10. The Search Reaches the Farm #3
"Pretty boy with the silver tongue," Cinder murmurs, eyes traveling down. "The one who noticed everything. The one who made me come with two fingers and observation."
Bastard honks proudly, as if my cock is somehow his accomplishment too.
Fair enough. He's earned the right to take some credit.
"And you." Cinder turns to Wreck, who's trying to figure out how to drop his trousers while still holding two ferrets. "Chaos incarnate. The one with the refractory period that defied biology."
Wreck hands the ferrets to a nearby post, they cling to it, watching with interest, and drops his breeches.
His cock bounces free, curved at that distinctive angle, already fully hard because Wreck has no subtlety about anything ever.
"There you are," Cinder breathes. "All three of you. Every cock I've been dreaming about for four miserable days."
Baron Grimwald makes a strangled sound. His sons, crowding the barn door with horror and humiliation written across their faces, look like they want to die.
Good. Let them watch. Let them see exactly what they could never be.
Cinder turns to her lady-in-waiting, who is clutching her wine cask with the expression of a woman who has truly seen too much.
"Mira. Send word to the castle. Cancel the search." A wicked grin spreads across her face. "I've found my future husbands."
"Husbands?" the Baron squeaks. "Plural? You can't marry three men."
“I can do whatever I want." Cinder is already walking toward us, hips swaying. "And what I want is all three of these men. In my bed. Every night. For the rest of my life."
"The kingdom won't accept…"
"The kingdom can choke. I've spent four days looking at inadequate penises. I've earned this."
She stops in front of Ash, looks up at him, way up, because he's tall, and grabs the front of his shirt. "You. You ran away from me."
"The magic was wearing off."
"You left. Before I was finished with you."
"We had about thirty seconds before the carriage turned back into a manure wagon."
"I don't care." She yanks him down by the shirt until their faces are inches apart. "You owe me. All three of you. You owe me hours."
"My lady," I say smoothly, stepping closer until my chest nearly brushes her back, "we would be happy to repay that debt. In full. With interest."
Wreck appears at her side, ferrets somehow back on his shoulders, grinning like the chaos goblin he is. "I've had four days of rest. My refractory period is gonna be insane. We could go for like... twelve rounds."
"Fifteen," Ash corrects.
"Twenty," I counter.
"Is this a competition?" Wreck demands.
"Everything is a competition," Ash says.
Cinder starts laughing, wild, slightly unhinged laughter that echoes through the barn and makes the Grimwald family take several steps back.
"I'm taking them," she announces to no one in particular. "Right now. In the carriage. Back to the castle. Where I am going to ruin them for running away from me."
"What about the farm?" Baron Grimwald tries.
"Not my problem. You have two useless sons. Put them to work."
She grabs Ash's hand with her left, mine with her right, and looks at Wreck. "You. Bring the ferrets. We're leaving."
"What about Bastard?" I ask.
Bastard honks imperiously.
"The goose comes too."
"And the rats?" Ash adds.
From his pockets come three tiny, hopeful squeaks.
"Fine. The rats. The ferrets. The goose. The entire menagerie." Cinder starts dragging us toward the barn doors. "Everyone get in the carriage. We have a wedding to plan and approximately forty-seven orgasms to make up for."
"Forty-seven seems specific," Wreck observes.
"I've been counting. Every night. Every disappointment. Every time I thought about what you three did to me and couldn't recreate it alone. Forty. Seven."
"We're gonna need snacks," Ash says seriously.
"We're gonna need a medic," I add.
"We're gonna need to update the ferrets' diet," Wreck contributes. "Gerald gets bitey when he hasn't eaten."
One-Eye, who’s been watching from the highest rafter with the exhausted resignation of a creature who has seen too much and will see more still, spreads his wings and flaps toward the carriage.
"I'm charging all of you for emotional damages," he croaks. "And property damages. And dignity damages. And whatever new category of damages this situation requires."
"Bill me," Cinder calls back, still dragging us toward the light. "I'm good for it."
The rats start a triumphant chant from Ash's pockets.
Susan and Gerald do a synchronized war dance on Wreck's shoulders.
Bastard honks the goose equivalent of a victory march.
And we, filthy, bewildered, and already half-hard again, are dragged out of the barn, past our horrified former captors, and into a royal carriage that smells like desperation, ferret musk, and the promise of an extremely satisfying future.
Baron Grimwald watches us go, apoplectic. His sons stand in shell-shocked silence, covered in ferret urine and shame.
Mira takes a long drink from her wine cask, climbs onto the driver's bench, and picks up the reins.
"To the castle," Cinder orders. "And Mira? Take the long way. I want to get started."
"I don't get paid enough for this," Mira mutters.
But I catch the smile on her face as she says it.