The Goblin Cinderella (Fairy Tale Heat Book 5)

by Lidiya Foxglove

  My eyes still kept roving toward Ithrin. There he was, brushing by one moment, dancing with another girl, looking as cold as ever. He was much more graceful when he danced with girls who actually knew how to dance, but there was no joy in it, or so I told myself.

  He looked back at me. I felt like I’d been caught, and stumbled on Prince Wrindel’s feet.

  “He’s awfully grim, isn’t he?” Wrindel sounded like he relished his brother’s discomfort during this event. “Every beautiful woman in the realm is here and he could have his pick.”

  “Perhaps beauty isn’t everything, after all…,” I said.

  Something I had never known was how my parents met, why my mother gave up everything to be with him, and why my father brought a goblin girl home to his own land. On one hand, people did say my mother was beautiful…but there was still a caveat to their voice. She was beautiful, but she was a goblin. And perhaps I was beautiful too, but I had inherited all of her goblin-ness. I wondered how she felt, stepping onto these shores. Did she feel regret? Did Father’s friends accept her right away? Was she terrified as she died of the black fever, far from her native land?

  Truth be told, I had never liked to think about it.

  “Beauty isn’t everything?” He laughed. “Only ugly people have to say things like that. And you might be a little dangerous, but you’re far from ugly.”

  “It really isn’t everything, though,” I said. “We’ll all grow old in the end, if we’re lucky. I know you elves get there a little slower, but…”

  He smirked. “You might be right for Ithrin after all.”

  I didn’t lack for dancing partners, after both princes had graced me with their favor, but I couldn’t stop looking at Ithrin all night. And I don’t think he could stop looking at me either, though whenever I caught him, we both looked away.

  The spell might have broken, but our encounter still felt unfinished.

  Chapter Twelve

  Prince Ithrin

  When I returned to the ball, all the wealthy girls who were so desperate to marry into royalty swarmed me, voicing their displeasure in a din. Wealthy girls were spoiled, and spoiled girls were quick to complain. It was hard to imagine spending my life beside any of these women, but I danced with them dutifully.

  Damned if I didn’t keep glancing at Ellara.

  Damned if I didn’t keep thinking about those welts on her legs, and how I would like to have words with her stepmother… Here I was, dancing with Mindara Laforel of the Laforel Shipping Company, who had never known hardship in her life, and she was looking disgruntled that I had taken so long to dance with her. Ellara, meanwhile, had been bruised and beaten this entire time and not said a word about it.

  That was all this feeling was, I thought. Some compassion for a girl who has been mistreated. But I also kept thinking about the taste of her. The languid, nimble way she moved. The strange pairing of graceful elven features and high cheekbones with her vivid golden eyes and mouth full of vicious teeth. Her conversation, candid and curious. I couldn’t help but think she would be different from the others.

  This is it, isn’t it? That thing Wrindel calls ‘love at first sight’. Seeing a girl and thinking you know and like everything about her. But it’s an illusion. I’ll forget all about this tomorrow.

  I noticed every person Ellara danced with. Count Mafy—hmph, no. He was known as a womanizer. He’d better not pull her aside and try anything. But she went straight from him to Ethrel Jorrin, a human boy who was the heir to some diamond mines. I didn’t really like that either. He was closer to her age. If she started to talk to him about spice farms, he might be interested.

  “Prince Ithrin?” The girl I was dancing with called my attention back to her. She was sleek blonde elven perfection, with a musical voice, and I couldn’t even remember her name. “Are you all right?”

  No, my heart wasn’t in this at all.

  There was no way I could announce my engagement to any of these women. Except—

  At that moment, I saw young Mr. Jorrin holding his pocket watch, and Ellara backing away. She must have asked him for the time, and was telling him she had to go. She gathered her skirts in her hands and rushed to the door.

  In that moment, I knew I couldn’t let her leave.

  “I’m sorry,” I told the fair girl, in the middle of our dance, releasing her from my grasp. Murmurs followed in my wake as people realized I was fleeing the room, and I ducked under a tray of food, trying to outrun anyone who might attempt to follow.

  Ellara was running down the empty hall. The hall was now vast and hollow, everyone crammed into the ballroom. The gate was lifted, leading to the exit. I pounded after her. Her glass slippers made a strange dull click on the stone floors as she reached the passageway that led out over the moat. She glanced back and saw me.

  “I have to go,” she panted.

  “No—wait.” I took her arm and pulled her through a door leading to a guard station that was no longer used for anything but storage. I shut the door behind us and pushed her against it. I saw a flicker of hope in her eyes as her chest heaved from running.

  “I really—must,” she said.

  “Not yet.” I took her hand in mine. Her fingers wrapped around my palm. Then I kissed her.

  Our second kiss was even better than the first. Her mouth opened with an eager little sound, as if she couldn’t help her anticipation. I met her tongue with mine as my other hand slid down her throat and then back up to her jaw, feeling the little muscles there work as she opened her mouth wider for me. Yes, wider, I thought, dragging on her lower lip. I slid my tongue around hers, sucked on the tip, grazed her teeth. That wicked little mouth; the more I looked at it, the more it turned me on.

  I pulled the ribbons and combs from her hair and let it fall across her shoulders, so I could properly see her horns. They were sharp and straight, a polished dark color I couldn’t quite see in the dim room. And yet, somehow rather dainty at the same time, like little alert ears. I drank in the sight of her and wondered if my people would care if I married a goblin, and then I thought that I didn’t care what people thought.

  She looked apprehensive, her eyes bright in the shadows. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I don’t know what’s happened,” I said. “I know we broke that spell. But it seems I am wildly attracted to you, goblin bits and all. Goblin bits especially.”

  “Well…my goblin bits are pretty attracted to you, too.” She glanced furtively toward the door handle. “But I really must go.”

  “Not yet.” I pulled at the neckline of her gown. It was wide enough that I could slide it down, baring her breasts. I lowered myself to one knee and put my hand to her back, drawing her close, taking her nipple in my mouth.

  The response was gratifying: a breathy “ohh” and weakened knees. Maybe I was starting to understand why Wrindel did this all the time. Her nipples were hard. I caught the little nub between my teeth and flicked my tongue over it, as my other hand found the hem of her dress and pushed underneath it, seeking her sweet center. I knew she would be as wet as before, and when my hand found those slick, swollen lips, we both made a little sound of pleasure at once.

  “If I must choose a princess tonight out of a sea of strangers,” I said, “I want it to be you, and only you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ellara

  “Yes,” I breathed. In that moment, damn the consequences. Ithrin’s hands and mouth had mastery over me and I never wanted it to end. I thought I wanted to escape this place where my stepfamily had been so cruel to me, but maybe there was another side of Wyndyr. One that would accept me.

  And what better revenge on them all than to be their future queen? When I considered that the prince himself was on his knees before me, giving my body pleasure, while my stepsisters had not even been allowed to dance with him?

  I moaned.

  “I don’t think I can wait for the wedding night,” he said, gently stroking my wet slit with his finge
rtips until I was shivering. “I want you now.”

  “Nor can I…oh, certainly not when you touch me like that! But…” I hesitated, because the only model I had for a marriage was my father and stepmother, and I felt sure she had tricked him.

  “You want assurances?” he said. “You certainly have reason to trust me. You confessed to me that your aunt tried to tamper with my feelings and rig the engagement. I could have sent the guards off to seize her then and there.” He slid an ornate ring off his finger and put it on my own. “That is the ring of my house. It’s priceless. Hold it until I can give you a proper engagement ring. I vow to you, Ellara…you will be my bride.”

  “I—I need to confess something. I don’t really know how much the saffron farms are worth, or what my stake in them is.”

  He laughed. “I don’t give a damn about saffron farms.”

  “But the crown needs money, doesn’t it? I’ve heard—”

  “My father wanted me to marry the woman who makes me happy,” he said. “We’ll find a way to manage the rest.”

  “I hope you’re not being irresponsible with the whole kingdom just because you want to have me tonight.”

  “No. I wouldn’t be so irresponsible just for that. I’m being irresponsible because I want to have you every night.” He clutched me close. “That was a joke.”

  “Or was it?”

  “It’s more than that,” he said, serious now. “I can’t explain it, whether I want to rescue you, or whether I think you might…” He shook his head and stood up again, kissing me more gently as he slid his hands down to my breasts, grazing both my nipples with his thumbs while he cupped my small mounds. Then he lifted my skirts.

  I poked my finger past the waistband of his trousers and pulled him closer to me. I slipped my hand under his clothes until I found his bare skin. I started unfastening his buttons until I freed his manhood, stroking its length. I didn’t know much about sex but I presumed he would tell me to stop if I did something wrong.

  In some ways, he seemed intensely strong—so much taller than me that I had to crane my neck up to see his face, and his cock was so long and hard that I shuddered a little to think of it inside me. But at the same time, elves seemed more fragile than goblins. He didn’t have all the sharp edges I had. If he let my claws grow back in…

  I ran my blunted fingernails down the length of him, and he made a little gruff sound. But he liked it. He didn’t stop me.

  He pushed up my skirts again, his breath urgent. He slid his hands up my thighs and hoisted me up so I could wrap my arms around his neck. “You are beautiful,” he said. “So very beautiful…even before you touched me with that spell, you stood out from the others.”

  I knew my mother met my father while he was in town for business. And then she ran away with him. They must not have known each other very long. I wondered if it was like this. Maybe it was strange to even think of my mother when I was about to make love, but my mother didn’t feel like a mother to me. She was too far away. I was almost as old now as she was when she died.

  I shut my eyes, sinking into the feeling of clinging to him, of his fair, fine hair brushing against my fingers and his strong hands holding me up. His cock nudged against my entrance. I could already tell how tight it was going to be inside me, but my body wanted him so badly.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

  “I’ve been hurt a thousand times,” I said. “This isn’t hurt.”

  “Are you sure? You seem…so small.”

  “Pain be damned, we’d better do this,” I said.

  I clutched his neck. His hands shifted position around my legs and I angled my hips, trying to find the best way to take him. I felt the rough wood of the door against my back, anchoring me as he pushed, hard and wide, into me.

  I dug my fingers into his back and whimpered.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.

  “Yes. Yes. This is pain that feels…rather wonderful.”

  I had never really liked pain, before then, but this was different. I hardly had words for the way it felt as he slowly took me, inch by inch, my body forced open, my nerves activated in ways they had never known. I tugged on his hair. I gripped him tight as he took my maidenhood. My body already felt so ready for him, despite the pain of it. I guess I had been beaten so many times by my cruel stepmother and sisters, that it meant nothing to me now. All that mattered was his intention. The way he looked in my eyes. He filled an ache inside me, a deep need. He was so hard inside me, but his eyes were gentle.

  “Words fail me,” he said. “You feel…”

  “It’s okay. Words fail me too,” I said.

  Embarrassingly, tears started coming to my eyes. But not for the reason he feared, not because it hurt. I felt like I might cry in his arms.

  “Is it too much?” he asked.

  “No. It’s the opposite.” I had stopped thinking about what it meant to be loved, a long time ago. How much I craved kindness and warmth and concern. And then I laughed. “The prince,” I said. “For the past six years I’ve been scrubbing floors and fixing my sister’s hair while they talk about going to parties and meeting fancy people, trying to make me jealous. And now I’m losing my virginity to the prince. And I swear to all the gods, I don’t even care that you’re a prince. But they would.”

  “I shall have to meet these stepsisters of yours.” His voice held a rumble of menace that was wonderful. “And when I do, they will know that you belong to me. They will know that I have chosen you and no one else, and your stepmother will regret every blow she’s ever given you.”

  His words stimulated me almost as much as his body did. This felt like a dream. I let out a moan, all pretense of control slipping out the window.

  He started to fuck me in earnest and what I felt on the dance floor seemed just a preview for what was rolling through me now. “I’d like to dress you in a gold and a fine silk gown and a cloak trimmed in fur.” My back bumped against the door. “And take you in my carriage back to your house to gather your things.”

  “They sold most of my things,” I panted.

  “Then they ought to pay you in interest.” He spoke into my ear. “Someday, I will be king, Ellara. And if there is one thing I value, it’s fairness. My father, gods bless him, lets people get away with too much. And Wrindel takes after him. I might not be fun, but I am fair. I will see that justice is done.”

  “Oh yes…” I probably shouldn’t be getting off on the idea of making my stepsisters pay for their crimes, but…after six years, a girl deserves something, doesn’t she? I was enjoying every moment of this, having a fantasy of seizing back hair ornaments, books, decorative boxes…even as I was getting pinned against a door, the royal cock thrusting deep into me, claiming me with every stroke.

  I never wanted a prince…until I actually had one.

  After a little bit, I started to realize it felt even better if I worked with him. I squeezed my thighs around him, moving slightly with his thrusts, tightening my inner muscles around his shaft.

  “You’re stronger than you look,” he said.

  “Scrubbing floors will do that.” It felt so good that I was grinning and when he saw me, his serious expression cracked into a faint smile.

  I made a little hum of pleasure, seeing it, and I kissed him again, nibbling on his lip, as if that smile was something I could taste. I’m not sure how long we were like that before I felt myself starting to tip into that deep well of pleasure again, much more intensely than before. Thank goodness. It would have been deeply humiliating if I had started moaning on the ball room floor. Now I moaned against his mouth, his cheek. I pulled back a little, to look at his face, and I realized what all of this really meant.

  The prince. The bloody prince. He was going to make me his future queen.

  I didn’t know the first thing about being a princess or a queen, but in that moment, I didn’t care either. If I could figure out how to fall from a pampered only daughter to a beaten-down hous
emaid, I could figure out how to rise to serve the people of this land.

  He drove into me as my body convulsed around him, warm pleasure shuddering through me until I was drowning in it. He held me up as I went limp and he kept fucking me for another moment until he reached the same pleasure. The room felt close around me, too warm, thick with the scent of desire. His hot seed mingled with my own juices. Gods, but this was a messier business than I expected—and I liked it. I felt marked by him.

  “Ellara…” He whispered. “Ellara…Ellara…you’re mine and no one will ever hurt you again.”

  I was starting to think my goblin godmother was pretty smart after all.

  Then, I heard the clock chiming outside, its bells low and ominous.

  “Oh gods—I have to go!”

  “Go? Why?”

  “Because—my clothes—my carriage—I don’t want to be seen like this.” I couldn’t bear such a wonderful moment ending in my transformation back to a wretched thing clad in rags. “I’m sorry. I can’t explain. I’ll come back tomorrow.” I sort of scrambled off of his cock, which was just as awkward as it sounds, and shoved the door open. Luckily I was already so close to the bridge across the moat. My feet flew. One of my glass slippers went sailing off.

  The carriage was waiting for me, one of my spider coachmen already waiting at the door. I was relieved to see them; I feared I might lose them at the palace if they transformed before I reached them. I hopped inside and it was already starting to travel, with the other spider at the reins. The second one sprang up as it was in motion. The horses charged down the streets, which were empty because everyone was still at the ball.

  I hugged myself. My legs still felt weak, fresh pain aching inside my inner sheath. I hadn’t noticed it as much in the moment.

  The chimes finished their slow toll. The carriage jolted along the streets as if it was outrunning fate. Please, don’t fail me. Perhaps I could will the carriage to last until we reached home. At first, I thought perhaps the enchantment had succeeded, but then the whole thing jolted. I heard a strange crack and then a slithering. The carriage was shrinking in on me. I jumped out as it was turning back into a pumpkin, the wheels turning to vines. The coachmen shrunk back down into spiders, the horses into mice. And my dress—to tatters.