by Kai Andersen
“I don’t think so.” Giselda stared at the board game.
“Would you like to play?” Serena asked kindly. “You can take a turn with Frederick.”
“But I don’t know how.”
“I can teach you.”
“I want Frederick to teach me.”
“Serena and I haven’t finished our game yet.”
“I can take your king in three more moves.”
“Prove it.”
She did.
“Now you can teach me, Frederick.” Giselda smiled up at him expectantly.
“Serena offered. Let her do the honors.” Frederick rose. “I’m going to see about dinner.”
* * * * *
Serena saw the naked longing in Giselda’s face as her gaze followed Frederick’s retreating back. Now, she could understand Giselda’s steadfast devotion to her stepbrother. The womanizing prince, whose reputation had preceded him, has hidden depths she was only starting to discover.
“Come, P-- er, Your Highness, won’t you sit?”
There was silence between the two women.
After a while, Serena reached over to clasp Giselda’s hand. “I promise you, we’re just friends.” She did not have the heart to tell Giselda that she knew about the bogus betrothal.
In many ways, Giselda was still like a child. She felt an irrational anger at Frederick for the way he kept treating Giselda. If she, Serena, were his betrothed, she wouldn’t allow him to get away with such behavior.
A moment later, her cheeks heated at the thought. She berated herself. She wasn’t his betrothed.
Giselda snatched her hand away. “Don’t touch me!”
Serena’s hands dropped onto her lap.
Silence reigned again.
Serena sighed. “Shall we begin with chess?”
Chapter Eight
Serena couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Spending the greater part of the past three days with Frederick had beaten down her defenses and forced her to face a truth she’d been denying to herself: She was having more-than-friends feelings toward Frederick.
Increasingly, she caught herself weaving dreams of hand-in-hand sunset walks by the seashore, of snuggling beneath warm covers during the cold months (and even the not-cold months), and of sipping hot chocolate in comfortable silence in the night while their children slept, snug in their beds. And always, that person at her side possessed deep blue eyes that saw straight into her soul.
But that wasn’t all.
She also remembered their kisses and how his mouth had felt on her breasts. A strange yearning had swept over her then, making her tingle and throb in places deep inside her. She knew. He had awakened her sexuality and made her want him.
It didn’t help that Frederick seemed to enjoy her company, for he spent the better part of the past two days with her. He read to her from the works of the great masters of literature, played chess and discussed farming methods with her. Ever since he’d learned of her interest in biological research, he had pumped her for information on scientific advances in her field. But he was more interested in new farming techniques, for it seemed that a majority of his people were farmers. He was specifically interested in the most recent innovation that had enabled the farmers in her kingdom to produce a larger quantity of vegetables and root crops on the same amount of land.
Frederick wrinkled his nose, a notepad half covered in writing on the table in front of him. “You use horse manure when seeding the plants?”
“Before, not when.” Serena laughed at his revolted expression. “I promise you, it’s a rich source of nutrients. When mixed with the soil, the plants absorbed them as they grow from a tiny seed, and this caused them to produce, not only in larger volume, but also in quality.”
It was late afternoon of the fourth day, and the rain hadn’t abated. It was a wonder that the place hadn’t flooded, with the steady way that the rain had been falling, but Serena supposed the kingdom’s drainage system was good. Maybe another one of Frederick’s proposals. She smiled, feeling an unaccountable pride at his accomplishments.
She could’ve sworn however, that the Goddess was playing a cruel trick on her by making her stay on in a place where the womenfolk did not welcome her and the only person who did wanted to seduce her. He never missed any opportunity to touch and kiss her, and wasn’t at all discouraged by her rebukes, claiming them to be friendly kisses. If they got any friendlier, she’d surely combust.
Now, his brows lifted. “Quality?”
“Yes. Larger and greener leaves, bigger stalks,” she made an emphatic gesture in the air, “those kinds of things.”
“I see.” His brows furrowed. “Don’t they smell?”
“They do.” Mischief glinted in her eyes. “But the vegetables don’t.”
“Where do you come from that you use such innovative means for your crops?”
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head teasingly. “You’ve got another think coming if you think you’re getting the answer by slipping that question into our --”
A sharp rap sounded on the door, and a moment later, a smiling Mrs. Goode-Heart entered. “Something to quench your thirst as you discuss things, dearies.” She placed a bowl of big and luscious grapes on the table.
Serena’s eyes grew wide. Could these be ...?
She looked over at Frederick and saw the same stunned expression on his face. Obviously, he had never seen grapes this size before. She could understand. The grapes they had consumed last night, probably Mithirien’s produce, were only about a third the size of these. Fat and round, there was also a shiny luster to the grapes in front of them, a color as of the deepest purple and a look so full it felt like each grape was about to burst with its juices.
“These ... these ...” he stuttered and glanced up at Serena, stunned.
A deep longing welled up in her. She had thought she’d never miss home after all the things she had suffered there and the horrid fate that her father had in store for her, but it seemed that she was mistaken.
Fingers trembling slightly, she plucked a grape from the thick cluster and bit into its round flesh. Sweet, tangy juice filled her mouth, as memories and images whirled around her: her stern unsmiling father, her subservient beautiful mother, her naughty and noisy siblings, her radical freethinking aunt, sweet Lindy, and her self-made laboratory.
She choked as the memories overwhelmed her.
“Serena ...” Frederick’s voice came from afar.
Her eyes slowly opened, focusing.
“Serena, are these from your country?” There was an odd urgency in his voice and on his face.
“Yes.” Her mind still gripped by her memories, she tried to remember what he wanted. “Those grapes are examples of what you’ll get if you implemented --”
“Mrs. Goode-Heart, where did we get these grapes?”
A sick feeling lodged in her heart. “No!”
“Why, no need to look at me like that, dearie.” Turning to Frederick, Mrs. Goode-Heart said, “I’ve no idea, my boy. You know I don’t do the buying around here.”
Serena couldn’t believe what Frederick had done. All this while, she thought they were friends, or at least, becoming friends. Friends trusted each other, didn’t they? And they didn’t pry into things they knew you didn’t want them to. But what he’d just done proved that he’d never trusted her, never believed her.
Mrs. Goode-Heart was patting Frederick gently on the shoulder. “Never you mind about that, child. All in good time. Now, why don’t you enjoy these lovely grapes? They’re really sweet, as this young lady has discovered, I’m sure.”
Serena nodded woodenly.
So what if the grapes were sweet? Nothing would taste sweet again for the curious bitter pain spreading within her.
“Everything will be all right, dearie.” Mrs. Goode-Heart was strangely comforting as she patted her on the shoulder. “Remember, things aren’t always what they seem.”
Things aren’t what they seem? What did she mean?
Serena was s
till staring as the door gently closed behind her.
Silence.
Serena avoided looking at him, preferring instead to skim the high shelves packed full of books. She didn’t know if she could forgive him for this pain, but she feared that he only had to smile at her and she’d forget that he’d hurt her.
Finally, Frederick spoke up. “I’m sorry for that, Serena. But I want you to know something.” He paused. “I burn, Serena. I burn to know everything there is to know about you.” Her eyes sought his, startled and afraid. He held her gaze effortlessly. “Where you come from, things about your family, those closest and dearest to you, the food that you like, and those that you don’t, what makes you smile and laugh and ... cry. Do you understand, Serena? I need.”
Serena drew in a shaky breath. She believed him, believed that his question had come because of a burning need to know, because that same need tripped through her blood in a headlong rush to ... to ... somewhere. It burned through her, burned away the pain of betrayal, burned such that every pore in her being longed -- no, yearned -- to know, to touch ...
Desperately, she turned away from the raw emotion in his eyes. She couldn’t -- wouldn’t! -- accept being his mistress. She wouldn’t allow herself to be coaxed, cajoled or seduced nor would she be driven by her own needs, wants and longings to ... No! She would stand firm on her decision, a decision based on logic and clear thinking --
Blindly, she reached for a grape from the plate, anything to prevent her eyes from looking up and locking with his. Her hand was arrested when his voice reached her ears.
“Allow me.”
Low and seductive, his voice was in keeping with the tension that had been building slowly and subtly until it became a palpable thing, so solid she could touch it. Her eyes helplessly locked with blue ones so pure they reminded her of the sky on a clear day.
Frederick plucked a fat purple grape and nudged it against her lips. Responding to the prompting, her mouth opened and then closed over the grape, sucking it in. She chewed. All her senses were magnified. The colors were sharper, her vision clearer. Her ears picked up the labored sounds of their breathing, which seemed loud in the silent room, and her nose was filled with the clean, sweet smell of rain. Her skin tingled from the electricity arcing between them. The grape in her mouth tasted sweeter and her heart thumped faster at the increased sexual tension in the air.
A bit of juice from the grape dribbled down the side of her mouth. Serena reached up a hand to wipe it away, but he preempted her move. She didn’t see it coming, but his lips had somehow reached her chin. She froze. She felt his hot breath on her cheek, and then his tongue swiped upward, tasting the single bead of juice, tracking its path to the corner of her mouth. His tongue stilled.
She was motionless, not even daring to breathe. She wondered what he would do now.
It only lasted about a second.
Frederick gave a mighty groan, and then his hands were buried in her hair, moving her head until his lips closed over hers hungrily, plundering her moist depths and devouring her. He kissed her like he’d gone without water for years and was now drinking his first taste.
Serena reveled in the taste of him, wondering anew at the cool firm texture of his lips. She kissed him just as desperately, the hunger in her demanding instant gratification. Just before she drowned completely in sensations however, the sensible part of her managed to wedge in a protest. She struggled to be set free.
Frederick released her mouth, and something within her howled a protest. Serena was now totally confused with herself. What did she really want?
His eyes bored into hers as he panted for breath. His head lowered toward her once again. “One more, Serena, one more.”
Serena gave a token protest as he drew her into his lap, and then she gave up as his lips met hers once again. She may protest, but her body welcomed this as much as his sought it.
“You’re so sweet, love.” He kissed her, moving his lips over hers persuasively, urging her to meet him kiss for kiss. “So sweet.” He grunted with satisfaction as she responded.
He slanted his mouth, and his tongue stroked in, mating fiercely with hers. After awhile, his kiss slowed down, gentling, nibbling, making sure her lips were thoroughly kissed.
Serena marveled at the contrast of gentleness and fierceness Frederick was showing her. She felt cherished and savored, as if she were a banquet prepared for his pleasure. She clung to him, not sure now if she wanted him to let her go.
His hand inched beneath her dress and caressed her thigh. She sighed with pleasure at the feather-light strokes of his hard hand on her soft thigh. He drew circles on her inner thigh, moving higher. Something within her throbbed to the movement of his hand, signaling a welcome, sighing with anticipation ...
His hand slipped in between her thighs and cupped her mound. She shrieked at the suddenness of it, of a large warm hand covering her most secret place, of a foreign object curled hotly against her throbbing center. “Frederick!”
“Hush love, it’ll be good.” He lifted his head and frowned. “You’re not wearing any underwear?”
She hid her burning face in his chest, but she didn’t move away. If anything, her legs widened imperceptibly. “Giselda didn’t give me any, and ... and mine are still wet from washing last night.”
“You must be cold.”
“Not now.”
He chuckled. He moved his hand slightly.
Serena didn’t know what his hand meant to do, but as it stroked her there, white-hot sparks shot through her body, causing that place, her pussy -- there, she said it -- to become wet. It was her first real experience, and it felt ... nice. No, more than nice. There was pleasure and ... and ... At the same time, she also felt a low pressure tightening her belly. “Frederick!” Did that breathy moan come from her? She’d never made a sound like that before. She was aware of something she wanted him to do, but what?
“I’ll get Giselda to give you some undergarments.” His skillful hand never stopped its stroking.
“No!” Serena gasped. “She’ll know that you know and ... and ...” She buried her face deeper into his chest. “It’ll be so embarrassing.”
Frederick chuckled. “And you aren’t embarrassed now? You aren’t embarrassed when I do this?” He tangled his fingers among her curls. “Or this?” His fingers found her wetness and was spreading it around and among her folds. “Goddess, you’re so wet.” He groaned, a tortured sound.
“Frederick!” A strangled gasp. “What are you doing?”
“Making you feel good, honey.” His fingers continued to stroke among her folds, slipping slickly among her juices. “Didn’t your other lovers do this, pleasure you like this?”
“Lovers!” Serena didn’t know what he’s talking about. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All her focus was centered on his skillful fingers buried in a place she herself had never touched.
“Yes, those men in your kingdom.” He pressed his palm against her mound, adding a deeper texture to the pleasure. “Don’t they know how to pleasure their women? Or are they selfish brutes, caring only for their own satisfaction?”
“No.” Serena grounded out.
“Not selfish?” A tense, dangerous edge had entered his voice.
She was fast losing her mind. “No ... lovers.”
His hand slackened. “No lovers?”
His surprise registered, but she was more concerned with the pleasure that was ebbing away. “No!” She wanted his hand to resume its motions. She moved restlessly in his arms. “Don’t stop.”
He chuckled and obliged. “This feels good, doesn’t it?”
She gave a raw, satisfied moan. “Yes.” It felt good, more than good. He was so good at what he was doing. How could he make her feel this way, like she was about to burst ... He suddenly slipped one finger into her wet opening. Startled, she shrieked and tried to close her legs.
“Open your legs, sweetheart.” Frederick’s trapped hand was drawing tight circles on her mound
and pressing hard against her clitoris. “I can’t pleasure you properly this way. C’mon sweetheart, I won’t hurt you.”
Reassured by his coaxing voice and the knowledge of his gentleness, her legs relaxed and opened slowly. He continued massaging her folds, flicking once against her clitoris. He bent his head and kissed her neck, flicking his tongue against a sensitive spot. She shuddered at the double assault. “Yes, Frederick, do that again.”
“This?” He teased her, biting lightly against her neck.
She shuddered. “Yes. No. The other one.”
“Make up your mind.”
“Your hand.”
“This?” He flicked his thumb against the tight bud once again.
“Yes.” She moaned, the tension coiling within her. “More.”
He stroked her clitoris, drawing the hard bud tighter as his finger pushed sluggishly into her opening. She tensed a bit, but didn’t protest. Her breath shortened.
His arm tightened about her, as he pushed his finger in and out of her tight sheath. At the same time, he continued stroking her clitoris with his thumb. Her hips arched involuntarily, moving upward to meet his finger. She hummed.
“One day soon, sweetheart, it’ll be my cock plunging in and out of you.” He stepped up the rhythm of his stroking finger, his palm brushing against the tight bud with every downward stroke. “My cock you’ll hold in that tightness. You’ll be mine.” He whispered the promise against her throat.
Serena didn’t know what was happening. What he was doing to her was causing that strange tension to build, spiraling upward higher and higher. She felt like she was reaching for something. Tighter ... tighter ... and then it snapped. She bucked on his lap, meeting the downward strokes of his finger. His thumb became more frenzied in caressing her, and then, she was bucking continuously, and her vagina walls were contracting madly around his finger. “Yes!” She sobbed. She chanted his name.
Reason left her as she reached her peak, and she soared for a few seconds before she slid back down into his arms. She was languid and boneless, content to lie there. She heard his labored breathing and knew she echoed his gasps.