37. Chapter 37
Lunette
Owain hovered above me, dark purple eyes blazing, waiting to hear what I wanted. I’d already chosen, but old fears cropped up, holding my tongue for a long moment.
He’s a prince. What could you possibly offer him?
He could have you then toss you out once he’s had his fill—just like everyone else.
But, gods, hadn’t he stood by me today, practically shouting his public claim on me in front of a hall packed to the brim with soldiers? At court what one did publicly mattered far more than anything done privately.
“And what will you give me, Owain?”
Was that my voice? Why did it sound like a challenge? I’d told myself I would see how this went without letting my fear get in the way, but this was a side of myself I didn’t know I possessed.
“In private…more of whatever you want. I’m not limited to two hands, one mouth, and one cock, Lunette,” he whispered, eyes blazing, as he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. His warm breath ghosted across my sensitive neck before he leaned even closer to nibble on the lobe of my ear.
Two… Holy gods, the places my mind went were filthy.
“And in public?” I pressed, trying not to moan as he pressed his body even closer to my core. I couldn’t show how much power he had over me—not yet.
“Just as it was today. Me, proud to be by your side.”
My eyes searched his face, but they found only his raw honesty written in every crease.
He cupped my cheek. “I’ll be as happy to be the brunt of your constant teasing as your admiration. Anything, Luna. I’ll give you anything.”
Did he spend time thinking up these perfect answers? It begged the question: what did I want?
“Touch me,” I blurted. Because that was the only way I could seem to claim what I wanted. “I want to feel you.”
No taking it back now.
Owain shifted his weight to lean on one elbow above me, while his other hand trailed fire down my torso, making me wish his touch could burn my clothes off with magic along the way. Down and down he went until he paused, hand lightly gripping my knee.
My nod granted permission. He pulled his hand away, but instead of bunching up my skirts, he found my face again, holding it as if he were afraid the moment would fade away, like this was all a dream.
And yet, cool air rushed in around my legs. I’d had my skirts lifted before—but never with magic. “Mmm,” he said. “You used the soap.”
I couldn’t help but giggle. “You made me smell like a dessert.”
“Better than dessert.” His grin was wicked.
I felt his smile on my lips as he finally moved his hand back down to stroke my now-bared thigh.
Warm, rough from sword work, but so gentle, his palm cupped my mound.
My body unexpectedly bucked at the contact, but he held me there, not stopping.
His firm, broad, circling pressure sent jolts of longing through my core.
He bit back a snarl and tried to cover his cursing while exploring. Soon he was plunging one dexterous finger in. “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already wet. Delicious and ready for me. I’ll take care of you.”
His hard length pressed into my belly through our clothes. A glance down had me teasing him. “You’re promising a lot for someone who hasn’t proved anything yet, Your Highness.”
He gently nipped at my cheek, while adding a second finger to the first. “With you, I want to be just me…please.”
“Of course, I want that too.” Something about his tone, the wounded, weary sound, even as he acted playful, made me look at him differently. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see you like they all do.”
Every part of him went still—his lips parted, his fingers paused, his lungs ceased their rhythm. I worried for one horrible, earth-shattering moment that I’d said the wrong thing, that I’d hurt him.
Yet, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, he attacked my mouth and core with renewed vigor.
The way he touched me—firm yet flexible, considerate of every stroke, watching for any sign that meant he should alter course—felt as if he were trying to tell me something.
Something I suspected would make and break me anew.
And if I placed my fear aside, I could admit to myself that I was already completely lost to it.
I longed to bask in the pleasure of his hands on me, but the moment his thumb reached up to caress my clit, holding out for more became impossible.
Thoughts fled me completely. Magic shot through my body like lightning, racing to meet his touch, to tangle with the invisible parts of his aura I could feel reaching out to mine.
It felt so right that it tipped me over the edge. Far too easy and far too fast, my climax was a powerful surge pulsing through my body like a storm battering mountain peaks.
Benevolent—.
I nearly lost consciousness as Owain’s deft fingers continued to pump through my throbbing pulses, kiss swallowing the sounds I was too far gone to bite back on my own. Never in my life had my body responded with such intensity.
Still hovering over me, Owain drew his fingers to his mouth and licked and sucked each one clean.
Watching him was pure indulgence—like he was dining on a lavish spread of confections and sex all at once.
I could tell he was deliberately holding himself still, a bundle of tense energy, waiting for me to choose our next move.
I wanted him unleashed.
I reached down to caress the hard length trapped behind his trousers.
I expected some sort of reaction from him.
But not for his whole body to convulse. His hips drove forward into my touch in a way that had me imagining so much more.
He was significantly larger than any of my previous partners… everywhere.
“Lunette,” he sighed, my name half-plea, half-curse, still continuing to suck his fingers clean as though that were the only thing distracting enough to stop him from coming undone.
I stroked up and down a few more times, holding his dark gaze, loving the way he responded to me. When he reached the last finger, his eyes fluttered closed, and he jerked forward again, even less controlled than before.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “My moonlight, my—”
A fresh shiver ran through him as his eyes snapped open, locking with mine. Gods below, I’d just made the Prince Regent release in his trousers with a few strokes of my fingers.
It was a heady feeling.
He collapsed beside me, apologies rolling off his tongue. “I didn’t… I’m sorry, Lunette. I—”
“Owain, shhh,” I placed one finger over his lips.
His eyes returned to their normal stormy purple, peering down at me between dark lashes. “My performance wasn’t the least bit…impressive,” he grumbled.
I nearly fainted from climaxing so hard, but…okay.
I’d basically done the exact same thing as him. But I only said, a bit smugly, “I helped move things along.”
His grin stretched so far it seemed to erase every line of worry on his face.
With the high of pleasure ebbing, a subtle sense of caution began to return. My voice came out a little breathless. “This doesn’t fix everything…”
“It doesn’t.” Owain’s expression sobered at once, but he didn’t release me. If anything, the hand still on my hip gripped it even more possessively. “But maybe it can be a beginning. I’ll keep trying to be better. We’ll go at your pace. But Luna… I’ll never stop dreaming about the way you taste.”
His eyes went glassy. He seemed to be lost in the memory of licking his fingers again.
“Owain!” Heat flooded my cheeks, which was utterly preposterous considering where his hand had just been.
“We still have to work on things,” I insisted.
The honesty in his voice had stolen some of the fire from my anger, but it hadn’t disappeared entirely.
I trusted him, but I still couldn’t trust myself.
His face was so earnest. “I’ll beg. I want you, Lunette. Gods, no—I need you.”
The warmth of what had just passed between us retreated like a spring snowstorm, leaving the wilted shapes of everything we hadn’t yet solved exposed to sunlight once again. “Is this coming from Reina’s mad plan to get the court to think we’re set to be betrothed?”
“No,” he said firmly. Then, almost hesitantly, quietly, he asked, “Will you marry me?”
The word “marry” lingered in the air between us. For three full heartbeats, I didn’t move or breathe. Some traitorous, hopeful part of me turned it over like a coin found on the road—testing its weight, checking whether it was real. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
I whacked him across the arm with my fingers—not hard, but hard enough to get his attention. Fear took hold of my tongue. “Stop toying with me, Owain! What a ridiculous thing for a man with spend all over the front of his trousers to joke about.”
“You stay right here,” he ordered, still grinning. But as he turned to rise from the bed, I was certain I saw a flash of hurt on his face.
Did he… Could he have actually meant that?
No. It was ridiculous. He couldn’t choose me even if he wanted to. This whole arrangement was nothing more than a ruse. Nobility might want me, but not royalty. They required land, armies, or gold to take a bride.
Right?
He returned to the bed with a wet towel in one hand and a few dry ones in the other. When he placed the wet one in my hands, it was warm with the lingering heat of magic. He placed another dry one beside me on the bed, while holding the others over himself as a shield.
“I need to go next door to change,” he said, grimacing. “Easier to sneak out this way than ruin Muffin’s enclosure and hop porches.”
At the sound of his name, Muffin came running back in from the porch. The first thing he did was jump in a circle around Owain’s leg. Little traitor.
“Muffin will follow me on a small adventure while I change.” His eyes met mine with a force that I could almost feel. “I’ll be back.”
“Okay,” I mumbled. I didn’t know if I was ready for this, but it was probably time.