Chapter 2 #2
“Didn’t I mention you’re a very boring conversation partner?” She gave a small scoff. “I don’t care for pleasantries. Play my game or leave.”
He smiled.
And kissed her.
His mouth swept over hers, smothering the mewl that escaped her, smothering all sensible thought but the awareness of him.
Of his supple lips, coaxing and reassuring, working hers in petal-soft brushes.
Of his smell, that summery fragrance of sun-streaked grass and sweet fruit.
Of his hands, wrapping around her waist with worshipful care.
And suddenly he was no longer the bastard who’d planned to abduct her, but rather …
A lover soothing the loneliness?
Rapunzel realized, in that infinitesimal moment before she lost control, that she had not the faintest idea what she’d just started.
Then her knees gave in.
Egill growled, not releasing her from their kiss as she stumbled against the solid wall of his body.
The sound flushed through her like fire—good gods, the sound!
She hadn’t known a mere voice could melt her insides to mush, and yet that rough edge to his moan …
It slid straight into the core of her, warm and slippery and hungry.
He nibbled on her bottom lip. She gasped. Again he chuckled, and it was a different chuckle now—a declaration of war.
Oh, gods.
This was a terrible idea.
This was a glorious idea.
She molded her hands to his torso, mirroring his hold on her waist, and felt his next groan rumble through him. When he finally broke their kiss, he was as breathless as she was.
“Oh,” she gasped.
His smirk broadened into a sinful grin.
“Oh.” Her mind spun, leaving her lost for words. “You … oh.”
“You flatter me, little treasure.” A challenge in his eyes. “Surely that’s not your intention?”
“Not at all,” Rapunzel managed. Oh, damn that confidence in his eyes. Damn the fire burning on her lips, below her skin, every place where he’d touched her. At least he would no longer be laughing in an hour … but even that barely seemed a consolation. “If anything, I’m a little disappointed.”
His only reply was another self-satisfied chuckle.
She should kick him. Should knee him in the balls, or bite his tongue, or … anything. But pressed against him, warmth pooling in more and more disconcerting places …
She kissed him again.
In response, Egill scooped her into his arms.
He was halfway to her couch before she realized what was happening.
His hold was gentle and inescapable; he held her as if she was the answer to his every problem, his little treasure indeed, and for a moment she allowed herself to believe the lie.
To imagine it was her he wanted and not those gems twinkling at them from all sides.
The couch pillows had never felt so soft below her back before. His body was so very solid in comparison, all taut muscle under her fingertips as she clawed at his arms.
“Patience,” he murmured, kneeling beside her. “Let me show you.”
How could she not give in to that command in his voice?
She slumped into the cushions, the armrest holding up her head, and watched him brush her dress up her thighs with slow, reverent care.
Skin she’d touched before—awkward attempts to understand—and yet under his capable fingers nothing felt the same.
Every caress, every gossamer touch, trailed through her in stings of sharp-edged arousal, mingling with the nervousness into a light-headed feeling that made her quiver like a twig in the wind.
One hour.
And these first two minutes already had her on the brink of fainting.
When he finally trailed a finger over her underwear, following the lines of her lips below, there was no holding back her cry. Egill looked up, eyes shining. But below the arrogant satisfaction, there was a flicker of … gentleness?
“Yes?” he said softly.
She gasped. “Yes.”
He stripped off her underlinen, ran his fingers up her legs, kissed the inside of her thigh.
She yelped. He laughed, his warm breath unbearable against her skin, and nuzzled his way up, up, up …
until his kisses reached that most sensitive of places and she thought she’d die, the pleasure unfolding through every fiber of her with heart-pounding, toe-curling intensity.
He flicked his tongue over the same spot, and Rapunzel lost all awareness of time and space and common sense.
One hour. She could revel in this forever, bliss trembling through her at every skillful stroke of his tongue, until the feeling grew so large she felt it pressing below her skin, closer and closer to bursting …
What would happen if she burst?
She didn’t know. She didn’t care. He licked her once again and she gave into it, barreling into a sensation that was night and day and life and death and glory.
His hands on her hips held her, and that was all she felt as her mind surrendered—those gentle, calloused hands, carrying her safely through the frenzy of her release.
His voice called her back to the world of the living. Speaking her name, the sound of it another caress on her heart.
There was a wonder in his gaze when she opened her eyes and found him looking at her, a light that hadn’t been there before.
One hour.
No, no. Don’t think about that now.
She scrambled upright against the fluffy velvet of the couch, shaking limbs barely able to carry her weight. A smile spread over his lips.
“That almost sounded like a compliment, my lovely gem.”
“I …” Rapunzel breathed, “I didn’t know …”
His amusement wavered. “No one told you?”
Told her what she’d missed. What this tower had deprived her of.
To protect her, yes, against men like him …
and yet in an hour he’d be gone forever, and she’d spend her life between these crystal walls, hoping for willing company to appear, with only her guardians’ visits to break up the hours of silence.
She should not think about that.
“What else,” she whispered, “didn’t they tell me?”
His eyes gleamed. “Do you want to know?”
“Yes.” Who cared if her eagerness fueled his arrogance? One hour. Less than that, by now. “Everything—all of it.”
He pulled her upright, kissed her forehead, and chuckled when she squeaked again. “Then go ahead.”
Ahead. She swallowed her nervousness and lifted her hands to the buttons at his collar – unsure if this was what he’d meant, but he didn’t object. So she loosened them with trembling fingers and peeled off the linen, revealing …
Revealing maleness.
Her body, the only body she knew, was round and curvy and dipped wherever she pressed her fingertips. In comparison, the alf’s torso was hard as the gems she created, endless ridges of muscle and smooth, taut skin—a physique like a weapon.
Too late did she realize her mouth had sagged open. His chuckle told her he certainly noticed.
“Want to continue?”
So she undid his belt, holding her breath, then stripped off his trousers. The length that emerged from the leather and linen …
Oh, Orin help her.
Or, on reflection … let Orin stay far away today.
Rapunzel let out a breathless laugh. She’d known there would be something, the books were clear enough on that part—but this rock-hard sculpture jutting forward at the junction of his thighs, smooth skin and bulging veins and a softly glistening tip, was about three times what she’d expected.
Four, perhaps.
“That … that’s beautiful,” she managed, running a cautious fingertip over the rim. His flesh quivered under her touch. She did it again, running a circle around the slit at his tip, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
If only she had more time! She could play with him for hours, exploring every inch of this strange male body, finding every spot that made him hiss and curse and squirm—but their hour would be over soon, and she wanted to know—needed to know.
“What else?” she muttered.
He settled himself on the couch and pulled her into his lap so that her plump thighs straddled his muscular ones. His flesh stood up between her legs, aimed at her like a threat.
And yet she wasn’t scared of him. She was barely even nervous.
“Do you know how this works?” he said, and she realized there would be no mockery if the answer was negative.
“Your … your …”
He smiled. “Cock.”
“Your cock,” she whispered, and blushed, “fits inside me.”
“Yes.” He gently nudged her down, one hand on her hips, one holding that glorious part of him up. “Go slowly. I only want you to feel pleasure.”
Because anything but pleasure would hurt his pride—but Rapunzel no longer cared about arrogance. His straining tip pushed against her as she lowered herself over him, her entrance still slick from his kisses, and her body burned and yearned as she waited a single last heartbeat.
“Slowly,” he repeated softly.
She took him in. Slowly.
Pressure—wondrous, delicious pressure—filled her as he slid into her, a sensation so powerful it bordered on pain.
And yet it was the opposite of pain, that thrill of fullness, of completeness, that irresistible friction of their bodies fusing together.
She gripped his muscular shoulders and sank down and down, until he was inside her entirely and she might burst with contentment at just the presence of him.
His smile had tightened, his jaw clenched. But his eyes were bright and patient as she met his gaze and found him studying her from up close.
“It’s a delight,” he murmured, “to watch you feel, my treasure.”
She breathed a laugh. “I want to feel more.”
“Then do it again.”
Again. She came up on her knees so all but his tip slid out of her, then down again, faster this time.
Egill’s eyes turned glazed, and she laughed and did it again, every feeling searing through her all the more intense, knowing he felt the same.
He grabbed her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh.
The next time she moved down, he thrust up, and a flurry of red-hot sparks burst through her.
“More.” It was barely a moan.
He lifted her, laying her into the pillows in one easy motion, then lowered himself between her thighs and plunged back into her.
All else vanished. She buried her fingers into his hair and arched off the couch as he took her, his strokes tight with need and restraint.
Sounds—dazed moans of freedom—fell over her lips.
He growled her name, slipping his fingers between their bodies, back to that gloriously sensitive place he’d kissed before.
It was too much.
She gave in once again, clenching around him as that divine feeling flooded her and took her senses with it. Only vaguely did she feel him pull out of her, hear his breathless curse, or feel the splat of sticky fluid on her breasts and belly as he surrendered with her.
She was empty—utterly and deliciously empty.
“Oh, gods.” His voice was laced with laughter, and there was no contempt in it. “Let me clean you up, little gem.”
“Wait,” she whispered, dazed and lightheaded. “Wait—let me …”
He sat sprawling in the cushions when she looked up, an expression on his face that fit him so poorly she had trouble naming it—admiration. His seed pooled on her belly, a quiet, forbidden witness of all she’d just felt.
One hour.
She dipped her fingers into it and called up her powers. Fluid turned solid under her touch, drops became sparkles; in the blink of an eye, only the purest, clearest diamonds were left on her body.
Egill cursed.
And on a whim, she muttered, “Do you want them?”
“Me?” He blinked, blue eyes suddenly … frantically regretful? “Good gods, no! No, those are yours. If you want to remember …”
One hour—oh, gods, she had been a fool. A cruel, delusional fool. What had she thought – that she’d be able to send him to the grave with dry eyes after all the secrets he’d revealed in these loaded, tender moments?
“You should leave,” she heard herself blurt out.
He stiffened in the cushions. “What? What did I—”
“You don’t have much time.” Her lips moved faster than her thoughts—no rational thought could stop that sudden surge of alarm. “My guardians will be here soon. If Gothel finds you with me—”
His eyes widened. “Gothel?”
“I thought I could trap you.” She could have trapped him. “I thought I—oh, just leave, will you? I don’t want to …”
“Kill me?” he finished, jumping from the couch without taking his gaze from her. “You tried to kill me?”
“Well,” Rapunzel whispered, feeling suddenly naked as she scrambled back in the pillows and sent her diamonds scattering, “you tried to kidnap me.”
Egill stared at her.
Then cursed.
In the blink of an eye, he had dressed. Before she could offer him her hair, he dashed down the stairs to the first floor; she was at her own window just in time to see him jump those last eight feet down and snatch his belongings from the grass.
Before she could stop herself, she called his name.
But he didn’t falter; without looking back, he vanished into nothingness, leaving only her sparkling diamonds behind.