Page 37 of Bride to the Fiend Prince
I had never felt so much sensation at once. Frantic for release, I struggled and writhed, my body damp with sweat. But I couldn’t make the sensationsbreak, or crest, or whatever they were supposed to do, no matter how hard I concentrated.
“You’re fighting it, Amarylla,” said the Fiend Prince, his lips soft against my ear. “Stop fighting it. You can relax. You’re with me—you won’t be hurt. Let yourself go.”
“I—I can’t.” My voice shook, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m trying—I don’t know what I’m supposed to do—I’m sorry—and you’re working so hard—but I can’t—"
He stopped thrusting into me with his hand and leaned around, pulling my face to his. “You aren’t supposed to do anything. There is no obligation here. Would I love to be the one to make you come for the first time? Yes! But it’s all right if you don’t. This is practice. We are learning your body, together.”
He kissed me—a deep, heartfelt, sealing sort of kiss, and I felt the tension easing from my muscles and bones. My limbs went slack, and I laid one hand along his neck as I kissed him. Slowly he began to massage my folds again, kissing me until I broke the contact between our mouths and arched backward, whimpering. This time I didn’t fight. I let myself trust him, and I let the sensations inch slowly upward toward whatever peak awaited.
The Prince tended me cleverly, listening to the sounds I made, adjusting his motions to suit my pleasure, building layer upon quivering layer until finally something crystallized and shattered, pulsing in shimmering circles through my belly. Half-sobbing with relief, I arched into his hand and he bent over me, nursing me through the waves of bliss and murmuring, “Yes, yes, darling. Yes.”
Entirely limp, I lay across his legs, naked and damp and dizzy with pleasure. The faintest glow from the bedroom sifted between the hanging clothes and laced across my body. By the same dim light I saw the Fiend Prince’s beautiful thin face, and his dark eyes devouring the sight of me.
“Do you mind,” he said jaggedly, “if I please myself a little, too?”
Gratitude and affection pulsed warm in my heart. I would not remain in the Fiend Prince’s debt, oh no.
I sat up and scooted closer to him. “What if I say no? What if I forbid you to pleasure yourself?”
“Cruel girl,” he whispered. “But I would obey.”
“Then obey me in this,” I said. “Remove your clothes, and let me touch you as you touched me.”
He sucked in a quick breath. “If you like.”
“You may have to guide me,” I warned him. “The stable boy I was with simply hiked up my skirts and pulled down my pantelettes and pushed himself inside. I didn’t have much time to explore him.”
“You’ve told me so little about this stable boy, yet I hate him so much,” said the Prince cheerfully, rising to shuck off his pants. “I suppose he was muscular? Beautifully shaped? No scars?”
“Yes to all those things,” I replied, getting to my feet. “But you—” I sidled closer to him as he stood, now naked, with that generous length bared to my view— “you are far more beautiful.” I pressed a palm lightly to his chest. “You—” I kissed him— “are a magnificent fiend.” Another kiss, and my fingers closed around the warm silky length of him, sliding upward, shifting down, tugging softly.
He groaned, deep and helpless. “More of that,” he said hoarsely. “Smoother and faster. Rub your thumb over the tip. Ah—”
I sank into the rhythm, stroking quickly and firmly along the shaft, up and down. He made those familiar sounds, the sounds he’d faked before to fool the servants. I caught some of them with my mouth, savage searing kisses against his open lips.
“I’m not going to let you die,” I whispered to him, nuzzling his sharp jawline. He was bowed over, clutching me, his thin body tight and hard with anticipation. “You belong to me now.”
At those words he jerked and spasmed in my hand, his release jetting onto the clothes, onto me. I threw both arms around him, pressed our bodies together while he panted against my shoulder and rode out the last bit of the pleasure.
“The servants will have to do extra laundry,” I said, smothering a giggle. “Does it always do that when you come? The—fountain?”
He chuckled. “Yes, that’s how it works. Of course in the case of couples trying to reproduce, the ‘fountain’ would happen—inside—”
“Inside me,” I whispered. I’d known how it worked—the general idea of it anyway—but this was intimate, immediate, and visceral in a way that I hadn’t expected. “I barely felt it when the stable boy didthat, in me. I suppose I’m lucky I didn’t get pregnant.”
“If you had, maybe you wouldn’t have been forced to marry me.” The Prince pulled down the garment he’d soiled, folded it over, and used it to clean first himself, then me. “Your life might have been better in that case.”
“Easier,” I said. “But maybe not better.”
Something shy and fragile floated in the dark space between us.
“I should have asked you already,” he said. “Was there someone else back home, someone you wanted to marry?”
“No. You?”
“There were a few women I watched, but none who stirred my heart like you do.”
My heart shuddered and throbbed hot as he moved in, gliding long fingers down my arms.
