Page 56 of The Huntsman's Heart
Against my better judgement, I climb off him and quickly untie his hands. He’s on me in a moment, but it’s hunger, not aggression I read in his rough jerky movements. Alaric lifts me until it’s my back against the firm trunk of the tree. His cock is right at my entrance, but he hesitates.
I love that he hesitates. I squeeze in anticipation of invasion, of fullness. It doesn’t come, and the moment of fear passes into a feeling of emptiness.
His hands under my thighs support me, and my legs are wrapped around his waist. Taking a fistful of his hair, I pull his lips to mine. “Do it.”
He pushes forward, filling me up. At the same moment I claim the kiss, and our lips and tongues meet in a fervent tangle of need. Nudging a little further, he sinks right to the root.
The intensity brings tears to my eyes, but it’s not pain. It’s something more frightening. I try to ignore it, throwing myself into the moment, noticing and brushing it away like I’ve practiced all morning, but the passion refuses to be pushed aside.
Alaric pulls back, thrusting forward again violently. The slap of our flesh is audible in the eerily quiet woods. He groans. Bracing an arm on the tree, he gives it to me over and over and I urge him on.
When he slows, I demand more. I pull his hair, scratch his arms and back, clawing at him like a wild animal. It’s nothing like the tender moments I’ve shared with my gargoyles. Nor is it like the controlled moments of power I held over him at the ruins. This is raw and desperate, no witnesses, no control. It’s an outpouring of feelings I can’t hold back.
Somehow we end up in the dirt with me on top. His shirt is torn open; my scratch marks cover his chest, and he’s laughing up at me. My hair tumbles into my face, and I push it away, flicking it over my shoulder. I’m sweaty and breathing hard and still I’m not stopping, never stopping until the crest hits me suddenly out of nowhere.
I buck on his cock. My legs tremble. I dig my nails into his belly. When the aftermath leaves me panting, I stare down at the face of the monster, but I can’t quite fit the pieces together into the shape they used to take any longer.
His brows are knitted together, but his scowl speaks of his need, not disapproval. His mouth is set in a firm line because he’s holding back his own pleasure while I take mine. The coldness I once saw there is transformed all for my satisfaction, and I can’t help but soften just a little.
Slowly I begin moving again, and all my muscles tense deliciously. His hand on my ass encourages me to move faster yet. “Again. Keep going.”
I laugh, breathless. “Can one peak like that again so quickly?”
“A woman can.”
The thought excites me. Imagine something a woman can do which a man cannot. That seems incredible, but as I roll my hips and grind over his cock, I feel it to be true. Pleasure rises in me again, and I tip my head back and give myself over to it.
I ride him to three more orgasms until I’m utterly spent. The strain of holding back is clearly evident on his face.
I turn away as I climb off him and brush the dirt from my legs as best I can. “Surely now it is time to keep moving.”
Alaric lets out a groan of protest. “Will you leave me like this, when I have done nothing but please you?”
I pull my long hair over my shoulder to braid and tie a ribbon in the end. “You asked me to fuck you and I did. You asked to be set free and you were. You said you wanted to help.”
“I wanted to help and I have. Am I not allowed to cum as well?”
I’m caught between wanting to let him and the satisfaction it gives me to deny him.
Walking over to where he still lays, I bend and cup his cheek and say sweetly, “Be a good boy, and maybe one day I will let you.”
Alaric
Several times on the journey back I think about taking matters into my own hand. I even begin, but my damn cock will stay hard for no one but her. Frustrated, I give up, letting out a soft groan which makes Guinevere open her eyes and look up from where she had been resting.
“Something wrong, Alaric?”
“You know very well what is wrong with me,” I snap. Which is something so like what I’d expect to come from her lips that I catch myself. Am I pouting now?
What I feel with the princess makes me feel more alive than I have for years. Its intensity consumes me. The warmth of the fire traveling through me, transforming me from a statue, melting me.
She just laughs. “You need a cock in your ass? Too bad the gargoyles couldn't come with us.”
I scowl. “Never. Impossible to believe I have done the things I have done, but the only one who can have my ass is you.”
“What a shame we left my cock back at the castle ruins.”
We have never spoken about the night she took my ass with the wooden cock while I was tied up and at her mercy. I’ve never admitted how much I liked it.
