“Not talking?”
Almost, she spoke, mouth parting, but the words stuck far down in her throat when he shook her head with his fistful of hair.
“Look at you. Dumbstruck.”
Again she intended to speak, but he leaned in, whispering to her ear.
“I’m going to deflower you, Princess, while I have you like this. Tied, and with my rope marks showing on your tits.”
He kissed her, and she spluttered a wait, against his mouth quietly, and simply because she must, she must.
“Wait is not enough.”
His hand forced itself between her clamped thighs and found there, a fabled place only she had touched before. His fingers slid, slipped, circled the swelling nub above her cleft, before tracing along where her entrance lay, and her legs had opened without her saying to, and she was moaning into his kissing mouth, unsure whether to press herself against his fingers or go the other way.
“A princess should not,” she mumbled, not sure her words made sense.
“Perhaps, but you are.” He claimed her mouth, plundering it thoroughly, tongue slipping in, mouth angling and moving roughly on hers. Her head was pressed backward and onto where his fist clamped on her hair. “I like you like this—confused, wanting me.”
“I don’t—”
“You do.” For the first time, he penetrated her below. His fingertip entered her, pushing in, taking, forcing aside her internal walls. She arched, just a little, feeling her flesh resist then spasm onto him. Her words were lost and fell away. “I will fuck you here, and you will beg me for more.”
“Bastard!” she managed to gasp, softly, ever so softly.
“You think? I’m fingerfucking your cunt, your highness. Not sure we can call you an expert on bastards.”
Incomprehensible. Her eyes shut.
His finger entered her, full depth, the entirety of it going up inside her, for she could feel his knuckles against her entrance. He pushed, withdrew, slid it back in, jammed it high, held it there. Then he released her hair and slid down her body, with his finger still embedded, and…
He began to lick at the juncture of her legs—where the narrow triangle of hair pointed. She knew where his tongue lapped, where his mouth sucked. At her aching clitoris. It was the font of womanhood, some said.
Pleasure blossomed, grew, a wildfire of possession. She shuddered, tensed, arms held at her back, struggling to understand. This was so good.
Her moans were small at first.
She wanted to grab his hair, to fasten him to her forever. She wanted all of this, this blissful sensation that threatened to overwhelm her. Sounds spluttered from her lips, unsolicited mumbles and whimpers.
When she sought balance and an anchor to hold, the fingers of her bound wrists found a rock behind her on the streambed. She gripped it hard and strained backward, spine arching, her neck muscles tight as the rope on her hands. Already she climbed heavenward. Her thighs were shaking, clamping onto his head.
“Oh. Oh god.” She bit back a cry, her eyes rolling up, blinding her as a rush of ecstasy flooded her, leaving her shaking and shaking. Her body no longer hers, she almost toppled into the stream until he caught her, held her halfway to the rocks.
“That was to show you who is master here. The next is to reinforce it.” His tone was intense, but she was preoccupied with panting, with grabbing the next life-giving breath, and with coming down from that orgasm. He carried her to where the clothes had been left and a blanket spread, and deposited her there, partly on her knees.
With her senses almost recovered, Po scrambled to gather her legs under her, sitting awry, then wriggling into a kneeling position. She watched him, unsure how far her world had been shifted by what he’d done. What she had done.
“You see…” From behind those black spectacles, he eyed her, smiling grimly. “You may command your realm, but I command your pleasure.”
That riled her. “I can do that myself,” she croaked, her panting finally subsiding. “I have.”
“It’s not the same though, is it?” he said quietly, and he took a step nearer, towering, and laced both his hands in her dripping hair. “Here, you are mine.”
“No. No.” She tried to shake her head and could not. She shivered at that. He had her spellbound, and it was both magical and terrible.
“If being mastered did not hold some strange allure for you, you would have told me no, before. You did not. I will have a true yes from your lips in the days to come, Princess. I will.”
Speechless, she wriggled as if to get away, and he scrunched his fingers together. Lust whispered in.
And she closed her eyes.
She did like this, far too much. Break free, her mind insisted. Break free.
“You will not get this from playing with yourself with your fingers.”
His cock was waving before her, she knew this, and she felt it brush her lips, heard him utter a strangled grunt.
“I ache to stick myself inside you, but not yet. A virgin should be broken in, carefully.”
Broken in. Even that made her heart race. What was wrong with her? She felt her way through her thoughts, understanding the why. It was because he was being both fearsome and careful. The two of those undid her.
She loved Xander. Was this not a disrespect of him?
“You cannot,” she said desperately. “Xander—”
“Xander wanted me to fuck you while he watched. He has a thing for that. Then we would both take you. He’d approve. He wanted to drag you down a level to the darkness once you were wed. This is where the fun stuff happens. And what a sight you are, lying there. Waiting for me.”
