No Prince Charming

by J. C. Daniels

  Elle sighed. “What did you see?”

  “You. A dirty street. Rain. Two men. Not much else.” Too much…and not enough. His gut was hot and tight, and fury left his muscles tensed and aching. Swallowing against the knot in his throat, he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  Elle glanced at him. Then she patted the bed beside her. “Come sit. Somehow, I suspect this will happen again unless we do something to stop it.”

  Michael scowled. “And what do you propose we do? Do you plan on running from me again?”

  “No.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and held out a hand. “Come sit down. I don’t want to do this, but I’m going to tell you what happened.”

  Hell.

  He padded to the bed and sat on the edge, cautiously. As he took her hand she rolled to her knees and moved across the bed until she reached him. Then she settled in his lap.

  “It happened in Nice. And it was raining. Marguerite had cousins there and I had thought to find them. But I got lost. There’s so much noise in cities, so much emotion. I was half out of my mind. The storm came on so fast and there was thunder. My horse hated storms. I knew that, but I had no place to take shelter, not unless I found Marguerite’s cousins. I was tired, scared. I don’t really remember exactly what happened, but I think my horse threw me, because the next thing I remember is wandering the streets, wet, hungry, cold and half-sick.”

  She was crying, tears rolling unchecked down her face. Michael reached up, wiping them away. Then he tucked her head under his chin and started to rock her, stroking her back and combing his fingers through her tangled hair.

  “They grabbed me. These two men. I don’t even remember what they looked like. But they had strong hands and when I fought them, they laughed.” Abruptly, she tensed, pushing lightly against his chest. “I need to walk.”

  Reluctantly, he let her go. She grabbed the sheet from the bed and wound it around her like a toga. The rest of the words poured from her in a torrent, harsh and fast. “When I fought, they hit me. When I screamed, they choked me. I stopped fighting because I couldn’t breathe. They tore off my clothes. One of them tried to push his penis into my mouth and I bit him. He hit me again, so hard that time that I think I passed out. When I woke, I was between them.”

  She shot him a look of revulsion. “Earlier when you touched me…there, you asked if I had ever had a lover there. No, because the one thing I do remember clearly from that night is that pain. When I think of that pain, I freeze.”

  Michael curled his fingers into the mattress, clutching at it. He wanted so badly to go to her. He wanted so badly to hold her.

  I have no right. No right to touch her. No right to comfort her.

  “Stop,” Elle said quietly. She stared at him with knowing eyes and shook her head. “It was not your fault.”

  “How can you say that? How?”

  “Because it isn’t.” She wiped her tears away, crossed the floor and settled once more on his lap, draping her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her brow to his. “What’s done is done. And as horrible, as awful as that pain was, that night no longer haunts me the way it used to. I don’t even remember much of it. The rain, the pain, their laughter…” Her voice trailed off and she lifted her head, staring past his shoulder.

  “Sometimes I wake up remembering the pain, but then it’s done. There’s not much left of that night. Just little bits and pieces, and then darkness. I didn’t want to die, but they had hurt me so badly I was already almost gone. I heard a voice—a man telling me that I was safe. That no one would hurt me again. And even though the pain had chased me into the darkness, it was suddenly gone. I was warm and I wasn’t afraid. The voice was there again, offering me a choice.” She met his eyes and smiled faintly. She shrugged and murmured, “I wasn’t ready to die. When I woke up, Will was there. He cared for me, trained me, taught me how to shield so my gift didn’t overwhelm me.”

  Will. “Will, huh?”

  “Yes.” She combed a hand through his hair. “You don’t like him.”

  “Does anybody?” Michael asked, his lip curling.

  “I do.” She grinned at him and shrugged. “He really isn’t that bad. I owe him, you know. Not just for my life. He didn’t just keep me from dying…he kept me from hiding away.”

  Something about her voice, something about the look in her eyes hit him and he became aware of a strange, sinking sensation. Will.

  Fuck. Ren. Will. He’d known there would be other men in her life, but putting names to those faceless men made it much harder to handle. But he’d have to handle it. Have to deal with it.

  His voice tight, he said, “You were lovers.”

  She met his eyes levelly. “Yes.” She reached down and caught his wrist, lifting his hand so that his clenched fist was between them. Pressing a kiss to his knuckles, she murmured, “I don’t have to ask if that bothers you. I can already tell. I can live with that because the thought of your past lovers, whoever they may be, is enough to drive me mad. But can you live with it?”

  “What choice do I have?” Michael grimaced. Consciously, he made his muscles relax. “I’m not going to let you go because of whatever men you have been with in the past. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Or him.”

  A sympathetic smile curled her lips. Gently, she kissed him. “No. You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to like him. But he is a friend of mine and I don’t plan on letting that change.” She stroked his shoulders. “He was the first lover I’d had after that night. And it took a couple of years. I was getting worse, instead of better. If he hadn’t… Well, if we hadn’t become lovers, I would have gotten much worse. I think eventually, I would have given up. I would’ve let go of my wings and would’ve waited for old age to kill me. I’m here because of Will.”

  “Shit.” Michael blew out a breath and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Resting his head between her breasts, he murmured, “Then I can be thankful to him, but it still doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” She pressed her lips to his. “Michael?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Make love to me.”

  He cradled her face in his hands and whispered, “Now that idea, I like.”

  He took her mouth with slow, soft kisses, stroking his hands over her back, her sides. He eased down onto the bed, then rolled to his side, tucking her body close to his. He watched her face as he touched her, searching for any sign of fear or uncertainty.

  There was nothing but warmth and passion in her kiss, nothing but love shining in her eyes.

  But when he went to tuck her body under his, she pressed her hands to his chest and whispered, “Not that way.”

  He thought she’d want to be on top, but when he lifted his weight from her, she rolled to her hands and knees. Michael came up behind her, gripping her hips in his hands. She straightened, reaching up and back, wrapping her arms around his head. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. She sighed and rocked back, her warm, soft ass brushing against his cock.

  Michael shuddered but eased his lower body away.

  She reached down between them, stroked his cock. “Make love to me.”

  “Lean forward,” he said hoarsely.

  She did slightly, bracing her weight on one hand. With the other, she gripped his cock, nestling it between the cheeks of her rump. “There, Michael. I want you there.”

  “No.”

  She rubbed against him, moving awkwardly. “Yes. You touched me there…that last day. I remember that, and it didn’t hurt. I know it doesn’t have to be painful and I’m tired of that pain being the source of a nightmare. Take it away, Michael.” She let her head fall back to rest on his shoulder and stared up at him. “I know you can.”

  “Elle, the first few times a woman takes a man’s cock there, it can hurt. Hell, if a man isn’t careful, it can hurt no matter what. I won’t do that to you.”

  Craning her head around, she pressed her mouth to his throat.
“I want you to. And I trust you. You wouldn’t let it hurt.” She touched her tongue to his skin and murmured, “Besides, you want to. I can feel it. And it’s driving me crazy.”

  Michael shuddered, his common sense waging a war with his desires. Yes, he wanted her like that. He wanted her in all ways. He wanted her back on her knees in front of him as he fucked her mouth with his dick and he wanted her tied face down to a bed while he tormented and teased that lovely body and drew her to a gasping, crying climax.

  But he didn’t want to hurt her, scare her. Not ever. He swallowed the knot in his throat and pulled back. “No, Elle. You don’t really want this, darling girl. You know you don’t.”

  “I don’t know that,” she said, staring at him. Her clear blue eyes remained steadily on his as she caught his hand and brought it to her face. She nuzzled his hand, cuddled it against her cheek. “What I do know is that I’m tired of what few mortal memories I have being clouded by the memory of pain. I’m tired of nightmares haunting me. I want to exorcise them from my mind…and this is how I want to do it.”

  She gave him a winsome smile and swayed closer, pressing her lips to his chin. “Besides, you can consider it practice.”

  “Practice?” It was a miracle he could speak at all. His mouth was dry, his throat tight. Everything inside him screamed for him to do just as she asked. He could make it good for her, he knew he could. He could bring her past the nerves, past the fear, past the pain. “Practice for what?”

  “Well, you are supposed to be playing the besotted fool who’ll do anything to keep me happy.” She nipped his chin and reached down, closing her slender fingers around his shaft. “This is what I want…so play your part and indulge me.”

  He slid a hand up her back, fisted it in her hair. “Elle, love, I never had to play any part, not when it came to being your besotted fool.” Cupping her chin, he angled her face up and slanted his mouth over hers. He kissed her, drunk on her taste, drunk on the feel of her.

  Drunk on the knowledge that she still loved him. More, she trusted him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be asking for this. Not after what had happened to her.

  She still loves me…after all I did to her, she still loves me.

  He lifted his head and stared down at her. Stroking his thumb over the full curve of her lower lip, he said, “If you change your mind, tell me to stop…and I will.”

  “I know you will.” She nipped his finger and then shifted on the bed again, bracing her weight on her hands and knees. Over her shoulder, she added, “But I’m not going to change my mind.”

  She rocked against him and Michael hissed out a breath as her silken skin stroked over his cock. He ran his hand down her hip, staring at her heart-shaped ass. His dick jerked painfully, an insistent demand.

  “I’ll need to see if I can find something,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

  She glanced at him. “Find something…?” Then she blushed and settled back on her knees. “Ah, yeah. That might be a good idea.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  I stared at his naked back as he left the room and tried to still the racing of my heart.

  My hands were damp, slick with fear.

  I wanted this, but at the same time, I was terrified. The ghostly echo of a man’s laugher drifted through my mind and I wrapped my arms around my middle. He’d laughed. As he tore my clothes, pulled at my hair and twisted my breasts with cruel hands, he’d laughed. The stink of bad, cheap wine had fogged his breath and the smell of it had almost choked me. The shock of the initial penetration by his friend was nothing compared to the pain…

  My teeth started to chatter and I clenched my jaw to stop it.

  I blinked burning eyes and focused on the black silk of the sheets.

  I wasn’t in a dirty, dark alley in Nice and I wasn’t helpless, trapped by men who were bigger, stronger than me. I knew how to fight and had fought my way out of tight spots more than once. I wasn’t trapped…and I was with Michael.

  He wouldn’t hurt me.

  Taking a deep breath, I relaxed. And just in time too. I heard Michael’s footsteps as he came back into the room and I looked up to smile at him. Then I saw what he held in his hand and I blushed. “You frequently travel around with lubricant in your luggage?” I asked. Making jokes to cover my nerves—it had become my specialty.

  A smile curled his lips. “No. It was in the bathroom—still sealed in its box too. Apparently the owners of the cabin believe in meeting any and all possible needs of their tenants.”

  He tossed the black box down on the bed next to him. I stared at it, pretending a strange fascination with the foil lettering as he settled down behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Second thoughts?”

  I shook my head. “No.” Then I grimaced and admitted, “Well, yes. But then I had third thoughts, and fourth thoughts, and then I had the one thought that mattered more than anything else.”

  “And what’s that?” he asked. He rested a hand on my belly, his fingers splayed.

  I shivered. His hand was so close…so close. The tip of his finger was just a whisper away from the ache between my thighs.

  “That I’m with you,” I said, laying my head against his shoulder and looking into his eyes. “That you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  His mouth brushed against mine. “If you change your mind—”

  “I won’t.” I couldn’t. I didn’t understand why, but I knew I had to do this. I’d had lovers since Michael. I hadn’t closed myself…although at first, I’d tried. But there was a part of me that hadn’t fully trusted the men I’d been with. I certainly hadn’t trusted any of them to do this. Other than Will, I hadn’t trusted them with the dark, terrible secrets of that night either. Not even Ren, and he wasn’t just a lover. He was one of my closest, dearest friends.

  I needed this with Michael. I needed to trust…I needed to trust him. That was how we would heal the wounds that lingered between us. For him, and for me.

  Pulling away, I settled on my hands and knees, then arched my back and smiled at him over my shoulder. He smoothed his hands over my bottom and then slid a hand around between my legs. I shivered as he stroked my clit, toyed with it, rubbing it with steady, firm pressure.

  I felt the brush of his cock against my ass. Nerves danced inside. Trying to block them out, I pushed back against him. Michael rested a hand on my hip. “Slow down, darling girl. There’s no reason to rush it.”

  Yes, there is. We need to do it before I freak…oh.

  Heat jolted through me as he lightly tugged on my clit. He shifted around, guided my body upright so that I knelt between his thighs. I barely noticed. I couldn’t focus on anything but that wicked, wicked hand. He dipped his fingers inside me, drawing the moisture out, spreading it over my swollen clit. Over and over.

  Distantly, I heard something rip but I didn’t know what it was.

  I rocked against his hand, riding him. He whispered against my ear and the low, rough promises made me blush, had me shivering.

  “I want to lay you down beneath me and spread your thighs, lick you right here and suck on your clit. When I do that, you make this little purr, did you know that?”

  “Michael…” I gasped out his name and turned my face towards his. Blindly, I sought out his mouth, sucking his tongue into my mouth and biting him. He growled against my lips and I did it again, and again.

  He scraped his nail over my clit and I arched, stiffened. Hurtling towards climax, I couldn’t do anything but ride it out…and that was when he touched me there.

  His finger was slick, circling the tight entrance but not entering. Under the weight of pleasure, my shields crashed down and I was suddenly acutely aware of him—his hunger, his impatience tempered by his need to make this good for me.

  Nothing is as erotic as knowing the one you want returns the feeling.

  His hunger washed over me and instead of ending, my climax continued, drawing on, and on…lingering until I was panting and gasping and desperate.

  When he tou
ched the puckered entrance again, I blindly pushed against him, seeking some relief from the pressure inside me.

  I cried out as he breeched the tight muscles. As he did that, he also pushed two fingers inside my sex and pressed down right…there…

  I came again, screaming out his name.

  Michael shuddered as she panted and shook in his arms, riding him. He had two fingers buried in her sleek pussy and one finger in her ass. She was tight, tight as a fist, silken soft and so hot. He hissed out a breath as his cock jerked, throbbed. It was pressed against her side and he felt one drop of pre-come slip free.

  He twisted his hand and screwed his finger deeper inside her anal sheath. At the same time, he lowered his mental shields. She’d lowered her own just moments ago, he’d felt it, but he wouldn’t know what she thought unless he reached for her.

  He wouldn’t know if he hurt her—

  The tide of her need swamped him and he groaned out her name, dropping his head down and resting it on her shoulder. She filled him, flooded him—he couldn’t contain it and it spilled out into her. His need fed hers and her need fed his, a twisting, seductive spiral of desire.

  Still, he lashed his hunger down—careful. Slow. He had to be careful. Slow.

  “Michael, please…” she wailed. Her voice was full of something deeper than hunger, deeper than need. He had no word to describe it and the feel of it echoing through him was enough to drive him mad.

  Pulling his hands away, he reached for one of her hands, pressed it between her thighs. “Touch yourself, and keep touching yourself,” he whispered.

  She stared at him, her eyes fogged with hunger, drunk with need.

  She was so fucking beautiful, he thought, dazed. Her breasts, round and plump, were topped with erect nipples. Her cheeks were flushed, her lower lip swollen. The curls between her thighs glistened with moisture.

  “What?”

  He covered her hand and pressed. “Play with yourself, Elle,” he said. He lowered his head and kissed her. “Play with that pretty little pussy for me.”

  He watched as she slowly, hesitantly started to stroke herself, her slim, white fingers stroking over pink, glistening flesh.