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When Iris caught my eye, her glance didn’t make me feel ashamed. Far from it. It made me feel alive. Seen, for sure, but lit by sunlight, not the yellow moon. She lived in the light where I had always lived in the dark.
It was new to me, but not unwelcome, to finally be seen.
Despite my lineage coming out after I killed the duke, I was by most accounts unnamed and unknown to the world. The court, which had been in uproar at the idea of the king’s son—even a bastard son—being treated the way I had, had quickly forgotten my existence once the initial scandal had faded.
Twenty years had passed since then, and most no longer even knew my name, let alone what I looked like. The few who saw me, moving in the night or early morning through the square and into the forest, were the source of the many folk tales and legends regarding the beast of the woods.
The king could probably have me executed now, and few would remark it. Still, I didn’t think he’d dare risk it, not while I kept myself to myself at least. I’d lived in the tunnels and lower levels of the castle since my rescue, only conversing with a few guards and servants from behind my mask, and Patara when she chose to visit my quarters.
Once we finished in the stables and the chicken coop, I carried her back to the milking shed as she instructed. My lust nearly doubled me over being with her all day. The insides of my britches were stiff and itchy with the cum leaking out.
My control was held by a thread as thin as a spider’s web, knowing that at any moment I might snap, bellow out her name and mount her on my face. The thought of spinning her around and smacking her gushing pink opening until she begged me to stop…and then—and only then—sinking into her and tearing away what God gave her.
Pulling her straight from heaven into my hell. But oh, what a hell it would be.
Just when my rampant thoughts were about to become actions, she stalled me with a wink and a smirk.
“Go inside, open the cupboard under the milk jugs. You’ll see my secret treat there. Move the chicken feed aside and you’ll find it. I have to keep it well hidden.” She raised one eyebrow a mischievous glint in her molasses brown eyes.
In the cupboard behind the feed, I found a few bottles of cider, sealed with wax. It was from one of the best brewers in the Aramoor valley. The bottles were small, and I knew they were valuable. Though I was thirsty from a long day’s hard work, I didn’t want to deplete her supply, so I brought a single bottle out to her.
She furrowed her brow at me when I handed it over.
“I meant for you to bring two, silly.”
“Tough,” I said, and pulled up a milking stool. The thing was fucking tiny, but I made it work.
“We’ll share then,” she said, yanking the waxed cord off the seal with her teeth and popping open the cork.
She was a contrast in every way. Such delicate beauty, matched equally by her unabashed strength. It made my cock seep and my heart nearly ramrod out of my chest.
She took a sip first, then handed the bottle to me. Our fingers brushed against each other on the cool glass. As I drank, I fought the urge to kiss her, taste her. Looking at her there, sun-kissed and stunning beyond words, I knew I could never go back to just watching her. I already knew I loved her. As foreign as that emotion was to me, I knew it to be true into the marrow of my bones. I had to make her mine.
I fucking had to.
We passed the bottle back and forth until it was almost gone. One last sip in the bottom. She offered it to me, but I raised my hands.
“Ladies always finish first.”
She eyed me over the rim, blushing. I wasn’t completely sure she understood the innuendo in my words but I believe she felt the truth in them.
Fuck, yes. That blush. I wanted to see that blush all the goddamned time.
She wiped the cider from her lips with her sleeve, leaving them still glistening in the sunlight. I didn’t know how such a simple goddamned thing could make me so weak. But there it was.
“I’ll get you squared away inside,” I said. “But first, I’ve got a question for you.”
Yet again, she gave me that wide-eyed, innocent look. Christ almighty, I wanted to devour her whole.
“Yes?” she said, pressing her hands into her lap, tracing the edge of her skirt over the curve of her thigh.
“What time do the cows need milking in the morning?”
