Anthology of Spicy Romance Scenes

Cora

When I wake in the morning, the things I did and the things I whispered seem like a dream. And for it to be that dream! Such a dark and dangerous stirring of thoughts it was.

Yet while I soak in my bath, steam rising from the rose-scented water, I understand that there is a boundary between being truly kidnapped and being stolen as part of a shared desire to create another world together.

And still, it excites me.

Alice comes to hand me a clean cloth. I take my time washing the back of my neck and my ears and my throat. She brings another pitcher of water and wets another cloth for me to wash my face. A third cloth for the rest of my body. Then she leaves me to soak some more.

My bathing room has many windows overlooking the royal forest, but they are so high that no one can see in. Even in the winter, there are enough evergreen trees to shield me from view if a hunter or guardsman were to look up.

I look down on the lands below me.

Other than a few more wrinkles in the sheets, there is no evidence of what I did last night. No one ever needs to know.

I never need to do it again, if I do not want.

But I do want. I stretch my toes against the far edge of the tub, feeling new heat gather between my legs. It is slightly different from the heat of the bathwater. I did not know I would be able to sense it.

I take another cloth from a low table on the side of the tub and watch as it becomes waterlogged and sinks beneath the surface.

My heart races right away.

Do I dare?

I glance at the closed door. Alice will not be back for several minutes. She has already washed my hair, and it is held up in a cloth made to encourage it drying faster. A larger towel has been laid on the lip of the tub in case I need to rest my neck.

That is something I do often enough.

I settle into the tub and tip my head back, letting the towel support my neck.

I have done nothing out of the ordinary.

I might only be thinking of my plans for the day.

I could write letters. There are two or three birthday messages I have not yet responded to as well as requests from those in the village.

I may practice my harp so that the lessons my mother gave me as a child don’t fall away from my memory.

I might take one of the horses for a ride on the grounds.

If I do that, I would need to return with enough time left to bathe and be dressed for dinner.

It will be a smaller affair tonight—my father and I and perhaps a few select members of court—but I’ll be dressed to match my station.

I stare at the blue sky outside the window and almost manage to convince myself that I’ve done it. That I’ve forgotten the way I moaned into my own pillow last night.

But then I sweep the bathing cloth into my hand under the water, almost as if I am not thinking about it. I lift it toward the surface, then let it float down until the cloth lands between my legs.

Then it is only a simple matter of touching myself. I start at one of my breasts, circling it as if I am only rinsing soap away, then slide my hand down until it meets the cloth.

It is a different sensation than touching myself with bare fingertips. The cloth is slightly rougher, and it takes even less pressure on that bundle of nerves. I let my legs fall open so my knees rest on the side of the tub and draw circles on my clit.

I breathe slowly and deeply, as if I am meditating. I keep the rest of my body relaxed, as if I am half asleep. I move my fingers only enough to get the pressure I need. I don’t create a single splash in the water.

It does not take long to bring myself to the peak. A minute or maybe less. I remind myself not to cry out at the last second, and sigh instead. I am certain it could be mistaken for a sigh of enjoyment. Of the hot water, not my hand between my legs.

When the waves have ended, I gather the cloth in my hand, bring it above the surface of the water, and squeeze out the excess.

I wait a minute more to be sure I am recovered. That my body is not giving any sign that I pleasured myself. One thing I know for certain now, I enjoy the act. Thoroughly. And I am curious to discover more.

I wait until I am sure that I will not seem satisfied, or giddy, because I have gotten away with taking pleasure in a place I have never taken it before.

The day proceeds as I expected it would.

It’s not until dinner that I feel someone watching. The prick at the back of my neck and the burning feeling of being hunted are consuming.

I try not to be obvious about searching for him, which unfortunately comes to a halt when I’m asked to tend to court for a moment. I carry on a conversation with a duke who is at least my father’s age about the fallow fields nearest his manor house, so it takes longer than I would like to find him.

But as I’m being escorted to dinner, I do.

My heart races. I recognize his posture, his stance.

In the shadows, in a room off the great hall—the third in a series of rooms that all connect.

As the hall is not crowded, there is no need for it to be well lit.

Still, my body knows his. There’s a heated pulse that runs through me.

The man leans against the doorway, his face mostly hidden once again. With Alice by my side, I cannot go to him, and given her expression, I straighten my own.

When dinner is finished, I take a long route away from the great hall, then tell Alice and Blanche to meet me in my rooms.

“I will be going to bed early tonight,” I tell them. “I need more time to rest. I will be up shortly.”

When they’re out of sight, I race back along a different route so I can enter that darkened sitting room through another doorway. Hopeful he’ll still be there.

“I know you’re here,” I say into the dim light. It seems even dimmer than it did when he was watching me during dinner. “Why didn’t you come to the table?”

No answer.

“Is this what you intend to do, then? Watch me from a distance until I am married? Or do you intend to have a conversation with me?”

Nothing.

“This isn’t the kind of conversation I expect of a gentleman.”

He does not say anything, and I feel as if he is teasing me, now. Taunting me. Leaving the silence so that I will be forced to speak.

It works.

“It would please me if you would just speak,” I nearly snap.

The euphoria I felt after I got out of the tub was quick to fade.

That was the only time I would be alone like that for the rest of the day, and now I cannot stand the wait until I can feel true pleasure again.

Yet the desire will not leave me alone. It has followed me every minute, and suddenly I can see that my life is designed to ensure that I am never by myself, so I can never do such naughty things as give myself an orgasm.

“It would please me if you came to my rooms and…and did as you wished. I keep my balcony doors open to let the fresh breeze in. During the summer, the air smells of jasmine, and it helps me rest. But of course, I only mean this if you are brave enough.”

Nothing. My invitation is met with no words, but I swear I feel his eyes again, and the shadow moves behind me.

He heard. It’s only then my recklessness truly brings me to reality.

I lay in my bed in my nightgown, terrified.

What was I thinking, offering that to a stranger? A stranger who has been at court, yes, but one who I have not seen. I haven’t ever seen his face! I do not know his name. I know nothing of him.

Worst of all, why do I find it so…arousing?

I shut my eyes and try not to think of him. He will not be so bold as to come here, I’m sure of it. He will know better. I am a princess, and my father is the king, and—

The door to my balcony creaks. My heart freezes and I hold my breath as heat consumes me.

It is such a soft sound, but I know it cannot be the wind. I keep my eyes closed, breathing shallowly, though I know he will be able to tell I am awake. If it is not my imagination.

Quiet but heavy footsteps come closer to the bed, and then silk fabric graces the side of my cheek.

It’s a shocking sensation at first. Adrenaline rages through my veins, and it takes everything in me to keep my eyes shut tight.

I’m not supposed to see. None of this is real so long as I don’t see it.

I let out a long breath.

He touches my shoulder, next. It is only a slight pressure. I follow it and turn over onto my back.

Then the silk is at my eyes—a blindfold.

Another touch guides me to sit up. He ties the blindfold behind my head, then checks to be sure it is secure.

The next sensation is of his hands on my face. If I had not smelled the spicy scent of him, I would know it was a man by the size and strength of his hands.

He kisses my lips, then drops his head to my neck and kisses me there, as well. I tip my head back and let him suck gently at the side of my neck and lick at the neckline of my nightgown.

His touch is everything. Heated and electric. My head is dizzy with desire, and I swallow thickly to control the need to moan at the slightest attention he gives me.

I hardly notice him laying me down on the pillows, still kissing me. I only become aware of it when he guides me to turn onto my stomach. I do, wrapping my arms around the nearest pillow.

My heart pounds and heat pulses between my thighs. I need him. I ache for him.

Make me feel what I never have before.

It’s a sinful secret and one that I know could destroy me. And yet, it’s everything I crave.

He shifts behind me and then lifts my nightgown up until my thighs, bottom, waist, and more are exposed. The cool air whispers along my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pushes my garment so high that my naked breasts are pressed against the sheets.

I’m exposed to him. A man I do not know and have never seen.

A man who I should not entertain and yet he has all my attention.

He’s all I want. Foolishly…all I want is this.

Because at least this is in my control. He strokes his fingers behind my legs, and my face heats against the pillow.

I am much, much wetter than I was even after several minutes alone, and he seems to relish the sensation of it, stroking again and again and gathering my arousal.

He pauses with the tips of his fingers against my opening, teasing me there, but waiting.

“Please,” I whisper into the pillow, not daring to raise my voice. “Please, yes,” I beg him.

It’s a dark desire I should not want, but I do. My lips part at the sudden sensation of his rough hands. One holds my lower back down while the other teases more roughly before finally giving in to my desire.

He slides one finger into my core and works his other hand under me to play with my clit.

I hold on to the pillow and let myself move my hips as if no one will ever know of this. As if no one will ever see, though I know he is seeing everything. I don’t know what I am doing, but my hips move the way they previously did when I lost myself in pleasure, so I let them.

After a minute or two, he adds another finger.

There’s a sting of pain as he stretches me but it makes the pleasure all that much more consuming.

I moan into the pillow, feeling warm breath on my face.

More. Please. I need more. He moves them slowly and gently until I’m stifling moans in the pillow.

He adds a third finger and at first, my body protests but the heat is divine. My walls clench around him. I can feel how slick his fingers are getting. My anticipation for what is to come next grows and grows until I can hardly stand it.

I want him to fuck me. To take me. I can be queen with a lover who hides in the shadows. The very idea is heady.

Then he pulls my hips up, balancing me on my knees and running his hands all over my back and even around to my breasts.

He fondles them, teasing my hard nipples, and then there is a rustle of fabric and the press of his body on the backs of my legs.

Every inch of my skin lights aflame. The sensation is far too much.

His tip touches my folds as he swirls himself through the wetness gathered there. Moans spill from my lips and I do my best to stay quiet. I strain my hips back toward him, delirious with building pleasure, and he puts one hand on my lower back to hold me in what must be the right position.

Then he enters me. Oh fuck. Heat blisters up my neck and to my cheeks.

He is slow but deliberate. My body slowly opens for him. I have to bury my face in the pillow to keep my strangled cry of pleasure silenced. Pleasure like I’ve never known rocks through me.

I gasp as quietly as I can as he fills me and stretches me for what feels like eternity.

I can tell he is trying to contain the noises he wants to make.

He keeps them in the back of his throat, whereas I keep mine in the pillow.

It would be a disaster if that guard came back and saw what was happening.

My dark knight. Fucking me as if I’m his. As if he can take me. My back arches and more of him pushes in. Fuuuuuck. I need him to move.

I can barely breathe.

The risk of my unlocked door opening thrills me so deeply that another wave of pleasure shoots through my body. It’s so strong that all my pleasure peaks with it, and my body clenches around his thick cock inside me.

At the sounds of my pleasure, he rubs my clit and thrusts harder and harder. Fucking me deeper and deeper. Yet he keeps a steady pace that’s truly maddening. I grip the pillow like my life depends on it as he ravages me. Stealing my virginity in the dead of night.

I love it. And with that thought I come hard on his cock.

It’s more intense than any orgasm I’ve had before. I bite down on the pillow to keep myself quiet and feel him thrust in harder. There’s no resistance. I’m so wet that my body accepts him, and then it accepts the heat spilling out of him, and even accepts the way he grips me as he comes down.

My breathing is ragged and my mind reels. He lowers himself over me and kisses the nape of my neck. Then he pulls out. More cloth moves against me, and he rearranges my nightgown. He pulls the covers over me, straightening them as if I’d just climbed in.

The last thing he does is untie the blindfold and pull it away from my eyes.

I lay still and keep my eyes closed for several beats, too overwhelmed by what’s just happened to think of doing anything, although I do open my eyes to see him. But he’s gone. When my eyes adjust to the darkness, he’s nowhere to be found.

I fall asleep that way, without having seen him at all but filled with a pleasure I’ve never known.