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Charlie pulls back the tent door, but we’re barely inside before he kisses me, his tongue hot against mine. “God, I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he says, voice gruff between kisses.
“Youhave?” I echo, breathless. My hands are in his hair, on his back, tugging at the ridiculous blousey shirt he’s wearing. “That lovely couple was having their first dance, with literal lutes playing, and I was sitting there wishing…”
“I’d lay you back on the banquet table?” he asks. His hands move to my breasts, and I press further into his palms, begging to be touched. “I had to sit there with a view of this dress, thinking about…”
The neckline of my Renaissance dress is low to begin with, but Charlie tugs hard, exposing both my breasts. It feels naughtier than just being entirely naked. I gasp as he ducks down, licking across one of my nipples. My hand flies to the back his neck, wanting more. He sucks me into his mouth, biting gently, and I dig my nails into his skin with a whimper.
God, he feels good.
He moves lower, hands beneath my skirts and skating up my legs. The second he stands back up, I nearly rip at the button of his pants. We’re kissing messily, both of us too turned on for anything like finesse. He gets his hands beneath the lace of my underwear as I close my hand around his cock, and slowly start to stroke.
“Christ,” Charlie mutters, moving his fingers, slick between my legs. I try to maintain a rhythm, but I’m a goner the moment he presses a second finger into me. Every feeling rushes to the center of my body as Charlie works his hand harder. I’m treacherously close to coming and we haven’t even taken off our clothes.
“Wait,” I whisper, stilling my hand. Charlie freezes, and I have to breathe for a beat just to find the words. “Get a condom. Now. Please.”
Charlie practically dives for his bag while I scoot back on the bed, breasts on display and skirts pushed up to my hips. He rolls on a condom as I soak up the view and the anticipation, my whole body quivering.
Charlie pauses at the foot of the bed, eyes traveling over my body. “… Fuck.”
“Yes, please.” I grin, feeling electric. “Any time now, squire.”
He crawls up the bed, mouth hovering over mine. “Rosalind is impatient.”
“But polite,” I offer. I arch up to him, hoping this will spur him to thrust his hips forward.
“Yeah,” Charlie agrees, his voice a grumble. “I’d like to hear more of that ‘Please.’”
He gets it immediately. The second he drives into me, it’s almost too good to bear.
“Oh my God, Charlie,” I cry out. There’s a pause in his body, making sure I’m comfortable. “Please. More.”
There’s a growl in his throat as he gives me another stroke, then another, harder.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he mutters, near my ear. He’s still touching me, ravenous, rolling a nipple between his fingertips. I buck harder against him, already chasing the high. “What do you want?”
“More,” I pant, helplessly. His hand slips between us, circling my clit. “There. Please.”
Time blurs as we pick up speed. The bed frame shakes dangerously, my breasts bouncing with every thrust. I draw both my legs up, moaning as I rock against him.
“I’m close,” he growls out. “Do you want me to—?”
He’s cut off by my cry, as my back arches and pleasure slams through me.Fuck. Charlie holds my hips, riding me through a crashing orgasm. It feels like the tent’s roof has split open, my eyes full of night sky and pinprick stars. Dimly, I’m aware of him muttering, “Fuck,” before he surges inside of me, head thrown back.
In the moments after, we collapse onto the bed, both of us breathing hard. There’s a split-second where I wonder if this will be awkward now. But we look at each other and start laughing, both amazed at how hot that was.
“I’m ready to admit it,” Charlie says, kissing the back of my hand. “The Ren Faireismy thing. Ten out of ten.”
I laugh, and it’s cut off by his lips brushing mine, already promising that we’re not nearly done here.
15
GRACE
Wakingup in a billowing tent is disorienting, like I’m still dreaming—and a long way from my usual room. I can hear birdsong outside, and people talking nearby. Peeking one eye open, I briefly wonder if I dreamed last night, but there’s a pleasant soreness in my body that suggests otherwise.
My sexy adventures come rushing back in flashes, every delicious kiss and claims. I roll over, smiling. But Charlie’s not in the bed and, sitting up, I realize he’s not in the tent at all.
Does this mean he regrets last night? In the cold light of day, did he realize we crossed the line? Have I been ditched, miles from the city? Will I have to hitch a ride on the back of an ale wagon to ride home?
