The Heartwood Box: A Fairy Tale

by Lilia Ford

  “I beg your pardon!”

  “Beg away, Jenny-girl. This could all have been avoided if you’d been halfway clever about it. I speak as someone who spent most of his childhood being sent to his room. The great thing about people locking you up is then they think they know where you are. All you have to do is stand with your hands folded and say sweetly, ‘Yes of course, Damian, whatever you say.’ Then, once he thinks you are safely locked away, your accomplice sneaks you out, and voila, freedom!”

  “And I suppose you are offering your services as accomplice?”

  The rogue actually ran his eyes up and down her figure, coming to rest at her bosom. She was well aware that he’d selected the nightdress she was wearing. Though not as indecent as the one Damian had chosen for her, this was made of a lightweight lawn, suitable for the summer months, the thin fabric not quite transparent, but close. The dress also made it obvious that she was wearing no undergarments at all.

  “Jenny-girl, if you took my cock in your mouth, you’d never need fear a locked door again.”

  Genevieve’s eyes blazed. “You scoundrel! How dare you say that to me!”

  “I never claimed to be anything else. You’re the one who went all on about morality. Can you blame me for trying?” he said in a wounded tone. “Blame those blasted cherries. I was trying to torture Damian, but since then I’ve been able to think of nothing else but how I might get you on your knees before me!”

  She took a shaky breath—she couldn’t help imagining it as well, and the picture roused an intense lust. She licked her lips absently. “You’d really want to….” She was too embarrassed to continue.

  “I’d really want to… sleep with you? Yes.”

  The words were spoken in his usual light manner, but the look he gave her was so heated, Genevieve couldn’t help believing him sincere.

  “But you haven’t….”

  “Is this one of those children’s games where you finish each other’s sentences? I haven’t… eaten squirrel brains… sailed down the Nile… tried to seduce my brother’s wife? Actually, I thought I would wait for her to seduce me.” Genevieve’s jaw dropped. “Don’t look so surprised. The truth is, I do fancy you, at least when you’re not blotchy and runny-nosed from bawling, but I’m a lazy chap, and I’d prefer that you do the work.”

  She hit him with the cushion.

  “Ouch—careful or no one will seduce anyone.”

  “You truly want this?”

  He glanced down at his member, which was blatantly tenting the thin fabric of his pants. She laughed helplessly. Perhaps it was all as idiotically simple as Donal had said: what’s another brother? There was a strange sort of logic to it, she supposed, and it accounted for Damian’s nervousness when he first broached the topic of his brothers sharing the house with them—and what he’d said about their family trying to root out jealousy.

  She met Donal’s eye—he smiled mischievously and put his hands beneath his head. “Any time you’re ready,” he said lazily. “Climb right on. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Beast! Badly as she wanted him, she wanted to wipe that knowing smirk off his face just as much. She thought of what he’d said—about the picnic—she licked her lips just thinking about it. She gave him a wicked smile and climbed off the daybed and knelt on the grass.

  “Any time you’re ready,” she purred.

  She was ecstatic to see that she’d caught him off guard.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice husky.

  “Don’t be afraid,” she said in a reassuring tone. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Afraid! You little minx! You’d better not be teasing me!” he said, swinging his legs around.

  “Try me and find out.”

  Donal stood up, yanking on the drawstring of his pants and letting them fall. “If you are, I swear I will make you pay.”

  “Make me pay? What are you nine?” she retorted triumphantly.

  He shook his head. “You, you….”

  She’d actually rendered him speechless!

  However, Genevieve found her confidence wavering as he moved until his… cock he called it… was right in her face. She took a shuddery breath. It was still strange looking to her. His was aroused, very aroused. It stuck right up, the rounded end darker, reminding her of a plum.

  It was quite large, now that she saw all of it. Really very large, flicking up and down in her face with each of his breaths.

  Donal’s expression was tense. He’d not been joking when he said he’d dreamt of this. When she didn’t move immediately, his eyes narrowed. “You were! Jenny-girl, you cannot begin to conceive of how much you are going to regret teasing me.”

  She was not teasing! There was nothing for it. She put her hands on his hips and moved to catch it… his cock… with her mouth.

  “Gods Genevieve,” Donal burst out, sounding astounded.

  She was astounded herself—she loved feeling him in her mouth. His skin was silkily smooth, soft at the top but iron hard down the length. She began exploring his shape with her tongue—the sharp rim between the head and the length, the small hole at the very tip, the slight ridge of the vein that ran along the shaft, the brush of hair that just touched her face when she took him deep in her mouth. With each sweep of her tongue, Donal shuddered.

  He was already aroused, but she wanted to drive him mad. She tried sucking with her whole mouth. Donal groaned loudly, gripped her head with his hands, and began pulsing into her mouth. “Ah Titania, Genevieve…. You can’t…. You need to stop!” he sputtered.

  She didn’t want to stop—she wanted to push him all the way. She knelt up further, gripping his buttocks so she could move in closer with each of his pulses. She’d never imagined that something like this could be so exciting, but she loved how powerful she felt, loved that she could give him this kind of pleasure.

  His thrusts were intensifying, his cock hardening yet more. “Genevieve…. Gods…. You need to stop now!”

  She sucked harder, forcing him even deeper into her mouth.

  “Damnation, you little minx!”

  He let out a savage shout, and her mouth was flooded with thick, salty warmth. She was so startled, she tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. “No, you pushed for this. You will take every drop like a good girl.”

  His words sent a jolt of lust through her entire body, and she had no choice but to obey, swallowing down his release, the sensation strange but not disagreeable. When he’d finished, he pulled out of her mouth and gripped her chin, looking as if he didn’t know what to make of her.

  “You wicked little vixen! You think you’re so clever, driving me to spend in your mouth instead of your sweet sex.” He gripped her by the upper arm and pulled her to her feet. “Little did you realize, I am just getting started. On the bed, legs apart, dress up—do it now!”

  “Donal!” she cried. They were outside!

  “You started this game, little girl. It’s my turn, and you are going to pay for your trick. Now get on that bed and spread your legs for me. So help me, Genevieve….”

  He moved too quickly for her, tossing her on the bed.

  In a more soothing tone, he said, “No one is here, no one can see, on my honor. But this is your last warning. Dress up, legs apart!”

  As with his brothers, Genevieve found it impossible to disobey when he was like this. She reached down and pulled her dress up, letting her knees fall apart. She was nervous now—she’d never seen Donal like this.

  He moved her legs farther apart and then sat at the end of the daybed, staring right at her exposed sex, making no other move to touch her, which perversely made her more and more aroused.

  Abruptly his head was between her legs. Genevieve screamed. His tongue relentlessly explored, penetrated, driving her already simmering desires to a violent boil. He latched onto her bud with his lips, lightly sucking, pushing her rapidly towards a climax. She tensed in readiness, crying out, “Donal, Gods….�
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  But then he stopped sucking and instead used his tongue to swirl around the bud so lightly it was close to torture. “Donal, what are you doing?” she screamed.

  “Revenge is sweet!” he quipped between long licks.

  “No! Donal!”

  “Beg!” he said, his voice rumbling into her sex, driving her even more insane.

  “I’ll kill you for this!”

  “Not before you beg, though.”

  He was laughing at her! She’d be damned before she’d begged him. But Donal sensed her resistance. Suddenly his fingers were inside of her, moving in counterpoint to his tongue. She tried to pull away, but he forced her legs over his shoulders and gripped her firmly by the hips with his arms so that she couldn’t move at all.

  After that she was lost. “Please, Donal!” she cried shamelessly.

  “Please what?”

  “Please let me come!”

  He flicked with his tongue right onto her swollen bud, and her whole body lurched into a hard climax. The spasms hadn’t yet died down when he flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her hips down to the edge of the daybed. She yelled in protest. The last time she’d been in this position, Derek had spanked her mercilessly. But instead Donal thrust into her—from behind! She’d no idea that was possible.

  “You are the most provoking… little… vixen,” he grunted as he ruthlessly pumped into her.

  Then he gripped her hips more tightly and moved backwards without pulling out until her hands rested on the grass. He let go of one hip to push her head and forearms down, which was more comfortable, but made her feel even more vulnerable. And then he started to pound into her. The movement reawakened the pain in her buttocks, but insanely, the sensation was enough to push her into another orgasm.

  “You’re not done,” Donal growled. “One more climax for you.”

  “No!” she cried out. “Please!”

  “Oh yes!” he said. “Thanks to your little trick, we both know I can outlast you.”

  Then he began lightly rubbing her rear end. She assumed it was by accident that his fingers crept closer to a spot they definitely shouldn’t go near. When he did it a second time, she flinched and tried to pull away.

  Donal gripped her tighter than ever and said, “Oh no you don’t.” Suddenly a finger was circling the sensitive little hole.

  “Donal!” she screamed. “What are you doing?”

  “Easy, little girl. Just relax. Don’t fight it.”

  Genevieve was as far as possible from relaxing, but his words and his implacable grip on her hips made clear he would not let her escape this. She screamed madly, unable to fathom the strange sensation. Only one thing was clear to her: she was moving inexorably towards another climax.

  Donal was ruthless, swirling around that devastatingly sensitive spot until she climaxed violently a third time. As her whole body wrenched around him, she felt him driving into her until he jerked to a finish himself.

  He grabbed her waist and pulled her back against him onto the grass. “I begin to see how my brothers could be driven past endurance by you,” he said, squeezing her and kissing her neck. “Are you all right, sweetheart? That wasn’t too rough for you, was it?”

  “No,” she admitted. “You’re not so different from them, are you?”

  “My brothers? No. Did you think I was?”

  “Not really,” she said, laughing nervously.

  He turned her to face him and rubbed his nose against hers. “It’s a lot to take, I know. For better or worse, we are all three of us the descendants of Declan, which means that when you pull tricks like that, be prepared. And I had such plans to give you control. Just goes to show!”

  Genevieve rolled her eyes—his plans to give her control amounted to ordering her to climb on top of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, wondering that the three brothers could all look so similar, all share the same nature, and yet be so very different from each other.

  What would happen when Damian and Derek returned? If they did?

  She tried to hold the tears back. None of this was Donal’s fault. He’d done everything he could to make her feel better.

  Donal was watching her. Thank Titania he didn’t appear hurt. “It will be okay, sweetheart. I promise. But in the meantime….” He rolled on top of her and gave her a deep kiss. “I think you are ready for more lessons on the danger of taunting a descendant of Declan.”

  “You’re not serious,” Genevieve sputtered.

  “Never, ever say that to me, Jenny-girl.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Genevieve no longer fought anything, tried not to think, and just gave herself over to the closeness she felt for Donal. To her relief, they spent the night in the conservatory again, staying up late watching the stars together in between bouts of lovemaking. She couldn’t bear the thought of going back to her room—Damian’s room—with matters between them so unsettled.

  The more time she spent with Donal, the more affection she felt for him. She’d never in her life known someone with such good spirits—or such impudent humor. It didn’t seem like such qualities should accompany patience and generosity, but in Donal they did.

  Even more striking was his perceptiveness. She’d noticed it from the beginning, and the more she knew him, the more uncanny his powers seemed to her. She began to suspect that his rude humor served as a camouflage for his keen discernment. She’d not forgotten that a single glimpse of her bedroom at her parents’ cottage had been enough to prompt him to order her sitting room painted in her favorite color.

  Likewise, the next morning when he asked if she’d like to have a portable tub brought down to the conservatory, he read something in her expression because he kissed her forehead and whispered, “Don’t worry, little girl, I’ll leave you to bathe in peace.”

  She’d hardly realized herself what was bothering her until Donal reassured her. The truth was that she’d accepted their intimacy, at least for the time being, but taking a bath with anyone except Damian would feel like a betrayal, and just the idea threw her into a panic.

  Donal definitely shared his brothers’ despotic tendencies, though he was not quite so obvious about it. Defiance from her didn’t provoke him the way it did Damian and Derek, and he didn’t seem to share their taste for binding and restraining her. Still, when they did make love, he almost always took her hard from behind, which she was positive was a taste of his—along with her giving him pleasure with her mouth while on her knees. The entire first day he only let her have a skimpy nightdress to wear, and when she asked for a proper dress, told her she was free to take it off if she didn’t like it. He did bring her a proper dress the second day, but just laughed when she asked for undergarments.

  But whatever contentment she found with Donal could not last. This was nothing more than a strange dream, an interlude like the cave, before her happiness fell to pieces and her life became a nightmare. Donal almost never left her alone, but in those rare moments when he wasn’t making love to her, embracing her, or making her laugh, the guilt and the pain would creep back.

  No matter what Donal said, she’d hurt Damian. Their family had welcomed her as a blessing, and she’d repaid them by bringing misery. Not that it could surprise her. She’d brought little but misery to her own parents for years—her parents who would have done anything to help her, but were cursed day after day to see her fall further into wretchedness.

  She wasn’t sure how much Donal guessed of her state, but she suspected he was aware of it, though thankfully he didn’t press her to talk about it further. But she should have known he wouldn’t leave matters alone. She noticed that he’d brought another chair out to their spot in the garden, but she didn’t learn the reason until half an hour after breakfast.

  Of course, it was Genevieve’s luck that Donal was kissing her and had just reached his hand up her skirt, teasingly reminding her of her lack of drawers, when a voice said, “Good morning.”

  It was Declan! Genevieve prayed sh
e might perish on the spot.

  Donal was utterly unperturbed. “Oh you’re here early.”

  She then prayed that Donal would perish—else she would murder him! He’d known Declan was coming and said nothing, and now the Black Prince had practically found them making love! Genevieve was too angry and embarrassed to do more than mumble a greeting.

  “I am pleased to see you looking so much better, daughter,” Declan said as he took a seat in the free chair. “You have done well, Donal.”

  The scoundrel laughed and gave a wicked smile. “Thank you. It has truly been a pleasure.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” the traitor added.

  “Donal!” She tried to hold on to him, but he scampered out of her reach.

  Declan wore the kind smile he always did with her, but today, instead of being reassuring, it only made her feel more guilty. “Sir…. Please… I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause such trouble.”

  “There’s no need to apologize. Surely Donal explained matters to you. The truth is that I’m the one who owes you an apology. If I had spoken to you earlier, some of your suffering might have been avoided.”

  This was worse than anything. “Please don’t say that, please! I can’t bear it.” She felt his hand on her chin, raising her to meet his eye.

  “Tell me what you think you did, child?” he said gently.

  “I don’t think, I know Damian was hurt by this—by my actions.”

  “Little one, Damian was not the only one who has been hurt—you were hurt by his actions, far more grievously in my opinion.” Before she could protest, he said firmly, “Genevieve, the morning following your wedding, I warned Damian that if you and Derek were alone together for any amount of time, something like this would take place.”

  “What? That can’t be.” Genevieve was dumfounded.

  “I speak the plain truth, daughter, and I blame myself, more than you can know, that I did not speak to you immediately. I chose to wait for several reasons: naturally, our beliefs are strange to you and opposed to what you have been taught. Moreover, though we consider it a blessing if the bride feels an attachment to her husband’s brothers, such feelings must never be forced. Any intimacy must be entirely her choice. I felt certain that Damian would accept what is between you and Derek, and I still feel certain of it, but he needed time, which thanks to the Reavers was denied us. Though we work hard to stamp out jealousy, it was understandable that he would feel possessive, especially so early in the marriage.”