by Brill Harper
“I can’t.”
My fingers reach between us, and I slide through her slick skin, stroking her clit until her inner walls clench around me again. My body jerks as if I’m coming again too. Aftershocks. I won’t move off her until I slip out, and the way I’m feeling right now, I might get hard again first.
We are drenched and sated and probably pregnant. And the week has just begun.
Chapter Eight
Violet
Soaking in the large tub for the third time since we arrived yesterday is a very different experience when sharing it with a prince.
Now I know why the tub is so big.
I’m sitting in front of him, my back to his chest, his legs on either side of me. There are candles on every flat surface of the room and we’re drinking water from champagne flutes since I have no interest in another hangover. It’s perfect. I really do have the best comas ever. I don’t ever want to wake up.
Markellan kisses my neck. “What are you thinking?”
“That I never want to wake up from this dream,” I answer truthfully.
He tugs my earlobe with his teeth. “This is real.”
“It can’t be. It’s too perfect. You’re too perfect.”
“I promise you I’m not perfect. You already know I’m arrogant as hell.”
“You seem perfect to me.”
“That’s because I’ve been giving you blinding orgasms that keep you from looking at my faults too closely.”
Well, that is certainly true. I’m not a virgin anymore. I spent most of my life thinking I would always be a virgin. Like Mary. Even when I walked away from the convent, I thought I would remain chaste.
I knew when I left the convent it was the right decision because I didn’t have the calling. I never had the calling. I had a fear of what life might be like outside the walls of the convent, so I stayed. And that isn’t the right reason to dedicate yourself to a religious vocation.
So, leaving was the right thing. But is living this way the right thing?
How does sex outside of marriage figure in if the honeymoon comes before the wedding? Is it wrong? I keep waiting to feel wrong, to feel guilt and shame. I feel very wicked, but I have no shame about it. I actually like it.
“Are you sore, lamb?”
“Would you think badly of me if I said deliciously sore? I ache everywhere, but it’s almost pleasant. Is that normal?”
“God, I hope so.”
I hold up my hand and inspect my pruning fingers. “I suppose we should get out. I just…”
His arm squeezes me tightly to him. “You just what? You can tell me anything.”
The tenderness I feel from him is overwhelming. I keep finding different facets of him with each passing hour. Who would think a giant his size, used to getting whatever he wants, the same man who dominated me so completely, is also so capable of holding me so sweetly. I’m cherished and protected, yet I know in the passing of a minute, he could resume his barbarian persona, pillaging my body and ravishing my soul. And he wants me to tell him how I feel. How would I put this feeling into words? “I’ve never felt like this. Like I do right now. Safe and content and in the moment. I’m afraid when we get out of this bath, I’ll revert back to the old Violet. The scared one. And she’ll be embarrassed about everything we’ve done and I’ll pull away. I want to feel like this forever.”
“You’ve been scared a long time. It would be strange if you changed overnight. My dick is magic, but even I have my limits.”
I giggle. “It is magic.”
“We might have a few steps backward now and then. This is all new to both of us. It’s okay if you get scared and try to pull away a little. I believe you will always come back to me. And I will always wait for you.”
“See? You really are perfect.”
We get out of the tub and he dries me off gently, so I turn around and return the favor. It’s no hardship, exploring his body with a towel. Getting to know where his skin is smooth and where it’s covered in dark fur. Where he is marked by scars. Where his muscles are defined, how they flex when I touch them. I drop the towel and rub my hands over his chest. I feel his nipples stiffen when my thumb grazes them. Interesting. My hands slide down to his ab muscles. So tight. I think he’s holding his breath as I run my finger down the trench of the center of his six…eight pack. I circle around him slowly, trailing my hand across his skin, feeling his heat. He’s a tower of muscle and his back a wall of pure masculinity. I pause as my hand goes lower. Not sure if I should…
“Do whatever you like, lamb. My body is yours.”
I squeeze his…ass. It’s so freeing to think the words I’ve spent my life pushing away. Ass. Pussy. Cock. Clit. His ass is amazing. Round and firm. I keep making my slow circle until I am back to standing in front of him. His body turns me on so much. I have urges that I don’t understand. Instincts that are calling me, telling me I’ll understand them more if I just allow myself to let the spell take over. So I do. I slide to my knees and look up at him towering over me, his glistening, golden-tanned skin poured over beefy muscle, his thick, black hair slicked back from his face, the severe expression in his eyes so dominant and masculine.
I feel utterly feminine and divine down here. Submissive yet empowered. And I want to know him better. Intimately. I want to take pleasure from pleasing him.
My hands trace up his legs, his perfect calves, his rock-hard thighs. His body is so different from mine. So solid and dense. A fleeting worry of my own soft form invades my brain. Wondering how this perfect specimen of virility could ever be content with my fluffy, round body. But the way he looks at me steals my breath. He could have any woman he wants. He could have more than one at a time, I’m sure. But it’s me he’s locked his gaze on. Me who has his powerful body tense and ready. I command his attention now.
His cock, red and hard, bobs in front of my face as if he read my thoughts. It’s a beast in its own right. Turgid, veined, powerful. I quiet my fears, remembering the pleasure, remembering the man who held me in the bath. I take a deep breath and lick my lips.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I say. And I do. Oh, I really do. I want to feel bold.
“Take what you want. It’s yours.” His deep voice is filled with so much desire that I feel a twinge in my pussy from his words.
My pulse hammers in my ears as I reach to touch him. His cock jerks against my hand, and he hisses in a breath, so I stroke—my hand not fully getting around his girth. I can’t believe I actually fit the whole thing inside me. I like its smooth silky texture and the way it pulses against my palms with a throbbing warmth. He is seeping cream from the crown again, but instead of running my finger through the wetness, this time I touch it with the tip of my tongue, tasting my prince for the first time.
He groans and trembles above me, so I do it again, letting his full flavor settle in my mouth, waking up my senses. I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t know it would trigger a craving so intense. More. I want more. I put my whole mouth around the head, feeling the weight of him on my tongue, tasting him more fully. I look up at him and he is staring at me with such dark carnality, I pause. And then I suck on the tip hungrily, keeping my eyes on his, feeling my pussy get wet enough to trickle down my thigh. Markellan’s hand cups the back of my head possessively, but he just holds it there, letting my mouth widen around him, pulling his cock deeper into my mouth. It feels heavy, powerful. I experiment with bobbing my head to get more in, and swirling my tongue, learning the texture of him, using my hand to cover what my mouth can’t. The velvet silk of his skin tastes earthy. He grounds me to the here and now. My body feels so much more mine when he’s inside it.
“Your mouth is so fucking hot, Violet. My sweet, innocent Violet, sucking me so damn good,” he says, his cock flexing in my mouth. “I love how you’re looking at me right now. So pretty with my cock in your mouth, your sweet lips moving over me.” I moan at his dirty words, and the vibration makes him close
his eyes for a moment. He gathers some composure and stills my head. “You’re going to make me come. Is that what you want? Do you want me to fill up your mouth, Violet? I can’t give you a baby that way. You’ll have to get me hard again to fuck your pussy if you let me come in your mouth.”
His sinful promise drives me to resume sucking harder, taking as much of him as I can, trying to get more and more. He groans, his hips pumping against my mouth. I can feel his cock swelling, can feel him losing control as animal urges take over us. Me on my knees on the bathroom floor. Him towering over me like a sex god being worshiped, his dark eyes fierce and commanding.
“Are you sure?” he asks, so I grip his ass in my other hand and squeeze. “I’m going to fill up that hot, little mouth. I’m going to—”
Hot, sticky flavor erupts in my mouth as he roars, pumping and splashing the liquid lava on the roof of my mouth and my tongue. I attempt to drink it all, but swallowing around his cock is difficult. And there is so much of it. I’m trying to keep up, but I feel it leaking from the corners of my mouth as he throbs. He cries out my name, hoarse and satisfied, and when he pulls out, he drops to his knees on the floor with me, pulling me into his barrel-chest. “I think you just drained the life out of me, lamb.” His hand slides down, cupping my mound, one finger delving into my sopping wet pussy. “Oh, you are a naughty girl. So wet. You loved sucking my cock, didn’t you? Do you love my come, too? My naughty girl.”
I whimper with need, but he knows how to help me, massaging my clit hard until I break in his arms, soaring on a high like I’ve never felt.
I feel his seed drying on my chest where it dripped down from my mouth. I’m messy and sticky and so, so happy.
“Markellan?”
“Yes, lamb?”
“I think I need another bath already.”
Chapter Nine
Markellan
We are on day five of our honeymoon, and I have lost track of the times my Violet has drained me with her sweet mouth and pussy. We’re both chafed and exhausted, but I can’t get enough of her. I wake up in the middle of the night hard and reaching for her. We’ve barely been outside. We barely leave my bed.
She’s changing, becoming less inhibited with every hour. Her eyes don’t lower to the floor or her lap as often as they did when we first met. She doesn’t immediately cover herself when the blanket rides down and exposes her breasts like she did at first. Her blushes are less frequent, and she no longer stops herself from touching me or touching herself when the instinct arises.
God, when she touches herself I lose control.
“Are you sleeping, Your Majesty?” she asks, as she continues stroking my hair.
“Nearly.” I’m relaxed and replete, my cheek resting on her stomach where our child might be growing already. I never knew this kind of peace before she came to Kentigen, but it only lasts until the next urgency to fuck her comes along and possesses me.
Not a bad way to live. Not bad at all.
My cellphone rings—the first time in days. I reach over her to look. Damn it. I answer gruffly. “Tara, if this isn’t an emergency…”
“I’m sorry. I know you’re not to be disturbed, but you really have to come to the ball tonight. I’ve tried to get you out of it several times, but I can’t.”
Tara is an expert at getting out of things. If she can’t do it, I’m fucked. “I’m on my honeymoon.”
“I know. I know. Just make a quick appearance and you can leave again. The queen is on a bender.”
Fuck. I disconnect the call and blow out all the air in my lungs unhappily. “We have to attend the ball tonight. My mother is insisting.” And the queen gets what the queen wants.
Violet stiffens beneath me. “I can’t go to a ball. All I have to wear is your bathrobe.”
“We’ll get you a gown.” I sit up and find myself unable to tear my eyes away from her strawberry topped breasts. They are amazing. White, round fleshy orbs topped like a sundae with rosy nipples that beg me to suck them. So I lean over and take one in my mouth, circling the budded nipple with my tongue. Fuck the ball. I’m staying right here.
“I can’t go to a royal ball.”
“It won’t be that bad, I promise,” I say between breasts.
I feel a chill and realize it’s Violet. Pulling back from me. Freezing me out.
I rise up on my elbows. “You’ve already met the queen and the future queen. They are the most imposing ones there and you did fine. Everyone will love you.”
She rolls away and slips on the robe. “I won’t go. I can’t go.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a nun.”
“I can assure you that you are not a nun. My come is leaking down your leg right now.” I hoped that would anger her, force her to hiss like a cat and get us to the bottom of this…whatever it is that’s causing her to withdraw. Instead, she gives me a cold look. One that hits me like bricks. I already know her enough to see what she is really saying. “You don’t want to come to the ball because you don’t think you are going to stay. You think you’re going back to America after this.”
She shrugs but her eyes are so vacant and cold it feels like she’s not even in her body. Like someone else controls her limbs and my Violet is locked away someplace in a tower. “I haven’t made any decisions yet, but you have to admit it seems like the most likely outcome.”
“Does it?”
“Markellan, we both know I don’t fit in your world. What would I do at a ball?”
“Eat, drink, dance. What does anyone do at a ball?”
“I have no idea! I thought they were things that only happened in fairy tales. I didn’t realize that there were people who still had them. I don’t know how to dance. I don’t know how to walk in high heels. I don’t even know how to curtsy.”
I pull open a drawer and yank out a pair of jeans, stuffing my legs into them without putting on underwear. I just can’t be naked when she breaks me. I know it’s coming. I can feel the ice crystallizing everything in this room. Including her heart.
How the hell did I allow myself to fall so fast? How did I get so weak? I didn’t even try to guard my heart. I’m such an arrogant bastard it never occurred to me I might lose it. “So you learn how to curtsy, wear flat shoes, and just let me hold you on the dance floor.” But even I know that the ball isn’t what the problem is.
The first sign of real life intrudes on us and she retreats. She hasn’t even seen the kingdom yet. The beautiful city lights. The small villages where she’d feel more at home. I want to give her the mountains and freshwater streams. Show her the vineyards that frost our grapes for the ice wine Kentigen is famous for producing. If I don’t find a way to convince her to stay, she’ll go back to her country with my babe in her belly just like I told her she could do.
But nothing will be accomplished by forcing her to the ball tonight.
I need air. I need to think. To plan.
To find a way to erase that vacant look in her eyes.
“I will attend the ball without you tonight. But this conversation isn’t over.” There are two men inside me right now. One is primal and cave-dwelling, demanding that I take my woman now, fuck her into submission. The other is the man I was raised to be. The one who already worships her as my patron goddess. That demands I protect her right to make her own choices.
Fuck that dude. Right now I hate him.
The gym. I need to hit the gym and the bag. Hit it hard. I will pummel the punching bag, attend the ball, and when I return, use my dick to convince her to stay.
When I am leaving I hear her on the comm line. Asking for Con.
She’s calling Con. Just like I told her to do if she wanted to leave.
I would give her everything, all of me. My insatiable desire, my need, my determination to cater to her every carnal wish.
If only she’d have me.
Chapter Ten
Violet
My heart is in my throat and I feel sick. “Are you absolutely sure abo
ut this?” Tara asks me. “You don’t have to do this tonight. There’s no rush.”
I squeeze her hand. “Thank you for being so kind to me. I’ve had lots of women friends over the years, but none that would have been able to help with this kind of problem.”
I keep thinking about the way Markellan looked this morning. The way I hurt him. The way I wanted him while he stood there in unbuttoned jeans and bare feet. My erotic awareness of him did not dim even then, when I could see I was hurting him.
But it’s better this way.
I take a deep breath. It’s time. Time to say goodbye.
To the old Violet.
“Miss Violet Havisham,” the man announces and all eyes turn to me. It’s a new name to them. Tara said it’s a small enough kingdom new would be noticed.
But it’s only one set of eyes I’m looking for.
As I descend the grand staircase slowly, and in flats, I see a man weaving through the crowd, his frame large and commanding, until at last he is in front.
Markellan.
Okay, so I know the “nothing but unbuttoned well-worn jeans” look made my insides melt, but I can’t say that the outfit he’s got on now doesn’t do the same thing. Some kind of uniform with all the bells and whistles. Gold braiding and trim accentuate how fine the coat is made, but it is the beast wearing it that stuns me.
And that blatant look of lust in his eyes.
He’s looking at me like I’m the most desirable woman in the world, and I can feel his gaze like a caress on every erogenous zone on my body. And some zones I don’t think that are meant to be erogenous but suddenly are. My heart is hammering, and my head is telling me to watch my step, I still have about two dozen to get down without tripping on this gown.
He seems to be stalking me with every step closer to the stairs. No hesitation now. There is a power rolling off him. I continue my way down, but he begins going up—two stairs at a time. He’s coming for me. My heart is beating a primal drum rhythm now. I feel it pulse in my whole body. The aching, pulling throb of need.