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I pulled back my fist to swing again, but this time he caught it in his hand and forced it behind my back. We stood nose to nose, glaring into each other’s eyes, our chests heaving.
That’s when a little whimper escaped my throat, and his eyes widened. He cursed long and loud and then he bent his head and kissed me, brushing his lips against mine very softly at first and then again and again until I came forward that extra tiny bit and pressed my lips hard against his and threw my free arm around his neck. He slid his tongue inside my mouth, and then I didn’t remember much of anything except my heart was pounding, and I could no longer feel my toes.
Admittedly, that could have been from the freezing water. But I didn’t think that was the only reason.
He held me close in his warm arms, but I’d forgotten about how cold it was, and pretty much everything else. It was just like the first time we kissed, only this time I was naked in his arms, and he seemed to be in no hurry for me to be otherwise. We kept kissing for a long time, his hands moving over my body, not trying to move things along any further. At some point in the proceedings, I could feel his hand reach down to cup my balls, which suddenly felt swollen and tender and ached.No one had ever touched me there before. It made me gasp, but before I could recover, he bent down to sweep his tongue over one of my nipples, and then it was his teeth brushing lightly across them, and good gods, was he nibbling on it too? I couldn’t draw a deep breath, as no one had ever touched me inanyof those places before, and really, breathing was highly overrated.
He started kissing me again, and I may have lost consciousness for a second or two, because the next thing I remembered was him lifting me up so that my legs were around his waist. I couldn’t seem to control my body anymore, but at the same time, I knew he wasn’t doing anything to me. This was all me. I was arching against him and grabbing his shoulders, while high-pitched, begging whimpers like I’d never heard myself make before came out of my throat.
He had pushed down his trousers and was rubbing his cock against my ass. And why had I never heard about that before? It hadn’t been in any book I’d ever read, because I’d read a lot of them, and this had never come up. I saw little flashes like stars bursting behind my eyes as I writhed against him, still making those noises that I knew would embarrass me when I remembered them later, but unable to stop.
I was fascinated by him, and this was my first feel of an Alpha cock—or anybody’s cock for that matter, except my own. I wasnotdisappointed.
I reached behind me and put my hand on his big, thick one with the luscious ring of flesh around the base of his shaft. I moaned and he ground it against me. Oh gods, it felt so good, but it still wasn’t enough. He took my shaft in his hand while he sucked and bit my neck. It wasn’t a claiming bite, but it felt wonderful anyway, and I bucked my hips against him again and again, wanting more, shamelessly begging for it.
I could smell my slick flowing again, and cum was leaking from me, thick and heavy between us, and it seemed to be making him excited too. He was flushed, despite the cold and his breathing was as affected as mine, at least.
“I’m going to make love to you, princeling,” he said, snarling the words, his face buried in my hair.
Yeah, you are, I thought, feeling happy and excited, with a yearning need almost overwhelming me.
“But not here. We can’t do this here,” he continued, crushing my dreams.
“Why not?”
I whined and groaned and frantically humped against him again, trying to show him how wrong he was and force his dick inside me. I started peppering kisses all over his face.
I felt a finger slip inside my entrance, and I arched happily to meet it. He began to finger fuck me, rhythmically moving one finger in and out, finally crooking it and finding my prostate, giving it a rubdown that made me scream out his name, amidst all the jerking and moaning and babbling. He added another finger and the stretch felt so good, but again, not enough. When he added the third, I groaned a little, and heard him give a shaky laugh.
“Please, please, Alpha,” I murmured against his throat. “I need your knot so much.”
Lexington took my shaft in his hand and moved it up and down. “Oh,” I cried, “I feel like…I don’t know what, but I think I’m coming apart.”
“You’re fine. Just excited. Stroke yourself for me. Like this,” he said, showing me by putting his hand over mine. I was afraid I’d lose it the moment I touched myself, because it was almost painful, but I did as he asked, and he watched every move I made, tightening his grip on my hand. Knowing he was helping me just tipped the hotness scale a thousand percent, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I shut my eyes, strained toward him, and I was spurting hot cum into my hand and onto my stomach and chest as he held me through it, crooning to me.
When it was over and I was a weak, shuddering mess in his arms, he leaned down and whispered softly in my ear. “That’s going to have to hold you until we get you to an inn. I think your heat is coming on faster than we anticipated. You have to bathe all over again now.”
I gazed up at him in fucking disbelief, the idea of going back in that icy stream a nightmare to me.
“Sorry, princeling, but it can’t be helped.” He began to take off his own clothes. “If it’s any consolation, I have to do it now too.”
“I have to say, it helps a little.”
He laughed for the first time since we’d been out on the ramparts, and he kissed me again. Then he swept me up in his arms and back into the ice bath we went.
Chapter Nine
Lexington
It had been a full hour since the stream, and Rory was still shaking. I’d conjured up a blanket when I got us both out of the stream and took him back to the fire as quickly as I could. We put him near it, and Brandon found some of his old clothing in the carpetbag we’d packed for him. I took off my own wet clothes and helped him put his things on because he was shivering so hard. Brandon even tore up one of his own shirts to make little pads of cloth for Rory to put between his legs. We put his clothes on, and I wrapped him in another fur cape, this one not nearly so voluminous. I had misjudged his size a bit before in the heat of the moment, though I know he thought I’d done it deliberately. I hadn’t; I just couldn’t seem to think straight around him, especially when he’d been standing there, naked as the day he was born. Not to mention the others looking at him, because how could they not? Gods, he was so sinfully beautiful.
I’d heard stories about his mother, Queen Vesper, with her hair as black as coal and her skin as white as milk and her eyes as green as emeralds. I’d seen the portraits, and most of them made her look hard and cruel, too, like a warlock was expected to look. But I wasn’t convinced Vesper had actually ever sat for any of those artists. I thought she probably looked a great deal like her son, and he was heartbreakingly gorgeous.
I’d seen one painting of her that was different, done by a talented young nobleman—the same one who had reportedly fallen in love with her when she’d been only seventeen. And that one had looked remarkably like my princeling. His jawline was more masculine, but it was the same perfect little nose and full, lush lips. The same classic bone structure and dark curls. And those luminous eyes. It was a strong face, and truly beautiful.
Vesper had a whirlwind romance with the young man, and in the throes of his infatuation, he’d made a miniature painting of her on a locket about four by six centimeters, with a gold chain. He carried it with him into battle, because she wanted him to keep it until he returned as a kind of good luck charm. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, and he had it with him when he died, so it held a great deal of power. The tiny portrait depicted her as a lovely young girl, with the same black hair and fair skin as Rory’s and those lovely eyes. But in this portrait, unlike the others, she had a sweet expression on her face, like she was gazing at the one she loved and just about to smile. She was luminous.
The miniature had eventually made its way to the Royal Portrait gallery, after Vesper and her father had left Morovia. It had been donated by the parents of the young man, and this was where the story got really interesting. They’d had it made into a watch fob after his death, but then had gotten rid of it becausethey were afraid of it.They said that they’d kept it in a small wooden box in the room that used to be his, along with some of his other belongings they couldn’t bear to part with, and sometimes, late at night when they passed his room, they could hear the miniature singing softly to itself.
