by Wild, Callie
It wasn’t long before the bags once again hit the dirt road.
“I’ve been dying to touch you again,” Aaron confessed, both arms around her, smoothing up and down her back, cupping her buttocks in his palms before moving up to tangle in her hair. He would never get enough of feeling her against him. “I thought you regretted it.”
“No, never. I only worried—”
“Don’t worry.” He buried one hand in her hair, pulling her mouth closer, while his other palm urged her hips tight to his. She moaned and pulsed forward against his obvious arousal, her control vanishing as quickly as his own.
It was as if the second they touched, every barrier, every societal convention, every thought of how one “should” behave with a new lover melted into nothingness in the heat of their passion. It was uncommon in the best sense of the word, a rare abandon that Aaron was already coming to crave.
“You don’t understand,” she said, her words ending in a gasp as he ran his hand up her ribs to cup her breast. Her nipple tightened until he could feel the bud through the fabric. He hadn’t paid nearly enough attention to her breasts the first time they’d made love, an oversight he meant to make amends for immediately.
“Then explain it to me, love,” he said, kissing down the length of her neck.
He ignored the way that word kept finding its way into conversation. No matter that a part of him admitted to the madness of loving her, the old Aaron would never have made the mistake of uttering the word aloud. The old Aaron knew a thing or two about women—how to lure them in and how to frighten them away if need be.
But the last thing he wanted to do was scare Calliope by raving about his love for her less than twenty-four hours into their relationship. He would do his best to make light of the word when it managed to fly out of his mouth and concentrate on distracting her with more pleasurable things.
His fingers finally loosed the bow at her bodice. She wasn’t wearing a thing underneath her dress—a fact he’d been all too aware of since that morning—so there was nothing barring him from attending to the pale peach nipple that tightened under his gaze.
“It’s difficult,” she said, her breath catching. “I mean, I’m not sure how to—”
She broke off with a soft cry as he took her bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tight tip. Her skin tasted as wonderful as her lips, a mix of flowers and honey that made him suckle her deeper, pulling at her sensitive flesh until her breath came faster and her fingers tangled in his hair. She arched into him as his teeth pressed lightly into her flesh, drawing a hungry sound from her throat.
“Calliope.” Her name sounded like a profession of love, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
His hands shook as he tugged her bodice lower, barely resisted the urge to rip the cloth in his haste to free her neglected breast. Only the knowledge of the servant waiting down the road with the horses lent him restraint. If Calliope arrived in torn clothing, there would be talk, and Aaron didn’t want her to be the subject of court gossip.
Finally he bared her other breast and descended upon it with a groan, eager to kiss and lick and suckle that nipple into a state as fevered as the first. He continued to pluck gently at one tightened tip with his fingers as he laved the other, worshiping her sweet skin with his mouth until she fisted her hands in his hair and pulled.
“I can’t take any more. I need you.” Her eyes were glazed with desire and her lips parted so prettily he couldn’t resist the urge to crush her mouth beneath his.
Their kiss was less gentle this time, an erotic battle of tongues, teeth and lips that increased the pressure building low in his body. He fought to maintain control as he fisted her dress in his hands, lifting the long gown until he could slide one hand beneath. His fingers trailed up her thigh, expecting to find the soft cotton of her underthings, but instead finding nothing but crisp curls and a pool of slick heat.
He groaned as he slipped first one, then two fingers inside her, nearly losing his mind as her arousal coated his hand. “Do you understand what this does to a man? To find you bare beneath your clothes?”
“I’ve never worn underthings,” she panted against his lips as she rode his fingers, impaling herself with little thrusts of her hips. “The Fae don’t have courses, so— Goddess, Aaron, I want you, not your fingers.”
“Here?” he asked, his voice harsh with desire. “Beside the road?”
“Yes,” she said, eyes sliding closed as she clung to his shoulders, digging her nails into the flesh there. “Please. I need you.”
“Soon,” he said, loving the way her features twisted with hunger. “Soon, love.”
“Please, Aaron. Now!” She was seconds away from coming on his hand. He could feel it in the way her channel tightened around him, slick and hot, but still Aaron waited.
Just a few more thrusts, just a bit more…
When her lips parted and a flush stained the swells of her breasts, Aaron abruptly removed his hand.
Her cry of protest became a sound of anticipation as he backed them both off the road, pushing her up against a wide tree whose branches shaded the grass beneath. He pulled at the closure of his riding pants, wincing as he finally freed his swollen cock. He began to bunch her skirt up around her hips, but she stopped him with her hands on his wrists.
“Not the tree,” she said, surprising him. “I’ve only had one other lover and that was how we—What I mean is, I don’t want to think of anyone but you when—”
“Don’t worry, I promise you won’t be thinking of anyone but me.” Aaron ignored the rage that filled him at the thought of another man’s hands on Calliope, but his touch was rougher than intended as he pulled her to the ground on top of him.
Without wasting another moment, he pulled up her skirts, holding them out of the way with one hand so he could watch as the other positioned his cock at her entrance. Eagerly, she dropped her hips, encasing him in her tight, wet heat. Aaron bucked into her, feeling the tip of his cock butt up against the end of her channel.
They were a perfect fit, made to give each other pleasure.
Calliope braced herself on his chest and began to ride him, experimentally at first, as if she’d never been on top before. Aaron held tightly to the swells of her hips, meeting her thrusts and doing his best not to shoot inside her within the first thirty seconds. But it was difficult…insanely difficult.
Her long hair danced around her shoulders, slipping forward to tease against her lightly bouncing breasts. The sight of her, half clothed but with her kiss-swollen breasts exposed, was one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen and he couldn’t resist another taste of her. He placed his hands beneath her arms, pulling those delicious peaks close enough to kiss.
She moaned his name as he pressed her breasts together and suckled both of her nipples into his mouth at the same time, her rhythm faltering before she began to move against him in a different way.
Aaron hummed against her flesh, pulling away to trace the outline of each swollen nipple with his tongue before resuming his suckling and pinching. She was grinding into him now, the motion of her hips a sensuous circling that he could tell was taking her closer to her pleasure. He met each little circle with a pulse of his hips, urging the tension within her higher until she made a hungry sound each time his pelvis bucked into hers.
The pressure in his sac became nearly unbearable, but he struggled to hold his own release at bay, focusing on the hard ground beneath him, the sound of the birds singing in the tree above, anything but the liquid velvet of her body gripping his cock with previously unimagined perfection.
“Goddess, yes!” Calliope arched above him, every muscle tense as her body clamped down around his cock with enough force to draw a cry from his own lips.
Her eyes were closed at first, but after a moment she opened them to gaze down into his face. The look of wonder, satisfaction and tenderness mixing in her features destroyed the last of his control.
Aaron rolled her beneath him
, making sure he stayed buried inside her as they moved, and drove into her welcoming heat with a wildness that he normally wouldn’t allow. He was usually too worried about hurting a woman, but with Calliope the idea of “worry” was foreign. He felt her pleasure as deeply as he felt his own and he would know the moment she felt any pain. The connection between them was unbelievable, almost magical.
Magical…
The word sent worry flashing through his mind, but the second he met Calliope’s eyes, he was consumed again by the bliss of being inside this amazing woman. She was beautiful, sweet, and strong—not the type who would need to resort to spells to win a man’s heart.
Perhaps not your heart, but what of her freedom?
The whisper became a warning that nagged at his thoughts, but then Calliope whispered—
“Aaron, my love.”
And all thoughts of magic—or anything else—fled his mind.
He came hard, his heart aching with the same ferocity as his cock. She was everything he’d ever dreamed of, the woman he hadn’t believed existed. What did it matter if his love came from his heart or from some trick of magic? Surely this euphoria, this bliss was worth being the victim of deception?
And perhaps sleeping your life away isn’t so bad, either, as long as you have beautiful dreams.
The thought cut through him, a knife slid cleanly into the heart of his pleasure, and Aaron’s throat tightened until he could barely breathe, a part of him already mourning the death of the dream that was Calliope.
CHAPTER SIX
Calliope
Men were more complicated than she had assumed, even kind, brilliant lovers like Aaron. Of course, if he hadn’t been so generous in bed and so sweet and understanding about her infirmity, Calliope wasn’t sure she would think him so kind.
“Hurry up, Calliope. Night will be falling soon. Try to ride as if you weren’t a dead body slung across the saddle.”
In fact, she would probably think he was a first-rate ass.
“Put some effort into it, will you?” His voice made it clear how very little he thought of her riding skill.
She had told him she’d only ridden twice before and had done her best to keep up, struggling to keep pace with him even when the sensitive skin of her thighs and other bare parts chafed against the rough leather of the saddle. She wanted to ask him to stop so that she could change into her riding pants, but they were at the bottom of the pack and she didn’t want to delay them any further.
Still, her poor thighs were stinging something fierce…
“Aaron, are you sure we can’t stop for a moment? I think if I—”
“How many times have I requested your silence?” He barked the words over his shoulder from where he rode in front of her, not even bothering to turn and look her in the eye.
“Several,” she said, wounded by his tone. “But I—”
“Then keep your peace. We’re in a dangerous part of the country.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Nonsense, we’re not far from my own farm.”
“I won’t ask you again, Calliope. The next word you utter will be considered treason against your king and country.” He followed the words by kicking his mount, urging the poor beast into a canter after four hours of hard riding.
“Treason, indeed,” Calliope muttered, beginning to think truly treasonous thoughts about the ways she would like to make King Aaron pay for his rudeness.
She wished she were skilled at magic, especially transfiguration. Spending the afternoon as a lizard would teach that man to think twice before he behaved like a cold-blooded reptile. It was impossible to believe he was the same man who had made love to her with such tenderness, who had melted her heart so completely that she could not help but call him her love.
She had cried at the beauty of their passion, for Goddess’ sake!
But maybe that was what had made him act like a mean-spirited troll. Mother always said that a man who held your heart was a man who couldn’t be trusted. They were cruelest to those they cared for and even crueler to those who cared for them.
Or maybe your spell is simply wearing off.
For once, the voice in her head wasn’t one of the “others”, but her own inner muse. The herbs the healer at the castle had given her were even more effective than her tonics. She’d placed some under her tongue after lunch and hadn’t heard a whisper from the cast of characters usually gathered in her skull. She’d been wonderfully alone with her own thoughts.
Too bad that those thoughts hadn’t been at all wonderful…
What if Aaron’s abrupt change of attitude was magically related? She’d only heard good things spoken of the king and the way he had treated his family and courtiers at dinner had been above reproach. Even the more spiteful members of the court had been treated with tolerance and his dealings with her had been generous and caring. He had a sympathetic ear and had seemed shamelessly devoted to her comfort and pleasure.
Right up until they’d finished making love in the grass, when he had pulled away and stared down at where she lay with a suspicious light in his eyes.
Perhaps he suspects that the passion between you is tainted?
“Why didn’t I tell him last night? Why did I keep my suspicions to myself?” Calliope softly asked the heavens, though she already knew the answer.
After the festive supper in his hall, he had walked her to the door of her chamber and kissed her so sweetly that she hadn’t wanted to speak a word that would influence him against her. She had convinced herself to wait until they freed Johann, justifying her silence with the belief that Aaron shouldn’t be distracted from the rescue by concern over his own possible enchantment.
“You were thinking of yourself and selfishness is never rewarded, Calliope,” she chastised herself, urging her mount into a trot despite the raw state of her skin.
Aaron had pulled ahead and it wouldn’t do to lose sight of him. She hadn’t been to the Beauvielle castle since she was a girl and could easily get lost on the rough road they followed. The narrow dirt path had already branched several times. But Aaron always seemed to know which branch to choose, as if he had memorized every inch of his country and could navigate its roadways blindfolded.
Blindfolded…
Hmm…there was a thought. The pull between was definitely strongest when they were gazing into each other’s eyes. Even during the ride, Aaron’s voice would gentle if he turned back to look at her before he spoke. Perhaps the best way to test the truth of their attraction was for Aaron to be unable to see her as they touched…
The beginnings of a plan forming in her mind, Calliope urged her mount into a full canter, suddenly as eager as Aaron to arrive at their campsite for the night.
The sooner they fed and watered the horses and had their own supper, the sooner she would be able to put her theory to the test.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Aaron
“Leave them. I’ll clean the dishes,” Aaron said in the same impatient tone he’d used with his travelling companion the entire afternoon. “Get ready for bed. Morning will come soon enough and I don’t want you delaying our departure.”
“Of course, Sire. I live to serve you,” Calliope snapped, finally losing her temper, though he’d given her more than enough reason to lash into him several hours past.
Aaron turned to watch her storm away toward the river, a smile tugging at his lips. No matter how foul it made him feel to treat her so horribly, some sick part of him enjoyed hearing his imperious tone mocked in her sweet, lilting voice.
The smile faded as quickly, however, replaced by a more familiar wave of misery.
He was making himself miserable treating Calliope this way, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. If he wasn’t actively trying to be difficult, he slipped under her spell all over again. Just the sight of her blonde hair shining in the sun made him want to whisper a hundred apologies into the delicate pink shell of her ear.
He cursed as he scraped their plates clean and buried
what little food remained from their supper a few meters from the camp.
This was hardly the ideal way to spend the night before a difficult battle. And it would be a battle, no doubt about it.
Calliope had told him what she knew of the castle and none of it sounded good. There was a moat of molten lava surrounding the keep that had the tendency to overflow as travelers attempted to cross the drawbridge. There was a forest of poisonous vines filling the bottom floors of the castle, and the entrance to Rosamund’s tower was guarded by a half dog, half dragon beast that craved human flesh.
If Aaron was to free his brother without magical intervention, he would need his wits about him…though he hoped to have more than the power of the sword on his side. He believed Calliope would be swayed to use her magic once she came face-to-face with the wicked thing she had created.
He found it hard to believe she hadn’t tried to remedy Rosamund’s situation before now. Aside from the spell modification she had made as a child, Calliope swore she hadn’t ventured within a few miles of the castle for fear of making the problem worse. Her lack of faith in her powers didn’t inspire confidence, but the castle physician had sworn there was nothing magically amiss in her aura.
Aaron couldn’t see such things himself, but he trusted Dr. Whethers. She had kept his father from death for a good twenty years after the old man should have passed into the next realm. The former King Aaron had even managed to sire a son, Johann, several years after the first attack on his heart, giving Outer Kartolia a second male heir to the throne fourteen years after the first. If Whethers said there was nothing clinically wrong with Calliope’s magic, he believed her.
But that left the question—what was the fairy’s problem? For there certainly was a problem if her gifts kept ending up as curses.
He was still angry with her for possibly enchanting him into caring for her, but he didn’t believe Calliope would deliberately hurt anyone.