Broken Dove

by Kristen Ashley

  “You’re leaving me?” I gasped, seeking confirmation.

  “For your own good, poppy,” he confirmed.

  I shook my head. “Then don’t tie me down. If you have to go, go. But I need my hands.”

  He took my meaning. I knew this when his eyes darkened and went over my head as his lips murmured, “I should have gagged her first.”

  I struggled on the bed. “If you’re going to leave me like this, I need my hands, Apollo.”

  I was writhing uncontrollably on the bed and he was watching me.

  God, his eyes.

  That mouth.

  God.

  “If I can’t have you, let me have my hands.” I sounded desperate and imploring, mostly because I was.

  Something had to give and soon.

  I licked my lips and watched a muscle tick up his cheek and it was hot.

  So hot, I moaned.

  At my moan, his voice gruff, he demanded, “You’re in no shape but still, swear it. Swear it to me now, Madeleine. No recriminations tomorrow.”

  Oh my God.

  Was he…?

  I wasn’t going to waste time asking.

  I shook my head frantically. “None, nope, not a one. It’ll all be good tomorrow. All good.”

  His gaze burned into mine and it did this, like, forever.

  So long, I couldn’t take a moment longer and breathed, “Baby.”

  His eyes moved to my mouth. “This word goes through me like a knife.”

  “Is that good?” I asked.

  His eyes came back to mine.

  Then he let me go and exited the bed.

  Shit.

  He moved to the door.

  Shit!

  He stopped at it, locked it and moved to the table.

  Oh God.

  Yes.

  I pushed up to my knees, yanking my skirts out from under them so I could walk on them across the bed. I stopped at its edge.

  He poured a cup of tea, and just the delicate cup in his big hand turned me on beyond reason (not that I wasn’t already there) and nearly sent me over the edge.

  I did a full-body tremble when he put the cup to his mouth and threw his head back, downing it.

  Oh God.

  Yes.

  He put the cup down and turned to me.

  God, oh God, he was beautiful.

  I stood on my knees on the bed, the insides of my thighs quivering, and stared at him.

  He stared back.

  “You’re beautiful, Apollo,” I whispered.

  I watched him run his tongue over his lower lip.

  At the sight, my sex convulsed and I whimpered.

  At my sound, Apollo lunged.

  Finally.

  I was on my back in the bed, Apollo on me and he felt so good, so damned good.

  What was better was his mouth on mine and his tongue in my mouth.

  That wasn’t good, that was awesome.

  But I wanted more and he’d made me wait long enough, I was going to get it.

  I slid my hands in his sweater and yanked up. He broke contact with my mouth to arch back, lifting his arms. I tugged his sweater off and tossed it away.

  He came back to me, lips to lips, tongues tangling and I moaned into his mouth as I bucked. He let me move him but I suspected only because he knew I’d move with him, and I did. He rolled to his back, me on top and then it was me breaking contact with our lips.

  But my lips didn’t break contact with him. They slid down his neck, over to his corded throat, down his chest, the ridges of his stomach to the waistband of his breeches.

  There, I broke away but only to lift up to straddling him. I clenched my fingers in my dress and tugged it off, the cashmere dragging over my skin in a way that made my nipples ache and my clit pulse.

  “Gods,” he grunted.

  I was wearing nothing but green satin panties and a cream satin bustier with green ribbons, and my guess from his tone, he liked it.

  I looked down at him staring up at me, his face dark, his eyes hot, feeling my lips curl in a little smile that made him say, “Gods,” again but in a groan this time.

  I felt that groan shoot straight between my legs and knew it was time to get a move on.

  So I did, moving off the bed. I grabbed him behind his knee and lifted up his calf. Straddling it, I yanked off his boot, then his sock. On to the next foot then I was moving to him. He’d already unbuttoned his breeches and I curled my fingers in his waistband, tugging down. Apollo helped by bucking his hips from the bed and they were off.

  I tossed them behind me and entered the bed, crawling up him on all fours, my eyes on my goal.

  And what a goal. His cock was hard, thick and long, the veins distended in a way that demanded the trace of a tip of a tongue. So big. So swollen. So beautiful.

  I had to have it.

  I didn’t delay. Wrapping my hand around it, putting my lips to the tip then taking him so deep, I felt him in the back of my throat, my gag reflex g-o-n-e, gone.

  “By the bloody gods,” he rumbled, sliding the fingers of both hands into my hair and curling them around my scalp.

  I slid him out but didn’t take him back in.

  He lifted his hips and surged back in.

  Yes.

  Oh, fuck yes.

  I took his thrusts, whimpering and moaning against his cock, my body trembling, my clit throbbing and suddenly I felt him knife up. His hands went under my arms and he hauled me up his body.

  “Baby, I wasn’t—” I started to protest.

  But he rolled me to my back, dragged my panties down my legs and moved around so he was on all fours over me, backwards.

  Yes.

  Oh, fuck yes.

  I lifted my hands and curled my fingers around his ass, using it to pull my head and shoulders off the bed as he spread my thighs. Then his mouth was there. Right there. Just as I slid the tip of his cock between my lips and he surged in.

  He fucked my mouth as his mouth ravaged my sex and I was done. I was there.

  I exploded, moaning against his cock, clutching his ass, taking his thrusts. It was so huge, it engulfed me and my hips jerked against his mouth.

  Still coming, he pulled out and I found myself yanked further in the bed. Then he was covering me. One of his arms hooked behind my knee, jerking it up. His hips fell between mine, I felt him hitch a knee high for leverage and I knew this was going to be good.

  Through this, all I could see were his extraordinary jade green eyes burning into mine.

  But he was there. Right there. I could feel him. But he wasn’t giving himself to me.

  Instead, he was staring at me like he was waiting for the answer to a question.

  I gave him the only answer I had.

  “Please,” I whispered and he drove inside.

  My neck arched back and my three free limbs surrounded him and squeezed tight.

  He buried his face in my neck and groaned, “Maddie.”

  Then he thrust, and thrust, and thrust, deep, hard, fast, rough, God, so hard, so freaking deep and so amazingly rough.

  His mouth came to mine and I breathed, “Don’t come too fast. I’m not close to done.”

  “My poppy, I drank the tea to keep up with you. I’ll stay hard all night.”

  Excellent.

  I felt my mouth smile and had no idea my eyes did the same.

  Then they closed because he was kissing me, as hard, deep and rough as he was fucking me.

  It was brilliant. So brilliant, I slid over the edge again and cried out when my latest orgasm shook me, the noise driving down his throat.

  Moments later, he grunted his release down mine.

  I was running my tongue down the side of his neck when he rolled us and pulled me up his body, positioning me in a way I knew what he wanted.

  “But…you’re inside me,” I gasped just as his big hands closed on my hips and he yanked me down on his mouth.

  My head flew back.

  He fed on me ravenously as I ran
my hands over my body, grinding into his mouth.

  But suddenly, it was too much. I couldn’t take anything but what he was doing between my legs. The air on my skin was burning into me; my hair swaying down my back was driving me mad.

  I lifted both arms and pulled my hair up, holding it at the back of my head, seeking maximum contact with Apollo’s talented lips and tongue even as one of his hands at my hips yanked me deeper.

  I sensed something, looked over my shoulder and saw his other hand wrapped around his glorious cock, pumping.

  Oh God.

  Seriously.

  How hot was that?

  It was so hot, I cried out again, arching back, coming.

  Excruciatingly.

  Exquisitely.

  He pulled me off and I was on my belly in the bed. I felt his knee nudging my legs apart, and still in the throes of my most recent climax, I helped, spreading them wider. Then he was between my legs yanking up my hips.

  He pounded in.

  When he filled me, my head flew back, my hair drifting over my skin and I whimpered, “Yes,” as I started to push up to my hands.

  I didn’t get very far as, still thrusting, I felt his hand in the middle of my back, pushing me down.

  “No, Maddie, I just want your beautiful arse.”

  I could do that. I so could.

  I gave him my ass, tipping it high.

  He took it, fucking me and I felt his wet thumb gliding between my cheeks and then it pressed inside the sensitive sweet spot.

  Phenomenal.

  I moaned as it overwhelmed me yet again, bucking back into him violently even as he pounded deep inside me and pressed his thumb in my ass.

  “Beautiful, my poppy. Bloody hell, magnificent,” he growled, surged inside and I heard his grunts turn into a rumble before I heard his shuddering groan and just hearing it, another orgasm rolled over the one I was still having.

  Hazy, still turned on, coming down, and even doing that, it building back up, Apollo pulled out. He gently rolled me to my back and covered me again, instantly sliding back inside and gliding slowly, his eyes holding mine, his lips a breath away.

  “More?” he whispered.

  “You up for it?” I whispered back.

  I felt his lips touch mine and they were smiling, as were his eyes.

  And in all the fabulous we’d just shared, that might have been the best part.

  “Absolutely,” he murmured.

  “Then yes,” I breathed and wrapped my legs around his hips. “More.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Please.” And I slid my tongue along his lips.

  He slanted his head, those lips took mine, his tongue took mine and he gave me more.

  * * * * *

  Some time later, I was on top, Apollo inside me. I was sliding up slowly and down even slower, my face in his neck, my eyelids drooping.

  I needed sleep. Like, bad.

  But I had something to say.

  Sliding down, filling myself full of him, my sex drenched with him and me, I pressed my face in his neck, slid my hand up the other side and brushed my thumb along his stubbled jaw.

  “Thank you for not leaving me,” I whispered.

  He had one hand resting lightly, almost casually on my ass. Paradoxically, he had one arm wrapped tightly, even possessively across my middle back.

  At my words, both convulsed.

  Powerfully.

  I had no time to assess this reaction.

  Because his voice said low and sweet, “Sleep, Maddie,” and my mind took that moment in a vague way to realize all throughout the night he’d called me nothing but Maddie, Madeleine, my dove or my poppy.

  And this vague thought made my insides warm.

  That was when I fell was asleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Heart Mighty As Goliath

  Apollo did not sleep.

  Maddie on top of him, her knees high and pressed tight to his sides taking some of her weight, his body gladly supported the rest of it.

  Drifting his fingers through the silken weight, he smelled the citrus of her hair, the lavender scent of her skin, both mixed with the aroma of sweat and sex.

  He stared at dark ceiling thinking he’d never smelled anything more beautiful.

  And it was not Ilsa’s smell. After she bathed, Ilsa’s skin smelled of roses, her hair of mint.

  Maddie shifted slightly and he naturally slid out of her. When he did, his seed mingled with her juices glided from her, drifting between the juncture of his thighs, their essence mixed, the most intimate parts of them joined, he stared at the ceiling thinking he’d never felt anything sweeter.

  Further, he was struggling with why this would be so, considering the depth of love he had for his wife. Not to mention, the depth of passion they shared in their bed.

  However, he’d never had anything with Ilsa like he’d had with Madeleine last night.

  It was, of course, the adela tea.

  But now he was no longer under the influence of adela tea and still these thoughts assailed him.

  And last, he was thinking he’d made yet another colossal mistake.

  He should have gagged her, tied her to the bed and left her.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead, he took advantage.

  Coming unraveled by her entreaty, allured by her beauty and her touch, aroused by her sharing that she’d take care of herself if he left…gods, aroused by it all, he’d taken advantage.

  He couldn’t even blame it on losing control. It was slipping but he hadn’t lost it.

  No, he wanted her.

  He wanted her before she pressed to him and begged, and he definitely wanted her during.

  He’d made her swear no recriminations but she was under the influence of adela tea. He knew the effects of that brew. She didn’t know what she was saying but he knew she’d say anything to get what the tea made her need.

  And he’d given it to her and in doing so, he took.

  He had no trust of hers to break. If he had, he’d broken it in Fleuridia before he left her. But if he’d gained any since their reunion (which was doubtful), last night, he’d have shattered it.

  When her eyes opened later that morning, the effects of the tea abated, she’d know it.

  And she’d hate him for it.

  He sighed, closing his eyes and ceasing running his fingers through her hair so he could wrap his arms around her, certain this was all he’d get. When she woke, she’d be lost to him.

  For good.

  There would be no winning her. It had only been a day and in that day, her adorable stubbornness, even her exasperating peevishness, he realized he wanted to win her more than he had before. And in her adorable stubbornness and exasperating peevishness, Apollo also realized the challenge of doing this was even more difficult than he earlier suspected.

  Which made him wish to best it all the more.

  Now it would be impossible.

  Surprising him at the intensity of it, this knowledge felt like a weight crushing his chest.

  But he’d had a broken dove in his hand and instead of setting about mending it, from near on the moment he brought her to his world, he’d done nothing but tighten his grip, fracturing her further.

  He opened his eyes, sliding his hands over her soft skin, and in her sleep she pressed her face deeper into his neck, arched her torso into his slightly then relaxed on an unconscious fluttering sigh he felt in his gut.

  And that was when he saw the flash of green that streaked across the room.

  A warning shot.

  Bloody hell.

  He knew what that meant and he knew why she was coming.

  It was she who left the tea.

  His frame tightened and he gently slid Madeleine off his body. He rolled away from her and found his feet on the floor by the side of the bed. He had his breeches on with all the buttons done up when the green mist started swirling in the room. He’d pulled his sweater on and was standing with his hands on his hips when sh
e formed three feet in front of him.

  “You’ll speak quietly,” he commanded immediately. “Madeleine is sleeping.”

  The witch looked to the bed then to Apollo.

  “Madeleine?” she asked, thankfully her voice was soft.

  “Her name in this world,” he explained.

  “Madeleine,” she said it like she was tasting it on her tongue. “I approve of this name,” she shared.

  He didn’t respond to that because he didn’t care if she approved or not. Maddie approved of it. Indeed, she’d claimed it with a vivacity that was vaguely troubling.

  But it meant something to her so it was hers and it didn’t matter what the witch thought of it.

  “The adela tea,” he stated and felt her eyes grow intense on him.

  He saw her shadow give a delicate shrug. “You were taking too long.”

  He was right in what he’d deduced when she fired her warning shot, indicating she was coming. Valentine had left the adela tea for Maddie to find. And drink.

  He felt the skin around his neck get tight and his voice was a growl when he said, “That was sly and scheming.”

  He saw her head tip to the side. “Are you arguing the results?”

  He didn’t respond to that.

  Instead, he said, “You have not made the road Madeleine must travel any easier.”

  “Oh, chéri,” she purred. “I don’t know about that.”

  He fought back the urge to lean into her threateningly. “In times like these, a woman like that, you play?”

  “It wasn’t me playing last night, Ulfr…” she hesitated and finished, “for five hours.”

  He continued to struggle with his anger as he clipped, “You watched?”

  “It was gravely annoying, your gentlemanly behavior.”

  He ground his teeth.

  “But,” she went on, “your capitulation was spectacular.”

  He came close to losing his struggle and warned, “I would leave me now, witch.”

  “Calm, chéri,” she urged. “I only watched until you tackled her. As magnificent as that was, I left you to your enjoyment of each other and waited the duration the effects the adela tea normally lasts. And considering your obvious”—she swept a hand his way— “virility, I gave it even more time. Only then did I check to be certain I could come to visit. By the time I did, cuddling had commenced.”

  At least she gave them that.