Return of the Prince_Medieval Romance

by Elise de Sallier

  Lord, how he wanted her . . . naked, clothed, it didn’t matter. Having his wife willingly yield her body to his, and take pleasure from the experience, was more than he had ever hoped for.

  “You can take it off if you want,” she murmured against his lips, and they both stilled. “My chemise. I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Are you sure?” He echoed his earlier words, as did Eloise her answer. But this time, her softly spoken “very” contained such a sensual lilt it stole his breath. Proving her willingness, she rolled away from him and reached for the hem of her slip.

  “No. Let me.” Destrian’s voice, when he found it, was gruff. Putting action to his words, his hands skimmed up her thighs, taking the fabric with them over her hips, brushing against her slender waist, and then past her ribcage. Smiling shyly, she lifted her shoulders from the bed, so he could smooth the bunched chemise along the length of her raised arms, removing it entirely. Resisting the urge to glance down at her now naked body, he kept his gaze fixed on her lovely face. Looking up at him with her long brown hair spread out on the pillow around her, the adoration shining from her eyes was almost his undoing.

  “I love you,” he said, his fingers softly stroking her shoulder.

  “As I love you.”

  She reached for him, and he came willingly. Covering her body with his, the feel of her smooth, satiny skin caused the air to rush from his lungs. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair and drawing his head down to hers. In the process, his chest brushed the tight buds of her nipples, and she gasped. Fearing she might have changed her mind about being naked in his arms, he went to draw back. But she arched beneath him, as if she wanted more.

  Could it be possible? Oh, he hoped so, one hand daring a whisper soft caress along her side.

  “Eloise?” He raised up a little, taking heart from her soft smile. “Can I touch your breasts?”

  She smiled and looked down, drawing his gaze to her shadowed but clearly visible, perfectly rounded, rose tipped breasts. The sight was such sheer perfection, he could do naught but stare for the longest moment, his mouth agape.

  “Destrian?” A flush of colour spread across her chest, and he looked up to see her nibbling on her lower lip. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Wrong?” he croaked. “Hell, no! I mean, no. I mean, you are so beautiful, Eloise. I’m just . . . I’m . . . speechless!”

  Her lips curved into a smirk. “For a man who is speechless, you seem to be doing a lot of talking.”

  Reaching for his hand, she did the unthinkable and placed it upon her breast. While Merek had boasted of his conquests, Destrian had never been very comfortable around women. His experiences had been limited to brief, somewhat impersonal couplings. He had never touched a bare breast before, and he was so very glad the first one belonged to his wife. She whimpered but rather than lift his hand away, she pressed it against her more firmly, crying out when his fingers squeezed the soft, creamy flesh.

  “Oh, Eloise,” he whispered, his caresses growing bolder as he caressed her with his hand while teasing and tweaking the nipple with his fingers. He watched in awe as her breast swelled at his touch, the nipple hardening and lengthening. His manhood responded in kind, proving this was a night of firsts, as he had never been so hard or so desperate to find release. Thrusting gently against the soft, warm place at the juncture of her thighs, Destrian groaned, overwhelmed on two fronts.

  Thankfully, Eloise seemed similarly affected. Her breath came in short pants, her eyes dark and luminous as she watched him watching her . . . touching her . . . rocking against her. Sliding her arms around his back, her hands began their own exploration of his flesh, stroking in time with his caresses. When his fingers trailed across the sweet valley between her breasts, she arched beneath him and let out a little cry. Of indignation?

  Frowning, Destrian wondered how he could pleasure both of her breasts at once. An idea came to mind, a desire once formed that demanded fulfilment . . . if he dared. First kissing her mouth, a tempting distraction, he nibbled his way along her jaw, down the column of her neck, and across her collarbone. Having almost reached his destination, he hesitated. What if it was too much? She squeezed his shoulders, giving him the confidence he needed to continue. When he reached the upper swell of her breast, he took his time planting kisses on the delicate mound, savouring its creamy perfection. With one nipple rolling beneath his palm, he reached the other with his lips, nuzzling it softly while being serenaded by Eloise’s cries. Glancing up, he saw her head tossing from side to side, an encouraging sign. Still, he waited, and she opened her eyes to stare down at him.

  Their gazes locked. Her desire-darkened eyes granted him permission, and he lowered his head, capturing her nipple with his mouth.

  “Destrian!” She arched beneath him, and he smiled against her breast before the sensation of suckling her nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth captured every ounce of his attention.

  Bliss!

  He’d had no idea suckling a woman’s breast would be so pleasurable. His groans mingled with Eloise’s cries, the sweet sound and way she writhed beneath him assuring him she was receiving as much enjoyment from his attention as he was from giving it. Long moments passed while he paid homage to her breasts with his lips and tongue. Her fingers clutched at his back, her thighs caressing his hips, opening her body to him. When her hands roamed lower and reached the waist band of his breeches, he deemed she was ready to take the next step in their journey. At least, he hoped so. Heaven help him if she wasn’t.

  While kissing his way back to her mouth, Destrian’s hands trailed across her belly until they reached the hallowed ground between her thighs. Her curls were damp, the silken folds slippery to his touch. He stroked her gently, probing and exploring the soft flesh his aching manhood would soon claim. She was so tight, and he feared hurting her, but now that he had touched her, waiting even a minute longer wasn’t an option . . . not if he didn’t want to arrive at their destination alone. Undoing the ties on his breeches, he pushed them all the way down his legs, so he could kick them off.

  “Eloise, my love.” His senses whirled, as she opened herself to him, her mouth to the questing of his tongue and her legs so he could position himself in the cradle of her hips. Guiding his rigid member to the entrance to her body, he raised his head to meet her steady gaze.

  “Are you ready?”

  She nodded, and relief swamped him.

  “Tell me if you need me to stop,” he added, and her expression grew wary.

  “Will it hurt very much?” she asked, and he hesitated, wishing he could assure her that it wouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter,” she said with a shake of her head. “You are my husband, and I love you.” She urged him forward with her hands at his back, and he slowly pushed forward.

  Nothing happened. Her body resisted his invasion, and Destrian stilled. Her entrance was too small, too delicate. He would surely harm her if he forced his way inside, something he couldn’t bear, no matter how much he wanted to make her his. He went to pull back, but a determined expression appeared in Eloise’s eyes, replacing the hint of fear.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered, pulling his head down to hers at the same time as she raised her hips. Whether it was the change of angle, or the distraction of their lips hungrily tasting one another, this time when he pressed forward, her body welcomed him. He slid inside several inches with only the barest of resistance. Sheathed by her silken warmth, overcome by the sweetest of sensations, Destrian moaned into her mouth. He should stop. Should ensure she was well, unharmed, that it was not unkind for him to proceed, but his body refused to obey. His hips flexed, his member pushing inside her until he could go no farther.

  “Oh, God, I am sorry,” he murmured between panted breaths. “Shall I withdraw?”

  “No!” Eloise hugged him tight. “Just hold still for a moment, if it is allowable for me to ask?”

  Destrian raised his head, relieved not to see tears in Eloi
se’s eyes though the skin around them seemed a little tight.

  “You are in pain?”

  She shook her head, then shrugged a shoulder a fraction.

  “Tis nothing. Well, tis not nothing.” A shy and, dare he believe it, sultry smile curved her lips. “You are stretching me inside due, as your, er . . . member is not small. But I think that might be a good thing once I become accustomed to the feeling.”

  “You do?” A surge of excitement he had no hope of containing saw his manhood pulse within her tight sheath, his hips rocking forward of their own accord. Eloise’s eyes fluttered close, a soft moan escaping her lips.

  “A very good thing,” she whispered, and Destrian’s face lit with a grin that could rival the sun at noon. Still, he was careful to withdraw slowly, watching her for a wince or cry or any sign that he should stop. Joy inexpressible welled within him when all he saw on her face was a heady mix of intrigue and pleasure. Even so, he was determined not to hurt her. Since kissing seemed to help, he lowered his mouth to hers as he pushed back inside the pure, unadulterated bliss that was her body. His second, slow withdrawal wrested a cry from her lips, but it wasn’t of pain, he was sure of it, especially when she raised her knees to hug his hips.

  “Ah, Eloise . . . yes.” He moaned the words against her lips, and she took it a step further, wrapping her legs Around the back of his thighs.

  “Again . . . faster,” she murmured, and Destrian was happy to oblige. Hell, he was the happiest man alive. Breaking away from her lips, he drew in a ragged breath and burrowed his face in the curve of her neck. Savouring the stunning feel of her beneath him, surrounding him, encasing his heated flesh, he thrust inside her body. Her earlier timidity well and truly banished, Eloise welcomed him, urging him on with her hands at his back and her legs gripping his thighs. A quick study, she soon caught his rhythm, her hips rolling to meet his steady strokes. The air filled with the sound of her cries, and his breath came fast and hard as they moved in tandem.

  Destrian wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve Eloise. Strange though it might sound, but with the way things had turned out, being shot in the back with an arrow was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He would gladly endure the discomfort of the fall from his horse, the sprained ankle, the cuts and bruises to have her in his life. Just as he would gladly pay whatever price was required of him for making her his wife. She was worth it, and he was determined she would not regret marrying him.

  Staving off his release for as long as he could, he hoped against hope she would find hers first. Of course, he knew it was unlikely. Reaching completion was more elusive for a woman than a man, or so he’d been informed. This was Eloise’s first time, so he imagined it was asking too much. But then it happened, or at least it began, and her internal muscles clenched around him.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Raising his head, Destrian saw a look of surprised delight on Eloise’s face. He didn’t think she was quite there, but she was close, and he would have loved to coax her to her peak—something he had heard Merek speak of doing, the knowledge stored away for future reference—but he had left it too late. Shocks of pure pleasure were already racing down his spine. They pooled in his groin, exploding outwards in wave after shuddering wave of ecstasy.

  “Eloise!” he cried, as his body found the ultimate release in his beautiful bride.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Nestled in her husband arms, Eloise felt tears spring to her eyes. Happy tears, mostly. Maybe a tiny amount of disappointment. She wasn’t certain, but she suspected she had been close to experiencing something quite magical. Destrian had certainly felt it if his groans and the way he had shook and quaked above her was anything to go by. He had held her so tightly before collapsing atop her, she had feared being crushed. But then he had been quick to lift up, taking his weight on his elbows and apologising. She hadn’t minded, she just wished for . . . something. An odd and uncomfortable restlessness hummed beneath her skin, and she pondered how strange it all was. The pain of losing her virginity had thankfully been fleeting, her first bout of love making engendering the most astonishing feelings. But it was only because it was Destrian kissing her, touching her, moving inside her. She shuddered, and not with pleasure, at the thought of the horror she would have experienced if Mr Festerly had been in his place.

  “Sweetheart?” Destrian raised his head, worry clouding his eyes as he stroked the hair back from her forehead. “What is it? Did I hurt you too badly?”

  “No, it was lovely.” She cupped his cheek with her hand and willed herself not to cry. “I am just so very relieved that you are my husband and not . . .”

  “Shh . . .” he murmured when she couldn’t continue, wiping away the tears that spilled onto her cheeks. “Only me. Always. Forever.”

  A smile curved her lips. “Forever is a long time.”

  “Barely a beginning.” He mirrored her expression before his smile slowly faded. “It was good for you?”

  Colour bloomed in her cheeks. How was she supposed to answer such a question, especially since their bodies were still intimately joined? Of all the things she had imagined, indulging in conversation at such a time was not one of them.

  “It was lovely,” she repeated her earlier assertion, and he breathed a sigh. “Is that it, then?” she heard herself ask. “We are . . . done?”

  Destrian’s eyes darkened, and he twitched inside her. Another of the delicious contractions she had felt just before he had finished pulsed low in her belly, and she gasped.

  There was no denying she would like to feel more of those.

  “Actually, I don’t think we are.” Tightening his grip, he rolled them both over before urging her to sit up with her knees either side of his hips. “If you are not too sore, I would like to try that again from a different angle.”

  “I’m not too sore,” she whispered, resisting the urge to cover the breasts he was blatantly ogling. His hands reached to cup them, and she moaned, arching into him as his thumbs teased her nipples. He kept up the circular motion while she panted above him, then his hands trailed to her hips and showed her how to raise and lower herself on his rather impressive shaft. She had assumed it would deflate now that he had spilled his seed inside her, but it was still hard, deliciously so.

  “I am glad you are all right to continue,” he murmured, one hand guiding her movements while the fingers of the other teased a sensitive place at the juncture of her thighs. “I don’t mean to be greedy,” he added with a groan, “but I have a particular purpose in mind.”

  The gentle swirls of his fingers, touching just above where they were joined, flooded her body with languorous heat. Drawing in a ragged breath, her head fell back, as any lingering tenderness was forgotten. With her hips finding a sensual rhythm, one that allowed little room for shyness, Eloise gave herself up to the feel of Destrian’s shaft filling and stretching her. Her breath coming in short pants, she struggled to form the words to ask, “What purpose might that be?”

  He didn’t answer straight away, and a whisper of fear that what they were doing was too shocking—too wonderful—to be allowed, worried at the edges of her conscience. Before it could grow any louder, the voice was silenced by a throbbing deep inside her. The pressure built, twinges of ecstasy sparking along her nerves until she was whimpering with need.

  “This purpose,” Destrian groaned, as he teased and aroused and penetrated her sensitive flesh.

  Eloise’s breasts bounced, and he lifted his head to capture a nipple with his mouth, suckling hard. It was too much, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. The yearning inside her grew to an unbearable level, but just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, a burst of pure bliss radiated out from her core. Convulsions wracked her body, the stunned cry that erupted from her throat all but drowning out Destrian’s triumphant groan, his purpose well and truly achieved.

  Chapter 17

  Asoft sigh escaped Eloise’s lips . . . lips that were redder than us
ual and swollen from so much kissing. Who knew such bliss was possible? Taking one last, lingering look at the cottage, she stifled a second sigh. If it were possible, she would have gladly stayed in the little guest house forever, the last few days the happiest of her life.

  After her father’s death, she had thought she would never be happy again, resigning herself to a life devoid of hope, of possibility. It had been easier that way. Meeting Ayleth had caused her to question her assumptions. The occasional moment she had been able to steal with her new friend had lifted the burden of despondency from Eloise’s shoulders . . . a little. She’d thought nothing could save her from her fate, and waiting to be widowed to experience a measure of freedom had seemed an exercise in futility.

  Destrian’s surprising intrusion into her life had been a shining reprieve from her sombre existence, the unexpected feelings he had inspired jolting her from her ennui. Meekly following the path laid out for her was no longer an option, and she had come up with a plan to carve a better future for herself . . . with Destrian’s help. The best she had hoped to achieve was independence; the freedom to not be bartered and beaten into submission. But marriage to a man of her choosing, one who had won her heart and captivated her soul, was beyond her wildest expectations.

  For three nights and two days, Destrian had cherished her body, filling her heart to overflowing with his adoration. She had lived in dread of surrendering her virginity to her husband, but far from the horror and pain she had expected, being intimate with Destrian had been a wondrous experience. To her joy, he had found equal delight in her body, but it was more than her physical form that enthralled him. He was eager to know her . . . asking questions and prompting her to share stories of her life, her past. Unearthing the grief she had kept buried with his gentle probing, he had held her while she cried, promising she would never be abandoned or abused again. To her astonishment, he listened to her opinions, honoured her wishes, and treated her with a degree of respect that filled her with awe . . . and more than a little bemusement. Who had ever heard of a husband treating his wife as an equal? No wonder she didn’t want to leave—a part of her fearing it was all a dream and dark reality would soon reassert itself.