His Princess (A Royal Romance) (16 page)

“Oh my God, what happened to you?”

The scar on his chest doesn’t look like he should have survived it. It runs from his collarbone diagonally left to right over his body, ending just above his hip.

“It’s more of a burn than a cut. It was a close thing, my great duel.”

If he’s nervous, he never shows it. He walks to a side chair and steps out of his trousers, long, muscular legs flexing. I tuck the covers up to my chin and watch, entranced by the way the firelight dances across his body, deepening the shadows between his bunching, corded muscle. I gasp and quickly quiet myself when I realize he’s not wearing anything under his trousers. He tucks his boots under the chair and throws his pants over the back, and walks over to the bed.

My jaw drops as I watch. He’s incredible, like a statue, and his cock is enormous. There isn’t a single hair anywhere on his body but his head. He lifts the covers back and I tug on them, covering my chest as I curl up in a ball.

He lies down beside me, turned a little my way, and relaxes. A patient look comes over his face, as if he’s waiting. I forget myself and bite my lip as I reach over and lay my hand on his chest. His broad body and thick muscles make my hand look tiny, my farmer’s tan dark against his pale skin. Instinctively I trace my fingers along the length of his scar, shivering as I do. He must have been cut deep. I can feel the little tucks in the edges of the scar where the the stitches held him closed.

“Did this hurt?” I ask dumbly.

“That which does not kill me makes me only stronger. It wasn’t the wound that pained me, but who delivered it.”

“Your own brother did this?”

He nods, and touches my hand. I half expect him to just shove it between his legs, but his rough fingers toy with mine, like it amuses him how little my hand is compared to his. He has big hands, with prominent calluses where his fingers meet his palm. I end up toying with his hand with my fingers, flicking the calluses with my nails. If he feels it, he doesn’t show it.

Kristoff moves closer to me on the bed. The big featherbed yields to his weight and almost dumps me on his lap. He finishes the job by slipping his arm under my waist to halfway lift me onto him. He flinches and blinks wide, a hint of a smile curling the edges of his lips.

“Your legs are cold.”

“
I’m
cold. I don’t understand how it’s summertime in the valley but it gets so cold up here at night.”

He rolls on his side and pulls me to him, and slips his arms out from the blankets to press them tightly around my body, trapping his warmth against me. I lay my leg on his and flex it, rubbing my thigh and calf on his leg.

The response is instantaneous. I must look surprised, he laughs when he sees my expression as I feel him stiffen. He pulls his arm back under the covers and his hands rest on my sides, just above my hip, like we’re dancing. One moves up my back, his fingers spreading like he wants to touch as much of me as he can. The other glides over my ass and squeezes.

I let out a little squeak and flop in the bed.

“I like it when you make this noise,” he growls, drawing me closer.

His chest presses against mine. His cock is fully hard now, throbbing against my stomach, pressed between us. My hands find more scars, on his shoulders, on his back.

“You’ve been hurt a lot,” I murmur, tracing the patterns.

I try to put together an image in my head of what the battle must have been like, reading the scars like a map. He was hit on the shoulder and it left a deep cut, and there’s a puckered, craterlike mark low and to the side on his back, like a stab wound.

Somebody stabbed him in the back, literally.

As he moves I keep the covers tucked up to my chin, suddenly losing my nerve to let him see me naked, even as I wrap my legs around him and roll my hips, grinding on him. He makes an almost pained sound.

In a quick motion he knots his fingers in my short red hair and pulls. It hurts just a little… But I like it. He pulls me down as he rises up over me, then lets go as I sink into the pillows. He lies half on top of me and yanks the covers down, and out of pure instinct I cover my breasts with my arms.

My tan only extents my arms, and it’s mostly freckles, freckles over my whole body. The rest of me is as white as a sheet, dotted with a million tiny little spots. He kisses me again, lightly on the lips, pulling back when I try to go for some tongue, smiling as if he thinks I’m
unruly
or something. The word patience forms silently on his lips, and he traces his fingertip back and forth over my collarbone.

I can feel myself uncoiling at his slightest touch. I grab his wrist and pull, trying to move his hand down, but he’s too strong. He goes from stroking my upper chest to my shoulder and neck, and it sends electric shivers down through my body, like my nerves are coming alive for the first time. Like waking up naked under warm sunlight.

I grin and resist him as he tugs at my wrist to expose me. The look on his face when my nipple is exposed is priceless. I feel my face turning red, a flush on my throat and chest. He cups my breast and catches my nipple between his fingers. I squeak and jerk when he gives it a little pinch, and wrap my arms around his head, pulling him down.

His mouth, hot and wet, opens over my nipple and he drags his hot, soft tongue over, tasting me, and I groan. His cock is throbbing against me, screaming to impale me in all its hugeness, and I feel tiny and vulnerable beneath him. He’s gentle and rough at the same time, his hands gripping my sides tightly, his mouth chasing my breasts as I wriggle under him, gasping and biting down hard on little moans.

I’ve never felt so scared and alive and excited at the same time. It’s now, I want it now, but I want what’s coming next even more. He licks my nipples so hard they hurt and leaves a burning trail of kisses down my stomach and along my sides, taking what feels like hours to move down and finally drag his tongue along my quivering pussy. I arch and moan, writhing in the bed, my face aching from twisting from a slack mask of pleasure to a silly grin and back again.

Very slowly his finger presses inside me as he runs his tongue gently over my clit, sending icy spears through the hot buzz that fills my body. His finger sinks deeper and my body clenches around it, my legs locking around his head. Soon I can’t take the rough feeling of his tongue on my clit but I like it too much to stop him, moaning and whimpering as he devours me, pulls me down through myself into him and into a pink haze, every muscle relaxing as I lie splayed on the featherbed, my heels resting on his back like I’ve mounted a stallion.

“Let me suck your cock,”
I blurt out, maybe trying to stop myself from rolling over the edge yet. “Please.”

His finger draws slowly out of me and he shakes loose of my legs, climbing over me, and for a fluttering, heart-pounding moment I think he’ll ignore the appetizer and take the main course, thrust inside me and ravage me with his huge erection.

He falls back on the bed, splayed out.

His cock is so hard. It’s so heavy it lies down against his stomach as he rests on the bed in front of me. I tremble when I realize I’m kneeling naked and exposed, my thighs wet, a dark-pink flush on my skin. There is a moment of confusion as I realize I don’t really know what to do, and start to giggle.

My prince seizes my arms and pulls me on top of him, into a deep kiss. Instinct takes over and I melt on him, like honey drizzled over a hot stone. I could lie here like this for a long time, just kissing him and rising and falling with his breath.

No, his cock urges me, come here.

So I do, slowly, the way he did. He likes it when I kiss his neck and likes it more when I use my teeth on his chin and chest, nipping at the skin, pinching between my teeth. Every little bite makes his body spasm and his cock flare harder under me. As I slide down, his erection glides over my sweat-slick skin, stroking between my breasts as I sink down between his legs.

I rest my head on his thigh and stroke his manhood lightly, holding it gingerly in my fingers, surprised by the heat and the softness, like a layer of velvet over a steel rod. All sorts of urges fill me, things I’ve never felt drawn to before. I duck in quickly and touch my tongue to the spot where his balls meet his shaft, just a quick taste.

Surprised that I like it, I bring my lips there and give the base of his shaft an openmouthed kiss. He sings his praises with a soft moan and a tight squeeze of his fist in my hair, a sharp pull before he releases and strokes my head and neck as I work down and tickle my tongue between his balls, so hard and hot. He groans and I feel his shaft throb and pulse in my hand, growing larger and harder still.

I lay my tongue on the underside of his shaft and drag it all the way up, grinning at his hoarse moan of pleasure that turns into a deep sigh as I close my lips lightly around the head of his cock and suck, a quick pulse that makes his legs jerk. I settle between them and he squeezes my sides with his knees as I take him deeper in my mouth, my eyes growing lidded.

Never before did I really understand why girls would
want
to do this, but something about him is different. His cock on my tongue quivers and it’s like I can feel the pleasure I give him flowing back into my own body, buzzing in my lips. I can take his endowment no more than halfway before I sputter and gag, so I use my hand, too, stroking his shaft, wetting it with my spit so I can grip harder and feel the veins throbbing against my palm and fingers.

The slack look of pleasure on his face intensifies when he sees me looking up at him. He laughs when he sees my lips curl, sees me smiling around his cock even as my lips press tight to his shaft. It is funny, in a way. My whole body shakes with a silent giggle and I bob my head, his hot shaft sliding between my lips until my jaw aches, rolling over my tongue.

I taste salt and bittersweet in my mouth and realize he’s close. I’m not sure what to do, then I decide what I want and stroke him furiously until he bucks, thrusts into my mouth, and explodes. In that moment as he comes it’s like I own him, and he fills my mouth with his hot seed. As he settles I stroke his shaft hard, squeezing him dry.

I make sure I catch his eye before I rise up on my knees, my hands resting on his legs. I swallow hard, a thrill shooting through my body. He saw my throat work, he knows I just gulped down his load. I barely have time to flick my tongue around my lips and get a stray sticky drop before he seizes me almost painfully by the arms and pulls me down into a rough kiss that spills onto my throat and chest.

It’s like he didn’t come at all, he’s ready to fuck me. Overcome, I wriggle loose of his grip—partway, he won’t let go of me—and straddle him. My pussy aches to be filled, like my own body is pulling me down onto his shaft. I want him to see. I grip him with my hand and kneel, and stroke the thick head of his enormous cock back and forth, wetting it with my arousal, spreading my lips with his cock head. He leans up and watches, mouth open, his entire body tightening in anticipation, little thrusts jerking in my hand as he tries to reach inside me.

He finally has enough and grabs my hips and pushes down. I resist ever so slightly, my legs shaking as I savor the lust that drives him. He sits up and I tap his lips with my finger.

“Watch.”

He watches. I can feel myself spread around him, and then as he begins to fill me I struggle to keep my eyes open even as they un-focus and the world becomes a blur. The outside, the chill air of the castle and the silky sheets bunched under my knees, all of it disappears. The world is his hands on my hips, the throbbing hugeness that’s gradually filling me, a pleasure I never imagined shot through with a pinching pain that only makes me want it more.

I sink down until I’m sitting in his lap, impaled, his big cock speared into my body. I fall forward and lie on his chest, my back rounded by the big rod in my body, and gasp.

“Am I hurting you?”

I shake my head, because I don’t want him to hold back. He pushes on my hips, guiding me as I rock forward and back on top of him, every inch a new sensation. Oh God, this feels so good, how did I wait so long?

I rise up, sitting in his lap, and it becomes a slow but urgent dance, the rolling and popping of of my hips gradual but not gentle, his thrusts from below a little harder. He can’t keep his hand from my breasts, and I take his finger in my mouth, sucking and biting as he lifts my entire body with forceful thrusts that almost hurt.

All at once he’s on top of me and I’m splayed out on my back. He slows, lying on me as his he buries himself to the root, and pushes my wrists back, over my head, trapping them under one hand so he can slip the other under the back of my head and knot his fingers in my hair, pulling just to the edge of pain as he drives inside me with his cock and kisses me, swallowing my shuddering cries and whimpers.

My feet are free and I urge him on with my heels in his thighs, pushing him until he jerks and thrusts harder, grinding against me. I can’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure anymore, it all jumbles up into a hazy warmth that floods through my body, growing to uncomfortable heat between my legs, only to spread further. I can’t believe I was cold. I can’t believe I’m not on fire. The heat and warmth are seeping out through my skin.

He lets go of my wrists and wraps his arms around me. I do the same, looping mine around his neck as he buries his face in my shoulder. As he gets close to the edge he bites me and I yelp and squirm under him, driving him to fuck me even harder.

I try to hold myself back but my body rebels, clenches him, and he cries out, loud and guttural, as he releases inside me, explodes, and it drives me over the edge. I buck and writhe under him as a climax rips through my body, stealing my limbs and voice away as I moan and thrash, carried away on a current of pleasure that tightens the whole world to a tiny, cold point that bursts out in a fiery explosion that rips out through my whole body, only to contract down and do it again.

When I finally go limp under him, my body still gripping him inside me, he lies on top of me, his head resting on my shoulder. There are bites on his shoulders and scratch marks on his back in hot red lines, and he left his share of marks on me, too. All that energy just exploded out and now I lie with him on me like a blanket, his arms around me, his manhood inside me, growing hard again.