Chapter 31
Guinevere
Alaric insists on waiting through the entire day before we set off again. It’s infuriating when I’m longing to be done with this task so I can return to the castle where the tiny stone weight that sits between my breasts reminds me of what it feels like to be loved and cared for.
I must admit that after resting, as he calls it, I feel better than I have in weeks. My mind feels sharp but relaxed, as if it’s not working every moment to hold onto something I can’t quite grasp.
But after a few hours of this, I’m at the end of my patience.
After half a day, I can no longer bear to sit in immovable silence.
Standing and stretching, I wander aimlessly through the glen, poking at foliage with a boot, hunting in the undergrowth for signs of movement, anything to provide some interest.
Alaric doesn’t open his eyes, but his deep voice cuts across my restless motion. “If you are in the mood for a fight, you may as well stomp around announcing our presence to every wyrm and dire wolf in the Gloamwald.”
I snort. “I am hardly making much noise.” I wonder if I could take on a dire wolf now that I've had some practice with a sword.
“Rest. We will set off again at nightfall.”
“Why not leave now?”
Finally he opens his eyes, and the snap of cold blue is like a fresh morning frost. “If we are to be successful, you must listen to me.”
I sigh. I did promise, but I forgot how annoying he is. “I am done resting.”
He smirks. “Is that so? Perhaps you need stimulation.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you suggesting?”
“Perhaps you need me to take care of you again as I did back at the castle.”
“I do not need anything from you.” My cunt is slick though just thinking about it. Not that he can tell—can he?
Alaric stands, taking a step toward me. “Then rest.”
I take a step closer myself, lifting my chin to look up into that burning blue gaze. “No.”
“You are ridiculously stubborn. Has anyone ever told you that?”
We’re practically pressed up against each other, and it feels so good. Energy catches flame between us, and my body is alive with awareness of him. Alaric’s gaze drops to my lips, and I know he feels it too. “Perhaps someone told me once. I cannot remember.”
Reaching down, he slowly lifts the hem of my skirt, and I don’t stop him. He holds my gaze as he pushes a finger into my wet slit and lets out a shaky breath. My own is equally unsteady. If my heart still beat, it would be pounding in my chest.
“I think you do need it,” he says unevenly.
What is this tension between us? I can’t explain it. All I know is that ever since that night, every time I’m near him I want to be close to him, yet when I am, all I want is to throttle him.
Planting my hands against his chest I push hard. “You do not tell me what I need.”
“Then you tell me. What do you need, princess?”
I push him again roughly, just to prove a point. His back thuds against the trunk of the tree behind him. “I need you to stop talking.”
The push and pull of whatever this is between us sweeps over me again. Rather than step back, I take hold of his belt and yank it open. Why tell him what I need when I can simply take it?
Pulling his trousers down, I free his cock. It lengthens under my gaze, lifting, growing firm. The throbbing between my legs is a pounding pulse that feels like my missing heartbeat.
A moment ago I was imagining his mouth on my cunt again, but now my hunger gnaws at me until I feel empty. What would it be like to mount him and take it within myself? What would it feel like to have it under my control rather than being controlled by him?
But it must be on my terms.
With his belt, I fasten his arms back around the tree.
There’s a thrill in immobilizing him like this in the middle of the woods, where I could leave him as prey for any wild creature—any monster.
He doesn’t fight me, simply watches me in silence, allowing me to move and touch his body to my liking.
I take him in my hand and he sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Use it, princess. If you want it.”
I should teach him not to presume to give me orders. I’m too focused on how it will feel to possess him.
Throwing my arms around his neck, I climb up him. I have to use the knots on the tree’s rough bark as footholds until I can wind my legs around his waist. Then, with my skirt rucked up, I reach between us and position him at my entrance.
I’m unsteady with only one arm to hold me up. I slide lower and the tip pushes inside me. I have a moment’s hesitation, the ghost of fear and pain. The stretch makes me gasp, but it’s not bad as I remember. Mounting him this way I feel powerful, in control.
I let myself slide lower, smothering a groan when I sink all the way to the root, clinging on with my legs. His jaw is tight. His arms strain against the belt binding them in place. “Fuck me,” he whispers.
“Ask me nicely.”
He laughs, but the sound is choked as if the pressure inside him is stoked as high as it is in me. “Ha! Oh, you cannot ask me to think with your tight cunt wrapped around me like that.”
My body begs for friction, my little nub aching for attention and my walls squeezing tight around him. Experimentally I squeeze my muscles, and he grunts.
“Alright! OK. Please, princess. Please fuck me.”
I grin in triumph. I have no idea what I’m doing in this position, but I’m not about to admit that to him. I roll my hips and note the way his head drops back against the tree. It feels good to me too, so I keep going, squeezing and releasing him until I find a rhythm I like.
Pretty soon it’s not enough. I move faster, seeking the crest and release I felt with him before.
It never comes. The whole time I’m moving, the tension builds with nowhere to go.
Alaric’s cock feels amazing inside me. Somehow today it fits perfectly.
Perhaps it’s my body which is different from the way it was.
There’s a point deep inside that it hits and makes me want to hold him there forever.
Yet it’s still not enough.
I let loose a little growl of frustration, and he strains against the belt. “Let me free. Let me help.”
Against my better judgement, I climb off him and quickly untie his hands. He’s on me in a moment, but it’s hunger, not aggression I read in his rough jerky movements. Alaric lifts me until it’s my back against the firm trunk of the tree. His cock is right at my entrance, but he hesitates.
I love that he hesitates. I squeeze in anticipation of invasion, of fullness. It doesn’t come, and the moment of fear passes into a feeling of emptiness.
His hands under my thighs support me, and my legs are wrapped around his waist. Taking a fistful of his hair, I pull his lips to mine. “Do it.”
He pushes forward, filling me up. At the same moment I claim the kiss, and our lips and tongues meet in a fervent tangle of need. Nudging a little further, he sinks right to the root.
The intensity brings tears to my eyes, but it’s not pain. It’s something more frightening. I try to ignore it, throwing myself into the moment, noticing and brushing it away like I’ve practiced all morning, but the passion refuses to be pushed aside.
Alaric pulls back, thrusting forward again violently. The slap of our flesh is audible in the eerily quiet woods. He groans. Bracing an arm on the tree, he gives it to me over and over and I urge him on.
When he slows, I demand more. I pull his hair, scratch his arms and back, clawing at him like a wild animal.
It’s nothing like the tender moments I’ve shared with my gargoyles.
Nor is it like the controlled moments of power I held over him at the ruins.
This is raw and desperate, no witnesses, no control.
It’s an outpouring of feelings I can’t hold back.
Somehow we end up in the dirt with me on top.
His shirt is torn open; my scratch marks cover his chest, and he’s laughing up at me.
My hair tumbles into my face, and I push it away, flicking it over my shoulder.
I’m sweaty and breathing hard and still I’m not stopping, never stopping until the crest hits me suddenly out of nowhere.
I buck on his cock. My legs tremble. I dig my nails into his belly. When the aftermath leaves me panting, I stare down at the face of the monster, but I can’t quite fit the pieces together into the shape they used to take any longer.
His brows are knitted together, but his scowl speaks of his need, not disapproval. His mouth is set in a firm line because he’s holding back his own pleasure while I take mine. The coldness I once saw there is transformed all for my satisfaction, and I can’t help but soften just a little.
Slowly I begin moving again, and all my muscles tense deliciously. His hand on my ass encourages me to move faster yet. “Again. Keep going.”
I laugh, breathless. “Can one peak like that again so quickly?”
“A woman can.”
The thought excites me. Imagine something a woman can do which a man cannot. That seems incredible, but as I roll my hips and grind over his cock, I feel it to be true. Pleasure rises in me again, and I tip my head back and give myself over to it.
I ride him to three more orgasms until I’m utterly spent. The strain of holding back is clearly evident on his face.
I turn away as I climb off him and brush the dirt from my legs as best I can. “Surely now it is time to keep moving.”
Alaric lets out a groan of protest. “Will you leave me like this, when I have done nothing but please you?”
I pull my long hair over my shoulder to braid and tie a ribbon in the end. “You asked me to fuck you and I did. You asked to be set free and you were. You said you wanted to help.”
“I wanted to help and I have. Am I not allowed to cum as well?”
I’m caught between wanting to let him and the satisfaction it gives me to deny him.
Walking over to where he still lays, I bend and cup his cheek and say sweetly, “Be a good boy, and maybe one day I will let you.”