Bound to the Shadow Prince

Chapter 30

Chapter

Thirty

N emeth stands before me, frozen in place, his wings spread so I can administer more of the oil to his skin. I should be working on his wings. I know I should. Instead, I’m running my fingers lightly down his back. I want to touch him all over, to caress that hot, muscled, deep gray skin and give him pleasure. I’m shameless, but I want to watch him come.

“Can I keep going?” I ask, breathless. “Or should I stop now?”

“Keep…going?” It takes me a moment to realize he’s confused by my question. “My wings no longer itch, Candra.”

“I wasn’t talking about your wings.” I lean in, slipping my hands around his front, and move lower down his belly. I’m being obvious. So obvious. I close my eyes as I stroke my fingers over his abdomen, waiting for him to push me away.

Maybe if he spurns me, I’ll finally stop thinking hungry thoughts about him.

“I…I…” he stutters for a moment. “You do not have to, Candra. I did not mean to…”

He trails off. Didn’t mean to what? I remind myself that he’s a virgin and he’s not used to flirtation. He grew up around monks, after all. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. May I touch you?”

Nemeth groans, the sound low and ragged. “ Please .”

Oh, gods. My pussy clenches again at the sound of that single word. Has anything ever been so sinfully delightful ? I keep my hands on him as I step down off the bed, all the better to stroke my slippery hands around his waist. His wings fold in slightly, but my arms are yet underneath them. Not quite trapped, but definitely holding me in place.

I love it.

I press my cheek to his back, not caring that I’m getting oil on my skin. I close my eyes and savor the moment, my hands flexing over his stomach and then moving down to the waist of his linen kilt. Before I can even reach downward, there’s something hard and urgent pressing against my hand.

His cock is already fully erect.

Oh. My lips part, and I reach down, moving my fingers over the shape to learn him. I can feel the tension bunching up in Nemeth’s muscles, but he doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t pull my hand away. He’s perfectly still except for his wings, which twitch each time I touch him.

It’s the most erotic experience I’ve ever had…and I’ve experienced quite a bit.

Nemeth’s head falls back, his horns brushing against my hair. “Candra…”

“I love touching you,” I confess in a whisper. “I’ve thought about it so often. How you’d react if I got brave enough to put my hands on you. I wondered if you’d push me away because I’m human and a spoiled princess, or if you’d feel anything for me.” I bite my lip, because I’m blurting out vulnerable things and I hate being vulnerable. “Anything at all.”

“Candra—”

“And then I decided,” I continue before he can speak. “That it doesn’t matter. That we’re trapped in here and we can do whatever we like, and no one has to know. Just like we promised, all secrets remain in the tower.” I slip my hand under the waist of his kilt and the fabric falls to the floor between us. “We can do anything at all,” I whisper. “You can be my secret and I can be yours.”

And I curl my fingers around his cock and stroke him.

“ Unh .” The sound Nemeth makes is primal. His hips surge up as I caress him, and I stroke him again, this time slower, learning his cock with my grip as I do.

I gasp with delight as I realize just how big he is. I drag my hand up and down his shaft, from base to tip, and it’s a journey . He’s big and thick, and I can’t believe what I’m touching. “You’ve been hiding all this under your kilt? That’s incredible. To think I’ve been missing out on seeing all this.”

He grips my other arm, the one I have around his waist, and his hand covers mine. At first I think he’s going to stop me, that I’ve gone too far, but he links his fingers with mine instead and holds me tight.

Oh.

My heart aches. Sweetness rushes through me, and I nuzzle against his back. I want to kiss him all over. I want to make him feel so damned good. I slip my hand up to the tip of his cock, encircling it, and it’s an elongated sort of tip that ends in a blunted point, less mushroom and more arrow. How very curious. I tease the tip, pressing my finger against the dip in the center. Within moments, my fingers are coated with sticky pre-cum and I begin to work him again with a tight, shuttling grip. “Tell me if I do something you don’t like.”

He groans, his hand tightening over mine. “Good,” he rasps. “So good, Candra…”

I squeeze harder, using his foreskin to work him, and add a little twist near the end of his cock, teasing the tip as I drag up and down. “I love that you say my name.”

And I do. I love that I’m fulfilling his fantasies, that he’s twining his fingers with mine even as I work his immense cock. I love the hot, hard feel of him in my grip. I love the trembling of his wings that intensifies with every stroke of my hand. I’ve daydreamed of this but the reality is so much better.

His hips buck, startling me from my reverie.

Nemeth makes another one of those unh sounds that seems ripped from his throat, and when I work my hand over his cock again, it’s as if he’s pumping into my grip. He must be getting close, and hot excitement curls through me at the realization. “Can I make you come?”

He groans again, the sound more of a growl, and it’s so intense and sexy that it makes my toes curl and my thighs clench in response. His laced fingers tighten over mine, and his other hand covers the one gripping him. He forces my hand up and down his shaft, hard, and as he does, his hips flex forward.

“Use me,” I purr. “I love it.”

Nemeth’s breath catches again, and then he’s fucking my hand roughly, shuttling his cock into my grip over and over again, twisting and using my hand for his pleasure. His breath catches again—a rough, choked sound—and I squeeze tight. There’s a wet splat as his hot release spatters on the floor in front of us, and my hand is coated with his seed. I stroke over him again, slowly…

…and then pause. There’s a hard bulge at the base of his cock that’s new to me. It’s appeared just now and I’m mystified. “What’s this?”

“Knot,” he wheezes. “My knot.”

It feels hot and tight. There’s no sound of panic in his voice, though, so it’s clearly a normal thing for him even if it’s strange and inhuman to me. I stroke my fingers over the “knot” at the base of his shaft. “Should I touch it?”

His wings spasm, jerking so hard that I know the answer before he speaks. “Yes,” he pants. “Yes. Feels good.”

All right, then. I lightly touch, and when his cock twitches in my grasp and more seed spurts out of him, I grow bolder. I rub that hard knot, toying with it even as I whisper filthy things against Nemeth’s back. I drag my thumb over the bulging ring of it, and Nemeth continues to come, his lungs heaving. Perhaps it’s a lot like my clit, I decide, where I can have multiple orgasms with the right touches at the right time. The thought’s an appealing one, and I keep working him with my fingers until he groans and pulls my hand away, clutching it against his chest, just like the other one.

I hug him from behind, smiling, my cheek pressed to his warm skin. Even though I didn’t come, I feel good. Happy. Pleased. He sags against me, and our joined fingers are sticky with his release. He seems reluctant to let me go, and I’m content for him to hold me tight. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed touching until just now.

It’s not about sex. It’s about intimacy. I’ve been craving intimacy with Nemeth and I’m so, so glad I finally took the leap.

I just hope I haven’t offended him in some way. I know how to handle a human man. I don’t know how to handle a Fellian…as the knot has blatantly proved.

“You…” he manages to choke out. “Why…?”

What does he mean, why? I’m puzzled at the question. “Because I wanted to?”

He releases my hands and pulls away from me, leaving me to stagger forward. I manage to catch myself before I faceplant in the room, and hold my dripping hand out from my skirts. Normally I’d just wipe my hand on my dress, but now that I’m the one that has to do the laundry, it’s not worth the mess. I watch in surprise as Nemeth scoops up his discarded kilt—and yup, there is definitely a small wedge of a tail tucked above his butt cheeks—and tugs it over himself, giving me a disgruntled look.

He’s acting like he’s upset…at me? My stomach gets a little queasy, and I pick up one of my discarded woolen stockings and wipe my hand clean on it. “You said you wanted me to keep going.”

“I didn’t realize what a game my responses were to you.” His voice is harsh, cutting. “You find Fellians revolting, remember? Was this a ploy of some kind? To have something to use against me? Or so you can prove that I’m weak and foolish around a pretty female?”

Hurt spirals through me. I calmly finish wiping my hands and toss down the stocking. I smooth my skirts and wipe my cheek, still slick with oil. I want to cry, but I’m not going to show the bastard that he’s wounded me. “That wasn’t a game.”

“Then what was it?” he bites out. “What else could it possibly be?”

“Maybe I just like you, you sodding pile of dragon shite,” I bellow at him. I grab my skirts and lift my head, marching across the semen-splattered stone floor as if I’m a queen. “I’ll be upstairs. Don’t come after me.”

And I head up in the darkness. I’m so irritated and hurt that I’ve forgotten to grab one of the lamps, but no power in all the heavens is going to make me go back into that room and face him. My jaw set, my dignity arming me like a cloak, I head up to the second floor and to my old room.

My bed is where I left it, and there’s a gentle dripping into the pan that tells me it’s raining outside. I lie down on the naked bedtick (since all the blankets are downstairs) and stare up into the darkness. Tears threaten again, because I feel betrayed that something I thought was so wonderful has turned out so badly. How could he think that I’m touching him just to have something to use against him? Does he think I’m that cheap with my favors?

True, I have said in the past that Fellians are horrible and the enemy, but I thought he realized just how attracted I am to him. I can barely keep my hands off him whenever we’re together. I watch him do his exercises like some sort of pervert. I cuddle up against him and press my body to his in bed the moment there’s a hint of cold weather.

And yet he would think the worst of me.

It hurts more than it should, and I’m not used to letting people wound me like this. If we were back at court and someone thought I was using him after I’d made him come…I’d probably have laughed in his face and thought nothing of it. I’m untouchable back at court. A Vestalin princess with the world in her fist.

I don’t like this tower version of who I am. She’s far too vulnerable. Tears threaten again and I jab my nails into my palms until the pain makes the tears vanish.

I’ll cry later. Tomorrow. Next week. When I get out of this fucking tower. Just not now.