The Heartwood Box: A Fairy Tale

by Lilia Ford

  But badly as she craved that, she needed something else from Derek as well. That state of intoxication came at a high price. When she was under his control, she felt utterly out of her mind. Those feelings shut out everything else, leaving no room for simple affection. She’d been trying all day to find some middle ground with him, some way of spending time with him without letting him drive her into a frenzy.

  She met Derek’s eye—he knew she was thinking about his punishing her, and he was strongly aroused by it. “Not today, please Derek,” she pleaded. His gaze hardened at her speaking without permission. He was moving to spank her. Before the demon took over and matters spiraled out of her control, she whimpered, “Parole.”

  Derek dropped his hands, his face suddenly hard and cold. “I’ll leave,” he rasped.

  “NO!” she practically sobbed. The very idea that she’d hurt him threatened to make her start bawling like a hysterical child. “I want you so badly I’m going to go mad. Please, I just need….” She cringed at how desperate she sounded.

  “I know you want me to punish you,” he said angrily.

  “I need to touch you,” she shouted back, wondering to hear herself repeat the words she’d said to Damian in this very room. Somehow it gave her courage. Damian had always insisted she speak up about what she desired. This matter with Derek went beyond desire: she needed something from him, and it was worth fighting for. “I submitted to you, and we both know I will again, Derek, but I can’t always live like that—in that state of intoxication. I need affection from you. I need to be able to be with you. I need you to hold me!”

  To her astonishment, some recognition passed over his features. He nodded slowly and said, “You need it.”

  He scooped her up and carried her to the bed, clasping her tightly to him. She clung to him then, trying to squelch the tears of relief. She’d not realized how desperately she needed to feel close to this man she loved so very much, but who made things so difficult.

  She reached to touch his face, again wondering at how extraordinary but right it felt. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling it away from his face to fully show his eyes. For once there was no anger or aggression in them, none of that intense need to master her. She saw desire, but it was quiet, almost gentle.

  She moved closer so she could kiss him. To her surprise he didn’t plunder her mouth as Damian usually did, but brushed his lips coaxingly, invitingly over hers. She’d always thought his full lips sensuous, soft, like an odd dolce passage in an otherwise brusco composition.

  She parted her lips enough to invite him in. When his tongue touched hers, she felt a strong jolt, as much emotional as physical. Genevieve knew herself well enough to know that the demon he’d unleashed from her in that cave hadn’t been exorcised. Shockingly, she no longer wanted it to be. But if they were to live together, she needed this tenderness, this connection to him.

  She ran her hands over his arms and shoulders, digging her fingers into the carved muscles, finally able to revel in that tremendous strength of his. She broke the kiss, so she could rub her lips over his chest, licking his nipples, nuzzling her cheek and ear against him like a kitten.

  She moved closer, bringing her body fully against his. He clasped her shoulders, but made no move to push things further. Though he was being so gentle with her, she could tell he was painfully aroused. He was letting her set their pace, she realized with shock. Derek!

  “You go on top, love,” he murmured. “You control it.”

  “Are you sure?” He nodded. “Why?” she couldn’t help asking.

  He looked thoughtful. “I’m a Black. I swore to put your needs first. You need this.” He stopped her before she could protest. “We need this.”

  “Thank you.” It seemed a little foolish to her, but she felt a rush of gratitude towards him. Neither of his brothers had done this for her. She had no quarrel with them, but she needed it with Derek, and for all his stubbornness he knew it. She pulled at him to move towards the middle of the bed and lie back so she could climb on top of him, loving the feel of her breasts against his chest.

  Suddenly, she was desperate for him to be inside of her. She reached down and untied the string to his pants and pulled them down. She froze at the sight of his straining cock.

  This was no shadowed cave, but her bedroom with the late afternoon sun streaming in. She swallowed and gripped it, but he clasped her hand and shook his head. “Don’t, angel.”

  “What?”

  “Genevieve, I’m about to die. If you do that….”

  She nodded and then straddled him. She gnawed her lip, wondering then what she was supposed to do. “I’ve never done this before,” she confessed.

  Derek smiled almost in wonder. “You’ve really never been on top?”

  “No.”

  That seemed to excite him. “Well then, I see we will have a riding lesson today,” he said with an almost roguish smile. “Come, angel, slide up a little… that’s right.” He reached down to position himself. “Help me,” he said. She moved until his cock was right at the opening of her sex.

  “What do I do now?” she asked, giggling.

  “You ride,” he said. He gripped her hips and pushed her down his length. Genevieve let out a loud scream—she’d never taken anyone so deeply before.

  “Are you all right, angel?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “That just feels…. It’s so deep.”

  She wanted him to thrust into her, which was when she realized what he’d meant. She must move—she must ride him. He lay still while she pushed herself up and down his length, wondering that it could feel so different like this.

  He’d closed his eyes tightly. She recognized that look. He was trying to keep control. She leaned down and rubbed her forehead against his, slowing her movements. “Derek, open your eyes,” she whispered.

  Miraculously, he obeyed.

  “I love you,” she said. “I just wanted you to know that.”

  His face contorted with pain, and he squeezed his eyes shut. It was like watching herself in a mirror. She knew exactly what he was feeling at that moment.

  “Derek, open your eyes,” she said gently.

  He did.

  “I love you.”

  This time his features relaxed. “You’re impossible,” he said.

  “You would know,” she murmured. He actually chuckled at that.

  “Derek,” she said a third time.

  “What Genevieve?” he said smiling.

  She leaned down and whispered in his ear, “You don’t have to say it because I know.”

  He nodded and even looked relieved. Before he could say anything she braced her arms and ramped up her movements again. Unfortunately, the more she pushed and wiggled, the more frustrated she became, though she was becoming impossibly aroused. No matter how she shifted herself around, she couldn’t hit the spot she needed to bring herself to a climax.

  When her arms collapsed under her, she was forced to acknowledge that she really did need to get stronger. She propped herself up and tried again, riding up and down, growing close to frantic, but release kept eluding her.

  Derek was watching her struggle, his eyes bright. For the first time since she’d met him, he reminded her of Donal.

  Genevieve narrowed her eyes. “You’d better not be laughing at me.”

  “Never,” he said. He pulled her down against him and whispered in her ear, “Let me, angel. Let me bring you.”

  “I can do this,” she growled.

  “Genevieve, let me.” She’d never heard his voice so gentle.

  “Oh fine,” she huffed.

  To her astonishment, he gripped her arms and pulled them behind her back. There was a click, and her wrists were attached together.

  “Derek!” she protested, unable to do anything but collapse on top of him.

  He gripped one of her thighs and pulled it up and hooked her knee under his arm, and then shifted her slightly to the side, changing the angle he entered her.
He wrapped her hair around his wrist and forced her head back, giving him better access to her breasts. He took her left breast in his mouth, and then he began to move in small, subtle pulses that just brushed the spot she needed.

  Genevieve had never felt anything like it. Damn him and his inspection! He really did understand her responses. And of course, it was impossible not to struggle against the bonds. Being restrained raised the stakes of her sensations, forcing her to new heights of urgency.

  “Please Derek!” she cried.

  But his expression had darkened. Like Damian, seeing her struggle helplessly strongly fueled Derek’s desire—and his need to master her. He shifted again, thrusting harder. Genevieve screamed out, unprepared for how suddenly her body shot to ecstasy. With her arms bound behind her, she couldn’t brace herself or fight the climax. She felt like a bottle being tossed in the waves as pleasure wracked her body.

  Meanwhile, she could feel Derek tensing. He was getting close, but their position restricted his movements almost as much as the bonds did hers. He could only make small thrusts, which were badly testing his control. His face had twisted with frustration as he had to fight for his own release. Genevieve wanted to do something—touch him, help him—but she was helpless.

  Finally, she could feel that telltale sharpening in his thrusts. He let out a groan that grew louder as his climax took a torturously long time to arrive.

  When it came it was explosive: he roared out, clutching her almost desperately.

  When the tremors finally died off, he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes tightly closed as both of them lay panting, recovering. Genevieve was sure they were both feeling the same sense of shock at how intense that had been.

  As if echoing her thoughts, he said, “I’ve never felt anything like that—you make me insane.”

  “That’s funny, because you have the opposite effect on me,” she murmured.

  She felt his chest rumbling. He was actually laughing at a joke!

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. “I love you, angel,” he said smiling. He shifted her off of him and stood to pull his pants on. He made no move to unlock her hands, but instead walked towards the bathing chamber.

  “Derek!” she squeaked. He returned with a damp cloth. “Derek, you have to unlock me!”

  His smile was every bit as dangerous as Damian’s. “Is that so?”

  He flipped her onto her stomach. With her hands tied behind her back, it was next to impossible to move. She tried to kick her legs.

  “Lie still, now!” he warned in his iron tone. When she struggled even more frantically, he crashed his hand down on her rear end.

  Gods did it hurt when he did that.

  “What did I just say, Genevieve?” He pushed her legs apart so he could rub the cloth along her sex, being every bit as thorough as he’d been during his inspection.

  “Derek!” she screamed.

  “I still have forty-seven minutes,” he said coolly.

  “What?”

  “You promised me an hour of complete obedience—my inspection only lasted thirteen minutes.

  He flipped her onto her back. With her hands trapped beneath her, she was if anything more helpless. Genevieve groaned, wondering that she could become aroused so soon after one of the most wrenching climaxes of her life.

  Derek rubbed one of her breasts thoughtfully. She’d never seen him like this before, and she had a feeling no one ever had. In the cave, he’d been driven by desperation, but now he seemed to be enjoying himself. It was a side of himself that he’d kept locked away. It was both terrifying and exhilarating to see it released.

  He leaned down and roughly tongued her left breast, sucking hard, until she screamed out, feeling herself spiraling out of control. He examined his handiwork and then took the other in his mouth and repeated his treatment.

  “Derek!” she shrieked.

  “Much better,” he observed, squeezing them both almost to the point of pain.

  He reached between her legs and began fondling her sex almost casually as he said, “It’s almost time for dinner. I seem to remember warning you would eat tied to your chair if you gave me trouble over your meals. But I’ll settle for you on your knees, hands bound behind your back.”

  “Gods Derek….” She was close to coming.

  “My only question is whether I should blindfold you. I haven’t forgotten how aroused you were by my description.”

  “Derek please…” she pleaded.

  “I love it when you beg, angel,” he murmured as she screamed out another climax.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Four weeks later

  The weather that evening was stormy, but summer was so well established, they could sit out in the conservatory, enjoying the patter of the rain on the glass without any fear of damp or chill.

  Genevieve was seated at the pianoforte, trying to recreate a variation she’d improvised earlier that day. Though these improvisations usually unfolded effortlessly at the time, they were far more difficult to recapture later. But Donal had particularly liked this one, saying it perfectly captured the mood of a summer rainstorm, so she was determined to get it down on paper this time.

  It took her forty-five minutes, but she was pretty sure she’d succeeded. She got up to fetch her composition book so she could record it when she noticed that Donal was reclining on the lounge chair. Since dinner ended, he’d changed into his linen pants and removed his shirt. Thankfully, he appeared relaxed after what had undoubtedly been a trying day.

  She’d been so desperate to get in a visit to town before Damian got back from a five-day absence, she’d managed to wheedle Donal into riding down with her, despite the threatening skies. The visit to Sally and Peter’s had been as enjoyable as always, the visit to her parents’ less so. Mama had been unusually fretful, first about the rain, then about how tan Genevieve was getting. Genevieve’s temper had begun rising, her tan turning to angry scarlet, until Donal stepped in, diverting her mother’s focus to Roderick and their ongoing exchange of recipes.

  Predictably, during the ride back, the skies had opened up drenching them. Equally predictable, Derek had been livid when they got home, beginning an argument that had lasted through half of dinner, until Genevieve had finally burst out that if Derek didn’t stop, she would ask him to accompany her to Sally’s instead of Donal, after which there was finally peace.

  She efficiently jotted down the notes in her book, only needing to replay two passages. She always wondered how Donal could bear listening to her bang around when she was working out a piece, but he claimed it was fascinating.

  As soon as she was finished, however, she began improvising on one of his favorite tunes. She’d been growing worried about Donal and was always trying to come up with ways to show him how much she appreciated him.

  As it happened, none of the problems they had worried about had come to pass: there had been no conflicts between the brothers. Damian’s fears that she would be overwhelmed by male demands proved completely unfounded. She’d even learned to canter on Mist. She adored her life with all three of them.

  But Genevieve knew she had Donal to thank for much of her comfort. Today had been the perfect example of the problem: his easygoing nature meant that he was the one who most often gave up what he wanted for the sake of others—most often her.

  Though Damian had boasted that she was free to spend her days as she wished, in fact he ruthlessly monopolized her time the days he was home. Derek was not quite as bad, but there were only certain activities one could do with Derek. Those included riding lessons, practicing her crossbow, trying (and generally failing) to hit something (anything!) with a throwing knife, or “hunting.” (Genevieve refused to participate in killing animals, so “hunting” was another word for tramping through the woods, teasing Derek whenever he complained about all the game they were letting escape.)

  She didn’t mind any of this, but it did mean she was especially desperate on Donal’s days t
o pay visits in town or go to the fortress for a cooking lesson or any of the other activities that she could only do with Donal. Donal, of course, knew this and steadfastly refused her offers to do something he’d prefer, though she suspected he’d much rather lounge about the garden making love—or at least sit quietly at home instead of riding around in the pouring rain.

  Over the past few weeks, she’d had occasion to think back to her wedding day and the vows the four of them had made. She’d no regrets, no blame to cast that she and Damian and Derek had not all immediately lived up to them. Vows like those must be earned, something that turned out to be a wrenching process, requiring painful mistakes.

  At the time of her marriage, she’d barely understood herself—neither the impulses that had caused so much misery for the past few years, nor the need to take responsibility for her own well-being, beginning with trying to forgive herself.

  Both Damian and Derek had been sincere when they promised to uphold their family’s values, but those values were like lessons they’d memorized. They loved each other so much, but nothing had ever threatened their loyalty before, so they weren’t fully prepared to cope when jealousy finally hit.

  But Donal had not needed these painful lessons. He was the only one of the four who’d understood at the time what he was promising, who’d never once failed to live up to those vows. She owed him an immeasurable debt for helping her during her darkest hour, and for giving her back her music. He was happy, she knew, but it sat ill with her that he might suffer for being less selfish than the rest of them.

  She’d finally spoken about it to Damian, who’d teased her that the only complaint she’d made was for the sake of his brother and not herself. When she persisted, he’d kissed her and promised he’d think on it, but then he’d had to leave for five days for some troop exercise. He’d finally returned this evening just as they were finishing dinner. She wished to remind him again, but she hadn’t had the chance.

  She played another of Donal’s favorite pieces, smiling when Derek wandered in, also shirtless and wearing identical linen trousers. She’d come to relish their habits, especially these little reminders that for all their differences the Blacks were still brothers.