Page 17 of Many Ruined Vows on a Forbidden Frolic

Her rear end thumps onto my withers, and she falls back. I slow, allowing her to adjust before taking off at a gallop that I hope is fast enough to keep prying spiritvines from eavesdropping for the king.

“As your princess, I order you to stop plucking me from the ground like a petal-fucking weed!” Princess Loreleivnna grips the muscles below my shoulder blades, and I’m acutely aware of her nails digging into my flesh.

“I’m tasked with your wellbeing, and you’re out here running barefoot like a sapling.” I leap over a fallen branch, letting my hooves land more severely than necessary. Her bottom bounces against my back, and she lets out a sound that makes me want to veer toward my stable-suite. “Why must you be so impossible?”

“Why must you be such a withering dick?”

“Is that all you can think of, Petal? So eager to bloom, you fantasize about cock all day, even as you ride me bareback?”

Princess Loreleivnna gasps. “You forget your place, barbaric centaur.”

I scoff. “Have I? Please, remind me of my place, for I’m so old, the Wise Ones have begun repurposing my memories in their fate-roots.”

She takes hold of my braid and pulls, tilting my head back so roughly I hiss.

“Underneath me,” she snarls.

A forge lights within me. The delicate little princess has claws. I keep my eyes forward, though my attention is on everything but the path ahead. My awareness knows only the sting of my scalp, the heat of her sex on my pelt, the taste of her hyacinth-and-forbidden-honey scent, and the tension building in my spine.

“Gratitude for proving my point.” I use my right hand to pry her fingers from my hair. She digs them into the muscles of my shoulders instead, which is no better. “Will you tell your date how you fantasized about your Guardian mere moments before meeting? They’ll know your mind is blighted, picturing a creature of my status beneath you.”

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it,” she says, but honeycomb flavors the air.

Another minor obstacle appears in my path, and I take it with an extra bounce. Her nails burrow under my skin, the growing heat of her intimate region rubbing against the hump where my withers meet my equine back. She lets out a soft whimper that does unspeakable things to my spiraling thoughts.

“Desperation isn’t pretty on a lass. You throw yourself at anyone near, be they a strange centaur in a bar—”

“You are not a stranger!”

“—or my apprentice in a barn,” I finish, smirking at the snap of her teeth as her mouth shuts.

“You saw that?” she whispers.

Yes, I saw her drunkenly drag Cadmynthus to the stables at the last Lunaplume Ball I attended, five and a half decades ago. She’d been the focal point of the evening, in her gossamer gown and light pink root paint on her legs, her dewy lips painted a deep shade to match her flowing hair. Every noble and their handservant was watching her that night. Cadmynthus swears he didn’t deflower her, and I wouldn’t keep someone in my employ if I didn’t trust them around my best friend’s daughter—anyone’s daughter, for that matter—but every time he asks, I deny his request to accompany me on a supply trip home, despite the fact I rarely enter Svitaeryl’s gates and never visit the palace.

“Lusty lass, how long have you wanted a centaur to fill you with his cock?”

“Nothing happened with Cadmynthus.” Her nails break my skin, her thighs squeezing my flanks. “I’ve never lain with anyone, centaur or otherwise.”

“Yet you accept drinks from strangers and tease them with thoughts of frolics and pollen.” I click my tongue and jostle her again. “You want a long centaur cock to slide inside your unbloomed cunt, don’t you?”

The spot between us grows unbearably hot just before a gush of warmth coats my pelt, and I groan, feeling the way my words make her pussy weep.

“You scandalize me,” she all but growls.

“Ha! Pretty Petal, you truly believe me an incompetent clod. You’re not scandalized. I feel your wet heat on my pelt at the very mention of a slick, dripping centaur cock filling your belly with warmth.”

She tries to smother her whimper, but I hear it, and I feel the erratic beating of her heart where she’s fallen forward against my back.

“What did you two do in that stable?” I ask. “Perhaps you’re lying about your innocence.”

“Nothing! We kissed, and he kissed my—unf, oh!” I take another rough leap, and she falls forward against my back. “I don’t have to tell you anything, you brute!”

A guttural groan escapes my chest, picturing her face contorted with pleasure as fingers pinch her nipples. I’m certain her blissful cries would taste sweeter than lunaplume syrup. Jealousy scratches the edge of my brain at the knowledge that my young apprentice has kissed her places other than her mouth.

“Did you glimpse his cock, leaking for you? Centaur males are virile well past maturity. Moondust oil can be fun, but we produce more slick than a satryus or elf. Especially with partners as small as you.” I’m lost now, my tongue galloping away without a lucid thought in my brain. “For all you tease, you may be the one to require moondust oil, if you’re truly as inexperienced as you say.”

Chapter Thirteen