But still... Was that the same thing as really having made the decision on her own?
Hadn't it been her father, the king, who'd presented her the options to begin with? And all she'd done was work within that framework to settle on a decision that was less undesirable for her than the others...
It wasn't as though she didn't love the three men and Cissor. Not at all. She'd grown to love them all very much, and in the time that they'd been married she'd felt happy and gratified, the holes in her life filled in more ways than one.
Maybe it was just that the honeymoon phase had at last begun to wear off for her, the nightly sex orgies between the fivesome becoming repetitive and expected, losing the sort of luster they'd had when they were something new and exciting. Or, perhaps more likely, it had a lot to do with Cissor's pregnancy- the thought that her life, from this point onward, would be tethered down by responsibility, and any freedom she might otherwise have enjoyed would become vastly limited by maternal expectations.
But whatever the case, things no longer seemed as bright or as promising for Winter as they might once have done. She felt as though her freedom had been taken from her, or else that she'd given it up of her own accord, without really realizing it as it disappeared.
But now, she found, she wanted it back, more than just about anything in the world...
She couldn't accept that this was her life from now on. That there was nothing more to look forward to, except child birth and the responsibilities of royalty.
As much as she loved those four individuals in her bed, they suddenly felt like little more than a noose around her neck as she peered out into the night sky.
Before she could stop herself, she felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She choked up, and cried as softly as she could under her breath, not wanting at all to call attention to herself or disturb the others.
It was too late for that, though.
“Winter? Are you alright?”
It was Jim Slush, coming up to her with a sheet wrapped around him inexplicably to protect his modesty.
“I um... I'm fine,” she lied.
“You're crying...” He peered deep into her eyes, concerned, and always more readily able to perceive when something was wrong than anyone.
She smiled at him, and gently lifted a hand to the side of Jim's face, peering into his eyes. She looked deep into him, and tried to tell herself that things weren't that bad. She had a man as loving and as caring as this by her side, after all. Things could be a whole lot worse...
She hurried to think up a lie, not wanting to let Jim know that he had been a part of the reason for her unhappiness. “I um... It's just that we're all leaving tomorrow, going our separate ways. I always get a little bit emotional when that happens.”
It was true, the five were all dispersing for about a week to check on their respective homelands. All dwelling in Winter's castle in West Westerado on a regular basis, they often had to make return trips to their own homelands to ensure that things were going smoothly. Winter, meanwhile, would be going across the sea to the nearby continent of Essossippi, in order to discuss a trade agreement with the warrior prince of the Duraki tribe, Hal Grodo. She decided this seemed like a far easier pretense for her emotional state than letting Jim know what was really going on.
“Aw, there, there... It'll be alright, you'll see. We'll all make it back here safe and sound, and we'll be back in that bed together at this exact time next week. Nothing's going to change at all.”
Winter tried to suck it up, and pretended as though being told this assuaged her unhappiness, hugging Jim tightly, and letting her tears roll slowly down along his spine in the darkness.
In reality, it was about the last thing on earth she wanted to be told right now...
Chapter 2
Things grew easier the following day with the onset of the sunrise. Winter did her best to put from her mind her thoughts of discontent, and after a tearful goodbye to her three husbands and one wife, climbed aboard the ship that would take her across the sea to Essosssippi.
As she stared blankly into the waves, Winter reflected on the thoughts that had been plaguing her lately, and told herself she was doing nothing but bringing undue grief upon herself.
Feminist or not, the fact was that everyone had to grow up eventually. And being the daughter of royalty meant having to accept responsibility, and forcing herself to do things that she might not necessarily enjoy sometimes. She had a group of spouses who clearly loved her, as evidenced by Jim Slush's comforting her in the middle of the night, then going down on her to relax her once he'd gotten her back into bed.
She had warmth and comfort and security, which was far more than many people in Westerado could ever hope for in life.
She would be grateful from now on, do her job, and remind herself that this was the life she'd chosen for herself. The decision, at the end of the day, had been her own, no matter what influence outside parties may have had upon it. And she would be happy with that decision, learning to wake up every morning counting her blessings.
No sooner had Winter come to terms with her situation, however, than she found her head being turned in an irresistible way, and the peace she'd established for herself giving way to that old insatiable lust for freedom.
The ship came ashore on the sands of Essossippi, and Winter made her way to her meeting with the prince of the Duraki. She hadn't been expecting anything of any interest to take place at the meeting, honestly. The details of the trade deal had been more or less established in advance, and this meeting would be primarily to hammer out any last minute details, then ratify the agreement in person. They would probably dine and drink together, make small talk, and then depart one another's company, if past meetings were any indication. This Grodo fellow was likely some old, hunched over ghoul, grimy and sexless, a minor distraction in the midst of Winter's otherwise mundane day to day life.
What she didn't expect to see before her was the sort of man standing there when the door to Hal Grodo's castle came swinging open. Winter's jaw nearly came plummeting off its hinges, and the entire world was suddenly spinning around her at a dizzying pace.
“Winter, hello. Please come in, it's a pleasure to meet you. I appreciate you coming this far to discuss our little agreement...”
This was no old, hunched over, grimy and sexless ghoul...
Winter's eyes were wide and her lips were drooling as she studied the figure who'd presented himself to her. This was, for lack of any better way of putting it, a hulking and powerful specimen of sheer, unadulterated masculinity- with whom Winter would very, very much like to adulterate...
He stood there shirtless before her, his chest wide and powerful, his unbearable musculature a chilling and thrilling sight to behold. His deeply cut pectoral muscles heaved with the force of his breath, tiny rivulets of sweat trickling down along the creases of his pectoral muscles, through the coursing planes of his six pack abdominals, and down into the deeply cut V-lines of his Adonis muscles. His skin was olive and covered in ink, specifically a twin set of tattoos cutting down from either shoulders resembling blue claw marks across his skin. His black eyebrows were sharp and menacing, but beneath them were a pair of tender, reasonable eyes. He wore a beautiful goatee and his hair in a dangling ponytail, and beneath the flowing fabric of his tunic Winter could spot a prominent, unmistakable bulge that happened to be absolutely massive...
She was shaking and breathless by the time she'd concluded her shameless inspection and objectification of the man, and at last she forced her eyes back up to his own. He smiled at her, seemingly amused, and it was only after a brief coughing fit that she managed to regain some semblance of composure, and speak up in response.
“I um... Yes... The um... Pleasure... Is all mine...” She could feel her cheeks going scarlet with blood, and she saw from the smile he gave her that he was imagining a very different set of cheeks of hers going crimson, the pasty white flesh reddening from the repeated smack of flesh
against flesh.
Unlike Winter, however, he gave no indication that these thoughts distracted him in any way. With great ease he pushed opened the door for her and waved a hand toward the castle dining hall.
“After you. A gentleman always holds the door for a lady,” he said, and Winter stepped past him grinning girlishly, unable to suppress the almost violent beating of her heart in her chest.
The two of them sat down to eat, to drink, and to discuss trade agreements. In reality, though, it was Grodo who did the vast majority of the talking. Winter was mesmerized by the sight of this absolute beefcake, and it was all she could do as the two of them dined and conversed not to choke on her food in amazement as she watched the man across from her speak.
She nodded dumbly as Grodo prattled on and on about trade, stuffing his beautiful face and letting the wine flow in torrents form his perfect lips. Lips that Winter burned desperately to lean in and kiss, and that left her skin crawling so uncomfortably she could hardly sit still.
She wished to God she could hurl herself beneath the table, and stuff him into her face instead of all this food, tasty as it may have been...
Grodo talked and talked as though nothing in the world was going on between the two of them, and Winter nodded absently, trying to pretend as though she was comprehending word one of what he was saying to her. She just had to assume his benevolence, and that the terms he was rambling off were the same that they'd agreed upon through their previous correspondence.
Inwardly, she grappled with her lurid thoughts of the man sitting across from her, and she wondered what it was about him that so thoroughly took her breath away.
Well, other than the obvious...
Maybe, she realized, it was the perfect storm of circumstances. In and of himself, Grodo was precisely the sort of man Winter might have been inclined to shack up with were the choice entirely hers to make. And given that now she was in the midst of a personal crisis in their marriage, burning for the very sort of freedom she'd ostensibly thrown away by settling down and taking some responsibility... Well, maybe now it made perfect sense that she should find herself falling head over heels for this irresistible stud, when the need for just such a distraction was so prevalent at the forefront of her life in its current, confused condition.
But what could she possibly do about it?
How could she possibly throw everything away, and even if she could, how would she be able to determine whether this succulent god of a man would even have the least bit of interest in her?
She tried to study his face, and though it seemed largely plain and lacking in expression, she somehow convinced herself that the look she saw in his eyes was one of indifference to her. She feared that this unbearable desire she'd been harboring since she first set eyes on the man would come to nothing, and that the brief, desperate hope she'd seen in him would disappear just as easily as it had come to her.
It wasn't until their conversations seemed to draw to a close that Winter came to realize what was really on her host's mind.
“So... I think that's everything we agreed upon... Does that all sound good to you?”
“Oh, um... Yes,” said Winter, nodding her head, but not genuinely having comprehended a word or two of what he'd been saying. “I think that's what we'd talked about.”
He smiled at her warmly, and she smiled back. Inwardly, though, all she could see was the window of opportunity closing, the chance for this to go the way she wanted it to diminishing with each passing second.
He reached forward slowly, extending a hand to her, and she reached back to grasp and shake his hand, her shoulders quivering as the two of them peered into one another's eyes. His grip was warm and strong, forcing a lump up into her throat that she couldn't suppress for the life of her. She shook as she peered into his eyes, and she couldn't help but notice his nostril's flaring at her- indicating, in her mind at least, something a bit more than friendly in his expression...
Suddenly, Winter jumped. Her suspicions seemed confirmed at last by the rubbing of a leg up against her, Grodo's foot gently tapping against her own, filling her with unspoken desire, and causing her chest to swell with anxiety and anticipation.
“You know,” he said, in a deep, seductive whisper. “I can't help but notice the way you've been looking at me through the night. I think you and I might just be thinking the same thing... And you know, there are stronger bonds that can seal an agreement than just a simple handshake...”
Winter shivered, and found herself leaning in, in, into him, not entirely consciously. His lips seemed incredibly near her all of the sudden, his breath blowing warm and gentle against the smoothness of her skin. She allowed him to tenderly lift a hand up, and cradle her chin with the utmost delicacy. She leaned into him, and closed her eyes.
They kissed.
Their lips melted together like liquid, warm and wet and delectable. She inhaled his scent, his taste, and brought her own hands up to either side of that perfect skull of his, needing him now as though he was essential to her.
Their nostrils flared, and the two of them attempted to separate. But by the time they were just barely apart Winter's hunger for him redoubled. She pulled him back into her, and they kissed again. And again. And again. Her entire being shook, her mind raced, and she surrendered herself fully to the primal temptations now utterly consuming her.
They pulled apart at last, after kissing so long that the two of them were left gasping, choking for air, but eager as hell for things to escalate.
A smile spread slowly across Grodo's lips, and once more he took Winter's hand in his- this time, to lead her up from her seat down the hall, to his bedroom on the opposite end of the castle.
They closed the door behind them...
Chapter 3
Winter valiantly seized the freedom she'd been longing for, in the form of Grodo's long, veiny, erect and throbbing penis. He pressed his half-naked body up against her on the door as the two of them made out passionately, her hand between his legs, his tongue so far down her throat that she nearly choked on it. They devoured one another as though both starving for flesh, unable to get enough, and not ever wanting to. Every time he placed his hands upon her quivering body it sent a shock of sensations through every tender inch of her anatomy, sweeping his hands along the curvature of her form, pressing up warm and firm against her delectable breasts, making her gasp as he hooked his grip up between her quivering thighs.
“Yes... Yes... Yes...” she moaned, unable to contain her excitement.
This only got him going even more, so that in no time at all he was heaving his entire body up against her, dry humping her and the door, his rock hard erection growing harder and harder through the fabric of his tunic, driving her wild, like some animal in unbearable heat.
They kissed, and kissed, and he felt her up thoroughly, groping every sweat soaked part of her anatomy through the fabric of her dress. And in no time at all his hands were at the hem of the dress, pulling it up, up, up off of her. She lifted her arms for him to pull it off up over her head, her hair cascading gently as he at last tossed it to the floor, revealing her milky white skin as he moved in once more to ravish her.
His hand slid along her bra, kneading up her breasts like dough as the two of them continued to kiss wildly up above. Their tongues twisted into one another in a gorgeous liquid heat, battling back and forth from mouth to mouth, and sending saliva flowing all the while, the two of them drowning in one another, growing more and more aroused with each minute that passed. In the very, very back of her mind a pang of guilt rushed through Winter's mind, reflecting for a fraction of a second on the betrayal of her for spouses back in Westerado- Jim Slush in particular.
But then, Grodo hoisted one of her legs up and pushed his boner deep into her pelvis, and all such thoughts vanished quickly enough from her mind.
They kissed, and kissed, and Winter was rubbing her fingers harder and deeper up against his genitals, the warmth burning pleasantly through the fabri
c, singeing her, and making her crave him like she'd never before craved anything in her life. She let her hands slide up to the top of his tunic, and slid them down, down, down from his pelvis, his tremendous erection flying out into the open, and bouncing in the air as its jizz stained tip dangled like a lure before her eyes.
“Holy hell... You're even bigger than I thought,” she said, staring wide eyed at his shlong. He smiled at her, and brought a hand to her head, tenderly caressing her hair, and letting it be known on fairly certain terms what he wanted her to do to him.
First things first, though...
She reached up slowly, and wrapped her fingers around him, letting her warm grip collapse onto his flesh. She began to push the skin back, back, back along the shaft of his uncut erection, stretching it taut to the very base of his penis. She smiled up at him as he sighed with pleasure, loving his satisfaction almost as much as she loved the burning of his cock in her grip. Slowly, very slowly, she pulled the skin forward again, forcing out a small dab of pre-ejaculate as she did so. She pushed back, forth, back, forth, and began to establish a rhythm, jacking him off, getting him ready, and her throat burning all the while with the uncertainty of the task ahead.
Game of Throbs Complete Series (Books 1-3) Page 10