Chapter Three
Pikquarrys
I swear to the Fallen Stars, if that satryus just called her by the name I think he did, I will slice open my own scalp and baptize my brain in the Eternal River to repent for the thoughts I entertained at the tavern.
Breaking into a trot, I follow the beautiful elf dressed in servant’s clothes, trying to ignore the way her curves make the plain, shapeless dress look like it belongs on the floor of my stable-suite.
She’s about Princess Loreleivnna’s height, but I haven’t studied my best friend’s daughter’s ass long enough to know if it’s as plump and palmable.
I’ve been away for so long, and there are too few pleasure huts near the volcanic ridge with females who are there because they wish to be.
After the heated conversation in the tavern, I’m ready to relieve myself into a willing petal.
Specifically the one running from me like lively prey, provided she’s not the fanciful princess who lives in a delusion of reality.
If it’s anyone but her, I’ll rekindle our flirtatious chat and relieve myself in her tight elven cunt, if only to prove I do not require moondust to please a lover.
She must hear my hoofbeats, for she tenses.
She tosses a worried glance over her shoulder.
The wind thrusts down her hood. Sleek strands of warm burgundy hair interspersed with beaded braids blow free.
A few dark strands whip around her face, streaking across her frosted sage complexion and the twining tattoos she’d hidden under the fabric.
Beaded peridot gems pierce through me, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.
Shock, then fury, urges my hooves faster.
How dare the brat make me think of her in the way one would consider a mate?
I’m aware she’s reached sexual maturity, even well surpassed it.
Most noble petals her age have at least one mate by now, but she’s different.
Her father is my closest friend. I’ve known her far too long to see her as a mate.
If only my body understood that fact. While my brain rages, my undercarriage grows hot watching her hips sway as she hurries to flee, the tawny dress eaten by the seam of her bottom. My hands, curled into fists, ache to give her the spanking she deserves.
I easily catch up to her and put an end to the chase. In one swift motion, I snatch her from the ground and toss her over my shoulder like a sack of yams. Speeding to a gallop, I keep a hand firm on the meat below her rear.
“Let me down!” Princess Loreleivnna shrieks, banging her tiny fists against my back. “Pikr!”
Fallen Stars above, the sound of her voice screaming my name should not affect me so viscerally. The scent isn’t helping, either. I squeeze her flesh, a low grunting sound escaping without my permission.
“Pikr, my skirt!”
Reluctantly, I tilt my chin toward her rear, which is close enough for her natural scent to drown me in moondrop herb and honeycomb bliss. Indeed, her skirt has flown up in my haste, flashing a pair of lacy pink undergarments to onlookers.
With another unsanctioned grunt, I reposition her, using my right hand to hold her legs steady and my left to hold the skirt down over her intimate place.
“This is not appropriate! I’m a princess!” Her open palms smack my flank relentlessly. “Let me down!”
She’s absolutely right. This is entirely inappropriate.
My hand is flat against the heat of her petalhood.
I try my best not to think of its warmth, which grows in intensity alongside the scent of misty midnight honey scent.
I should put her down, but this is not the area of town for a princess, and she requires reprimanding after her behavior in the tavern, so I persist.
Her angry cries devolve into soft whimpers. I fear I’ve upset her more than the situation calls for, and yet my body continues to react in unacceptable ways. It’s a blessing that I’m old and experienced, else my cock would have slipped its sheath and drawn a line through the town square.
We cross the threshold of Dimword, but I don’t stop until I reach the forest barrier to the palace’s inner city.
Burnt orange, rust brown, and deep green blur around us.
Blister and ashenoak trees shed their leaves, crunching under my roaring hooves, and cedardusk needles scrape my arms. I forge deeper under their cover until I find a towering sequoiaoak, its tall trunk bare of branches until high above the canopy of oaks.
I plant her on the ground with as much care as my agitated muscles will allow. Air flees my lungs in heaves, and my hooves trot in place. I’m restless with anger, sure, but also thrown off by my traitorous body’s response to her wicked ways. I’ve lost my blooming mind.
“You’re evil and cruel,” the princess whines. She scurries back against the sequoiaoak tree and wraps her arms around her legs, crossing her ankles to hide the sweetly scented mound my hand had covered moments ago. “Barbaric centaur.”
I let out a high-pitched bray. Leaves crunch underhoof as I stomp the forest floor. Her eyes grow wide, and she wraps herself tighter.
Glancing around, I see no spiritvines that might report our clandestine conversation to the king. That doesn’t mean the roots aren’t listening. I trap her between my front hooves and bend at the waist, thrusting my finger toward her.
“You are the wicked one, little brat,” I hiss. “Speaking to strangers at a seedy tavern in Dimword!”
“You’re not a stranger.”
“Allowing males nearly your father’s age buy you drinks. Flirting about moondust and frolics!” I straighten, gesturing widely. “Moonpetal pollen, Princess Loreleivnna! You planted seeds of moondust and massages in my mind, knowing full well—”
“I never mentioned a blooming massage, you perverted petalfucker!” Princess Loreleivnna shoots to her feet.
She tests me with her insolence, her chest heaving as she places both hands against my abdomen and shoves.
I don’t budge. “It’s not my fault you heard a stranger mention moondust and your depraved mind took liberties! ”
“You are not a stranger,” I growl.
“That’s what I just said!”
Her hands collide with my stomach again, and I catch her wrists in one hand, slamming them against the tree.
The princess’s jeweled eyes grow wide, the burgundy ring around her pupils blowing out. Her breasts heave with every breath, ghosting against the sensitive area where my flesh body meets my equine half. Her sweet, moondrop honey wafts around us, mixing deliciously with the mossy musk of the forest.
A wine-red sequoiaoak leaf drifts from above. Impulsively, I glance down, catching sight of her pebbled nipples, hard enough to see through the apron.
She’s enjoying this. For some reason, that infuriates me more. I crowd her against the tree, relishing the whimper it earns. Her back arches, pressing those supple breasts against my middle.
I lean in, bringing my lips to her ear. My voice comes out throaty and raw. “You place me in an unfair predicament, naughty petal. I’m well within my right to spank your rear for the sins of your lying tongue.”
“I never told a lie.” Rage fills her peridot pearls, bleeding out in the burgundy around her pupil. “You’re the only one who didn’t know who the other was.”
“That’s exactly my point,” I growl, stomping my hoof.
The implication of her words hit me a moment later, and I tilt my chin to scrutinize her better as my restraint wanes. Images of her flood my mind. Oiled and squirming beneath me, over my shoulder with my fingers deep in her sex, riding my back with her bare body as we run through the Spiritgrove.
“Pikr.” Princess Loreleivnna’s breath tickles against my lips. Our gazes lock, then hers drops to my mouth.
I never meant to get so close. I should pull away and gallop to the river to wash away all these sinful thoughts.