Midnight of the Fae

by Heather Rainier

  “I wanna die!”

  “This calls for a distraction.” He squeezed her gently around the waist as he lowered his lips to hers, and a wave of heat sizzled through her from her fingertips and her toes, straight to her center. A deep rumble vibrated in his chest, and she moaned like a hussy when he squeezed her ass. The touch was so close to her pussy that she squirmed to feel him more and wound up flexing her hips against his enormous cock.

  He groaned as he tightened his arm around her waist. The next thing she knew her arms were wrapped around his neck and she was tongue wrestling the French kissing champion. Before, she’d been a little aroused, but now her nether regions felt as though they were about to go up in flames. The fact that she wore no panties intensified the effect.

  She heard a slight sound, but as thoroughly wrapped up in his huge, powerful arms as she was, with his clean masculine scent inebriating her senses, she didn’t pay any attention.

  A chuckle rumbled through Leandre’s chest as he tilted his head and nibbled at her lower lip, plucking at it before licking it with the tip of his tongue.

  The distracting sound repeated, but when she opened her eyes, all she could see was Leandre, his playful smile, his dimples, and the twinkle in his eyes as he groaned in a pleasant sort of way.

  “Oh my…you’re a good kisser.”

  “Why thank you, princess. I would say the same about you.”

  “We could skip the ball. We could stay in my lonely little attic room and you could take off my shoes and kiss me some more.” And I could lick you all over.

  Leandre’s shoulders tightened, and she bounced against his pecs as soft laughter wheezed from his chest. His smile as he stroked her cheek made her heart flutter. “That could be arranged…all of it.” Out of thin air, an intricate circlet of gold formed on his head, giving him an undeniably regal, elven air.

  “Hey, did you know you have a crown on your head?” Could you sound more idiotic? Of course he knows he has a crown on his head.

  He gave her a dazzling dimpled smile. “I’m a fae prince in my land, and I’m expected to wear it at formal functions like this. It’s not every day that a crown prince picks a bride.”

  “Wait, you?”

  “No, my cousin Sebastien. His mother and father, Regine and Reginald Beaumanoir, rule this land, but he is a half-blood grandson through his father’s side of the fae king, also my grandfather.”

  “You’re a prince?”

  With a slight nod, he replied, “One of many. I’m nothing special.”

  With a scoff, she said, “You are to me. Very special. You’re the only thing that feels okay in this…crazy world.”

  He caught his lower lip between his teeth, and she giggled. “You’re blushing.”

  “Fae don’t blush.”

  “Well, you are, Blushy McBlusherson.”

  “More nicknames?”

  “Wait a minute! If you were Doop-Doop, then you’ve slept with me in my little bed, all…all curled up to me and snuggled to my chest.”

  He smacked his lips with a faraway look in his eyes. “Nuzzling to my heart’s content. You smell very good right there.” He stroked the deep valley of her cleavage, sending a streak of unrelenting lust straight to her pussy. “And I was never so happy as the night you started sleeping in the—”

  “You’ve seen me naked!”

  That same deep rumble sounded—from nearby, as a man cleared his throat.

  Caresse clapped a hand over her big mouth. Thankfully Leandre didn’t let go because she likely would’ve landed on her ass in the pale ivory marble hallway. Leandre had somehow transported them from the mansion to the palace on the mountaintop.

  “Am I disturbing you?” The amused tone sent velvety shivers down her spine.

  Looking up, she caught the glint of humor in Leandre’s eyes as he grinned at the stranger standing directly behind her and said, “No, in fact, your timing is excellent.” He released Caresse from his secure grasp, which she instantly missed, and turned her as he said, “Prince Sebastien, I present to you Caresse Baker of Washington.” In a courtly gesture, he bowed as he transferred her hand to Sebastien’s grasp.

  The prince. Oh! The prince! Duh! She dropped a hasty bow. “How do you do, err…Your Highness.” She finally chanced a glance up at his face…and blinked. More like Your Hotness! Caresse wisely kept that stray thought to herself, along with the pleasant knowledge that this dream or alternate reality just kept getting better and better.

  Chapter Five

  Sebastien hadn’t given it another thought when Leandre had mentioned he’d be bringing a guest to the ball. Sebastien had welcomed the company of at least one guest without an agenda, in fact.

  Every day it was some new effort from his mother to get him married off. At first she’d been subtle, introducing him to one prized daughter at a state function, and then it had been a small group of debutantes hosting a luncheon honoring his birthday. That had led to a series of such functions. Then one of his fae cousins had given birth to triplets, and his mother had moved on to full-blown granny lust. She claimed time was of the essence, as if she had proof he’d reached his peak of fertility, and she was determined to get grandbabies if she had to see to the act herself.

  The ball had been her latest strategy. Invitations had gone out, proclaiming to the kingdom that on the third night he would announce his choice of bride.

  His mother was stubborn, and she’d passed the trait on to him. When he’d heard of her plan, he hadn’t argued. He just didn’t intend to make a choice if his heart wasn’t in it. And his heart wasn’t in it…at all.

  He wasn’t intent on a life of celibacy, and his reluctance wasn’t because the women his mother was pushing on him were unacceptable. Many of them were lovely and charming, although her favorites, and the daughters of her closest friend Desdemona de Rochambard, were the most tenacious by far. Niebleht and Poutina Farkle took brazen pursuit to a whole new level.

  Leandre had been secretive about the identity of his guest. Sebastien had the impression that she’d somehow had something to do with Leandre’s occasional disappearances. All he’d ever told him was that he was doing work on Selena’s behalf.

  Leandre’s sister, Selena, was well known for her maneuverings and machinations—and her capriciousness when people got nosey. He’d even heard a rumor that she could transform a troublemaker into a toad if she wanted to. Wanting to keep his nose where it was, he’d kept it out of her business.

  There had been something about Leandre’s demeanor alerting him that the woman he was bringing as a guest was special. He could now see it for himself.

  Happily ever after and love at first sight were for children’s stories, not real life. But as he stared into her eyes, the deep brown-gold of a fine mellowed whisky, he wanted very much to believe.

  “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Caresse,” he murmured, covering the slight break in his voice by bowing over her hand and kissing her delicate knuckles. Something akin to sparks sizzled through his hand and up his arm, and even in his lips, at the contact.

  Because he couldn’t stoop over her hand indefinitely, or at least until the silly heat in his cheeks abated, he stood to his full height and gave her a princely bow of his head and smiled. Luckily, she hadn’t seemed to notice his gaping foolishness. Judging by the twitch of Leandre’s brow, he had.

  “Um…” She cast a glance over her shoulder at Leandre and then looked down at her hand, which Sebastien still held. “Pleased to meet you. Jeez, I already said that, didn’t I…sort of? Sorry. I’ve never met princes before.”

  “Or slept with them, evidently,” Leandre murmured and then snorted.

  Sebastien watched, enchanted, as her eyes flashed wide, and then she turned to raise a finger at Leandre. “I thought you were a harmless little puppy, or I never would’ve slept with you or undressed around you…told you all my secrets. Shit.”

  “Or checked under my tail?” Leandre asked with a chuckle, feigning to defend himself as s
he glowered at him. “Sweet Caresse, every moment is a fond memory already. I never would’ve taken advantage of your vulnerability.”

  “Oh, and licking my boobs isn’t taking just a little bit of advantage?”

  Leandre shrugged unapologetically and twisted his lips in a moue before making eye contact with Sebastien. He gestured to her cleavage as if to say, Who could resist? To Caresse, he said, “There is licking, and then there is licking, my love.”

  All the talk of licking this witty beauty’s breasts was having an effect on Sebastien’s dormant libido.

  Caresse blew her breath out in a huff and then said, “I just wish I’d known. I told you private stuff.”

  “Which will go with me to my grave, I swear.”

  Sebastien found a break in their banter and said, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Caresse.”

  Dolt! You’ve already said that! And are your palms sweating?

  Graciously, she didn’t show amusement at his ineptitude as she looked him over, taking in his boots, his formal suit, and the golden coronet resting at his temples and across his forehead. He hoped she saw through the crown to the man wearing it.

  The women filling the palace ballroom—mamas and their hopeful daughters—had barely been able to take their eyes off of the sapphires adorning the coronet traditionally worn by the crown prince long enough to hold a conversation. To be fair, a few of the attendees had made at least a token effort to hold a conversation. Others had offered to show him how enthusiastic they’d be as his bride—or his mother-in-law—in private. It was going to take more than hot sex to get him to change his mind.

  Imagining being the object of Caresse’s banter, flirtation, or even her fussing, he gave himself another mental shake. It was possible she could change his mind.

  How do you know that? You just met her?

  “Same way I knew, cousin,” Leandre murmured aloud, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He must’ve broadcast his confusion louder than he thought.

  “Sebaaaaaaaastien!” The voice echoed down the corridor leading to the main ballroom, where all the guests and prospective brides were awaiting his return.

  “Damn, I thought I had more time before she started hunting me,” he muttered as he drew their trio near a large column, out of sight.

  “I know that voice,” Caresse said as she leaned around the column to see.

  “Poutina Farkle,” Sebastien muttered. “She cornered me and wanted to share an erotic poem she wrote for me. I excused myself, telling her I was needed elsewhere immediately, and I’ve been evading her ever since. Her and my mother.”

  Sebastien sent a pleading look to Leandre.

  Always up for a little mischief, his cousin smiled wider, and he said, “I’ll handle this. You get to know our fair sweetheart while Poutine regales me with “Ode to a Codpiece” and I’ll distract her with my witty repartee. But first—” He gathered Caresse in his arms and lifted her off her feet to kiss her.

  Our fair sweetheart. He wondered if Leandre intended that word choice or if the error was subconscious.

  Sebastien enjoyed the flood of color that brightened her cheeks as she arched to Leandre, losing herself in the kiss before he released her once more.

  Considering his growing attraction for Caresse, Sebastien might’ve expected a twinge of envy at the sight of his cousin kissing her. Instead, he enjoyed watching them kiss…maybe even wanted to join their embrace, judging by the way his cock surged in interest.

  Leandre gave her one last peck and stepped away. Caresse put her hand to her blushing décolletage and stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Hold on. Where are you going? Poutine—I mean Poutina—better not touch your codpiece or anything else. I don’t—” She cast Sebastien an apologetic glance before she frowned at Leandre. “I came because you invited me.”

  Leandre gave her a tender look as he caressed her arms. “I’m merely standing in for Sebastien to show him mercy. Those are determined huntresses in that ballroom, and he’s the prized stag. I promise he’ll take as good a care of you as I would.” To Sebastien, he said, “I think she’d love the orangery. It’s secluded and should be quiet right now, too. Stay out of sight, or you’ll have some explaining to do.”

  Leandre gave her a wink, and she nodded. Only then did he turn away from her and leave them in their hiding spot.

  Poutina called out his name again, this time with more vigor and less patience. “Sebaaaaaaa—Oh, there you are! Where have you been, you naughty boy? I was beginning to think you were hiding from me.”

  “I’m so sorry. Pressing matters required my attention. Now, you were saying you wrote a poem?”

  Poutina chattered without so much as a breath as they returned the way she’d come.

  Peeking around the column, Caresse watched as Leandre disappeared and then looked at him with confusion and perhaps a little hurt in her eyes. “How…I don’t understand. She was looking for you—”

  “Don’t worry. Her hands won’t get anywhere near his codpiece…or his cod.”

  Still frowning and looking a little forlorn, she glanced at Sebastien, and then a smile bowed her lips and she giggled. “You’re funny, too.”

  Sebastien offered his arm, and after a brief hesitation, she took it, wrapping her hand around the inner crook of his elbow.

  “You’ve nothing to worry about. I’ve never seen a woman excite him the way you do.”

  “Me?”

  “Absolutely. He visited me the other day, and I could tell there was something special about you from the way he talked about you. He’s being kind by giving me a break from all the persistent debutantes. So I take it you know the Farkles?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I currently reside in their home…in the attic. I work in the kitchen. I’m not a debutante. Not even close. Up until a few minutes ago, I thought Leandre was just my little doggy companion. He’s says he’s…” Her words trailed off as she shook her head in bemusement.

  “What?”

  She scoffed, but he caught it when she glanced at him, as if she was looking for confirmation. “He claimed to be my faery godfather. TFG for short.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I suppose he was putting it in vernacular that might set you at ease. But he’s not wrong, you know. You could think of him as a faery bodyguard if that’s more palatable. TFBG for short.” Encouraged by her giggle, he asked, “How did he reveal himself to you?”

  She gave that some thought and then said, “He could tell I was upset…sad. Poutina and Niebleht were unnecessarily cruel, and I was missing my friends. He just appeared and asked if I truly wanted to go to the ball.”

  “Did you?”

  Averting her gaze, she looked around the terrace then gazed up at the stained-glass windows adorning the palace behind her. Had all the trappings gotten to her, too?

  Finally she nodded. “I wanted that. But I didn’t realize he’d get called away as soon as he got here.”

  Seeking to set her at ease, Sebastien asked, “You are angry with me for letting him take over my duties for a while.”

  “Actually, yes…a little. I didn’t come here tonight so I could watch other women fawn all over him…or you. That’s not my idea of fun. And how exactly could he take over for you? You’re the crown prince. He looks nothing like you, except…” She waved her hand up and down at his body in a jerky motion. “Except that you’re both formidable and totally buff and so tall, and…never mind. You already know your similarities.”

  “Leandre can distract them. I’ll leave it to him to explain exactly how. But trust me when I say he’s certainly smitten…with you.” And I can understand why, too. “Will you allow me to make up for taking him away from you for a time?”

  “All right.”

  “Thank you. I confess, I let him go off because I desire to know you better.”

  Her cheeks bloomed once more with color, and then she took in an awed breath as they rounded the bend in the terrace walkway that led into the orange
ry.

  “Oh.”

  That simple syllable, with such sensual appreciation, sent a tingle down his spine.

  Would she use the same nearly carnal tone while making love? What a sight she’d be in her passion. While riding him, she’d tilt her head back and close her eyes and she would make that sound. He shook his head, knowing it was wrong to imagine such a thing. He could almost feel the tickle of her long honey-colored hair on his thighs.

  Judging by the state of his thickening cock, his libido had made a miraculous recovery from its previously disinterested state.

  “What?” she asked, now staring at him.

  “No—nothing. I’m just seeing the gardens with new eyes tonight. Do you like it?”

  “Like it?” she asked as she marveled over the heavy-laden trees lit by flickering torches. Leandre was right to direct him here. There was no one on the path, and he hoped it stayed that way. “I’ve been intoxicated by the fragrance of these oranges since I arrived. Or at least I assume this is where the scent came from.”

  “This is the original stock for the orchard that grows in the valley near the village. These oranges are known far and wide in Tangere and are the namesake for Plaisir D’Or. Do you like to dance?” he asked, happy that she seemed more at ease and not wanting the conversation to lag. He didn’t want her to feel awkward enough to go in search of Leandre, and he truly didn’t want to give up her company. Thanks to his mother’s machinations, he was the sought-after one lately, but he could certainly imagine pursuing her.

  * * * *

  Caresse stared at Sebastien’s lips while stroking her bottom lip. Some small sound he made drew her attention, and when she looked up, he was smiling and chuckling.

  Stop it! It doesn’t matter what it would be like to kiss him. “What?”

  “I asked if you liked to dance.”

  “Oh. I love to dance, but I’m not familiar with your dances.”

  “I’d be happy to teach you,” he murmured as he led her down the path between the neat rows of trees.

  She got a gander at him while he looked out into the orangery. He was taller than her by several inches. His jet-black hair was gloriously thick with a slight curl, and in the light on the terrace, she’d noticed his eyes were bright blue. The formal suit he wore followed his tall, lean lines and accentuated his strong shoulders and long legs, feeding into her Lord of the Rings elven fantasies.