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My breasts are smashed against his bare chest where I cut his shirt open. My sweat mingles with his blood. We are both breathing hard. It is not from exhaustion. It is passion or lust, depending on which of us you ask. Whatever it is, we cannot deny it.
“Release me, Butcher.” I am locked in his arms. “I will not be one of your whores.”
“Ahh, is this why you are fighting me? Because Lou kissed me?”
“I do not care what you do, or who you do it with. You are not my husband.”
“Liar.” His lips turn up into a sweet smile. “You do care. It hurt your feelings when I kissed her back, did I not?”
“No.”
“I have yet to meet a worse liar than you, Princess. There is no reason to be jealous. If kissing her upsets you so, I shall refrain from kissing other women while we are together.”
I am quite stunned that he would make me a promise so great when he does not have to. The Christian is a Prince and answers to no one. Why would he answer to me?
“Because I want you.” He answers, kissing my throat. “Not tense and angry the way you are now. I want you soft and willing when you are underneath me. I will stop fucking other women to get what I want.”
“You would do that for me?” I look away to hide the emotion in my eyes. “Why?”
“Because I do not want to fight with you anymore.” The Prince kisses me softly on the lips. “You are not some wench to be tumbled without regard, Maeve. You deserve my consideration.”
“Why should I trust you to keep your word?”
“Because I do not lie.” He holds my narrow hips between his hands. “I have feelings for you that I cannot explain, Princess. It is more than lust. I know that I should not have these feelings for a witch, but I cannot help myself. I do not want to help it. I want to explore them and see what happens. I hope you feel the same way I do.”
If he is in my head, he already knows the answer to that. He knows that I think about him and I lust after him also. We fear the same fears. The unknown reason why we want one another so badly when we have every reason not to. I put my palms flat on his muscled chest.
“I do.”
It is the whisper of a love-stricken virgin, standing at an altar with a man who can never be her husband. And a peasant witch in a dirty dress with twigs and dust in her hair, who does not need to give in to the need that his nearness instills in her.
“Hearing those two words fall from such perfect lips does things to my heart.”
We are on the ground again. The Butcher and I are two savages, panting and grabbing at each other without care. This time, he is not stopping. I will not stop him. I want him to take me. I want to feel the Christian deep inside me taking this ache away. I want him to make me a woman. He begins to undress me.
I tear my lips away from his. “What are you doing?” I demand nervously. “I cannot take off my dress. It is unseemly.”
“I want to see you naked.” The arrogant Prince does not ask when he pushes it down over my shoulders. “You will not deny me this pleasure, woman.” His hands caress my small breasts. “Take it off, Maeve.” He presses his lips to the smooth skin of my chest. “Now.”
The Beaumont is not giving me a choice. Neither is my trembling, libidinous body when it lays in surrender to him. I bite my lip as he strips me naked. His eyes are locked with mine as he removes every stitch. He is searching for the rejection that he will not find here; for there is none. There is only yes, and please. When he takes me, it will not be by force.
I watch him with bold gray eyes as he stands tall. I tremble with nervousness. What will happen after I give myself to him? Will he lose the tenderness that he has for me? Will he treat me like a whore once I become one? He pulls me down into the grass where we lay together like lovers. I feel unpretty, when he touches me all over with his lazy, green gaze.
“It is as I expected.”
“How so?” I wonder nervously.
Does he find my coloring and size displeasing? Did he not know that I am this color all over? I cannot count the times men have asked me that very question. I hide myself from him with my arms though they do not cover much. Or not that I have much to cover. The Christian pulls my arms down by my sides and rolls my black nipples between his fingertips.
“You are beautiful all over, Princess.”
“Beaumont.” It is a desperate whisper. “What are we doing?”
“Christian.” He corrects me, kissing to my forehead. My eyes close. “You speak it as if it was a slur, Maeve. Speak it as if it is my name.” His lips touch mine. “Speak it as if you love me.”
“Christian.” I speak it like a plea. “I am afraid.” I admit, when he settles himself between my thighs. “But, I do not want you to stop.”
“I am so hard for you.” He says into my neck. “I want you so badly.”
The Christian trails kisses down my slick body, to that patch of soft hair that none has ever seen before. I arch my back and give myself up to him in offering. The Prince pushes my knees farther apart. I speak up in protest when he kisses the curly hair hidden there.
“Shhhh.”
He presses his finger to my lips before he puts his mouth on me. My lips part in a silent scream. This is not natural. This is beautiful. His mouth on me is so very beautiful.
“You taste good, Maeve. I can spill my seed from tasting you. Yours is the sweetest cunt that I have ever had the pleasure of fucking with my tongue.”
The Butcher licks me and sucks on me like he loves it. I whisper his name and his curse. They are one and the same.
“Christian.” I say tearfully. I am overcome by these new emotions that he evokes in me.
“My sweet virgin.” He whispers.
We are face-to-face again. I smell myself on him. It makes me hold him tighter.
“My darling Maeve.”
His lips come down on mine as he fills me with his cock. I scream into his mouth when it tears me and burns like fire. The Beaumont Prince rides me hard and deep until I stretch to accommodate his size. It hurts less with every stroke of his cock. I am being fucked by a Beaumont Prince. I wrap my arms and legs around him. I hold on to him while I can. The pain fades into something dark, dangerous and delicious. His love making is as comforting as warm chocolate on a cold day. His male beauty swallows me up like a moonless night. I hold onto his hair and look into his eyes as he finds his destiny deep inside my body.
“Christian.”
A single tear rolls down my brown face. The Beaumont has probably seen this happen a hundred times before. Some unsuspecting woman probably falls in love underneath him daily. He does not speak. I need not hear him speak any words. I see them in his eyes. I feel them in the way he is making love to me. He wants me the same way I want him. The Prince reaches down between us to touch me where we are joined. My body begins to tremble and shake as I am overcome with a pleasure like no other. Not even his mouth feels this good. I move my hips with him. I take it all.
“I will give you the child that you want so badly, Maeve. I will give you as many as you want, witch; if it means I can fuck you.”
“Yes!” I cry to out when my cunt explodes inside. “Yes!”
It is what I want too. I want to marry him and have his children. I want to do this again and again and again.
The Beaumont is heavy when he lays on me. Neither of us is in any hurry to separate our bodies as we share in the pleasure that we found in one another. We lay here savoring the closeness that we both need after what happened between us. We rest and enjoy the cool evening breeze on our hot skin. The Christian finally moves away from me. He sighs in disappointment when he pulls his heavy cock from my tingling body. It stings on its way out of me. A soft smile touches my lips. I had my first man. It was so beautiful and so special. There is no one to tell of this wondrous occasion. Who would I tell anyway? He is a Christian named Christian. Why would I speak my shame?
“I need to get back or they will come looking for me. Stay out of trouble, Princess.”
“You are the trouble, you dirty Christian.” I say dragging on my dress. “And I cannot wait to be in trouble again.”
The Prince kisses me before he walks away. It hurt when he entered me. It still hurts, but it is a good hurt. I loved it. His seed is wet on my thighs. If this Beaumont gives me a child, it will have strong bloodlines. It will have royal blood. I am thrilled at the possibility. My mother would be proud. A Payne breeding with a Beaumont. It is a slap to the Cardinal’s face. A witch has seduced their finest. Did I seduce him? I did not mean to. I think maybe he seduced me. I lost my family and maybe gained a son or a daughter today.
I am sitting on my cloak daydreaming about the Beaumont when two men show up to erect a tent. I do not need it. I prefer to sleep in the open where I can hear things coming. I know who sent them, so I let them put it up. They do not speak to me. They do not look at me. Not even when I ask them where they get their water. I am forced to wait for the Beaumont to return. Night falls and the camp quiets. He does not come. I wrap myself in my cloak behind the tent to sleep. My eyes open when I feel footsteps approaching. My hand is on the hilt of my blade.
“Maeve?” He whispers. “Are you here?”
I crawl in under the bottom edge into the light of the lantern that he is carrying. The Christian was worried about me. I stand up in my dirty dress to show him that I am unharmed.
“What were you doing out there? Were you hiding from me?”
I shake my head. “I was sleeping.” I cannot look him in the eyes after what happened. “I take shelter only when it is snowing or raining.” I explain feeling bashful.
Why do I feel shy now? Because he is looking at me like he missed me. His hair is damp from bathing and he shaved. The Beaumont is mesmerizing. Yet, he calls me beautiful.
“Come here, Princess.”
I do not have to be told twice. He catches me when I jump into his strong arms. We kiss. And kiss. And kiss. The Prince behaves as if he missed me also.
“The men mentioned that you asked for water. I shall take you to the lake.”
“I need to bathe.”
I do not let go of him when he lowers me to my feet. My body does not want to be separated from his.
“That you do.” He agrees with a sniff. “Follow me.”
The lake is no bigger than a puddle. I do not care. He watches me undress without shame. Some man of God he is. I strip down and dive in. The water is freezing.
“It is spring-fed.” The Beaumont informs me. “I should have warned you.” He laughs when I come up screaming.
“Damn, that is cold.” I swear aloud and go under again.
“You swim well.” He comments as I do a lazy backstroke on the surface of the water. “I do not know any women who swim.”
“I imagine you know every woman of breeding age.”
I stare up at the purple sky and a silvery half-moon the color of his hair.
“I do not know as many women as you think I do, Princess. I am a Beaumont. I cannot go around leaving my seed everywhere. It is a privilege to share my bed and an honor to receive my seed.”
“Yet, you left your honored seed, in a witch.” I remind him.
“That privilege, was all mine.” The Christian grins wickedly. I smile too. “You are clean enough, get out. I want to make love to you again.”
I walk out of the water like a sea goddess with my dark skin glowing in the moonlight. The Beaumont Prince feasts his green eyes on my naked flesh. His attention makes me feel powerful and unashamed as I walk to him. I reach out and touch his jaw with my cold, wet hand. I run my finger down the bridge of his handsome nose. I trace his soft lips. I touch the full brows over his beautiful Beaumont eyes.
“So perfect.” I whisper in the old language. “So beautiful.”
“Not perfect.” He places a kiss in my palm and closes my fingers around it. “Far from perfect.” The Prince pushes his hose down over his hips. “It is you who is perfect.”
His hard cock juts out from his body like an arm. It is so big and straight. I reach out my hand and touch it. The Prince inhales sharply. The pleasure I give him makes me bolder. I move my hand up and down with gentle strokes. He groans, as he moves hips, fucking my hand.
“Get on your knees, Maeve. I want to feel your lips around me.”
“Will it hurt?” I ask as I kneel in front of him.
“I would never hurt you, Princess.” He promises. “Open your mouth for me. You must be mindful of your teeth when I take your mouth.”
The Christian fingers my lips before he presses the round head of his cock between them. I open for him and cover my teeth with my lips. His skin smells nice. His cock tastes of his smell.
“Suck it, Maeve. Use your tongue. Make me feel good.”
I get that ache in my cunt again when he holds onto my hair and moves in and out of my lips. It feels devilishly wrong. This is my second time with a man and I know this is wrong. Anything that makes my cunt tremble this way must be wrong. The Christian spills his seed on my tongue while he stretches my mouth to its limit. I begin to choke when it fills my throat.
“Swallow it, before you drown.” He instructs.
I swallow it down eagerly, digging my fingers into his strong thighs.
“You are such a good girl. Swallow it all.”
I am burning up with fever. A fever that only he can cure. I am begging him to take me when he pulls his cock from my mouth.
“Do you want this?”
The Beaumont is stroking himself hard again right before my eyes.
“It wants to be inside your tight pussy, Maeve. It wants to be deep inside you, fucking you, until I put a baby inside you.”
He pulls me down on top of him. I do not know what to do, but he does. The Prince holds his cock in his hand, rubbing it between the lips of my sheath until he finds the hole and lowers me onto it.
“Take as much as you can.” He urges me gently. “Take as much as you want.”
The Prince groans when I take it all. I gasp when it hurts. I move up and down on him hesitantly at first. The Christian takes my hips in his callused hands and helps me find my rhythm. It feels so very good. I move faster and take him deeper. My eyes flutter closed.
“Touch me, Beaumont.” I bite my lip, so I do not cry out. “Please, touch me.”
He kisses me and squeezes my breasts in his strong hands. I cry out in pleasure when he thrusts his hips upward. He does it again and again until I cannot go any higher. I sob his name when I reach my peak. The Christian flips me onto my back. He holds my legs and fucks me with a frenzy to rival my own. This is too much for my second time and I do not complain. He probably thinks the worst of me. My Prince shakes his head no and sticks his tongue in my mouth. A feral growl escapes him when his seed bursts from his cock into my womb. This is our special place. The place where we belong together. Where we can love each other as a woman and a man. We are not a Prince and a peasant. He is not a Butcher. I am not a witch. We are Maeve and Christian. Two lovers passing through the never-ending tunnel of time.
“Maeve.”
He groans my name, and I cry against his lips. Christian. He holds onto me when he rolls to my side. I bury my face in his chest. He entangles his fingers in my wiry hair. I soak up his warmth as if it were the sun. My ears feast on the steady thud of his beating heart. This Prince is holding me tighter than anyone else ever will. I never believed in fairytales, or handsome Princes, until this Christian saved me. He is strong and capable of taking care of a family. He will make a good husband even though he is a Beaumont.
