by Kai Andersen
“Yes.”
He was gratified to hear that her voice was breathy. He found that her eyes had closed and her head had fallen back, baring the long column of her neck. She was fast falling under his sensual spell.
“Then you see how much this vest is hindering us.” He murmured against her throat. “Let’s take it off so I can kiss you properly.”
“Yes.”
He slipped it off, throwing the offending garment onto the floor. He kissed her where he’d indicated, enjoying the sound of Serena’s enjoyment and the hard dig of her fingers into his arm.
He moved in front of her, his eyes lighting with satisfaction at the flushed look on her face and the deep cleavage now visible between her breasts. “You’re beautiful.” She looked lush and sexy, and he felt the telltale stirring in his trousers.
Serena opened her eyes, but there was no hint of alarm or anger in them. Instead, the unconsciously sensual look in them caused desire to slam hard into his gut.
She licked her lips. “Wanton.”
He wanted to lick them himself. “More natural and relaxed.”
“Wanton.”
“I won’t protest that, if you’re wanton only for me.”
She shivered.
“What is it?”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” Her eyes darkened.
“Serena ...” His head lowered.
His mouth had almost reached her lips when she suddenly shook her head and pushed him away. Caught off guard, he let her walk back to the table.
“Can we get back to the farming discussions?” Her voice trembled.
“But you can’t answer my questions.”
“You may have other questions.”
He thought a moment. “You’re right. I do.”
She turned expectantly.
“Can I make love to you?”
She gasped.
“Just like yesterday.”
A low moan escaped her, and he knew she was remembering the way their last chess game ended.
He remembered as well, and thought of all the things he wanted to do to her. “And more.”
She understood. He could see it in her face, but he didn’t understand the sudden mischievous smile that lit up her face. “You can try.”
“You think I can’t, huh?” Frederick was challenged. He grabbed her and sat them both down in the chair he’d recently vacated, with her in his lap.
She squirmed.
Frederick groaned and held her steady. “Honey, stop doing that. You’re going to kill me.” His cock pulsed and throbbed to the beat of her heat.
She squirmed again, moving her butt slowly over his cock. She surely thought she was being funny, but he was going to die from wanting her, and that definitely wasn’t funny.
“Serena ...”
Frederick felt his cock grow and harden near to bursting. Days of wanting Serena, of being only able to kiss her and bring her to orgasm without having one of his own was difficult on him. Very difficult. Knowing that she was fully naked beneath her dress made it even more so. Now, the feel of her sweet firm buttocks sliding over his trousers-clothed cock was more than unbearable. It was unendurable.
“You’re killing me, sweet Serena.” He picked her up and ran to deposit her on the arm chaise, pushing the pillows onto the floor. He fell on her, burying his face in the cleavage of her breasts.
She gasped.
His tongue flicked against her skin.
She moaned.
His fingers undid the ribbon that was holding the bodice together. The two sides fell away and her breasts were bared to his gaze. More delightfully, they were bared to his touch. He breathed heavily, and then his head moved. His tongue flicked against one nipple, laving and sucking.
A frenzied greed took hold of him. One wasn’t enough. He pushed both breasts together and sucked alternately on each nipple. Sucking earnestly. Sucking like there was no tomorrow. Sucking like all the nutrients he needed came from her nipples. He was possessed with an urgent need to mark his brand on every inch of her skin.
She groaned and cried his name, her fingers digging into his arms.
It wasn’t enough.
One hand released her breast, though his mouth still continued its assault on that area. His fingers slipped underneath the dress, expecting to find naked skin and delightful curls ... and encountered her underwear.
“What the --”
“It dried.” Her voice was shaking with frustration.
He drew in a ragged breath. He knew exactly what she’s feeling.
He flipped the dress up, covering her face with it, as his other hand unfastened his trousers and freed his cock in one swift movement. It bobbed, long and thick and hard with lust for the woman in front of him, the woman between whose legs he was now lying. Before she was done pulling skirt down from her face, he’d pushed his cock against her panties and into her pussy.
His lips were over hers, kissing her roughly as he thrust into her repeatedly. “This is how it’s going to be, Serena, me moving over you, my hungry cock in you, but without those damned panties!” He clasped her legs around him. “Here, honey, keep those legs here. Pull me to you, pull me deeper!”
Serena whimpered and tried. He felt the effort she expended from the desperation in her legs as she strained and from the hands she’d clasped around him. She wanted what he wanted: him closer, nearer to her, within her. But the silk panties were barring the way. They clung to her, wet where they touched her pussy, wet where he was pushing his cock into it.
She gave mewling cries of frustration.
He felt the same way. No, what he felt was something infinitely deeper, frustration mingled with a desperation she couldn’t even begin to understand. A desperation to be as deep as he could be in her, a need that was hampered by the silk panties that were preventing him from sliding into her.
He moved off her.
“No!”
Music to his ears.
“Wait a while, honey.” His fingers quested to her waist and pulled down her panties. He threw them away behind him, and then he knelt and pulled her legs up onto his neck. He saw the red tangle of her curls, and never was there a more beautiful sight. He wanted to worship her, to show his appreciation of her femininity, but his cock was drumming a more urgent and insistent beat. Listening to its demands, he placed his cock between her labia, feeling her sweet, hot, and wet against him.
He groaned.
“Ooh, that feels good, Frederick.”
“It only gets better.”
He turned his head and placed a kiss on one smooth calf. He pumped, slowly at first, reveling in the sensation of his hard length rubbing up against her folds, the bumps in his cock rasping over her clitoris. He thrust, imagining his cock plunging into her tight hot depths. Her wet cream gushed out, coating his cock further, causing it to move more slickly among her folds. His rhythm increased. His belly tightened. They bounced and rocked on the chaise. He felt her quake and pulse around him, her legs tightening around his neck. She arched and bucked against him, and the pressure in him snapped as he spilled his seed. He continued to thrust through the hand he had planted on his cock as he aimed it at her cloth-covered belly.
“That was incredible.” He collapsed beside her, his face in her throat. “I’ll clean it off you in a minute.” He tangled his legs with hers, and his cock lay against her thigh -- hot and wet.
She mumbled acquiescence. She was breathing as hard as he was. Was it as good for her as it was for him? He wished they could do more. But he’d have to ease her into it slowly. She’d been so tight yesterday; he’d wondered if she could take him, take his whole length into her. At the thought of being buried in her, his cock stirred, hungry and greedy for more. Lethargy left him.
Resting his head on his upraised palm, he watched her as he cupped her mound. Her eyes were still closed, but her expressive face revealed both her shock and delight. She hummed a tuneless song of satisfaction as her pussy throbbed beneath his han
d.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Hmm.”
“And wonderful.”
“Hmm.”
“Incredibly generous.”
“Hmm.”
“Aristotle’s a bad cat.”
“Hmm.”
“He ate all your goldfish.”
“Hmm.”
Clearly, she wasn’t up for conversation.
His fingers played among her curls and folds lazily. He avoided her clitoris, knowing it was still too sensitive to touch.
“So ... do you miss your parents?”
“Hmm.”
“Your parents.” His need for patience was killing him. “Do you miss them?”
“Parents?” Her brows knitted. “Miss ... them? Ah ... yes.”
He liked that “ah” of pleasure. He wasn’t sure if the “yes” was in answer to his question or something else.
“And where’d you learn to cook?”
“Cook?” The frown became deeper.
“Yes. Mrs. Goode-Heart said you’re the one who cooked breakfast that day.”
“Break --” Her breath hitched, and then she moaned. She bucked.
He slackened the intensity of his fingers.
She wailed and thrashed her head restlessly.
He ignored her. “Yes, such a scrumptious breakfast. Who taught you to cook?”
“Cook ...” She panted. “Aunt taught me ...” She opened desire-glazed eyes and clutched his arm. “Frederick ... what are you ... doing? Frederick ... please ...”
He’d thought to build her anticipation, increase her tension and take her on the most exhilarating ride she’d ever had. But he wasn’t proof against the pleading in her eyes.
“Tell me what you want, honey.” His fingers slipped among her folds.
“You know ...”
“Tell me.”
“Like yesterday.”
“You like that, huh?” He couldn’t help the immense satisfaction that leaked out.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
She pleaded, “Please.”
“I want to hear you say it.” His hand continued its sensual stroke. “If you don’t, I’ll just continue what I’m doing now.”
“I like ...” She licked her lips. He grew more aroused at the sight, his cock thumping gently against her thigh. “I like ... your fingers in me.” The last words were said in a rush.
“How many?”
“One.”
“Just one?”
“Two.”
“Just two?”
“Three.” A faint questioning note.
“Hmm ... you’re still very tight. Probably two is all you can take.” He grunted, his cock aching badly. His fingers slipped in her wetness and massaged her folds, thumbing her clitoris. “Like that?”
“Yes.” She moved her head restlessly.
He continued his massage for some time, building her anticipation. He wanted it to be good for her. His thumb rubbed over her clitoris every now and then, drawing away when she seemed to be nearing her peak. His fingers dipped shallowly into her vagina and spread the wetness among her folds.
Her breath shortened as her anticipation grew. Her dress was plastered onto her midriff, his seed soaking through the material to her belly. She’d never looked sexier. The scent of sex was pervasive in the room, exciting them both. He looked down at her intently, his gaze burning and hot.
“I believe you’ll like this even more.” He pushed two fingers into her hot tight wet vagina.
“Yes.” She closed her eyes and rolled her head back as she arched into his fingers.
She was so beautiful, with passion and need expressed clearly on her face. Frederick got drunk just from seeing her sweet response to his lovemaking. He already knew how she looked and felt with his cock caught in between her pussy lips. He wondered how she’d look with his cock in her tight depths. His groin tightened further at the thought.
His fingers kept a steady pace as he drove them in and out of her, the sweet slurping sound as he pulled them out increasing his arousal. Maybe he’d ask her to give him head later. That thought caused his fingers to speed up, pushing them in so hard that his palm smacked loudly against her clitoris.
She screamed.
It was the first time she’d done that, and Frederick was immediately jarred out of his daydreams. “What is it? Did I hurt you?” His fingers immediately slowed.
“No, no.” Her fingernails dug into his arms with a desperateness that touched him. “Don’t stop. Do that again. Please.”
“This?” He deliberately pushed his fingers in hard, causing his palm to land lightly on her mound, hitting her clitoris.
“Yes, yes. Don’t stop. Harder.”
The combination of pleasure-pain seemed to be her undoing. She tried to gain purchase on his thighs to push her hips up on his downstroke, even pushing hard against his palm as she tried to get it to land harder on her pussy. She was alternately sobbing and uttering soft mewling cries, desperation evident in her voice and in her body.
“Easy, easy, honey.” He nuzzled her ear and her cheek. “I’ll help you.”
He used his palm to grind down hard on her clitoris on every downstroke, and he knew that she was close. A few more strokes and hard grinding and she was over the edge, arching beautifully in his arms, her hot depths tightening and contracting madly around his fingers, the rush of thick wet cream coating his fingers.
Finally, she lay quiet in his arms, still breathing a little too fast. Sweat covered her face and neck. “What just happened?” She sounded bewildered.
She probably was, the poor dear. No doubt she thought making love was sweet and nice and tidy. Frederick wanted to laugh out loud. She’s sure to be a little hellcat in bed. “You’re just showing me what you like.”
“And what’s that?”
“A little rough. A little hard.” He bent to whisper in her ear. “I wish we were in bed right now, and I could fuck your little pussy with my cock. We’d do it the way you like.”
She looked up at him, fire smoldering in her green depths. “I might just let you.”
His breath caught. His eyes darkened. Before he could say anything though, he heard the sound of voices chattering right outside the library door.
The knob rattled and turned slowly ...
Frederick hurriedly drew her wet dress down her thighs and plonked a stuffy pillow on her lap to cover the evidence of their activities.
Giselda’s voice floated in through the slightly open door. “Frederick’s got to be in here.”
Frederick quickly stuffed his still erect cock into his trousers. He sat down beside Serena and pulled a pillow over his lap.
“We’ve looked for him everywhere.”
He glanced at Serena and saw that she was busy doing up the buttons on her bodice and arranging her hair. The skirt portion of the dress clung wetly to her belly and thighs, but there was nothing they could do about it. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she clutched the pillow tightly and trembled slightly. His heart beat faster, and his breath quickened. Were they about to be discovered?
The door stopped in its inward movement.
“Why don’t I look in here for you, Your Highness?” Rodin’s voice answered her. “I just remembered that we haven’t looked in the music room yet.”
Frederick breathed a sigh of relief.
“No, I want to look! I’m sure I heard a scream.”
Rodin overrode her. “Serena loves playing the piano; he could be there as well.”
It was like a magic word had been spoken. Giselda immediately said, “You’re right, they may have gone there while we were at other parts of the ...” Her voice moved farther away.
Rodin’s hand snuck in to give them the thumbs up before withdrawing and locking the door.
Serena slumped against Frederick, the tension draining out of her. “That was close.”
He hugged her, wondering why he didn’t share the same sentiments. For some
reason, he didn’t mind being caught. It might even provide a way out for this intolerable situation with Serena.
Chapter Eleven
Giselda entered the music room and stood disappointed. He wasn’t here. She’d feared as much when she didn’t hear so much as a laugh outside the door. They were always laughing, those two. When she heard a sound behind her, she spun around to find Rodin leaning against the doorway. Anger sparked in her veins.
“You lied to me!”
“I didn’t.”
“You said he’s in here.”
“I never said that. I said he could be in here.”
A sudden, horrible realization filled her. “He was in there, wasn’t he? The library? He was in the library, right?” Her words ended in a shriek.
His body language conveyed reluctance as he nodded slowly.
“Aargh!” She growled as she brushed past him, anger granting her the strength to push him out of the way.
She slammed open the library door, but she was too late. Pillows littered the floor and the room smelled funny, but nobody was in there.
Hearing movement behind her, she whirled around, knowing who she’d find. “This is all your fault! How dare you lie to me! I’ll have your head for this!”
Rodin merely looked at her and shrugged.
She knew why he was so complacent. He knew Frederick wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
A helpless fury rose up within her. It seemed that everything and everyone was conspiring against her. It had been a perfect plan at first. Cooped up in the hunting lodge with no other females in sight, Frederick would be forced to turn to her, they’d have sex, and because she was a princess, they’d marry. The sudden storm was a godsend. She’d thought the gods were smiling down on their impending union. And then to have Serena show up and interfere with her plans!
She gritted her teeth, aware of the fury overwhelming her, suffocating her. They could be doing it right now -- they could’ve already done it, in fact! -- and then her dreams of being queen would be gone.
Dreams were so fragile, like bubbles. One wrong move, and they burst.