36. Breaking by the Gardiniums
Chapter 36
Breaking by the Gardiniums
CHARMING
A crash explodes off to the side, a hail of shattering glass.
A heavyset Caucasian man is now surrounded by a scattering of broken glasses from the tray he dropped. The hulking familiar is almost round as he is tall with dark hair and a generous beard. He stares at the mess by his feet as if trying to discern what has happened but is too thralled to truly comprehend.
Something about him brushes against my brain with familiarity, but I don’t have time to dig into my memories. I’m going to take advantage of the distraction.
A second ago, everyone’s attention was fastened on us, but the crash has broken the tension and they’ve all gone back to their own conversations. Cinder is barely keeping her shit together while her stepfamily looks on the mess in shock and annoyance.
My father frowns, realizing he’s lost the spotlight to the shit show he was trying to choreograph.
“Oh, that’s a shame,” I say lazily. “What a waste of good champagne and blood.” I grin too wide at Cinder’s stepfamily.
Anastasia’s body sways toward mine by inches and I can tell she can barely hold herself back. To say she’s thrown herself at me in the past is quite literal. The number of times she’s dropped a handkerchief for me to pick up, or swooned in faints I’ve needed to save her from is a number so tedious I haven’t bothered to keep count.
“If you’ll excuse us, I think I’d like to show my bride the gardinium flowers of the hedge maze until this mess is cleaned up.” I sniff in distaste, then lead Cinder by the arm toward the opening of the maze.
When we are far enough away, I turn her around to face me. Cinder’s already pale skin is now white as a sheet. Her eyes are sunken black pools of dilated pupils, and she’s trembling.
“What’s wrong? Tell me,” I urge, not keeping the panic from cutting through my voice.
She shakes her head.
Okay, so she can’t tell me why they rattle her so much. I have my suspicions, but my wild imagination conjures up too much to be trusted.
The scars flash in my mind’s eye.
A murderous flame flares inside me.
Calm down. You don’t know anything. Don’t assume anything.
“What do you need?” I ask, sliding a hand up her cheek, running my thumb across her jawline, keeping her eyes on me. I can find out the facts later, but Cinder needs me right this second.
What does she need?
Water? Her iron supplements? I have some in my pocket along with a snack bar. Does she need to sit down? If only I could get her a pumpkin spice latte?—
Her mouth collides with mine with a fervor I’m not expecting. The kiss is hungry, desperate. She needs to escape whatever is inside her.
“Are you sure?” I break long enough to ask.
“I need it, now,” she practically growls.
This I can do. It’s what I’m good at.
Stepping fully into her space until I’m looking straight down at her, I cup her face with both hands as I push my tongue past her teeth to sweep inside her mouth. I taste and tease her until she sags against me, still trembling but less violently.
Black polish nails scratch at the nape of my neck sending goosebumps careening along a path over my chest and arms to where I’m already stiffening.
“More,” she rasps.
Her hand sweeps over my hardening length and I groan into her mouth. Now she’s not the only one who’s desperate.
Oh fuck, I want to drop to my knees and tongue at her cute little clit piercing—before sliding my fingers up into her, exploring her depth and heat.
So I do. Dropping to the ground, not caring about the dirt, I push her skirts up.
Cinder’s grip on the back of my neck tightens painfully.
When I tilt my head up, I’m met with that same wild fear I saw in her eyes as her family approached.
“Not that,” she confesses breathily.
For a moment, my lust fogged mind doesn’t understand. Then I do.
My fangs.
A desperate twitch clenches in my cock as I realize I won’t be tasting her.
But it’s not about what I want.
Cinder needs control. Safety.
And sex. My dark goddess absolutely needs sex. A bone-shaking orgasm that will sweep everything else away, and I want to give it to her so badly the muscles in my body hurt from the tension of holding back.
“Right,” I say, hoarsely.
Standing, I grab her hand and practically fly further into the maze, dragging Cinder behind me. Eventually, I find what I’m looking for. A wrought iron bench.
Technically this gives credence to my story. The white gardiniums curls and curve around the hedges here, filling the air with their potent floral scent. Similar to gardenias of the Common World, these flowers only bloom in Midnight. And when they do, they open with little soft sighs.
I turn around and fall to my knees again and reach under her skirts. Instead of pushing them up this time, I find one of the layers of fabric to her dress and rip.
Cinder jolts at the sound of tearing cloth coupled with my violent motion of separating it from her.
I pull out a long piece of her dress.
“It’s not marshmallows,” I confess, “But hopefully, it's enough.”
Understanding dawns in her violet eyes. “Tear me another,” she demands.
I don’t question her, I just obey.
“Turn around,” she orders.
My brow dips in confusion, but I do as I’m told. She pulls my arms back and uses one of the strips of fabric to tie my wrists together.
Oh fucking witchtits, I just got harder.
Then the other cloth goes over my head and into my mouth as she ties it around the back of my head.
Looks like my idea doesn’t suck after all.
As I congratulate myself on the spark of genius, I realize I should have unbuttoned my slacks. But then Cinder is there, fingers deftly releasing me from my confines. Faster than I anticipate, her small hand sweeps up and down my fast-hardening shaft.
My groan is muffled into the cloth, as my vision blurs from the intensity of sensation she inspires.
“Sit on the bench,” she orders.
I do as she says. At first it’s tricky, but I manage to position my arms through a gap in the bench so I’m not in danger of squishing or ripping my limbs off.
Cinder approaches as soon as I’m settled, a wild gleam in her eye. In no time, her hot heat sinks down on my cold, hard shaft. So shocked by the blazing heat of her, I nearly suck the gag down my own throat.
Oh fuck me sideways on a stake.
She’s so tight.
Scorching hot.
And if I don’t focus on something else, I’m going to shoot off like a prepubescent teen.
My eyes roll up to the heavens as I work on counting stars.
My wrists are bound with a strip of fabric, the rough and tight texture digging into my skin. Cinder's body is hot against mine, her silky skin igniting a fire within me.
She rides me hard and fast as little sounds of pleasure escape her throat.
The controlled, placid Cinder is gone, replaced by something fiery, unquenchable and addictive.
Right now, I’m not the prince of Midnight, I’m not even a playboy down for an inventive roll in the hay. I am here solely for her release. I’m hers to use, to abuse, desperate to give her whatever she wants however she wants it.
I have a fleeting thought that I’m in real danger of letting her cover me in honey and spanking me with a tennis racket while a women’s knitting club watches us fuck isn’t out of bounds.
Not that I would say no to it. Sounds like an amazing story to recount at parties.
But it wouldn’t be for the novelty of it. It would be because she simply wanted it.
Hell, she wouldn’t even have to ask. She’d only need to lift that one dark brow a mere fraction to indicate it’s what she’d want, and I’d hand her the tennis racket myself with an “if it pleases you, mistress.”
Just when I think it can’t get any more intense, Cinder shifts her body, her slick heat tightening around me, and I'm forced back into the moment where I’m painfully aware of every sensation.
Fucking fae lords, I need to focus that women’s knitting group, or I'm going to explode. Cinder's body is like a living, breathing inferno, consuming every inch of me.
As I struggle to keep myself in check, she picks up her pace, riding me harder and harder with each passing second. My hands clench the fabric, the makeshift ropes tightening as I grip them with all my strength, trying to keep some semblance of control. The world outside of this little corner of the gardens fades away, leaving only Cinder and me, lost in the primal dance of her taking what she needs from me.
I want to taste her, and knowing she won’t let my fangs near her pretty pussy infuses with me a desperate edge of frustration I’ve never known before.
It’s so easy to get what I want, but not with Cinder. Nothing is just given, and I can’t take it.
It has to be her decision.
My hips thrust up into her as best they can as I try to give her all I can.
Then she’s shuddering, clawing, and moaning as she comes on top of me.
My eyes roll into the back of my head as she milks me, beckoning me to go over the edge with her. But I refuse. I can’t just yet.
Cold air replaces her tight heat and a pathetic whimper slips out of me.
Real dignified, Charming.
“I need more,” she rasps. Cinder pulls me to my feet, and I almost fall over in a dizzy spell. My focus snaps to attention when Cinder bends over the edge of the bench. She lifts her dress, and I can see her perfect lower lips glistening with desire. Her legs spread a little more, allowing me a view that might kill me.
Prince Charming.
Came into this world a regal heir.
Taken out of this world by a human girl's derriere.
RIP me.
My arms are still tied and I’m gagged, but I understand the assignment.
Stepping up behind her legs, I direct my cock back into her perfect channel. She’s even tighter in this position, but I can go deeper. Taking my chance, I slam into her with all the power I possess.
The sound that comes out of her throat is animalistic, at once conveying I’ve hit the spot and also please, fuck, hit it approximately one million more times.
She keens and moans as I piston my hips into my princess, my Mistress.
“Oh fuck, yes, just like that. And don’t you dare fucking come. Do you understand?” she hisses.
My balls draw up into my body with unexpected vigor. I already know that when she finally lets me come it’s going to be harder than I’ve ever come before.
I fuck us both into oblivion as Cinder becomes the center of my universe.
“Oh fuck,” she grits out as her fingernails scrape for purchase on the bench. She shakes and breaks apart around me and I don’t stop. I continue to pound into her. The need to conquer her consumes me, pushing me closer and closer to that razor's edge of control.
“Don’t stop,” she begs, and I don’t. I draw out her orgasm as her back arches. What I would give to reach a hand into her silky black hair right now.
Tossing me a dark look over her shoulder, Cinder’s eyes shoot straight through me like a sharpened sword.
“Come for me, Kai.”
I’m not sure if it’s the commanding way she delivers the order, or if it’s my name falling off her lips, but my body obeys before my mind can catch up. Stars sting and sparkle behind my eyes as my muffled moans reach my ears, as I pour into her. No, I explode into her. Even as I release, her inner muscles tighten and clench around me until she’s pulled every last drop from me.
Before I know it, we’re both sagged on the bench, panting and sweating. My wrists are free.
Cinder visibly shivers.
With numb hands, I remove the makeshift gag.
“Fuck me sideways,” I breathe.
“I think that’s what you just did to me,” she points out between pants.
I tilt my head. “Touche.” Then sense filters into my brain. The way she reacted to her stepfamily was not normal. “What did they do?”
She stiffens, then as if she is unable to hold any tension in her body after what we just did, she melts into the seat again. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Panic zips up me with a sharp sting.
I need her. I need her to play bride. I need her to help me convince the Mice to overthrow my father. Without her, none of this works.
Though something deeper inside me rips at hearing her say she can’t do this.
Is it my pride? No, something else. Something that bleeds.
I shove it aside.
“Cinder, I need you.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. I shouldn’t have come. I’m going home.”
Even when she’s breaking, she’s remarkably poised. She’s back to her usual mask of indifference. Her face flatlines. Brooks no arguments.
But by the gods, I’m going to argue.
Her only tell is her weak, shaky voice, and that rip inside me gushes more blood.
“Wait, just wait until tomorrow,” I beg. “I have something to show you. It’s the thing you most want.”
By the spark in Cinder’s eye, I know I have her intrigued, curious.
Which means I better find out what happened to her father.
No. That’s too complicated a task to resolve in such a short amount of time.
But if I get this Ember of Midnight I know she still roams the halls for. . . I’ll secure her again.
Now, I just need to figure out what the hell it is.