Bound to the Prince (8 page)

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Authors: Deborah Court

Tags: #romance, #erotic, #erotica, #adult, #fantasy, #paranormal, #lord of the rings, #sexy, #historical, #elves, #fae, #prince, #irish, #celtic, #medieval, #womens erotica, #fay, #romance adult, #romance and fantasy

BOOK: Bound to the Prince
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She felt strangely weak in his arms, like a
helpless prey. After a while, he opened her lips with his mouth and
began to seductively explore her, tasting her sweetness with his
tongue. It was amazing how wonderful his tongue felt, soft like
velvet, though also slightly rougher than a human man’s did.
Igraine sighed and melted into his arms, holding onto him for dear
life while he kissed her wildly, again and again, delving deep into
her mouth, mating with her tongue, then drawing back again, just to
tease her. His kiss couldn’t be compared to any other she
experienced before, so incredibly reckless, so wonderfully exotic
was it. The way he tasted was sweet and sensuous, but undeniably
male. Elathan’s seductive scent was all around her. She wished to
wrap it around herself like a cloak, savoring his presence. Her
whole world seemed to vanish, and he alone was left to fill the
emptiness in her soul.

His lips touched her more softly now and
then, nipping at hers, teasing her. Elathan’s hands were everywhere
on her, exploring her body, marking her as his own. He caressed the
back of her neck until she relaxed in his arms. Then, his fingers
moved down her spine, very slowly, until they came to rest on her
buttocks. He put his other hand down there, too, and grabbed her
hips to press her tightly into his hard manhood. So far, she had
known this expression only from romance novels, but he was
throbbing with desire for her. Unable to resist, Igraine moaned and
instinctively rubbed herself against his body. Elathan stiffened
with passion and bit her neck for punishment, just hard enough to
cause her a slight, exquisite pain. Never had she assumed that so
much uncontrolled passion lay behind the prince’s cool, restrained
demeanor.

Elathan continued to bite her lower lip,
sucking it into his mouth before he repeated the action with her
upper lip. Igraine began to tremble violently. His lips and tongue
did things to her she never could have imagined before. Igraine’s
fingers went through his beautiful hair that cascaded over her hand
like liquid gold. As she grabbed a handful of it and pulled, a
shudder ran through Elathan’s body. He lost all control and kissed
her like a wild animal, licking and biting her mouth while his
strong warrior’s hands were everywhere on her body, grabbing her,
sliding up and down her back. The elf crushed her against his
muscular chest so hard she moaned into his mouth, desperately
wanting to become a part of him.

Suddenly he scooped her up in his arms while
he kept kissing her, again and again. Igraine was shocked that he
could carry her so effortlessly. Quickly crossing the room, he
carefully laid her down on the heavy wooden table at the wall. The
mug and water bowl hit the earth with a loud crashing sound. Before
Igraine knew what happened to her, strong fingers found their way
into the neckline of her dress and ripped it in two parts with a
single movement. She gasped, mortified. In bed she had been wearing
nothing underneath, which now left her stark naked before him.
Feeling self-conscious about her body, she hoped that he couldn't
see too well in the dark, after all. He pulled his soft black shirt
over his head and carelessly dropped it on the cave floor and was
left wearing only his loose trousers.

Igraine didn’t have enough time to wonder
what would happen next. In the blink of an eye, he covered her body
fully with his own, obviously enjoying the feeling of her naked
flesh against his. She loved to feel all of him, smooth skin over
hard, heavy muscles. Her breasts were crushed against his chest,
her nipples tightening and aching for his touch. The heat of his
skin threatened to burn her alive. The fact that he was a different
species made the experience even more exciting, although she didn't
care what he was as long as he kept kissing her like that. She
cursed the darkness, wishing she could see this magnificent male in
full sunlight. Sighing, she used her hands to explore his body
instead, reached around his lean waist to touch the broad back she
had secretly admired during their pole fight. Her fingers traced
every muscle, every scar that had been left as a reminder of
battles he once fought.

Elathan kissed her neck wildly, his mouth
wandering deeper and deeper while he marked her skin with tiny
bites of his sharp teeth. His hair fell around them like a silken
curtain, caressing her arms and shoulders. When his hands finally
moved to her breasts, he groaned deep in his throat while he
enjoyed their full softness. There was no doubt that the prince was
boldly claiming his new property. She was a slave, inferior to this
immortal being. Maybe someday soon, there would be a chance to flee
from this strange underground realm. But right at this moment,
Igraine felt nothing but pure, intense joy. She wanted to belong to
him, give herself up to the overwhelming pleasure he was causing
inside her. Never in her whole life had she felt so ecstatic, so
alive.

When he lowered his head and started to graze
her breasts with his teeth, she screamed softly, arching her back
under him. He buried his face in the cleft between, deeply inhaling
her scent that was so intensive there. Then she felt his lips
lightly touching one nipple, stroking, kissing, light as a feather.
She pushed herself up against his mouth, wanting more. Softly
laughing, he leisurely continued his sweet torture. Unable to stand
it anymore, she let a moan of frustration escape her lips.

The prince circled her with his tongue before
he suddenly sucked her into his mouth so hard that it almost hurt,
then all at once released her and caressed her with his lips again.
Igraine wriggled under him, demanding more. But Elathan left no
doubt that he was the one in control. He played her like an
instrument as he pleased, no matter how urgently her body begged
him to spread her thighs and succumb to her needs. Very slowly he
repeated his little game with her other breast.

By now she was hot and dripping wet, ready to
take him. She rubbed against the hardness of his manhood, wishing
nothing more than to have him inside of her. When she reached for
his trousers, he stopped her, grabbing her wrist.

“Beg me,” he said, breathing heavily in the
darkness.

Igraine moaned, shamelessly opening her legs
for him. His hand traveled deeper, over her belly, right down to
the place where she needed him so much. She screamed when he
touched her gently, opening the soft swollen lips with his long
fingers, stroking, exploring. He found the little pearl hidden
between the wet folds and caressed it ever so slowly, making her
heart stop for a moment before she began to shake violently. Then
he let one finger slide into her, probing her. Igraine lifted
herself up from the table to meet his hand. Elathan chuckled
deeply. “You are ready for me,” he said. “Beg me, wench, and I
might give you what you need.”

Igraine didn’t give a damn about her pride
right now. “Please,” she breathed desperately, “please…“ She nearly
spoke out his name, but became aware that he had forbidden it.
“Master. Take me.”

Elathan moved so quickly she couldn’t sense
him coming to her. His trousers suddenly gone, he pressed his hard
shaft to her moist, aching womanhood. Igraine threw her head back,
sighing with pleasure when she felt him pulsating against her
wetness. And he was huge, probably too much for her body to take.
But she didn’t care if he ripped her apart, as long as he loved her
right now.

She waited for him to enter her. To her
surprise, the elf took hold of her hips with both hands and pushed
her down on the hard table so she couldn’t lift her lower body to
meet him. Slowly rubbing his arousal up and down between her silken
folds, he caressed her tiny pearl every time he moved until both of
them groaned with desire. Igraine buried her face into his neck,
kissing and licking the delicious notch she had tasted before at
the base of his throat. It made him ride her even faster, playing
her body with expert knowledge until she ran her nails down his
back, whimpering for more. Tears of frustration streamed over her
face. The only thing she wanted was to have him inside her body,
filling her painful emptiness.

But he continued mercilessly, sliding up and
down, up and down again, always stopping at the brink of her
release. Just when Igraine thought she could take no more, tiny
stars exploded behind her eyes. Crying out, she was lifted up into
the heavens, flying, before she slowly drifted back into reality.
Elathan held her tight in his arms, whispering soothing words in
his elven tongue to her. She hardly noticed that the prince had not
found his own relief. Her entire body was still shaking with
aftershocks, trembling violently.

Elathan picked up her limp, naked body and
carried her back through the cave to her bed, gently laying her
down. Igraine was so exhausted that she drifted into sleep almost
instantly. The last thing she heard was Elathan’s deep voice
speaking to her.

“Sleep well, human. On the morrow you will
continue your training, but you'll also learn how to serve your
prince properly. You will be allowed to enter my chambers for the
first time. I want you to bathe me.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6: The Prince
by the Lake

 

The next morning brought not only a very hard
training for Igraine, but an even harder one for Elathan. As the
prince introduced Igraine into the basics of sword fighting, it was
nearly unbearable for him to hold back. He simply wanted to grab
her and pin her against the wall with his body. The mere thought of
entering her, thrusting into her welcoming depths made him harden
with desire. To keep himself distracted, Elathan had already spent
several hours in another cave, running and jumping, whirling his
sword and spear around until he knelt on the floor, totally
exhausted.

His muscular chest gleamed with sweat while
he breathed heavily, trying to regain some strength. When he bowed
his head and closed his eyes, his moist long hair fell forward over
his face and shoulders until it nearly touched the floor. He
groaned as he realized that even the hardest physical exercise had
not succeeded in diverting his thoughts from the human.
Igraine.
He whispered her name, testing how it sounded on
his tongue. It felt like a sensual sigh.

Damn. What had she done to him? He hadn’t
been able to stay away from her. Every night he was lying awake in
his huge four-poster bed, oversensitive to the soft caress of the
black silken sheets on his heated skin. He couldn’t help but think
about the angry, rebellious look on her face when she had attacked
him, or about the fact that she wanted him to take her. Oh yes,
she’d tried to hide it from him, but she just couldn’t hold back
the passion he saw in her eyes. They were such a lovely, deep green
that he thought of his forest in the spring, when young leaves grew
on the newly-revived trees.

Somebody, probably a human lover, had hurt
her so badly he sometimes could feel her intense pain. It tugged at
his heart. He didn’t want to feel this, especially not for a filthy
human. Especially not for this particular human with her voluptuous
body and soft wavy hair that fell like a dark cloud over her
shoulders when she moved. To be honest, she wasn't even filthy. Her
fresh, sweet scent drove him crazy with need. But she didn’t
consider herself beautiful. Were the men of her world dumb and
blind? How could the one that had hurt her have ever considered
letting such a precious jewel go?

Elathan had intentionally brought her clothes
that were a little too tight for her, so he could secretly admire
her curves. He wondered if she had noticed, but her body had
changed, becoming stronger every day. It was not only caused by the
spartan food and hard training, but also by the ancient magic that
permeated these underground caverns. Since the mortal woman had
ceased to despise herself, her body had begun to change, adapting
to the way she thought of herself while her soul gradually
healed.

Since his youth, a very long time ago,
Elathan had been a warrior, and everything he ever touched was hard
and cold - the shining steel of his sword, his heavy armor, the
walls of these caves he now called his home. In his youth, he had
slept on the bare stone floor of his father’s stronghold ever since
he had reached the age to be trained as an elven knight. This was
deemed to prepare the youngsters for the strenuous times of war
lying ahead. They shouldn’t grow up as weaklings. Even the bodies
of the elven women throwing themselves at the prince were not soft
but slim and flexible, almost too breakable. They fulfilled his
carnal needs whenever he wished to be satisfied, but he had never
really desired one of them.

Nobody knew that the prince had a secret
passion for soft things. He’d loved to roll around in the golden
autumn leaves covering the forest floor when he was young, laughing
with glee, but only if he was sure that nobody watched him. King
Bres would have personally whipped his son to near death had he
seen the prince’s undignified behavior. Elathan liked to caress a
horse’s velvety nose, to touch rose petals with his lips. He loved
to hold out his finger for a butterfly to rest, tickling his skin
with its delicate wings.

But all these simple pleasures had been lost
for him when he went into exile so long ago. Long before the
Devil's Society claimed these caves for themselves, the trolls had
carved the chambers out of the womb of the earth. The world was
still young and at peace then. Later, the trolls had moved deeper
down into the underground tunnels, never to emerge to the surface
again. They, too, were tired of fighting the treacherous humans who
threatened to destroy their underground realm.

A vibrant trade relationship had been
established between trolls and elves. They gave the elves
everything they took out of the earth – gold, silver, diamonds,
magically enhanced stone to build their strongholds, the secret
knowledge of making steel. In return they wanted the lovely things
the elves created with their skillful hands, clothes woven from
pixie dust so smooth you couldn’t feel them on your body, fine
jewellery and pottery, and the small shiny gadgets and trinkets
they liked so much. For there was one thing the trolls desired more
than everything else - beauty.

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