, he leaned forward and rested a hand on either side of her hips.
As his dark silhouette loomed over her, Ashel silently noted how large he was compared to her. Instead of feeling threatened however, she felt protected. And excited. She wondered if he was large…everywhere.
“Hawk is my name, lady. And you are?”
“Ashel,” she stammered. “Ashel Adelsmann. The daughter of the late Lord Adelsmann.”
His breath swirled in the shell of her ear, and his nose brushed the sensitive skin along her jaw. “Ashel is a beautiful name.”
She turned her head, and he captured her lips.
Hawk’s kisses were as soft as they had been on her feet and legs. She parted her lips to welcome him. He eagerly darted his tongue into her mouth and let it linger there, caressing hers with practiced strokes. The corset dug into her as her breathing quickened. As Hawk lowered his body onto hers, she shivered, feeling her sex clench with anticipation. His firm manhood pressed into her thigh, even through the layers of petticoats and bloomers. Shamelessly, she opened her legs and tried to draw him closer to the position she desired, to press on her awakening flower, but the reams of silk and cotton impeded her.
Hawk seemed to sense her discomfort, and he leaned back once again. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes.” She plucked at her bodice. “I hate this gown. I had no idea that ladies must be so uncomfortable. I know it will turn back into my simple homespun at midnight, but I don’t think I can wait that long.”
“Well.” Hawk trailed a finger across the bodice of her dress. “It would be my pleasure to remove it.” He tried first opening some buttons, but found them only decorative. Looking for ties proved equally fruitless. Then he tried lifting it over her shoulders, but it wouldn’t budge past the tightly fitted waist. “Good heavens, woman, were you sewn into this?”
“It’s enchanted, sir. What did you expect?”
“Must another enchantment remove it? I’m afraid my gown-removing skills are limited to the worldly arts.”
Ashel chuckled. “I expect a knife will serve. Do be careful though.”
Hawk reached for a scabbard on his belt. A small blade flashed in the starlight, and Ashel held her breath as he began at the hem of her dress. With raw ripping sounds, he sliced through the silk and cotton lining and soon the whole monstrous affair was lying open around her, like a filleted fish.
Hawk then carefully slit each sleeve from neckline to wrist, so he didn’t have to untie her.
When the heavy folds of fabric fell away, Ashel sat among them in her shift and corset, like a mermaid cut from the belly of a whale. The night’s chill washed over her. She felt suddenly exposed, and had she been able to, she might have hugged herself.
But with her hands still bound, that action was impossible. Instead, she watched Hawk unbutton his doublet and slip it off. Ashel strained her eyes in the dark, biting her lip as he untucked and removed his tunic, before unbuckling his belt and tossing it aside, along with his knife and flintlock pistol.
In the dim shadows of the trees, she could see enough of his body to know that whatever thievery he did, it was hard work that kept him muscled and strong. For the first time, she wanted to be unbound so she could run her hands over his hard stomach, trail her fingers through the line of dark hair above his navel and up across his chest.
But before she gathered her wits enough to ask, he pulled up her bound hands and pinned them above her head. “There,” he said. “You look lovely like that. Lovely and fuckable, if I may say so.”
“Oh…” Ashel said with a gasp.
Hawk didn’t wait for her to say more. He laid his free hand on the side of her face and held her there while he kissed her, his lips and tongue hungry. Then that hand slid down over her neck, from her collarbone to the swell of her breasts barely contained in the tightly laced corset.
“You can cut that off too, if you want to,” Ashel said, breathlessly.
It was Hawk’s turn to chuckle. “Oh, I don’t think so.” He grabbed the front of her shift and corset and pulled them down roughly, just enough that her nipples peeked over the boning and cotton. “Ah… that’s glorious. Your breasts are everything I…” His voice trailed off for a moment, as though distracted. “Imagined. I’ve been imagining them since we met on the road.” He took one nipple then the other between his teeth, biting just to edge of pain.
Her body opened and warmed, coming to life for the first time in years.
With one nipple still in his mouth, Hawk reached under her shift to the fine cotton bloomers. Another tearing sounded, and something ragged and white went sailing through the air. Then his fingers were on her, stroking her cleft, dipping into her hungry opening with one finger, then two.
When a third joined them, Ashel made a strangled sound, but Hawk never faltered. Ashel felt the mix of pleasure and pressure almost too much to bear.
He bit down on her nipple again as his fingers stroked in and out of her wet tunnel, stretching her, opening her, awakening parts of her long dormant. As another moan cut through the night, Hawk moved his head up and stilled her noises, kissing her, the tenderness of his lips contrasting with the relentlessness of his powerful fingers.
“Hawk…” Ashel said against his mouth, a desperate hunger rising inside. It wasn’t enough. His hand would never be enough. She wanted all of him. “Take me, please.”
He removed his fingers abruptly, leaving her bereft and empty, but in seconds, he had tugged down the front of his trousers, freeing his broad manhood to spring out and bounce heavily against Ashel’s thighs. As she gasped at his intimidating size, Hawk shoved the hem of her shift out of the way and for a second, Ashel felt the cold night air on her exposed wet nest. But it was fleeting, for Hawk lay on her, covering her again with his warm body, pushing her legs farther apart with his hips. Then while one hand still held hers pinned over her head, his other guided his hard rod to her opening, pushing inside.
She whimpered with the pressure, sure with every inch he advanced that she could take no more. But he was persistent, as though some force drew him deeper into her, to the parts she had thought closed forever. But they opened for him, bit by bit, inch by ecstatic inch. Soon he was fully seated inside her, the stretching sting receding into a delicious fullness.
“Yes…” she said, as he began to move. “Oh yesssss…” She rocked her hips under him, matching him thrust for thrust.
Hawk released her hands, and propping himself on one elbow, he looked down on her face as he slid his free hand between them. He found her button of pleasure that had so long been neglected, sliding his fingers into her juices.
Ashel’s body trembled as he stroked and fucked her, holding her bound hands firmly pinned above her head.
“Your cunny is tight,” Hawk panted. “Like a glove made just for me. So tight and hot.” His fingers slackened and released her wrists.
She lifted her bound hands over his head and tangled her fingers
in his damp hair, pulling his face down to kiss her. Her legs wrapped around his buttocks; she pressed her heels down on him as he thrust, deeper and deeper into her arousal. He moaned then and kissed her with more hunger and urgency, his lips, tongue, and teeth sucking, lashing at her, biting. Their rhythm intensified; Hawk’s pounding reached a part of her that had never been touched. Pausing briefly from working his fingers on her slit, Hawk suddenly pushed her legs up, propping them over his broad shoulders.
The position was coarse, debauched even, and perfect. As he rose, the angle of fucking changed, his swollen cock sliding over uncharted landscapes of pleasure and exquisite pain. Ashel cried out, overwhelmed by Hawk moving, thrusting against some secret place inside her. “Hawk, Hawk…I’m going to come. Touch me again…”
He obeyed without hesitation. Snaking one hand back over her mound, he slipped a single finger against her slit and pressed on the spot there that set off paroxysms of pleasure.
She had so longed for this. A glorious tingling thrill began in her toes. It shot up her legs and, gathering strength at the point of their union, exploded throughout her body like a great flame, leaving her crying out and gasping for breath.
Rather than take a moment to let her compose herself, Hawk kept moving, even increasing the intensity of his thrusts, continuing to stroke his thumb over her slit as she writhed and whimpered beneath him. The sensations were too much; she was moments away from begging him to stop when he whisked his hand away from her aching pearl and clutched at her round bottom, pressing himself so deeply into her she felt it in her womb. No witch’s spell to defeat his seed. She wanted his child. She wanted him forever, and to hell with the consequences.
“Ashel…Ashel…,” Hawk chanted her name with every thrust. He lowered down onto one elbow, pushing her knees farther back, and roughly fisted a handful of her hair, pulling it, the sharpness focusing her pleasure once more. “I’ve dreamt of this…dreamt of you so long…”
Her cunny spasmed again, shooting bursts of lightning through her like a great storm.
As he came, he pressed his mouth on hers, shuddering, gasping her name against her lips one more time. “Ashelina…”
Ashel had never thought it possible to die from happiness and ecstasy, but in that second, it seemed not only possible, but likely.
After a moment, he moved in the dark, carefully lifting her legs from his shoulders, stroking them softly, as he laid them back on the cloak beneath them.
Ashel gasped as he pulled out of her bruised and swollen cunny. When she saw the knife flash, she lifted her hands.
Hawk carefully sliced through the thin rope bindings.
Ashel lowered her hands to run them over his stubbled face and through his sweat-dripping curls. “Who would have guessed you would grow such a beautiful mane of hair, Hobby?”
He drew a sharp breath then kissed her, tenderly, running a hand over her exposed nipples, before lovingly tucking them back under her shift and corset. “When did you know?”
“The moment I felt your cock pressing on my thigh I suspected.” Ashel felt her eyes fill with tears and tried to cover it with a laugh. Her lost love was not to be fooled. He stroked her face, brushing hair from her eyes and wiped away her tears as she went on. “I didn’t dare dream it could be true, but who else in the kingdom could be so endowed?” She let her hands trail down his shoulders, over his muscular back, and his thick powerful arms. “And how the rest of you has grown to fit your natural blessings. Were you a soldier, after all?”
“Of fortune. I fought for a time, for the enemy of our king. To regain the stolen territory in the north. But the rewards were not great.” He leaned forward and whispered wickedly in her ear, “So I became a thief.”
“Of hearts, no doubt.”
“Never, my love. I waited for you these long years. Waited until I had grown and changed enough that no one would recognize me. My former master assured me he would have me flogged and burned alive if ever I showed my pimply face on your father’s estate.”
Ashel rolled onto her side as Hawk lay beside her.
He gathered her in his arms, tucking her head onto his shoulder.
“How young we both were then,” she said, twisting a lock of his hair around her finger. “How did you know I’d be on the road tonight?”
Hawk smiled.
She could just see his teeth flash in the dark.
“I bestowed some coin on the witch, too. She’s had a very good week.”
Ashel eyed the sliced-open gown beneath them. The garment had transformed back to a simple homespun dress. She felt the jewels at her neck—now only seeds on a length of cotton thread. And back on the road, she knew, was a pumpkin, a kitten, a rat, a lizard, and two very confused mice. “Midnight has passed.”
“And here you are, still a princess, my lady,” Hawk said. “Would you deign to be the princess of thieves? I’m afraid it will be a principality of two. The men I had with me will have slithered away at midnight, too. Back into the nest of snakes from whence they came.” He kissed her again.
Ashel’s heart soared. To have her beautiful boy Hob back in her arms was superior to a legion of loyal subjects, to a world of them. “An alliance between the Queen of Hearths and the Prince of Thieves?” she said. “How strong we would be. Who could defeat us?”
“Certainly not a poxy horse master.”
“Or two hideous stepsisters. I wonder which one got her talons into our hapless princeling? I almost feel sorry for him.”
“But not really.”
“No.”
They kissed and held each other, whispering plans to pilfer Ashel’s favorite stallion from under the cruel horse master’s nose. Hawk dug a clean tunic from his satchel, and by wrapping the remains of Ashel’s dress around her like a kilt, they fashioned attire suitable for the journey back to her father’s estate.
As Hawk made to lift her, to carry her back to the road, Ashel stopped him, pointing to the glass slippers, still twinkling on the log. “What of those?” she said. “What will we do with them?”
Hawk gathered them up, wrapped them in his scarf, and tucked them carefully into his satchel. “What good thieves do with all pretty but impractical things. Sell them to someone who knows no better.”
He held out his arms, and Ashel leapt into them. He carried her out of the forest and along the long road back to her father’s house, where Ashel helped herself to a change of clothes and, more importantly, a comfortable pair of boots. After tiptoeing past the snoring horse master, they were soon riding Ashel’s favorite stallion into the pink glow of the rising sun.
They lived thievishly ever after.
About the Authors
Axa Lee is an erotica-writing farm girl who grazes cattle in her yard and herds incorrigible poultry with a cowardly dog. Her work appears in several anthologies. Her partner is finally getting used to answering weird rhetorical questions that begin with the disclaimer, “So this is for a story…”
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Bibi Rizer is a writer and blogger who lives in Vancouver, Canada. When she’s not writing sexy stories, she designs book covers featuring sexy vampires, trolls, millionaires, and lifeguards. If you enjoyed her story, she has several more available for Kindle.
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Cela Winter took up writing after a career as a restaurant chef. Really. She has several works of erotic fiction in print and online. She lives on the fringes of Portland, Oregon, where she is working on a novel—when the Muse isn’t distracting her with short story ideas.
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Cynthia Young writes tantalizing, passionate romances set during the Regency era. She enjoys writing stories with strong characters that triumph over challenges to achieve their happily-ever-after. Cynthia lives in the Pacific Northwest where the rain and numerous coffee houses make the perfect writing companions.
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Delilah Night is a native New Englander who now calls steamy Southe
ast Asia home. Check out her first novella, Capturing the Moment, a sizzling erotic romance set in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Delilah’s deliciously naughty short stories can be found in more than a dozen anthologies.
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Elle James spent twenty years livin’ and lovin’ in South Texas, ranching horses, cattle, goats, ostriches, and emus. A former IT professional, Elle happily writes full-time, penning adventures that keep her readers begging for more. When she’s not writing, she’s traveling, snow-skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, concocting new stories.
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Emma Jay has been writing romance for decades, using her string of celebrity crushes as inspiration for her heroes. Writing romance is like falling in love, over and over again. Creating characters and love stories is an addiction she has no intention of breaking.
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Erzabet Bishop is an award winning and bestselling author of erotic and paranormal romance. She lives in Houston, Texas, and when she isn’t writing about sexy shifters or voluptuous heroines, she enjoys playing in local bookstores and watching movies with her husband and furry kids.
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Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner in the great state of Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. Best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.
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Megan Mitcham is a USA Today bestselling author who pens sizzling suspense novels that whisk you across the globe, wedge your heart in your throat, make your hands sweat and your naughty bits tingle. Check out her special forces heroes in the Base Branch Series.
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Mia Hopkins writes lush romances starring fun, sexy characters who love to get down and dirty. She’s a sucker for working class heroes, brainy heroines, and wisecracking best friends. Thirsty for hot cowboys? Be sure to check out her Cowboy Cocktail series.
