Текст книги "Bound to the shadow prince"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

Chapter

Thirty-One

Istay upstairs and glare in silence at the ceiling for what must be hours. I don’t feel like coming down from my room, because then I’ll have to face Nemeth, and I really don’t want to. He made me feel ashamed and hurt and it pisses me off. I’m considering just staying up here for a few weeks—maybe longer—until things settle between us. There’s not as much of a need for firewood now with the weather warmer, and if I miss his company, it’s my own fault for trying to entice a stupid, stubborn Fellian into liking me back.

I hear Nemeth’s approach in the dark, silent halls of the tower before I hear the knock on my door. “Come out, Candra.”

“Piss off.” Am I being sulky and childish? Yes. Do I care? No.

“It’s time for your potion.”

I sit up in the darkness. “I’ll do it myself.”

“No, you won’t.” That stubborn note enters his voice. “You hurt yourself when you do. Come downstairs and I’ll administer it for you.”

“Quit being a bully,” I yell back. “I can do it myself.”

“Not without your tools, and they’re currently in my room.”

Oh, is it going to be like that? Indignant, I get to my feet and feel my way across the room, finding the door. I fling it open, and sure enough, there are the brightly gleaming, narrowed eyes of my Fellian nemesis.

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll guide you.”

“I don’t want guiding. I want to be left alone.”

“I’m not going to do that,” he growls.

Insufferable Fellian. I jerk away from his grip and head for the stairs, my hand out. I’ve made this journey hundreds of times in the dark, have I not? I know the way.

From behind me comes a feral snarl. “Stubborn little princess.” In the next moment, I’m grabbed and tossed over his shoulder, the wing moving backward to accommodate me. He smacks my butt as if I’m a child and hauls me down the stairs towards his quarters.

I’m furious.

I’m also turned on. How fucking dare he spank me. How fucking dare he act like he owns me. Like he can take care of me better than I can myself. I grit my teeth, hating that my body is responding to his, especially after he’s made it quite clear that he thinks I’ll just diddle any man put in front of me like a shameless tart.

And even if I did, so what? He enjoyed it. He’s more angry about that than anything, I suspect. He let himself be jerked off by a human and he liked it, and now he’s mad at me about it. My anger fires up and by the time he sets me down in the pleasant, lit warmth of his supply-crowded quarters, I’m past all reason once more. I glare at him, indignant, and then race for the table where my medical supplies are kept, intending to snatch the bag and race upstairs with it.

I don’t want to depend on him. I don’t need to depend on him.

He growls, grabbing my wrist before I can reach the table. “So it’s going to be like that, princess?” Nemeth hauls me over to the bed, and I struggle to break free from his grip. “You’re so gods-damned stubborn.”

“Me?” I sputter. “You’re the arse who thinks he’s the Gray God’s gift to humans. Acting like you’re too good for a slutty human’s touch, is that it? Because I’m not some pristine virgin you think I’ll just grab any cock put in front of me? You think⁠—”

I break off because he whirls me about, and then I’m on my belly, bent over the side of the bed. He pins my arm down on the mattress next to my head, surprisingly gentle despite the strength and size of him.

“You, princess, will be the death of me,” Nemeth snarls into my ear, his voice deadly with fury and…something else. A moment later, a hand goes under my skirts and skims up my leg. “The absolute death of me,” he repeats again, and this time his tone is hot, distracted, as his claws scrape my thigh.

I suck in a breath.

My ass is in the air and I’m pinned to the bed, half under him as he presses his weight over me, keeping me secured in place right where he wants me. That searching hand goes between my thighs, and I realize what he’s doing a split second before he speaks.

“You can be my secret, and I’ll be yours, remember? Just tell me to stop and I will.”

He practically purrs the words into my ear.

Tell him to stop?

I’ve never wanted anything more than for him to keep going.

Chapter

Thirty-Two

Pinned down with Nemeth’s hand beneath my skirt, I find that all of my anger disappears in a flash.

I want him to touch me. I need it, more than I’ve needed anything in a long time. My lips part and my nails dig into the blankets even as his hand skims up my backside, finding the silky fabric of my panties and tearing them apart with a quick snag of his claws. “Tell me to stop,” he warns me again, his breathing hard. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll let you go, Candra.”

Stop? Never. I want all of this. I want him to make me come so hard my toes curl and lights flash behind my eyes. How long has it been since I’ve had a good hard orgasm? Touching myself isn’t the same, and given that my arousal is heightened by Nemeth and the way I touched him earlier? I’m going to come so damned hard. It’s going to be amazing. “Don’t tease me if you don’t intend to follow through.”

He growls again, the sound feral and wild. I love it. It makes my nipples prick and my body sing with awareness, because I know I’m driving him past all reason. I love that I can push Nemeth—scholarly, warrior-like Nemeth who wanted to be a monk, of all things—past the brink. I love that he’s pushing my skirts up to my waist and exposing my backside to the air, because he’s going to stare his fill at me and see just how much I want and need this.

And I’m relieved. He liked my touch after all. It’s evident in the way his hand roams over my hips and thighs, his touch greedy. It’s like he doesn’t know how to stop caressing me, so he’s just going to keep touching and touching until I demand that he stop…or if I come. Well, I’m definitely not telling him to stop. This is the realization of every filthy fantasy I’ve had in the last year, ever since I stepped foot over the tower’s threshold. My cunt clenches with need, and I gasp as he slides his hand over one buttock, his claw grazing along the crease of my ass.

“Naughty, beautiful Candra,” he murmurs. “You’re so gods-damned wet. I can smell you from here.”

I moan, burying my face against the blankets, because he’s right—I am thoroughly, unabashedly wet. My cunt is so slippery with arousal I can feel my skin gliding against itself with every slight shift of my hips. I’m so wet he doesn’t need oil of any kind to serve as lubricant, because I don’t think I’ve ever been so very slick.

His big hand grips my buttock, and it fits neatly against his oversized palm. He gives it a squeeze, and even that small touch is arousing. “How long have you been aroused like this?”

I bite my lip, squirming against his hand. Why, why, why do I desperately want those dangerous claws in naughty places? “Since I touched you earlier.”

Nemeth sighs. “And I sent you away.”

“You did. You’re a monster,” I agree breathlessly.

“You want this monster to touch you?”

“Please,” I practically sob, and spread my thighs apart in silent invitation. “Oh, please do.”

He groans, and those delicious claws carefully skate over the seam of my cunt. I can feel him dipping them into the arousal slicking my pussy and thighs. “You’re flushed with heat here. So warm and soft and wet. To think you’ve been hiding all this under your skirts all this time.”

I whimper, because he’s still teasing me. His hand is barely brushing over me, and I’m absolutely going to lose control if he doesn’t touch me properly soon. “Nemeth.”

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” He demands, and something hard and unyielding glides through my folds. His knuckle. I groan as he rubs it up and down my pussy, barely grazing over my clit. It’s the cruelest of teases. When I don’t answer quickly enough, he reaches up and smacks my buttock with a hard, ringing sound. “Answer.”

“I don’t remember what I said,” I confess, utterly distracted. The only thing on my mind right now is the hand I want between my thighs again.

“That you wanted to touch me? Was that true?”

I nod, biting my lip. Please, please touch me again, I silently beg.

He smacks my butt once more. “Say it out loud.”

“Yes, it’s true!” I should be annoyed by the spanking, but gods, it’s arousing. I love this bossy, dominant side of him that only comes out at certain times. “Why would I lie?”

“To toy with me,” Nemeth comments, stroking my stinging buttcheek once more. “How long have you wanted to touch me?”

His claws skate close to my pussy again and I clench my hands into the bedsheets in anticipation of his touch. “Since…since winter. Since we shared heat under the blankets.”

He pauses. “Truly?”

“Maybe earlier,” I babble. “I don’t know! I don’t keep track of these things! I just know I need you to touch me.”

“You want a monster to finger your cunt? A terrible, awful Fellian man? You want him to touch your pretty folds and make you come?”

I whimper, because when he puts it that way, yes, yes I absolutely do.

Then his fingertips gently brush over my folds again and I cry out because it’s taking everything I have not to buck my hips. “Your claws⁠—”

“I’ll be careful,” he murmurs, concentration in his voice. “You think I’ve gone through this world with claws for twenty-eight years and I don’t know how to wield them against delicate things?” The pad of one finger strokes up my cleft, towards my clit. “You think a monster can’t be gentle?”

The moment he touches my clit, I sob. HIs touch is perfection. To my astonishment, he knows just how to touch me, too. His fingertip circles around my clit in slow, careful motions, and Nemeth makes a rumble of pleasure when I twitch against him in response.

“So soft,” he purrs, the sound rumbling low and delicious in his throat. “So soft and wet and pink.” He strokes the hood of my clit, nearly making me come off the bed. “I’d finger that pretty cunt of yours but you’re so small and my fingers are so big. I think I’m too big for you.”

I practically wheeze with need. Oh, gods, he’s saying such filthy things. I love it. I love it, and I want more.

“Should I try anyhow?” he asks, voice like silk as he leans over me and teases my clit. “Should I stretch you around one of my fingers and see if that pretty cunt can take it? I bet you can take it. I bet I can slip a thick finger inside that pink heat and work you until you’re stretched wide. You’d have to be if you’re going to take my knot.”

Oh gods, his knot. Whimpering, I arch against his fingers. “Please, Nemeth.”

“Please what, princess? Please stop? Please give you my knot? You have to be more specific.” His finger moves away from my clit and skims down towards the aching entrance to my body. “If you can’t tell me what you want, I’ll just…stop.”

“Fingers,” I manage. “Please…fingers. Fill me up.”

“You only get one, naughty princess,” he murmurs, and his voice fills me with heat and longing. “One until I decide you can take two. Or even three.”

I’ve seen his fingers. I don’t know if my body can handle three of them, but right now? Nothing sounds hotter than that.

“Hold still,” he commands me, and his grip gets tight on my wrist again. “You don’t want me going too deep.” He leans in close, his breath hot on my ear. “Don’t worry about my claws, Candra. I’ll be safe with this pretty cunt. Wouldn’t do me any good to damage it when I want nothing more than to be deep inside it.”

A choked sound breaks from me, because I want that too. So much.

“Hold still for me, princess,” he tells me again, and then he pushes my thighs further apart. I don’t need more encouragement than that—I spread my legs wide, opening myself up for his access.

There’s a pricking nudge, and then an impossibly thick finger slides deep into me. I’m stretching all right. It’s a tight, delicious fit that promises so much. I whimper again, squirming, because oh, it feels incredible. It’s been so long since I’ve been filled like this it makes the breath escape from my lungs. I shiver, and then when he starts to slowly move that finger in and out, I moan. “Need…”

“Need what, princess?” His voice is hot against my ear, his weight heavy upon mine. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“Need you to touch my clit, too,” I manage to choke out. “Need it to come.”

“Do you?” That maddeningly thick finger shifts inside me, and then I feel him dragging his finger against the inside wall of my body.

Everything inside me clenches, a paroxysm of response. I whimper again as my cunt squeezes around his finger and I come, and come so hard that my vision blurs. My muscles lock up and I keep coming as he whispers and tells me how pretty I am as my face contorts and I make ridiculous sounds and the climax rolls through me like a wave.

I can only breathe again when that enormous finger slips out of me and Nemeth nuzzles at my neck, his weight pressing me into the mattress. “Now we have both used each other.”

I moan, because that’s all I’m capable of. I’m wrung out and exhausted, my bare ass hanging over the edge of the bed, but I can’t say I’m displeased. I do feel used, but it’s in the best sort of way. How in all the gods did a scholarly virgin know how to do all that? What kind of books was Nemeth reading? A laugh bubbles up inside me at the mental image of him poring through filthy tomes about how to make a woman come.

“Now you have no leverage,” he tells me, and then gets off of me. He gently lowers my skirts over my thighs and then crosses the room. I sit up, woozy and dazed, and watch as he licks my taste off his fingers and moves towards the fire. “I’ll prepare your medicine.”

Just like that?

I’m a little miffed. I don’t even get a kiss or a cuddle after a fingering like that? Is that all that was to him is leverage? Something to use against me? A game to play?

I eye Nemeth as he stands near the fire, watching his reaction. It’s calm, but he deliberately avoids looking over at me. His normal kilt is on, but I’d have to be an idiot to miss the way it’s tented in the front. Touching me turned him on. He can pretend that he’s not affected by me, but I just watched him devour my taste off his hand.

If he wants to play games, we can absolutely play games. This is my forte.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Iwake up before dawn, his hand on my stomach. We’ve been sharing blankets since that one fateful night, just peeling off layers as it gets warmer. Most of the time I wake up spooned against his big body, but today he’s asleep on his back, his wings tucked under him, and his hand on me as if he has to hold onto me even in his dreams.

It’s achingly sweet of him, and despite the fact that things were strained between us last night after he touched me, I think it was more than just “leverage” as he claimed. I think there was far, far more to it.

But if he wants to call it leverage, and he wants to treat this thing between us like a game, I can play along. I excel at this sort of challenge.

So I slide out from under his grip and ease the blankets down his waist.

Despite the fact that he’s caught me in my bath once, I’ve never seen him fully naked. We bathe separately, and he hasn’t intruded upon me again. In addition, we’ve taken pains to remain fully clothed for the other person’s comfort. It was easy to do in winter, when it’s so cold that the last thing you want to do is strip down. Now that it’s getting warmer, I’ve been wearing less to bed and I’m waiting for him to do the same.

As I tug the blankets down to expose him, I see he’s wearing nothing but a loin-wrap. He gets into bed after all the lights are off, so I’ve felt the material brush against my skin but never truly eyeballed it. It’s little more than a length of fabric wrapped around his waist and between his thighs, then tucked artfully to keep it in place. It should be easy enough to unwrap.

Like a festive gift, I decide, and smile to myself.

With careful fingers, I loosen the fabric until it falls away from his hips. Once the initial tuck is free, the rest of the linen slides away like water, and I get to feast my eyes upon Nemeth’s body.

Like all men, he’s nearly erect with morning wood.

Unlike all men that I’ve seen in the past, his cock is spectacular. It’s long and thick, which I expected, with velvety-looking dark gray foreskin and a heavy, full sac. The end of his cock is tapered and arrow-like, and reminds me of one of his horns. He’s wide at the base, with that extra ridge that looks like the knot that appears towards the end of his orgasm. I wonder what it’s for.

Doesn’t matter. As far as I’m concerned, it’s for fun.

I run a playful finger along the side of his cock, tracing a dark, thick vein. He groans and shifts in his sleep, his shaft stiffening even more. Encouraged, I lean in and blow a soft breath against his skin. Gods, I love teasing him. I ponder what I should do next. What would feel good to a Fellian as opposed to a human man? More ticklish touches? Play with his sac? Rub his knot that’s swelling even now?

A bead of pre-cum appears on the tip of his cock and that decides me. I lean in and lick him, my tongue swirling over the head.

Nemeth awakens with a gasp, his eyes flaring open.

I give him a wicked smile, meeting his eyes as I tease the head of his cock with the tip of my tongue. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

He groans, the sound as starved as it is needy. Nemeth stares at me, and as he does, his hands fist in the sheets, deliberately not touching me. Not stopping me.

I give him another lascivious lick, pleased. “I thought so.”

“Candra…”

Smiling, I lick him again and then take him in hand. I grip the base, right over his knot, and then feed the tip into my mouth, lapping at him as I do. The head of him fits neatly against my tongue, but the further in I go, the wider he gets, until I can only fit a small portion of him into my mouth—the rest is simply too thick.

That’s all right. I have hands that can take care of what I can’t manage with my mouth.

He makes one of those guttural sounds when I suck on the head, his hands flexing. I pop him out of my mouth with a lick and turn to look at him. “You can hold my head if you want. Guide me. I don’t mind.”

“Candra,” he groans again. “You…your mouth…”

“I know. I’m good at this.” I wink at him and rub the tip of his cock against my lips. “Just lie back and enjoy, yes?”

His breath hitches as I take him into my mouth again. I know just how to please a man with my tongue. I know how to flick my tongue against the underside, how to work his foreskin with my hands as I use my mouth on the tip, how to coat him with drool so he slides against the back of my throat with a lovely friction. Nor am I surprised when Nemeth’s hands go to my hair and he starts to guide me as I bob on his cock. He doesn’t push, but I can tell he likes it best when I take him to the back of my throat and suck hard, hollowing my cheeks. That makes his fingers spasm in my hair, and his hips jerk in response.

The knot under my hand hardens and suddenly balloons, and I can guess what that means. I pull back, tonguing Nemeth’s cock with a wet mouth and sweeping licks of my tongue. “Do you want to come on my face or in my throat?”

He growls, his back bowing, and then he’s spurting across my parted lips, the orgasm wringing from him with such violence that his claws dig into my hair. Men do love the sight of a woman tonguing their cock, and it’s never failed to make a lover come in the past. I give him small, kittenish licks as his seed fountains out, coating my hands and lips and the front of my sleeping-gown. He tastes good—musky and not quite as bitterly acidic as I’ve had in the past, which I appreciate. I rub his knot as he comes, and each time I give it a squeeze, I’m rewarded with another burst of semen, so I work it until his arched back collapses and he heaves a great, gusty sigh.

I give him a few more licks and then press a kiss to the top of his cock. “I’ll get a towel.”

“What…what was that?” he asks, dazed, as I get up from the bed.

I’m tempted to retort that it’s more leverage, to see if he’ll fling me down onto the bed and give me my share. But then again, I want him to touch me because he wants it, not because he imagines he must. So I simply smile and lick my lips. “Happy birthday.”

“My…what?”

Clearly when he comes, his brains get scrambled. “Your birthday,” I repeat again. “The felicitous occasion of your entrance into this world. You said it was today. Do you not remember our conversation? You said you don’t celebrate it after manhood, so I thought I might give you an adult sort of celebration.” I flutter my lashes at him. “Did my method of waking you meet with your approval?”

The look he sends my way is utterly dazed and I think yes, yes it does.

My scholar is clearly not a great thinker once his cock is drained. I find this adorable.