Page 93 of Dare

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Every night as he slept in the connecting room, a mere twenty feet from me, I thought about filling his bed, how it might feel to slip under sheets that smelled of him, with his body heat wrapping like arms around me, my curves resting against his weight. To sleep beside a man who cared for me, wanted me. I imagined hearing the deep rumble of his chest, with my head tucked there, safe and sound and sated.

I pictured him fucking me in that bed, his hips snapping, his cock grinding me into the mattress. And every night, I muffled my whimpers. And whenever this happened, I heard his own bed creek as if he were changing position, or trying to stop himself from getting up, from getting closer to the sounds I made.

Then came the day when I stumbled upon him in a cave pool beneath the ruins, bathing with his back turned.

Oxygen leached from my chest. Jeryn stood knee-deep, the taut outline of his ass consuming my view. Wet and smooth and tight, with divots in the sides, those buttocks flexed while Jeryn scrubbed his fingers through his hair.

As every ridge contracted across his body, I gripped the wall to keep from slipping. Then I scuttled farther back into the corner, unable to peel my eyes away.

In Summer, citizens grew up exposing their bodies, the same way Spring did. Albeit, that sinful court treated nudity like a game. And in my kingdom, it was a matter of practicality.

Strip or suffer heat stroke. Plain and simple.

Not plain with this man. And definitely not simple.

Jeryn had the mind of a scientist and the body of a warrior. Toiling here made up for the lack of swordplay, this new life and its endless chores inflating his physique even more, from the trunk of his spine, to the taper of his waist, to the firm swell of that ass.

I’d never seen Jeryn fully naked. Even now, the sight of his cock remained a mystery. But I imagined its size and shape—the slit across his crown, the weight of his sac—just as I’d fantasized about every hot and ruddy inch whenever I stroked myself in private.

A heady groan of satisfaction rolled from Jeryn’s throat, similar to when he’d pitched his tongue inside me. The ripples lapped at his legs. His muscles flexed as he lathered his chest, and his mane brushed the ridges of his back.

If I peeled off my clothes and joined him, what would he do? If I seized his cock in my fist, would this Royal protest or let me pump him into a helpless growl, his climax drizzling down my fingers?

I yearned for the answers. And I dreaded them.

With a slight twist of Jeryn’s body, the faintest silhouette of his cock rose, the round head flushing wide and dark from between his hips. No more than a curve was visible, yet my body reacted like a hurricane, swift and destructive. Slickness warmed my pussy, and a whine got stuck in my throat.

Jeryn paused. One second. Only one second. Then he resumed bathing, his fingers carving a harsh path through his damp hair.

I expelled a breath, my cheeks on fire, my nipples pebbling, and my cunt on the brink of spilling. He could have caught me. Somehow, Jeryn could discern the noises I made, and I could only be thankful he hadn’t this time.

Surely, he had no idea I was there.

33

Jeryn

I knew she was there. If the scents of salt, sun rays, and wildflowers hadn’t given Flare away, the tempo of her breathing did. Stunted. Shallow. The beastly little minx sounded as if her lungs had collapsed.

Fuck me to hell. I wanted to grab her.

My insubordinate cock agreed, hardening like a cursed pipe, as though welded that way. The stem lifted painfully, the crest’s circumference expanded, and my foreskin darkened.

Condemnation, but I needed to rid myself of this incessant thing. If she didn’t leave in ten seconds, cum would bead from the cleft, and a growl would carve a path up my throat.

Arrested in the water, I locked my muscles, wrestling to keep still. I could wait her out. I could be patient. I could be. But if I turned and met her gaze, it would be over. She had witnessed too much already. One more exhibition, plus one more look, and I would have no barrier left. The sight of her would bury me under its weight, and I would willingly suffocate.

If semen didn’t spill from my phallus first, blood would ooze from my pours. I fixated on the glistening water and endured the anguish as heat rushed from my sac to the tip. After what happened in the medical chamber, the little beast had claimed all the power, the ability to rip me open.

Her flesh materializing from the ripped nightgown. Her body arching toward me.

Those hands braced overhead. Those cries lurching from her mouth, inexplicably loud in my ears.

Flare’s thighs astride my mouth. Her pussy convulsing and wetting my tongue. The beast’s glorious face lost in rapture. I had never witnessed anything more exquisite.

After I had tasted Flare’s body, she had wanted me to kiss her. An entreaty which I had rejected, telling her I couldn’t take it. Her mouth would have destroyed me.