The Princess of the Wild

by Lorelei Orion

  She took them in hand.

  “The bath is there,” he offered, pointing at the nearby door. “Make yourself at home.”

  Skye retreated behind the closed door of the bath, glad for a minute alone, to think. She saw her reflection in the wood-framed mirror above the vanity and was surprised by the brilliance of her violet-blue eyes. The warmth of his demeanor had lightened her mood, putting the life back into her face. She knew that he had planned this, to ‘trap’ her here with him, from his ‘gyronic defibrillator’, down to his dramatic landing. But, she wouldn’t let him know that she knew. She was in his clutches—like a rabbit being toyed with by a fox—but she couldn’t seem to find it in her heart to care. He was playing a game with her, but she could play that game also, and she had always been very good at winning games. She had never played this game before, but she thought that she knew the rules. She’d trust her instincts ...

  Although she often found herself becoming tongue-tied in his dominating presence, she would use her wits and see just how far he planned to take her.

  She did want to know the feel of him again ... that maddening euphoria ...

  Truly, what did she have to lose?

  She stripped from his masculine shirt and leggings, and donned the dress. It was soft in material and light blue in color, making the violet hue of her eyes even darker. She hadn’t worn a dress since she was six, but she liked the feel of it. It had long sleeves and a round décolleté that pronounced the swell of her breasts, and it flared out gently from the hips, reaching just beyond the knee. The blue slippers were adjustable, but it was clear that she had a physique similar to his mother’s. She turned to and fro in front of the mirror, liking its feminine charm.

  She fixed her hair a moment with the brush on the counter, and then she was ready to brave him—and what was to come ...

  When she left the bath, she caught how his eyes widened, admiring the sight of her, but he quickly looked away.

  “That’s a nice dress,” he said, a bit too casually. “Ummm ... it’s about noon here, but it was about midnight our time when we landed. Care for some wine?”

  He already had two glasses poured, there on the table by the kitchen. He brought one sparking red goblet to her and gently pushed it into her hand. She met his dark eyes that had an impish gleam in the depths, and had to look away.

  He sauntered away from her, sampling his wine, moving to stand before the open doorway. He looked out on the warm and pleasant day, leaning his free hand against the doorjamb. This day he wore a long-sleeved blue shirt and black leggings, the leggings hugging his extraordinary backside very well.

  Skye fleeted her gaze from there to the quilted bed so near to her, one soft and inviting. She envisioned lying there with him in their natural forms, his warm hands exploring her like he had before, his lips hot on hers ... She glanced at him and saw that he had turned and was watching her, knowing her thoughts. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks, showing him her distress, which made her embarrassment all the more complete.

  Softly, he said, “It’s a beautiful day out there. What do you say we go out and enjoy it?”

  Skye meekly followed him out the doorway, into the sunshine. He moved toward the pond, to a rustic table that was attached to two benches, and he sat on one, and motioned for her to do the same. She sat on the bench across from him, and nervously set her glass down on the table. He stared out on the pond, relishing its shimmer, and then his eyes turned to her.

  “So tell me, Skye. What do you want?”

  Skye paled. “What do I want?”

  “In life, I mean. There must be something you desire, some calling that you want to pursue.”

  She relaxed a bit, seeing his lane of questioning. She thought a moment and realized that she hadn’t really thought about it before. Life was just an experience, whatever was over the next hill. As far as what she would do with her future, if her destiny were in her own hands, she really didn’t know, and couldn’t give him an answer.

  He saw her confusion.

  “But there must be something you want. What are your interests? What do you enjoy doing?”

  The first image that came to her mind was sitting with her guitar by the campfire with her father, playing her music. She had thoroughly enjoyed those moments, becoming lost in the songs, when all of her troubles would fade away.

  “Music,” she murmured.

  “Music!” he uttered, as if finding an answer to a question he had sought. “I had thought that you were the creative type. I bet that you are very good at it. You have such a sweet voice.”

  She blushed under his praise.

  “I love music, too,” he confided. “Is that what you went to school for?”

  She nodded. “Sort of.”

  “But what’s that about—what you said—that you were there only three days?”

  “I didn’t like the college,” she said simply.

  “But where did you go to school before?”

  “My papa schooled me,” she admitted. “We ... traveled a lot.”

  She felt the start of sadness again, missing her father, and as if sensing it, he quickly changed the subject.

  “I imagine that you are good at a great number of things,” he contemplated. “We creative types seem to have a knack for taking to challenges, to the complexities of the arts.”

  She was surprised. “Do you play music, too?”

  “Well, sort of,” he considered. “I’ve dabbled in it, but I don’t really have the voice for it.”

  She thought that he, with his deep and smooth voice, would have more than the quality needed.

  “But then,” he considered. “I don’t have much time for it.”

  She reflected a moment, thinking about his shameful career. “Being an adventurer is that time-consuming?”

  “Oh, very!” he replied, with a chuckle. “Keeps me busy.”

  She wanted to know more. “What exactly is an adventurer?”

  “Umm ... it’s one who travels a lot. They get their funds on a whim, living from minute to minute. It’s just a want of something different, something out of the ordinary. The thrill of the chase ...”

  She imagined that he'd had many pursuits and was disturbed by the thought. Was she yet another? “And when you’ve caught it?” she asked.

  He peered at her curiously, as if he wondered if she knew what she was asking. She managed to give him an innocent expression.

  “That all depends on what it is.” Then, he sighed. “It can be quite a lonely life, though, always in a sea of changing faces but never quite making a true connection with anyone. Kind of lonely ...”

  Skye could understand that, and silently commiserated a moment with him ...

  Suddenly, he rose and stretched out his arms, flexing away his stiffness. “Afternoon, here, midnight, there ... Are you hungry? Thirsty? Want something else?” he asked, pointing at her untouched glass.

  She shook her head and took a quick swallow of the tangy, pleasant spirit.

  “Are you tired? Restless? Want a snack? A peach—an apple—a nut?”

  Skye laughed, thinking that he was a bit of a nut, himself.

  He smiled brightly. “Now, that’s a nice sound! I’d like to hear more of that.”

  She smiled, thinking that he—no doubt—could make that happen.

  He came around to her side of the table.

  “How about if we go for a walk—stretch the legs. Too long on a starship makes me ache.”

  Anticipating, she took his inviting hand.

  Skye walked with him through the forests and glades, feeling right at home. She was in her element out in the wilds, having spent much of her life within them. He seemed assured also, having an inborn grace and sure foot. He would pause, from time to time, telling her an interesting tidbit of fact about a native flower, a tree, a fruit, much of which she already knew, but she would let him display his knowledge, pretending that she didn’t know. For the most part, they walked quietly, and he seeme
d at peace, as if he enjoyed simply being in her presence. As he stopped to rest a moment, flexing his arms up and above him and cupping his hands at his nape, she was nearly overwhelmed with her desire to go to him and have him kiss her ... but she caught herself, and held her ground.

  He bent and plucked for her a bright violet wildflower, and he held it out to her, sweeping down into an exaggerated bow.

  “For you, milady,” he said gallantly.

  She took the flower and he moved on again. She followed, with the perfumed bloom on her nose.

  As the afternoon aged, Skye became confused. She began to wonder if he really did have his ulterior motives, or if she had imagined that. Perhaps he was just being kind, and they truly were trapped here. He made no move for her, though she paused often, giving him plenty of opportunities. Frustration began to grow within her, an indignation that summoned up her feminine wiles. As she deliberately dropped her flower and bent for it—making her breasts swell precariously within her bodice—she caught his sharp gasp, and was assured once more. She straightened to give him a soft smile, to which he quickly looked away and moved on.

  The setting sun was casting its last rays across the land when they returned to the cabin, both tired yet still restless. She sat at the table as he requested, and he flicked the light on in the kitchen and went off to the garden in search of a fresh meal. He returned shortly—inspired—having found something that amazed him.

  “Come here,” he urged. “You have to see this.”

  Curious, she followed him out the cabin onto the lawns. He pointed at the horizon beyond the pond, and against the dark twilight there was the moon, round and vivid and very large. Its light seemed as bright as the sun, glowing with a mystic candescence, in its splendor.

  He came up behind her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. She instantly began to tremble under his touch.

  “That’s the moon ‘Eos’,” he said huskily, in her ear. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. His warm fingertips caressed her nape and then he slowly turned her around to face him. She saw the intensity in his dark eyes as he placed his fingertip under her chin, and his lips came down to hers ...

  All the emotion that she had longed for broke free from the mooring within her heart while his tongue rode hers, first with a deliberate ardor, then with brutality. She wrapped her arms across his back, her hands grasping his silken hair that was tangled around his nape. He unleashed his passion that he had kept in tight reign, devouring her in his hunger, consuming her ... She went limp against him, unable to withstand her desire, and he drew away his lips from hers and swooped her up into the cradle of his arms, carrying her toward the cabin ...

  Skye was breathless in her eagerness as he laid her down on the bed’s softness. He yanked her dress up from the hip and over her, and she raised her arms, assisting him. He pulled her free and tossed the garment aside, taking a moment to appreciate the bareness of her curves that were bathed in the faint light that emanated from behind him. He stripped from his shirt, revealing his muscular breast, and quickly shed his leggings, and crawled atop her. He drew her into another impassioned kiss, leaving her again without breath when he impatiently withdrew.

  With a husky groan he bent his head to her nape, trying to regain his control. He moved his lips to her breast, brushing a tress of her red-gold hair away, and his mouth latched onto a straining tip, sending a flash of fire into her loins. She whimpered from the sudden rush, and he slowly moved his lips down her waist to the triangle of her womanhood. He spread her thighs and kissed her hot softness, as if it were all that he could think about and his want was finally before him. She tangled her hands in his hair—writhing in the swelter—the mounting rapture ... knowing this time what was to come ... His hands came up to find the hard points of her breasts, and a flood of ecstasy burst within her, arching her back and rocking her in the flowing waves of paradise ...

  She fell back, spent, trying to catch her breath, and she opened her eyes and saw him in the dim light. His face was shadowed, turned in his profile, her knees spread and his hands upon them. She sensed his amazement, felt his bewilderment. It startled her, and he turned and saw her eyes upon him. He regained his senses and moved up atop her. She welcomed him into her arms and he entered her brutally, his hard length ravishing her, rousing her anew. She exalted in the feel of him, his broad chest grazing her breasts, caught in his passion, his fierce need. She ran her palms across his powerful back, traveling downward to the firm swell of his backside, her hands pushing against him, indulging in his every assault. He groaned huskily, overwhelmed by her abandon ... She cried out softly as the emotion struck her, shattering her core, meshing her with him and giving her a glimpse into the brilliance of his soul ...

  In the afterglow, the following quiet, he stayed above her, his lips at her nape, his breathing coming slower. He caressed her cheek with his thumb and forefinger, savoring her, and she trembled in his affections. He shifted to lie down beside her, and his hand pleasured her breast, first with tenderness, then with passion. Soon he was upon her again, and he spread her thighs and entered her gently ... and she gasped at his deliberation, his slow and easy thrusts. She settled back, helpless as he bestowed himself upon her, his every movement a maddening pleasure. She never wanted this to end ... this threshold of euphoria ... He endured until she could take no more, and she wantonly bucked up against him, freeing her passion, sending him into his zenith.

  Skye fell back weakly, completely spent. In the midst of her contentment, she fell asleep.

  Nicholas moved to lie down beside her, crooking his arm, his hand on his cheek. He stared down on her while she slept, her face softly illuminated by the moonlight that streamed through the windows. He stared, awed by her natural beauty, her sensuous presence.

  What had he truly found, here?

  “Dear God,” he uttered before he pulled her close, and fell fast into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 7

  “Mornin’, love.”

  Skye came to awareness hearing Nick’s rich voice and feeling a fire raging within her. She opened her eyes and saw his dark, impish eyes smiling at her. He was above her, with his head bent at her breast, his hand caressing one breast and his lips near the other. His black hair was mussed around his cheeks and shoulders, his new whiskers faint and bristly on his chin. He was disheveled, his eyelids heavy from sleep, but he was a handsome, sensual sight.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked softly.

  She nodded and let out a shaky sigh, sorely affected. She felt his hardness against her thigh, his aching need. He returned his lips to her breast, taking in the pink swollen tip, his tongue leisurely exploring, him searching to make the finest sensations to explode within. A soft moan escaped her, and she reached up to take his head into her hands, tangling her fingers in his silken hair, becoming lost in all the fire.

  He was in a mellow passion, wanting to dawdle on her sexuality, lazy in his searching, indulgent in his findings. He slowly moved his searing tongue and palms across the sensitive, tormented tips of her breasts, wanting to hear the whimpers that escaped her, bringing their points up to their fullest measure. Becoming more impatient, he shifted to lie down beside her, his arm behind her nape and crooked with his hand on her breast, while his other hand glided down her waist, to toy with her womanhood. She spread her thighs for him, languorous while his fingertips stroked her, gently rolling on her breast and her softness. His breath came sharply on her ear, as if he shared in her pleasure, loving her vulnerability, intentionally quickening and then pausing on his rhythm until it was more than she could bear. She cried out softly as the ecstasy struck her, taking her off into the blissful, raging jolts.

  With what sounded like a growl, he moved atop her and entered her, and she welcomed his long firmness, pressing her feet against his thighs and wrapping her arms around his broad back, her control devastated by his fierce thrusts, his urgent need. He cried out hoarsely as his ecstasy
came, consuming him and her in the brutality, the savage, primitive euphoria.

  After a moment, he rolled off her and laid his arm above his brow, catching his breath. She closed her eyes, her head swimming in her dizziness, until her composure returned once more.

  He quietly rose from the bed, and she opened her eyes and saw him moving for the bath.

  “More than a man can handle,” he mumbled before he disappeared beyond the door.

  Skye basked in her contentment. The morning sun streamed brightly through the windows, foretelling of a warm and pleasant day. She didn’t know what the future would bring, but she knew about the here and now ...

  He entered the room and went to the kitchen, throwing a cheerful glance at her. “Let’s see what we have to eat,” he uttered and opened the tall and wide storage bin, rummaging through the long and narrow racks of pre-prepared plates.

  He was comfortable with his nakedness, but she felt the need for modesty, seeing the rosy flush of his lovemaking on her skin. She wrapped the soft pale-blue sheet around her while she rose, going off to visit the bath. She returned and found that he had laid two plates out on the table.

  “Help yourself,” he invited, absently rubbing the stubble on his chin as if having become concerned with his appearance. “I’m going to clean up,” he said, and went off to the bath.

  She sat in the chair, adjusting the sheet around her. She took a bite of the delectable, perfect eggs and meat, but discovered that she wasn’t all that hungry. She stared unseeing at a sunbeam, lost in her peaceful trance.

  He returned, clean shaven and refreshed, rubbing his damp black hair with a downy white towel.

  “Want a turn?” he asked.

  She nodded and rose, moving off and keeping within the sheet, bringing out a chuckle from him at the display of her modesty.

  Skye set aside the sheet on the counter and considered the white antique tub. She decided against it and opened the door of the shower, a convenience that seemed to be added as an afterthought to such a charming and rustic decor. She moved into the long and narrow but spacious room, touching the wall panel that brought the warm and lightly soaped streams of water down upon her, adjusting it to her liking. She moved across the firm and padded floor, down across the jets that came out at her from all four sides, soaping her long tresses and relishing in the luxurious feel.