Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
I wish I could believe him. Maybe I’m closer than I was before but it’s hard to overcome an upbringing like mine.
As he stands, I can’t help following his motions—admiring his tall, muscular body. The fear of pregnancy, of lost value, is a distant echo. All I can think is how hard he made me come…
And how I want to let him do it again.
48
VALEN
I help her out of the bath and start drying her off with a large, puffy pink towel I found on a bench near the tub.
“I can take care of myself,” she protests, trying to take over.
“No, you can’t, Princess.” I brush her hands away. “Just be still and let me dry you.”
She subsides but I notice her wincing when the soft towel brushes her nipples. Quickly, I pull it away.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“No, I’m just really sensitive there.” She looks down at herself. “Maybe swollen too. Do you think it’s because of the flowers? Because of the, uh, honey they put on me?”
I shrug.
“Could be. I’m not really used to dealing with magical plants that fuck you.”
She blushes an angry red.
“I’m not either, you know!” She shifts from foot to foot. “But, well…I feel swollen down below too. In my forbidden…I mean, my pussy.”
“Could be from getting fucked for the first time…or it could be from the honey that vine filled you with. Or both,” I say. I give her a look. “Would you like me to use my Drake’s power to heal you, Princess?”
Her cheeks get even redder.
“You mean you want to lick me? No! I can’t…can’t let you do that.”
I don’t know why she’s so against being tasted. She’s probably been taught it’s “forbidden” at that stuck-up Court of hers. If she would just part her thighs for me and let me get my tongue inside her, I could make her feel a whole lot better. Still, I’m not going to force her.
I shrug again.
“Suit yourself, Princess. Why don’t you find something to wear for dinner tonight?”
“I think I will,” she says, lifting her chin. “And the next time I see the Sorceress I’m going to say something—she never warned us that the tub in this room would…would do what it did.”
“No, she didn’t, did she?” It makes me wonder if the Lady of Thornmere put us here with the tub full of magical fuck-flowers on purpose or if it was some kind of oversight. Maybe all the tubs in her stronghold will fuck you…if you let them.
Speaking of that, my shaft is still hard as a rock, straining against my too-tight trousers. I need to get rid of these clothes and get into something that actually fits me—hopefully the magic wardrobe will have something in my size.
But first, I want a bath.
49
IRENA
“You should rest,” Valen says, his back to me as he begins to strip off his own clothes, damp from the steam and splashed water. “Or explore the magic wardrobe. See if you can find something for me in there while you’re at it.”
But I can’t move. I stand there like a statue wrapped in the soft towel, as he peels off his clothes. The muscles of his back are mesmerizing—the broad sweep of his shoulders…the deep groove of his spine…the fascinating play of tendons and sinew as he moves. His skin is a shade of warm bronze, marked here and there with old, silvery scars that only make him look more real, more dangerous. He unlaces his trousers and pushes them down his hips.
My mouth goes dry. I’ve seen him naked before of course—several times. But never fully in the light. In the golden glow of the magical flowers, it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time.
Valen is… magnificent. It’s not a word I’ve ever applied to a man’s body before. But there is no other word that fits. He is tall and powerfully built, every muscle defined without being grotesque—the hard slabs of his abdomen…the cut of his hips…the powerful thighs. And between them…
I force my gaze away, trying not to remember last night, my cheeks burning, only to have my eyes catch on his long, black hair. Freed from its usual tie, it spills over his shoulders and down his back, black as a raven’s wing. He runs a hand through it, pushing it back from his face, and the simple gesture makes me squeeze my thighs together tightly.
He steps into the tub, sinking into the water with a low groan of relief. The magical plumbing swirls the used water away, replacing it with fresh, steaming clarity. He leans his head back against the rim, eyes closed, looking for all the world like a warrior at rest.
I wait tensely for the vines and flowers to react…but so far he’s just bathing. Nothing is happening.