by Megan Hart
Nessa drew in a deep, sobbing breath. Edward put a hand on the back of her neck, holding her still while his other slipped round to toy with the gems dangling from her nipples. He tugged them gently, and her body jerked.
Edward slipped off first one, then the other, and the relief was so great and at the same time, so disappointing, she cried out. He massaged her nipples gently, tweaking them, and put the chains on the desk. He shifted behind her and she heard the rasp of his buttons being undone. She tensed, waiting, her heart thundering.
His hand still on the back of her neck, holding her still, Edward reached around to tug the chain on her clit. Nessa cried out again, hips pumping forward. Edward gave it another small tug before slipping it off her clit. Again, the release was so great she almost came right then and there. Both her passages convulsed on the beads inside her, and her clit, released from its binding, fluttered. Orgasm hovered, enormous, like a wave curled to strike the shore.
Edward put his hand to the bead resting against her labia, and he eased the second from inside her. She was making a series of shuddering, gasping cries at this point, unable to breathe without making a noise. The next bead slid from inside her, and she bucked her hips helplessly. By the time he slid the final bead from her quim, Nessa could no longer tell if she were climaxing or only riding one long wave of ecstasy that didn't seem to end. There were no dips, no valleys, only a series of higher and higher peaks. Edward shoved his cock inside her, fucking roughly, but she was so wet, so open, so ready, it only made her push back against him at once. Her hands slid on the polished wood as he thrust so hard he moved her entire body. He grunted, fingers pulling her hair again. Nessas cries eased as her climax dipped and softened. Only for a moment, however, as in the next she felt him tug the final adornment.
Edward fucked his prick inside her, hard, even as he pulled out the first bead. The dual sensation, of being filled and emptied at the same time, left her too breathless for even a scream. All she could do was breathe.
Her first climax had overwhelmed her, sent her tumbling. It had not yet ended when this new sensation sent her soaring again. A thrust, a tug, and as his thrust became faster, harder, pounding into her slick passage, he released the final bead and she came again, moaning and shivering.
Edward let out a shout and thrust once more, so hard he moved the desk and her hands slid again on the wood. His fingers released her hair and returned to the back of her neck. He pumped a bit, slowly, and then bent forward to kiss her shoulder blade. His shirt felt smooth on her bare skin, and she realized he'd done no more than open his trousers to take her. For some reason, this made her smile. Then laugh, the sound hoarse from her abused vocal chords, but recognizable.
He kissed her shoulder again and withdrew. She let out a murmur of protest. She wasn't sure she could move.
And then, she didn't have to, for Edward put an arm under her shoulders and one beneath her thighs, and he picked her up and carried her to bed, where he tucked her between clean, cool sheets, and she slept.
Chapter 7
Cillian was calmer than Edward had seen him in a very long time. The Prince of Firth reclined on the chaise lounge, his shirt unlaced at the throat, his jacket tossed without ceremony into the corner. He'd unbound his hair and the autumn-leaf waves tumbled over his shoulders and gleamed in the light of the fire. He sighed, sounding so deeply content that Edward chuckled.
Cillian looked up. "I amuse you?"
Edward shook his head. "I'd never have thought to see the day when you, my lord, were worn out from playing cards."
"Not merely cards, dear one." Cillian's lips tipped. "Cards with Lady Larissa. That woman is a harpy."
Edward glanced through the open doors toward the next room, where Ladies Larissa, Marvina, and Sentinell laughed at the antics of Alaric and the other lords Cillian had brought with him.
"James and Persis are amusing them." Edward took a long drink from his mug of spiced hard cider. "And Larissa is laughing quite heartily at Alaric." Cillian sat up in his chair to follow Edward's gaze. "At least he seems contented in his role, which is more than I can say for you. When are you going to come back to me, Edward? I miss you."
"I haven't gone away, my lord."
Cillian sniffed. "You've known me for how long?"
"Six years in school. Five since then. Eleven total." Edward watched the activity in the other room as James and Persis acted out what he'd have guessed to be the Follies'
Uprising, based on the tablecloths they'd thrown over their heads.
"For Kedalya!" Cried Persis, tearing off the makeshift veil and miming stabbing a shocked-looking Alaric. "Rise, sisters, rise!"
This set Larissa and her companions into gales of silly giggles that made Cillian wince. He got up and went to the double pocket doors and slid them closed with a bang.
"Eleven years you have known me. One would imagine that after that time, you would adore me better." Cillian sank back onto the chaise, an arm thrown over the side to pillow his head.
Edward thought carefully before answering. Once he'd cared very much for the man before him. Once, they'd run like young wolves with nothing to stop them. He sipped cider while formulating his reply.
"You have my loyalty and my companionship, my lord prince." Cillian sighed and rolled his gaze toward Edward. "I used to have your love. Your boon companionship. We ravaged the streets and poetry houses. We were the envy of everyone. You and I and Alaric. Now my father pays you to play nursemaid to me, to keep his abomination of a son from embarrassing him the more."
"You still have my friendship, Cillian." Edward got up to pace in front of the fire. "Just because I don't go whoring with you—"
"You used to be right there with me," Cillian interrupted. "Every step. Every new venture."
"Every vice, you mean." Edward turned to look at him.
Cillian didn't pout. His eyes glittered. "Every excitement. Surely you remember that? The thrill of learning a new trick? Some new decadence to taste?" Edward remembered, though he wanted to forget. "That was a long time ago." Cillian got to his feet to stalk toward him and take the cup of cider from Edward's hand. He sipped before pushing it back to its place in Edwards palm.
"Not so long ago that you've forgotten, my dear one. I see it in your eyes when you attend me in the playroom. I see it there, now."
Edward knew better than to try to pretend otherwise. He'd never been able to hide anything from either one of them, Alaric or Cillian, his two best friends.
"I remember. Of course I do."
"Is that why you took a Handmaiden?"
Startled, Edward clattered his cup against the stone mantle. "No!" Cillian smiled. "Are you sure?"
Edward shook his head, though the memory of Stillness, her pretty nipples and quim glittering with jewels, would not leave him. "She's not a whore." Cillian raised one perfect brow. "I never said she was. But she is a Handmaiden, bound to give you what you desire for the purpose of giving you peace."
"Stillness has nothing to do with the pleasures you enjoy." Edward tossed back the rest of his cider and put the cup back on the table. From the other room, filtered laughter made him turn. "And you have Persis to frolic with. You don't need me." Cillian's brow remained raised. "Persis is my lover, Edward, not my friend. You and I were something bed partners could never be. I thought you knew that. It's the friendship I miss." Cillian paused, his voice dipping. "You could always make me laugh. Do you know that? Really laugh. You and Alaric were the only two who didn't treat me like my crown was something to be revered. You are the brother of my heart, Edward. What can I do to get that back?" Edward said nothing, his gut churning at Cillian's speech. He no longer doubted Cillian's sincerity. Yet he could do naught for it but answer with honesty.
"Nothing," said Edward. "It died, along with the girl." Then he opened up the double doors and rejoined the others, leaving Cillian to stand alone behind him.
Nessa watched from the window for Edward's return. The little party, five men
including Edward, and three women, had spent the day picnicking in Edward's far field, where a small, clear pond allowed bathing. She'd already filled the bath for him and laid out his clothes. She hummed to herself as she puttered around his sitting room, thinking of how much she looked forward to this time of day. The time when he returned to her, if only for an hour or so before returning to his guests.
The nights she liked even better, for then she had him for hours on end, and her service to him no longer meant serving tea and running a bath. She smiled. At night it meant a completely other world.
"I see now why he keeps you locked away. You're too lovely to share with the rest of us." The voice from the doorway made her turn, but Nessa was quick. She bobbed a small curtsy. "My lord prince."
Cillian laughed as he entered the room. "I'm not your prince, Handmaiden. Am I?" Technically, he wasn't, as she wasn't a citizen of Firth. Nessa smiled anyway. "When in the home of another, obey another's laws."
He moved into the room with fluid grace, each movement almost like a dance step. "You may call me Cillian. I'd prefer it, in fact."
She had to keep turning her body to follow his movement through the room. Cillian pretended interest in the rows of books, the desk, even the windows before finally turning his gaze back to her. He had bright green eyes, the color of summer grass. They were not soft eyes, and she stepped back upon instinct when he speared her with his gaze.
"My lord Edward has not yet returned. I expect him at any moment. Would you like to wait for him, or perhaps I could give him a message?"
Cillian came closer, that sharp gaze studying her closely. Nessa didn't back away, even though he stood close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. He wasn't as tall as Edward, his form slighter, but she had no false beliefs that his lesser stature made him less strong. Cillian Derouth made her wary, but not anxious.
"Cillian," she said steadily. "When in another's house—"
"Obey its laws. This I know." His charming smile was at odds with the calculating gaze.
"He has you adorned."
Not a question, and before she could answer he'd reached to run a thumb over the fabric of her gown, just over her nipple. The tight flesh responded at once.
"Here," he murmured, and rubbed the other. "And there. Aye?" She didn't have to nod. His touch would have told him the answer. On fire with sensation, her nipples poked the front of her gown.
"And one on that sweet slit, too, I daresay."
For one moment she thought he meant to touch her there, too, but Cillian only used his gaze to caress between her legs. Nevertheless, the scrutiny made her acutely aware of the clip on her clitoris, and how the weight of the gem dangling from it tugged with every step.
"And inside you, as well?" He breathed, voice a little hoarse. Cillian's eyes narrowed in speculation and he leaned even closer, to whisper in her ear. "I taught him how to do that."
She had no answer for that, but he seemed to expect none.
Cillian drew back. "You smell good. Is that for him, too?"
"Everything I do is for him," she managed to say.
She couldn't read his expression. After a moment, he gave a small nod, as though he'd expected her answer. He stepped back. Nessa let out the breath she'd been holding.
"Tell Edward it would please me if you were to join us for supper." Cillian smiled and gave her a half bow, then left the room without waiting for her to answer. But then, she mused, watching him go, he was likely so accustomed to being obeyed he didn't need to hear her agree.
When she told Edward what his prince had requested of him, her patron was rather less than pleased.
"Damn him to the Void," he muttered. "He knows a Handmaiden is not required to serve any but her patron."
"He didn't ask it of me, Edward. He bid me ask it of you."
"Knowing I can hardly refuse him, the bold bastard."
"If it doesn't please you for me to attend the supper, than I shall not." The answer wasn't quite that simple, and she knew it.
Edward cast a glance at her. "And that would grieve my prince, who might take it upon himself to be less than diplomatic in his response to not being obeyed."
"He has no rule over me, but he has over you. And therefore, though it might not please you for me to attend supper at his command, it would surely please you less to make him angry." Calmly, Nessa checked his clothes for stains and tears as she folded or hung them neatly.
"He seeks to plague me. Cillian is a malicious bastard, when he wants to be, which is sadly more often than not."
She put her hand over his wrist, bringing his palm to her lips to kiss it. "It is no trouble for me to serve you at supper, Edward. I don't mind it."
Something worked in his eyes, the expression unreadable. "You're not here to be paraded about like a prize ewe, or to be gawked over like a rare flower, which is why Cillian wants you there."
"He seeks to shame you?"
"No."
Nessa raised a brow.
"Cillian and I were school chums, along with Alaric. We were something of a ... a pack if you will. Getting into trouble and such. I did things then I was too young and stupid not to understand that they were wrong."
She had an idea of what some of those things were. She passed a hand over her breast, the contact making her nipple thrust forward. "He told me he taught you the use of the adornments."
"Among other things. He wants me to be the lad I was. Not the man I am."
"And your friendship?"
"I'm loyal to my prince. And I fulfill my duties to him as best I can, upon the order of his father, our king. Beyond that, there is nothing."
"That must hurt him a great deal," Nessa said after a moment. Edward's eyes grew wide before narrowing. "I was ever his friend despite his crown, not because of it. Naught's changed in that. You know naught of what passed between us, Handmaiden. But I assure you, if you did you would not be so quick to jump to Cillian's defense!"
There it was. The damage done. Edward's secret. His reason for needing her. Now was the time to push him a little into revealing it to her, for ripping off the scab so the wound could at last release the poison beneath . . . but Nessa didn't push. She didn't want him to start healing. For the first time in all her years of service, Nessa wished to fail.
"I plead your mercy," she said in a voice more tremulous than she'd intended and turned her face from his so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes.
"You will attend me at supper. But not in service. You will sit at the table with us, as any guest would. I can at least balk him in that."
She looked at him. "I will gladly do whatever you want me to do. You know I will. For whatever your reason."
He softened a bit toward her and reached a hand to touch her cheek. "I know. Which is the only reason I will allow it."
Emotion blurred her vision and closed her throat. He embraced her. She felt the point of his chin atop her head and heard him breath in deep against her hair. But he said nothing, and after a moment Nessa gently broke free and set about laying out his clothes for supper table truly fit for a prince." Alaric lifted his chin toward the spread.
"And food fit for all of us, I daresay, and about half a dozen more." Edward turned to look at his friend. "You've appetite enough, haven't you?" Alaric grinned wolfishly. "Indeed, I have. A man must keep up his strength for all your brannigan's amusements."
Edward laughed and reached to touch the faint purpling mark upon Alaric's neck, half hidden by his cravat. "I think games of quoites and snap me are not quite so taxing as the other amusements in which you've been partaking."
Alaric laughed and danced out of his reach. "Shall I complain? I dare not. Fate brought my Lady Larissa here, and who am I to argue with Fate?"
"Cillian brought her here," corrected Edward.
"Because he knew she would be pleased to find me part of the party, old man. And a pleased Lady Larissa is one far easier to deal with than a grumpy one."
"And what of a pleased Alaric?
" Edward asked, curious.
"Also much easier to deal with." Alaric's ready smile grew soft, his gaze a bit distant, in thought. "I find the lady's company most pleasing, Edward. I'm fair grateful for this chance to prove my . . . loyalties."
Edward grinned and clapped Alaric on the shoulder. "You don't mean to tell me—"
"I do. If she'll have me." Alaric made a half bow. "I'd be glad for you to stand beside me when we wed, if you would."
Alaric, married? And to Lady Larissa, no less? As Edward further congratulated his friend with another clap on the back, he couldn't help feel a faint sense of surprise and disappointment. If even flighty Alaric could wed, did that not mean there could be a chance for Edward, as well?
"Alaric," came the dulcet tones of Lady Larissa from the doorway. She nodded at Edward as graciously as a queen and held out her hand.
Alaric bent over her hand, his lips brushing the back of it, before straightening. "May I escort you to your seat?"
James showed up after that, with a pouting Persis a moment later still. Sentinell and Marvina cooed and fluttered while James paid them both a great deal of attention and Persis slouched in his chair.
"Your mercy, my dear Edward, for our late arrival. But I found this lovely creature hesitating on the stairs and thought to escort her myself." Cillian's languid drawl drew Edward's attention to the doorway, where the prince had appeared with Stillness on his arm.
Edward found only silence at the sight of her. She'd insisted he go down ahead of her, saying she would need time to prepare herself appropriately for a social supper. He'd been expecting to see her clad in the gown of her profession, the high-necked, long-sleeved, floor-length gown that buttoned from throat to hem.
He would never have thought she could look lovelier to his eyes than she had already become, no matter what the gown, but the sight of her literally drew away his breath. The simple dress, unadorned with feathers or ribbon, nevertheless had a fashionable cut. It dipped low, cut square across her chest, and showed a generous amount of decolletage. The high waist bound her just below her breasts and the skirt fell in a straight line to her ankles. She'd pulled her hair up high on her head, revealing the graceful curve of her neck and throat. The sight of a small purple mark at one collarbone, the mark left by his mouth, was enough to stir his cock in memory of when he'd put it there.