Loving the Forbidden Prince

AYLETH

Her entire body hummed. Like she had sneezed but… from the very core of her. And so much better. This was what her mother had been talking about—she knew that now. And she was mightily pleased to learn that this was something they could repeat. But her heart was heavy—as gorgeous and satisfied as she felt, Etan was tense and struggling, his eyes dark with a wild light. He shook, but not in the throes of pleasure as she had.

No, he had been held back.

Her father had discussed—at length—the drive men had for this. The lengths to which they would go.

He hadn't excused Lord Vitren, but he had warned Ayleth to understand that Roarke may not be the last man to attempt to take her.

"The drive can be… near painful," he'd said.

And here was Etan, his brow furrowed and glistening with sweat, and his body tense.

"Is it the same for you?" she asked carefully. "Is there… can I do that to you?"

Etan choked and hid his face in her neck again, muttering something under his breath that sounded like Dear God, woman. But when he raised his head again, his smile was genuine.

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"Perhaps. One day. It is… it isn't the same. But…" he groaned. "Ayleth, I want to explain, I do, but I need to do something else, get my mind on something else. Could you… forgive me and allow me to answer this question another time?"

She pushed up and he released her immediately, sitting up, though curled forward slightly, holding his weight oddly.

She frowned. "What's wrong, Etan? Are you unwell?"

"No," he said in a strangled voice. "Just… wishing to allow my body some time to… relax."

"I feel very relaxed," she said, smiling. "Show me how to do that for you. I will learn quickly, I promise. As you said, we have all the time in the world. Perhaps even if I do not get the hang of it tonight it might help if I practice?"

Etan dropped his face into one hand. He was shaking! "Etan!" she said, and reached for him, reached for his belt, "Let me—oh!"

"Ayleth, stop!" he said through gritted teeth, grasping her wrists. Her hands rested just at his belt, but she could feel… could feel… something. In his trousers.

"That is your appendage?" she asked curiously. "It seems odd that it—"

"It is doing what is necessary for us… if we were to… it is normal, Ayleth. I promise," he said faintly.

"But it isn't always like that!" she insisted. "We have pressed together many times and even though sometimes there seems to be more there than others, it's never—" she reached for his groin, palming him and Etan cursed, but dropped his head back, no longer holding her wrists to stop her. Ayleth was fascinated and rubbed her hand against him again, watching his face. His mouth dropped open and he shuddered.

"May I see it?" she asked carefully.

Etan's eyes flew wide and he snapped his head up to look at her, a no already on his lips, but when their eyes met she smiled, hopeful, fluttering at him in the way she'd noticed usually made her father give in.

"I… you… it isn't proper, Ayleth!" he croaked, though she noticed he didn't say he didn't want her to.

"I have always been curious. The only ones I've seen have been the stallions and dogs. They are… strange. And very different from each other. I wonder how a man—how you—would look? And if we are to be married, surely I will see it at some point anyway?"

He gaped at her, shaking his head slowly, then brought one of his hands up to cup her face, his eyes shining with a fierce light. "You are a goddess, and don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise," he whispered, and kissed her. Then he pulled back with a sigh, cleared his throat and said, "Very well. I… you may regret this, Ayleth, but… very well."

She let him go as he shifted so he could straighten his legs in front of him. His shirt was still open and without thought she reached for him, following the lines from his neck, down between the flat planes of his chest.

He leaned back on his hands and waited, watching her.

"May I?" she whispered.

"Whatever you wish, Ayleth. I assure you, I will enjoy anything you wish."

With a twist of excitement—and a few nerves—she shifted until she knelt next to him, looking at him, deciding where to start. He watched her through hooded eyes, a sly smile on his face, but said nothing.

First she reached to tug the shirt out of his trousers and leave it open, pushed back to the edges of his shoulders, but not off. The night was cool and she didn't want him to be chilled, though his flesh felt hot, so perhaps that wasn't an issue.

Then she regarded his trousers, and for a moment her courage failed her.

This was it, she realized. The moment some of her questions would be answered. And he was open to help her. But would he find her strange? Would he think her… a bit wild? "You will not think me improper, will you?" she asked quietly.

"Ayleth, no," he sat up, cupping her face and kissed her. "You are my betrothed. You will be my wife. I would let you have any part of my body—I sing praises to the Creator that you wish to know me in this way. Not every woman desires her husband."

Ayleth nodded. "Both my parents have spoken to me about that. I cannot understand why anyone would not want this, but…very well. Are you comfortable?"

He smiled. "Very," he said, and kissed her again.

Oh, she could get lost just in his lips—especially when he dipped his head and began to nibble at her neck—that spot beneath her ear. But no! This wasn't about her. He had been selfless, she could see. It was her turn to help him find pleasure. Or at least, begin the learning how.

So, she broke the kiss and straightened, combing his hair back from his face that she had clawed in too many directions, then trailed her hands down his chest—felt him shiver under her touch, his muscles twitching—then to the bulge at the groin of his pants.

***** 

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