by Kiki Leach
I dropped to the bed and he locked the door.
“What were you doing down there?” I asked. “Were you actively trying to give your father another stroke?”
“No. Piss he and my mother off, yes.” He fiddled with a dated half filled goblet of brandy on his desk. “My attempt was not for him to collapse before me on the lawn.”
“Hmm.”
He pressed the goblet to his lips and stared down at me, his eyes shining like emeralds. “Did you enjoy my performance out there despite it?”
“I thought it was a bit brusque and unnecessary. They already despise me and it seems you keep going out of your way to make sure it never changes.”
“You laughed.”
“I laughed because I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Or perhaps because it was humorous.” He continued staring hard at me until I cracked a smile. Then he sat down his goblet and joined me on the bed. He glanced at my hands, and moved his eyes to my breasts. “In less than twenty-four hours, you are to be mine. If you allow it, I shall be free to love you, taste you, cherish you in this kingdom as my own.” He reached for one of my hands, clasping it between his -- they were so warm and smooth. He looked at the side of my face as I gulped and stared straight ahead at his window. My heart beat uncontrollably. He was still staring at me when he brought my hand to his lips and began kissing my fingers. I quivered a bit and swallowed hard again, looking down. “Cinder…” I felt his tongue and teeth on my wrist and looked over at him. My mouth was open a little, inviting his tongue inside to wrestle and play against mine. He dropped my hand almost immediately and pressed his face against my throat, plunging his tongue against my skin, biting, nibbling, tasting me.
“Oh!” I whimpered. “Norvack.” I moved my hands into his hair, moaning with discreet pleasure as he slowly glided his tongue back and forth.
He moved his hand behind me, forcing me against him even more. My eyes traveled and I noticed his cock stuffed against the crease of his pants, pulsating right before my very eyes. My sweetest spot became wet in an instant and my clitoris begged to be against it. I wanted to taste it. I bit and licked my lips and moved my hand down, stroking him up and down his shaft through his pants. He groaned, a deep rustling sound came up from the back of his throat, meeting his lips, rumbling against my skin. He moved one hand down and pushed my gown up to my waist. “Are you ready for me, my favorite girl?” he muttered, his voice deep, seductive.
“I wish for you to taste me, my prince,” I said. Norvack looked at my face. His eyes seemed to be smiling in a surprised manner. I cupped his face with one hand and slid each of my fingers across his lips. I grinned. “On our wedding night.” I fell back to the bed in an exhaustive faint and pressed the back of my hand against my forehead, which began to perspire.
He snickered and then knit his brows. “You’re teasing me again. My cock begs to be inside you, exploring and fulfilling you, making you come.” He extended his index finger, sliding it from my temple to my cheek. He took my face in his hand and turned it toward him. “When I release inside you…” He circled his fingers behind me and my breathing increased. He plunged his tongue against my neck again and I shoved him away to catch my breath. Then he looked at me for a long while and rested his hand atop my stomach. He lay his head on his other hand and watched me watching him. “What shall you wear for our wedding night?” he asked. “If anything at all?”
I raised my shoulders against the mattress. “A gown, perhaps.”
“Sheer.” He arched a brow inquisitively. “A sheer nightgown with nothing underneath.” He placed his fingers between my breasts, and then he scowled. “Do you truly wish for no tongue on our wedding day? You accept it on every other part of your body, why not inside your mouth to stroke against your own?”
“It’s improper to do so before the country, Norvack.”
“What is proper? As we have previously established, my girl, you’ve never been proper.”
“I could try.”
“Don’t.” He wrapped a hand around my throat and gently lifted my face. “Open your mouth,” he whispered. He bent forward and moved his lips directly above mine, feathering them. He pressed his thumb on my chin and pulled down a little. I closed my eyes and did as he asked.
His servant began striking at the door and my eyes popped open. Norvack’s tongue was nearly inside my mouth then, I felt the tip of it flutter against my own. He pulled back, staring at me with such a fire in his eyes, he could’ve burned me visually. His face had reddened and his palm was warm, blazing against my throat.
“What is it?” he snapped, never looking away from me. In fact, his gaze became more powerful the longer he stared.
“The gala in the west ballroom requires you and Miss Cinder, sir,” his servant replied.
“Alright. We’ll be out shortly.”
“Yes, sir.” His servant trotted away.
Norvack took a moment, and sighed, looking at my lips as I bit down on the bottom one. He returned his eyes to mine and gulped. “Do you wish to attend, Cinder girl?”
His hand traveled down to my breast and I rolled aside, sitting up on the bed and taking a deep and steady breath. I was flushed, ragged. “Not really, no. However, I don’t wish to displease your parents anymore than I have already, more so for your sake than my own.”
He sat up beside me and caressed my face. “I think you’re more or less afraid to continue being alone with me in fear of what would happen.” He ran his thumb across my lips, over to my cheek and gazed at my tongue.
I almost surrendered to my emotions but pulled away and went to the door instead. I looked down and breathed in and out as slowly as I could. “We should go before your father comes up here himself.” My voice rattled, trembled as if I were on the verge of tears.
“He won’t.” Norvack walked up and I placed my hand on the door knob. He placed his hand on top of mine, sliding his fingers up. I whipped around before he moved them into my hair, and looked up into his expressive eyes. It was almost as if they were dancing now. They were commanding, seductive, drawing me -- pulling me in like gravity the more I looked at him. I couldn’t turn away, and imagined him placing me back onto the bed, looking down upon me and removing each piece of my clothing with care as he plunged his tongue against my lips and deep into my mouth as he so desired.
I dropped my head to the side, attempting to erase the images from my mind. But Norvack placed his fingers on my cheek. He abruptly leaned forward and kissed the corner of my mouth, his tongue sliding against my lips. He moved back as I turned to him, and stared at me.
“You feel this between us, Cinder.” He placed his hands on either side of my throat and I raised my head, licking my lips of him. “When I finally take you…” He bent down and nibbled the center of my neck. I stopped my hands from traveling to his cock and even inside his clothes and snatched his hands from my throat, placing them aside.
“Should I…” I lay my hands on my breasts and cleared my throat. “Should I get Brigita, should I wear something else for the gala?”
“Why? You look ravishing as always.”
“I appreciate that, however, I am not seeking your approval. The court, and Father Calhoun and, this entire country!” I slid away from him and went over to the window. “They are the ones judging you -- us.”
“Do you believe that if I truly cared what they thought that we would be getting married tomorrow? If I constantly feared this country’s objections, I would never be who I am today.” He was behind me in an instant, slipping an arm around my waist and placing his chin on my shoulder as he gazed out onto the lawn. “My entire life, I sought my father’s approval and never received it. Even now as I stand to inherit this country, his dynasty. In that respect, he was the only one who mattered to me for years.” He began massaging my stomach with his finger tips and turned his eyes downward. “Do you recall what I said in the foundry room, regarding my brother?” I nodded. He chortled quietly. “As terrible as it may so
und, there were times I wished to be him if only to be deemed my father’s favorite.”
I frowned in watching him become more and more dismal as he spoke. I suddenly couldn’t stand the idea of him being so sullen, degrading himself, especially in concern to his despicable brother and the king. I reached up and touched the side of his face, my palm resting against his cheek. He leaned into me and closed his eyes, breathing deep. He clutched my wrist, pressing my hand to him even more and stroking the back of it with his index finger. It was as if my very touch fulfilled him with something, something I couldn’t explain, nor comprehend. Immediately, I felt the jolt go through me again, that feeling of mere elation, satisfaction, and snatched my hand away. Norvack’s hand was left stinging midair.
I moved around him and went back to the door. We stood in absolute silence, watching one another. I broke away first.
“We shouldn’t waste anymore time,” I said.
He smiled sadly. “Perhaps not.” He then took my hand and led me from his room.
The gala lasted for nearly four hours in the main ballroom on the first floor of the palace. Norvack and I spent at least three of those hours parading the room as he properly introduced me as his soon-to-be-bride to everyone from the King and Queen of France to the King of England to the Duke and Duchess of York and so forth. It was a fine evening with dancing and much drinking and music. I was exhausted by the time I returned to my chambers with him by my side. He offered to carry me all the way back up, but I declined, all the while suggesting he was indeed certifiably insane for proposing such a thing. As I entered my room, he came in behind, locking the door. I removed my shoes and became uneasy at the thought of what he wanted as he stared at my every move. My hands began to twitch and perspire. I rubbed them against the velvet of my gown and rested them on the railing of my bed.
“It’s not our wedding night,” I reminded him.
He grinned and laughed softly. “I’m aware.” He slipped his hands in his pockets and glided toward me. I stood still, never moving even as the heat from his body poured onto my own.
“What do you wish for?” I gulped.
“Nothing. Everything that I wish for…” He reached down for my hands. “I have a gold band for you, hand crafted. Not as elaborate as this” -- he tapped the stone on my ring finger -- “but I hope you will enjoy it all the same.”
“I won’t need to barter it in the square.”
He sniffed. “Right.”
“Speaking of which, the sword. In all the fuss, I had forgotten. Did you ever send someone to find it as I assumed you would? Was it where I informed you it would be, underneath the floorboard?”
“The sword.” His face became morose and he released my hands, stepping back. “No, it wasn’t.” He clutched his chin and dropped his hand to his throat, patting his chest. “The sword is missing.”
My heart sank. My stomach plummeted. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh!” I whirled away in a panic.
“We shall find it--”
“With the Sheriff! You shall find it with the Sheriff! He has that sword, I’m sure of it. He knows where I keep it, which means -- God, it means he must have been watching my cottage and saw the day you came for me. It’s the only way to explain how he retrieved it. He suspected me, I knew it, and he waited until he was sure I was gone for good to snatch it and keep it to later expose me at his will. I was so careless! I should’ve gotten rid of it before coming here, but I couldn’t think after--” I stopped, enfolding my hands.
Norvack cocked his head. “After, what?”
“After you came to see me. I couldn’t -- I didn’t think --” I inhaled deeply to quiet my bubbling nerves. “I couldn’t think clearly. If I had, we would not be in this mess. He shall take that sword to your father, Norvack, and inform him that I used it to slay his son!”
“The sword itself is not proof of your actions.”
“It does not matter. The Sheriff has to only mention one word now, Willem. It’s all he needs, and all bets for me are off. He’s possibly planning to inform the king tomorrow, prior to the ceremony. It’s why he never showed for the gala, he’s perfecting his plan of attack against me as we speak.”
“Us,” he corrected. “And I had taken great measures in making sure he would not be here tonight.”
“No matter, that man would have made his way into the palace estates somehow.”
“Cinder.” He cupped my face and I softened. “Do you believe I will take care of you, treasure you the way one would care for a most precious and delicate stone?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”
“It matters to me.” He curved his mouth up into an irresistible grin and arched a brow. “Do you believe it?”
I dithered before answering. “Yes.”
“Then believe that no one will ruin this day for us. Not my father, my mother, and certainly not the Sheriff of Denmark. If he has the sword, I shall retrieve it with my bare hands if I must before whatever attempts are made to get it to the king first. I want you to trust me.”
I nodded. “I trust that you will find the sword.”
He smiled wide, his eyes dancing with excitement. “You trust me.”
I lowered my lids a little and peeked aside. “I’m trying. I trust that you would have allowed me to leave if I wished yesterday, to return to Hadenville. I trust that you will do whatever it takes to keep me safe.”
“Always.” He kissed the side of my throat, against my ever racing pulse. I pressed my cheek against his and listened to the sounds of him breathing me in. It was so smooth and erotic, I could hardly sustain my balance and slipped my fingers into the soft curls of his hair.
“You should go,” I muttered.
“Kiss me first.”
He moved his lips up, softly brushing them against my face. I moved my hands to his chest and began walking him toward the door. Because I knew if I had kissed him in that moment, I would never be able to stop.
He looked down into my eyes, grinning in a defeated manner.
“No tongue,” I told him. “Tomorrow on the lawn. I wish for the ceremony to go on at the wish of your parents, in the manner as your priest described. No more attempts to shock or dissatisfy them. And then later that night--”
“That, night shall be ours, my favorite girl.” We shyly beamed at one another. He glanced down at my bodice and back into my eyes, shifting his jaw. He kissed the other side of my throat, nibbling and licking. “It’s ever ours,” he whispered before disappearing into the night.
The feeling of his lips on my skin set me afire.
I regretted not taking him, but could not go back on it now.
I called for Brigita soon after to help me undress and later climbed into bed in the hopes of dreaming, fantasizing about what the following night would bring us as husband and wife.
The Preparation
Morning came much too soon. My previous feelings were now drowned out by trepidation. As the sunlight shined throughout the room, I lay in bed, staring at the brightened ceiling, an absolute nervous wreck. Members of the queen’s court filled my room in preparation for the ceremony, bringing me everything from tea and crumpets to my official gown (the skirt was the size of a ballroom!) and the traditional glass slippers. But I had hardly noticed their moving about as I was too frozen in terror to even flinch beneath my sheets. I was to be out of bed hours before, having bathed and done my hair up. Brigita had come in to wake me, but my eyes were already open as reality of what was happening began creeping closer and closer to the front of my brain as the night went on. I was to be someone’s wife in a few hours, and not just anyone’s wife, but Norvack’s wife, the Prince of Denmark. I was to marry the man who would someday become ruler of this country. And I didn’t quite know how to feel about that.
I rolled over to my side and bit down on my index finger, contemplating.
I still had time to run. I still had time to back out of the entire ceremony and
return to Hadenville.
Brigita walked over, looking at me, alarmed.
“Are you ill?” she asked, her voice higher than normal. She placed a hand on my forehead.
“No, I…” I sat up and lay back against the headboard, rolling the sheets down to my waist. “I’m not prepared for today.”
“No one ever is,” she assured me with a sweet smile. “Would you like something to eat? You will be starving before the reception if you don’t. ”
“It might help. My stomach is bouncing around inside me in the manner of a tetherball!”
She chuckled and pushed her way over to the other side to gather a cup of warm tea and crumpets. Members of the queen’s court were so fixated on themselves, fighting one another for space in front of the mirror as they began fixing their hair and adjusting their bodices, that they hardly noticed her. Each one had apparently planned to meet a man of extreme wealth and prestige tonight, whether he be another prince, king, or extended member of Norvack’s clan with no title at all. Being part of the queen’s court was only acceptable for so long before you were labeled a worthless spinster.
“Here.” Brigita walked over with a plate and sat down aside me on the bed.
“Thank you.” I took a bite from a crumpet and let the remainder of it melt inside my mouth. “I am curious as to how Norvack feels today.”
“He seemed quite happy.”
“You’ve seen him?”
“Yes, first thing. He was downstairs in the kitchen, humming to himself. I have never known the prince to hum a tune before. He even spoke to his mother, shook hands with his father. He seems quite eager for this day.”
I fell back and took a sip of tea. “It seems that makes one of us.”
After members of the queen’s court finally exited, as they were of no use or help to me as it was, I quickly bathed and sat before my mirror, looking down at my now clean but rattling hands as Brigita combed through my damp curls. I fiddled with the ring Norvack had given me before removing it to make way for the gold band, and tried to calm my nerves by closing my eyes and counting down from one hundred-fifteen. Brigita placed a hand on my shoulder when I reached fifty, and I jumped in surprise at her light touch.