Count On Me

by Abigail Graham

  I open his clothes, spread apart his shirt, and pull his trousers to his knees. I do it fast, scared I’ll tremble too much and not look so sophisticated.

  He laughs when he sees the look on my face. I don’t laugh. I knew he was big, but not this big. All I can do is stare at it.

  He finishes what he started, shedding his clothes. Soon they’re all on the floor, along with his boots, and he stands in his naked glory, hair unbound, magnificent to look at, his cock so big and thick I wonder how it’s supposed to fit anywhere. A breathy, vulnerable feeling flutters in my chest.

  He takes me firmly by the arms.

  “I brought you more clothes. Do you know why?”

  “Why?”

  Conrad digs his fingers in where my bodice laces up and, well, rips it. In a single motion he tears it away from my body, and I yelp, giggling at the same time. I fall back to the bed and scoot across it, sinking into the feathery mattress.

  Naked, in a pile of my tattered clothes, I lie there, chest heaving. Conrad looks me over with reverence, his eyes drinking in every curve. When I cover my chest with my arm it only arouses him further and he moves in, taking my wrist.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Heat flushes through my body.

  “Y-you, too,” I stammer.

  Conrad laughs so hard it shakes the rafters, and I start giggling along with him.

  He comes after me and finishes stripping me, down to my skin, and there he tickles and kisses and sucks, my giggles turning to moans as he takes my nipples in his mouth. He sucks so hard it hurts, but only briefly. Somehow that turns me on even more.

  At first we do no more than fumble and explore. His hands are everywhere on my body. I always thought when this happened I’d be afraid to be naked, but I almost feel powerful. Conrad is hungry, needy. He works his way down my stomach, slips a finger inside me, and I twist free of him.

  “I said it’s my turn,” I say, lightly pushing him back.

  I can see it in his eyes, the anticipation. Then the look on his face, the beautiful look when I put his cock in my mouth, wrap my lips around his shaft, and suck. He strokes my back lovingly as I suck on him, cradle his balls lightly in my hand, and thoroughly enjoy it.

  I never thought this would feel good for me, but there’s an electric excitement that comes with holding him between my lips. I purr, and he jerks, his whole body moving.

  Oh, I like that.

  He almost roughly pulls me from his cock and kisses me. I can’t stop, I need it. I stroke it in my hand, entranced by the odd feeling of it, hard as a damn rock but soft to the touch, wondering how it’ll feel inside me.

  He better not stop this time.

  I get my wish when he rolls me on my back and holds me by the shoulders. For a heart-stopping moment I think he’s just going to thrust into me, but he starts at my neck and kisses a burning hot line down my body until he’s between my legs.

  His mouth makes me groan. When his finger joins it, I moan louder, gripping him with my legs. Conrad’s hand shoots up to squeeze my breast as I arch under him. I’m already soaking wet and throbbing, but he drives me even wilder until I feel a clenching hollow in my middle, desperate to be filled.

  Then he’s on me. He lifts himself up and lies on top of me, pushing me down into the feathery mattress, devouring me with kisses. My eyes shoot open as he enters me. I pull back from his kiss to let out a noise and arch my back as his throbbing hot cock enters my body.

  Oh my God, that feels incredible. I thought it was going to hurt. It does, almost, but even that feels good, this urgent sense of filling up.

  It’s happening. This is real. He’s inside me.

  There’s a break, a calm before the storm. I smooth back his hair. His touches are tender, his caresses gentle, but I can feel the throbbing potential inside me, the power in his body as he moves against mine.

  He goes slowly at first, testing as much as teasing. This is new for me. All of it. I feel myself tearing up a little and Conrad slows.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, no, I’m fine please don’t stop.”

  His pace increases. Our pace. I feel awkward at first until I learn how good a steady rhythm with my lover feels. My lover. He lavishes me with kisses as his cock thrusts inside me, he’s so gentle but firm, gripping the back of my neck to hold my head still to kiss me that much better.

  I curl up around him, legs around his hips, arms around his neck. I barely moan, I don’t speak, I lock eyes with him and breathe with him, united in one flesh.

  “Let me on top,” I whisper.

  Conrad turns and then I’m on him, my hands on his chest. I sit up, groaning at the feeling of his erection shifting inside me. It only takes me moments to find just the right angle. Sweat beads on my body, prickling on my back. Conrad gazes at me like I’m a goddess come down from the heavens, worships me with his hands, his mouth. He pulls me tight and thrusts from below.

  So much to explore, to feel. I’m swallowed up, consumed by him. He’s on top again and I arch under him, my peak coming on fast, throbbing and pulsing as it builds to a crashing, wild crescendo, but he knows, he knows somehow and he steals it from me, eases back so I claw at him wildly to take me over the edge.

  Conrad groans. It’s perfect, so perfect. He’s perfect and beautiful and he’s inside me and he’s coming, and then I am, too. I thrash under him and grip him and arch up, crying out so hard that no sound escapes as my nails rake the bed.

  When I finally release my cry it comes out in a soft, low squeak of satisfaction. Conrad holds me still, his cock throbbing as he relaxes, pressing me into the bed.

  I wiggle my hips and shudder, so sensitive after my climax.

  Conrad kisses my nose.

  “Stop that.”

  He does it again. I feel him stir inside me.

  I giggle and he draws back. I roll onto my stomach and prop my chin on my arms. Conrad runs his hand down my sweaty back and gives my butt a satisfied pat.

  “Harder,” I say, smirking.

  I wasn’t expecting him to actually spank me. I yelp when his hand connects to my ass with a meaty thwap.

  I smack his arm and wiggle my ass.

  He pulls me close to him and wraps his arms around my waist. I settle in against him and sigh, a happy, satisfied sigh, long and soft. Conrad contentedly nuzzles at my hair with his lips, caresses my body.

  He’s hard again. I grin and roll on my stomach. I don’t know where this came from, but I spread my legs just slightly and look at him, down at his cock. He rolls on top of me and enters me from behind.

  This is different. It feels different. Primal. When he puts his arms around me from behind and thrusts into me it feels possessive, almost animal. He thrusts harder, and I push back against him, meeting his movements.

  The different feeling builds differently. It’s almost frenzied. I moan louder, writhe under him. The best feeling comes when his hand closes lightly around my neck, gripping just gently enough that I can feel my pulse in his hand.

  I love it. I love this. I don’t want it to stop. Orgasm almost sneaks up on me. I’m shaking, hot and cold all at once, when it steals in like a thief and rolls through me in waves. Conrad grunts in my ear as he finishes, and his soft moans turn me on even more.

  I want to go again but I’m too exhausted. It almost feels unfair to lie here and let him do all the work. Almost.

  I lie on my back, spread-eagled and loving it. Conrad drinks me with his eyes, caresses with his hands, tickles, teases. We don’t speak; we don’t have to.

  I yawn, long and loud, my jaw almost cracking from it. There’s still revelry going on outside.

  I prefer it in here.

  Conrad pulls me up to him and we entangle, wrapped up in each other and in blankets.

  “That was amazing,” I tell him.

  “I know,” he says.

  I snort and lightly smack his cheek. Then I kiss him. For a good while. He kisses me.

/>   After a while he looks distant, even as he holds me close.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ve never felt like I do right now, in this moment.”

  I smile.

  “Yet I am already grieving. I can’t keep you.”

  I swallow. “Why?”

  “When the turn of the moon comes, you must leave. You must, it’s vital. I’ll take you to the borderland before sunset and then ride as far and as fast as I can, so there’s no chance I can drag you back. I can’t lock you in a cage, my darling. There’s a whole world out there and you deserve to live in it.”

  “There’s nothing for me out there. I can’t go home again.”

  “Why?”

  I sigh. “If I tell you, you have to trust me. It’s important, just as important as anything.”

  He nods. “I can keep nothing from you now. The truth, all of it. I promise, but tell me who hurt you so that you ran to the ends of the earth. Let me in, Roxanne.”

  I press my eyes shut, and I begin.

  “My father sold me,” I tell him.

  “What?”

  Its sounds absurd when I say it out loud. “He comes from money. Old money. He has a lot of power, but the money has been dwindling, ever since things went bad with the markets, and my father was never smart with it. He ran up gambling debts to some very, very bad people, and…he sold me. He arranged for me to be, ah, taken.”

  “For what?”

  I huff. “What do you think? What men always want to use girls for.”

  Conrad tenses. Rage ripples through his body like heat from a fire, and his teeth grind. I can hear them.

  “If I could leave this place I would—”

  “What, cut off his head? It doesn’t matter. They probably already have. I can’t ever go back to my life now. He ruined it. It doesn’t matter. I have you.”

  I turn around in his arms and face him, cupping his cheeks with my hands.

  “Tell me what pains you so much. The truth.”

  He swallows. “Roxanne—”

  I sniff the air. Then again. I smell something.

  Conrad sits up.

  “What is that?” I say.

  “Fire,” he breathes.

  11

  The Fire

  Roxanne

  Conrad struggles into his clothes. He only manages to get on his trousers and boots and pull them up before he frowns at the weapon leaning in the corner, then grabs it and slings it across his back.

  I scramble into anything I can put on. These clothes were not made for dressing quickly. As soon as I’m decent I follow him, running down to the open air.

  The festival is in a mad panic. Flames lick into the sky in the distance, rising from the puppet show pavilion, lighting the night like a second sunrise. The villagers are running everywhere.

  “Adrian!” Conrad bellows, “Nina!”

  There’s a whump as something catches fire in the village, flames bursting up into the air in a smoky fist. Conrad looks around, jaw set. He unshoulders the sword and draws it from the scabbard, holding it in his off hand.

  The blade sings, a soft whine like an out-of-tune flute. Heat glows in its middle, leaking toward the edges, but the air grows chill.

  “Find the children,” he orders me. “Tell Adrian to flee to the castle.”

  “What? We have to fight the fire.”

  “We’re under attack,” he says, storming toward the flames. “Adrian!” he bellows.

  I don’t find Conrad’s son. He finds me, and comes running up with Nina over his shoulder, carrying her.

  “Conrad said—“ I start.

  “I know what he said; he ordered us back to the castle. Take my sister and go.”

  “Adrian—”

  “I’m not leaving my father,” he shouts, his voice cracking. “Take her and go.”

  He all but shoves the crying girl into my arms. She locks her hands behind my neck as I run for the horses. There’s already a flood of people heading up and up the serpentine road. In the distance I hear a series of pops. They might be from the fire, or they might be gunshots.

  Overhead, the bell tower tolls, a loud bong-bong that rattles my teeth. Everyone is running everywhere. Some of Conrad’s men run toward him, others away.

  Gunpowder doggedly waits for me, snorting. I lift Nina into the saddle, untie the big horse’s reins from the hitching post, and climb up behind her. She presses back against me as I pull the reins, dig in my heels, and wheel the horse around.

  I shout a wordless cry and heel into her, and she breaks into a run. I lean down over her neck, holding Nina close to my body in one arm and holding the reins in my free hand. It’s a good thing I’m a natural at this.

  Villagers and guards leap out of my way as I ride hard for the gates, my heart in my throat every time I look down. If Gunpowder hits a bad patch of road, I and Nina both will go tumbling down the slopes to our deaths.

  The horse gallops steady and true, weaving so fast around the curves I have to lean into the turns. I heel her on and whip the reins, faster and faster until I hear the thunder of hooves on wood under my feet and rein up inside the castle. Gunpowder screams and thrashes her head as I pull on the bit, but she stops.

  I scramble down and pull Nina loose, holding her hand as we run to the walls to look over.

  When we reach the top I cry out. Half the village is on fire. There are flickering points of light in the fields. Torches, someone is carrying torches and setting everything alight. I don’t understand. Why is this happening?

  Nina wails.

  “Where’s my papa?” she screams, beating my leg with her fists. “Where is he? You left him!”

  “He told me to,” I protest lamely, tears burning my own cheeks. I kneel down and grab her to my chest. “I’m sorry.”

  More people stream into the castle in an unstoppable tide, until the yard is full to bursting. They come on foot, on mules, on carts. People are wounded, hurt.

  Saska finds me, looming over me as I crouch down with her younger sister.

  “Conrad and Adrian are still in the village. We need to bring some order to this or there will be a riot. The villagers outnumber my father’s men fifty to one.”

  “Take her,” I say, passing Nina to her. She climbs into Saska’s arms and sobs into her shoulder.

  My heart pounds in my chest, echoes in my throat and my temples. My head hurts like it’s never hurt before. I stumble down to the yard where I’m one among hundreds.

  I spot the big guard, Bors, towering above the rest. I force my way through to him, bumping and jostling against bodies.

  “We have to do something,” I shout at him. “Who’s in charge?”

  He gives me a blank look.

  I rush through the gate. There are more villagers coming in. I motion Bors forward and he strides toward me, pointing for more of his men to stand guard at the far end of the drawbridge.

  Looking down the mountain slope, I shudder. Half the village is on fire, and the flames are spreading through the fields. Something highly flammable goes up, coughing a smoky red light into the dark sky. The moon overhead is just a sliver, so the glow from the village surrounds it. I see figures moving.

  I start toward the gate and Bors grabs my arm, silently stopping me. His grip is like iron, and I can’t twist myself loose no matter how much I try.

  “We can’t just leave him down there,” I shout, but no one hears me.

  The fire burns on, engulfing nearly everything. It burns until dawn, until the last villagers have streamed into the castle. There are too many hurt, too many wounded. Who would do this?

  At first light, a dark horse appears on the road up to the castle. I mount Gunpowder and ride down, my eyes burning.

  When we reach Conrad he rides high in the saddle. Adrian is propped against his chest, pale, swaying from side to side. He’s bleeding from half a dozen poorly bandaged wounds… Oh my God, there’s an arrow sticking through his shoulder.

  I
think I’m going to be sick.

  “I told you to take him back,” Conrad growls at me, his voice a mixture of rage, terror, and almost boyish pleading. “Why didn’t you take him back?”

  “I tried,” I sob.

  “We have to get him inside.”

  Conrad spurs his horse and I whirl Gunpowder around to gallop back. The two of us rocket through the gate and across the drawbridge.

  “Seal the gates,” Conrad roars, his voice cutting through the din like a hot knife. “Now!”

  The drawbridge is already cranking up behind us. Saska rushes to us, and I have to grab a sobbing Nina as I dismount and pull her back. Conrad and Saska together lower Adrian from the saddle.

  Conrad carries his son in his arms.

  “We have to take him to the tree,” Saska says.

  “No,” Conrad barks, “no, I won’t, I will not.”

  “He’s dying, father! You must do this.”

  “The key,” he says.

  Saska takes it from around his neck and the two of them move toward the inner courtyard, as Bors shoulders villagers aside. I hurry behind them.

  “Keep Nina back,” Conrad shouts. “You, too.”

  I hand Nina to Bors the guard and run into the inner courtyard behind them.

  Conrad rounds on me.

  “I told you…”

  “I know what you told me,” I snap.

  Saska swings the gate shut behind us and throws the lock.

  The courtyard is utterly silent but for the distant howl of winds and the soft, rasping breathing of the count’s eldest son.

  Conrad carries him to the stone slab at the foot of the dead tree and lays him out upon it. He sits Adrian up, grits his teeth, and punches the arrow. I wince and stifle a cry with my hand as Conrad shoves the shaft through his son’s shoulder, finally pulling it all the way through.

  “It was the only way,” he says.

  “You know what you have to do,” Saska says.

  “Damn you,” Conrad snarls. “I can’t. I must not. Not again. When will this stop?”

  “If you don’t, he’ll die. Your son is dying, Conrad. Do something.”

  I grab Conrad’s arm. “What does she mean?”