by Louisa Bacio
“You are so beautiful.” He leaned, kissing the crevice between her breasts. Smoothly, he slipped the sleeves off her shoulders, her waist, and over her hips until the silks pooled at her feet then she stepped out of the gown.
Clad only in her underclothes, she became even more aware of their dressed state.
“Only fair game that you two join me,” she commanded.
“If you so wish,” Cliff said. “First, I have one more task to attend to.”
The ties of her bodice grew taut as he first fiddled with the knot, and all at once a great sense of relief washed over her. The garment sagged, exposing her bare skin.
“There!” he said, sounding of a great accomplishment. He stepped from behind, his desire extremely evident in his tented trousers.
Faced with two aroused men, she looked from the face of one to the other. So different, and yet so alike. Both wanting acceptance and love. A lingering promise surfaced, and she bit her lower lip to keep from asking.
“What is it?” Jacob leaned forward and placed his hand on her wrist, offering a touch of gentle encouragement. “If we are to be married for eternity, you need not fear to talk to us.”
Daphne inspected a spot on the floor, and noticed someone had drawn the bedcovers. Anything but to meet his concerned gaze.
“On the dance floor,” she finally said, “you made mention of the golden egg….”
A rumble from low in his belly built until a raucous laugh burst from his mouth. “Oh, dearest,” Jacob said. “Do not fret. Many pleasures lie ahead.”
With those words, he removed his clothing. It was one thing to behold them, bare, in the forest. In her familiar and comfortable setting, it was something altogether different. A brief flicker of fear, a sense of the need to flee, to shift, struck, but she fought against it. They meant her no harm.
“Come, let’s remove the rest of these items.” Cliff knelt, sliding off her pantaloons, and other necessities until she stood as nude as them. Gently, he guided her to the bed.
“Do you think…?” she began.
“Not at all,” Cliff replied. “Right now, all I’m doing is feeling. Let’s leave all the thinking for another day.”
“Ah, such wisdom I’ve never heard from you,” Jacob jested.
At times, this bed had seemed too big, and lonely. She’d flip side to side and wake in the morning, slanted across the great expanse. Now, with a big hulk of a man on either side of her, it appeared not small, but just right.
“As my brother said,” Jacob continued, “you are thinking way too much.”
“Just on how much my life has changed,” she said.
“You? How about going from the woods to this palace?” Cliff lay on his back and spread his arms upward. “I’ve never seen so many people in one place, and they all seem to want to help me do something.”
She hadn’t thought about their perspective too much. Only her own. Of course this transition hadn’t been smooth for them, either.
Jacob turned on his side, facing her and running his fingers along her thigh. “For tonight, can we leave all our cares behind and enjoy only this?”
She shivered in more than anticipation, knowing what came next.
With that final comment, he kissed her. Warm lips pressed against hers, and his tongue requested permission. She opened, sighing against his mouth. She closed her eyes, blocking out all other distractions of the world and focusing on the sensations.
Fingers caressed her breasts and the inside of her thighs. Cliff sought the core of her pleasure, moving between her legs and stroking her clit over and over, softly at first and then more persistently. Tremors of pleasure coursed through her, and she gave herself over willingly. Cliff licked a path across her stomach, and wetness closed over her nipple, as he sucked, hard.
She arched. “Oh yes. That feels so good.”
Jacob’s kiss grew more insistent. He caressed his tongue over the arch of her top lip, requesting access. She nipped at his bottom lip. With every touch, every thought, every progression of desire, she longed to be taken. She’d been with them both individually, but together?
“More. More. More,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Whatever thy wish,” Cliff replied.
The fingers in her cunny moved faster, increasing her pleasure. A wet sucking sound filled the room, and she knew it came from her desire.
Jacob broke his contact with her mouth, and she gasped, drawing in air.
“Open for me.” The demand in his eyes insisted she comply.
A coldness pressed between her legs, and she fought against the urge to clamp them tight. This is what he meant—this inanimate object filling her up?
“I’m not going to put it inside you.” Cliff circled the smoothness over her clit. “Just play a little.”
Stretched out on the bed, her men administered all sorts of loving to her body. Jacob brought another golden egg to one nipple, while he took the other nipple in his mouth. One warm and the other cold. The chill tightened her skin, and the combination sent shock waves of pleasure through her body.
She gasped. “Where did you learn to play with them?”
“A lifetime of waking with these treasures under your pillow, and you become inventive,” Cliff said. “While the Huntsman let us know the treasure was valuable, we didn’t understand exactly what that meant.”
Jacob swirled his tongue over her areola, before adding, “If we had known they’d help land a princess such as you….”
“You must know, though, that there are plenty of available suitors with coffers.” Daphne didn’t want them to think she’d chosen to be with them because of the wealth. “Only you two proved able to catch me.”
“Popular, were you?” Cliff’s voice took on a teasing edge, as he slipped two fingers into her tight channel. He pumped his digits, while continuing to rub the golden egg over her most sensitive spot.
The muscles of her nether walls contracted, pulsing with pleasure. Her nipples hardened, and she moaned. “Yes. Oh, that feels so fabulous.”
“The better to fuck you,” Jacob whispered, his breath hot in her ear.
Her nerve endings burst, sending her consciousness to another level. Every inch of her skin screamed for their touch. She needed more to push her over the edge.
“Now. Take me. Please.” She begged like no princess ever should.
“Your pleasure is our pleasure,” Jacob said.
Wordlessly, the men shuffled positions, with her dark-haired lover coming between her thighs. She massaged her hands over his chest, reveling in the smooth muscles. As he placed his cock at her entrance, he bit his lower lip. Her heart clutched at the momentary sign of vulnerability.
“So good,” he sighed. His warm flesh entered her.
She lifted her hips, angling upward and wrapping her ankles over his lower back. As he thrust forward, she gripped his ass, driving him in deeper.
Their moans of pleasure blended from one to the other, until she couldn’t tell the two of them apart. This mating wasn’t soft and gentle. Once fully seated inside her, he thrust, over and over, the base of his cock slamming against her clit and sending a new awareness of the power he held over her satisfaction.
Again and again, she met his every thrust, rubbing her sex against him, as Jacob gave as good as he took.
Then he stilled. “Hold on tight. We’re flipping over.”
And they did exactly that. She squeezed onto him, and as he rolled onto his back, she landed on top of him. While she enjoyed being given control, she wasn’t quite sure why the need to change.
“Such a beautiful, rounded ass you have.” Cliff caressed her bottom, stroking his cock along the seam.
He didn’t mean to, did he? Both of them at once? The thought added another level of excitement and anticipation to making love to both of her men at the same time. What would it feel like? She’d soon find out.
Wetness slid down her crack, and Cliff pooled it on her rosebud. Daphne stilled at his explor
ations, anticipating what was coming next.
What felt like a finger slipped past the outer rim, and she startled, squeezing her internal muscles.
“Oh fuck yes,” Jacob said. “Do that again.”
Behind her, Cliff pressed in farther, before moving his finger in and out, and adding a second one. This time, the entering burned a little before the muscles loosened to accept him. If that’s what two fingers feel like, how will I possibly take all of him?
“Get her ready,” Jacob instructed, “but do it fast, man. I’m going to finish soon.”
“Hold off a bit more,” Cliff countered. “We want to take this super slow.”
Her body felt as full as her heart. “I’m ready. Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Cliff removed his fingers, leaving her feeling empty. And then the moment came. The soft head of his cock nudged against her bottom hole, and she stilled.
“Come on, baby. Don’t tense on me, now.”
She willed her body to allow him to enter, breathing out to relax. No matter how foreign it felt at the moment, she knew it was something she wanted to do. “It’s all right,” Daphne said. “I’m ready for you.”
“You are so fucking tight,” Cliff said.
His cock pushed into her, and she couldn’t help gasping. The air rushed from her lungs. “Oh, oh, oh.”
“Just a bit more.” Another smoothing of warm liquid pressed into her while Cliff pushed in more. “Yes, that’s it, baby.”
With two lovers filling her body, Daphne felt on fire. Stretched taut, not only physically, but mentally as well. They let her set the pace, rising off Jacob, and impaling herself on Cliff’s cock behind her. When she went down on Jacob, his brother pulled out, until the three of them set a rhythm of pleasure.
Her senses on full alert, Daphne shut her eyes. In her lifetime, she’d experienced so many sensations—running through the fresh, wet grasses of the forest in the spring, soaring over the kingdom on a warm current, swimming in the swiftly flowing stream. Nothing compared to this feeling of being loved by two men who loved her.
The muscles of her lower belly tightened, and time seized for a few seconds until an explosion overtook her senses, and seconds stretched into minutes. The most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced slammed her sex. Her heart opened to the love and future they shared.
“That’s it.” Cliff rocked into her ass. “I can feel you coming.”
“Yes, baby.” Jacob added his own pleasure to the chorus of lovemaking. His cock pulsed inside her. “Finally!”
And they all lived very happily ever after.
An Excerpt from Awake: Unsleeping Beauty
Once more, rough, persistent lips pressed against hers. Briar Rose fought against the wet, slimy tongue as it tried to force into her mouth. She couldn’t move and couldn’t protect herself. She was trapped within the invisible bonds of a sleep-like state. A curse suspended her in sleep, and yet she remained aware of her surroundings and the comings and goings of others.
She was tired of men kissing her without her consent. Who cared if they were princes or knights or ogres? No one had any idea what their breath smelled like or tasted like at the end of a grand adventure or the way their sweaty hair brushed her face as she lay powerless to swat it away. No matter the fairy-tale lore, kisses from any of them had failed to wake her. None of them so far had possessed the power to rescue her and claim the throne.
Meeeeooow! Hisss! At least she had one comfort. Puss, her dedicated feline, eventually chased off the suitors when their kisses failed to wake her.
“Get off me, psycho cat!” a man cursed. “She’s not worth it anyway, lying there like a piece of meat.”
The latest savior shrieked, and Puss howled. She imagined the feisty cat landing atop a messy head of hair and digging its claws in.
Raaaaoooor!
“Awww! I didn’t mean it.” Thud. The latest suitor must have stumbled to the floor. Footsteps clunked down the hall, and a door slammed.
Still, she lay there. Paralyzed. The bed dipped as Puss returned to Rose’s side, running his body under her hand, as if she were petting him. If she could cry, she would have at his caring and gentle nature. His gentle purring sent a pleasant hum through her body as he curled against the side of her head, and she escaped into her dreams, imagining the day she’d find release.
***
Princess Penelope flounced her dark curls over the fluffy down pillow and willed herself to sleep. She shifted against the sapphire satin sheets, shivering at the caress of the fabric against her bare body. She had no idea how to sleep suffocated in chiffon and buried in a tidal wave of pillows. Her father must have possessed a handbook for how princesses should sleep because this bed was not her choice and it certainly wasn’t doing her any favors. She punched down the billowing layers of comforters, causing a windstorm of soft white feathers to escape and rain upon her.
“Ah-choo! Awwww-choo!” she brushed a persistent offender from her nose. Being allergic to down didn’t help either. Try telling that to the king, her father. He’d hear none of it.
Hour after hour, she lay in bed, staring at the undulating fabric dangling from the canopy. Hardness—like the pointiest rock in the world—poked right below her shoulder blade. She turned and flopped, but the sharpness couldn’t be escaped and it dug into the corner of her hip.
Beneath her left thigh, a seam increased its pressure, cutting into her tender flesh. She flipped. From this position she could see out her bedchamber’s window. A cool breeze carried in the scent of honeysuckle. Her nose itched, and she scrunched it up, trying not to think about the need to sneeze.
“Ahhhh-chooo.”
She shook her head, clearing the tingling, and mentally listed all the tasks tomorrow held. Oh, she might have everyday duties such as choosing the menu for the end-of-the-season banquet or instructing the chambermaids about the correct manner in which to arrange the linen cupboards, but, still, someone had to run the palace, and that someone ultimately was her.
There was no older brother, no prince to take over the throne. As the eldest, Penelope held all the responsibilities but none of the respect.
What time was it? Certainly she’d been lying there, tangled up in her sweaty sheets for hours. And with that thought, she became aware of the ticking of a clock in the otherwise quiet room.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Ticktickticktick.
“For crying out loud,” she announced to the room at large. “What’s it going to take for me to fall asleep?”
That afternoon, she’d overheard the king talking to his advisers about a princess cursed with perpetual sleep locked in a hidden castle. Penelope lay awake, mind racing with thoughts about the dangers and adventure lying beyond the castle’s walls.
“Only a prince can save Briar Rose,” her father had said.
Why? Penelope could do anything her younger brothers could and then some. She knew her father wished they’d been born first, and her later. He needed to marry her, the oldest, off and then wait for them to grow old enough to do anything. At twelve and fourteen, they were still mastering the art of riding a horse, forget about running the castle or taking adventures to far-off lands.
What would the princess look like? She was probably fair, with long, blonde curly hair, and porcelain skin—nothing like Penelope’s own unruly dark hair and nose heavily freckled from too much sun. Penelope imagined the other princess’s lips were soft as rose petals. She probably resembled her name in more than one way. As she fantasized, she slipped a hand beneath her robe and fingered her tender nether lips, dipping her middle finger into her wetness and stroking the bud of pleasure.
Suppressing a moan, she bit her lower lip and increased the friction. Penelope admired the swell of the woman’s breasts, and the way the dress flowed over Briar Rose’s thighs. If Penelope were to slip her head under the covers and nibble on Briar’s Rose’s inner thigh, would she wake? If she delved her tongue into the cleft between her legs…. Ah, she shivered at the mere
idea.
All the ladies at the balls went on and on about which prince was available, who possessed the biggest—ahem—carriage, and who had the best-endowed dowry. But Penelope had never felt a flutter in her heart or a pulse in her pussy at the thought of a strong, handsome man. She sought adventure of another sort.
No prince had ever captured Penelope’s interest. Heat didn’t flare between her legs when a dashing, muscled man requested her hand in a dance. And, yet, alas, she fantasized about an imaginary woman locked away, completely helpless. The princess would not be able to shun Penelope’s advances. She wouldn’t laugh at her hidden desires.
Maybe, she’d even be thankful to be rescued. Maybe she’d place a soft kiss against Penelope’s lips and press the soft curves of her body against Penelope.
Yes, she might be thankful.
Penelope had never been with a man, so she had no experience with the opposite sex. But she knew what felt good. As she touched herself, her muscles pulled taut, and she dangled on the precipice of something great. She knew not what, yet she knew she approached something wonderful. Her lashes fluttered against her cheekbones, and her hips arched in anticipation.
What would it feel like to have Briar Rose’s supple fingers stroking her, pushing her to that elusive edge, and then over? She climbed higher, and higher and—
“Awwwe-choo!” Damn. She turned over onto her back, and whatever boulder lay beneath her mattresses probed her in the ass. She fought to ignore the pain and a sudden cramp in her arm. She switched hands, trying not to lose the momentum.
What goes up, must come down, or so the saying goes, but no matter how high she went, she never transferred over to the other side. She never came, never had. Oh, she’d heard the word, and the whispers. The stable boys, in particular, liked to gossip about bodily urges and functions, but with Penelope…nothing.
Frustrated, she groaned and fluffed her pillows, totally giving up on any chance of finishing. She lay in her frilly canopy bed, lost among a sea of bedding, and prayed she was not doomed to stay awake—forever.