Loving the Forbidden Prince

AYLETH

Ayleth wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but it was a relief to rest under the weight of him, to know with certainty that he was there. That he couldn't leave without her knowledge. So it wasn't until he groaned and shifted, rolling off of her—though he didn't move far—that she woke with a start.

She rolled, too, shifting on the cloak so there would be room for his large frame without rolling into the hay itself—which she knew could be extremely itchy when it reached discreet places on the body.

The light outside had grown bright, shafts of sunlight puncturing the old walls were boards had rotted away, or cracked. There were holes in the ceiling where roof tiles had been removed by nature's wildlife, or perhaps her punishing weather.

Sun punctured the shadows of the barn and raised the temperature so that laying next to each other, naked, her cloak only covering their legs, wasn't a problem.

Etan stared at her and she stared back. She felt puffy and slow with lack of sleep, yet her mind was sharp, her eyes aching. Every time he moved a jolt of adrenaline coursed through her as if he would simply leave and never return.

What was wrong with her?

She reached for his chest, her hand landing on that firm plane of his pectoral. She thumbed his nipple absently, and Etan's eyes sparked.

Neither of them spoke. Ayleth wasn't sure what was happening. The half-light of the loft, their recent separation and the uncertainty of that, his bold declaration to his father about her… her mind was a mess of conflicting emotions—the greatest joy, the sharpest pain. But all she knew was that touching him fed something within her. And being touched by him fueled that same thing.

So when he reached out to touch her as she had touched him, it was as if she'd been holding the tinder and he'd lit a match to it. The fire inside her flared to an inferno and her breath became shallow.

The pad of Etan's thumb trailed over her nipple and it went hard immediately. He raised his eyes to meet hers, the heat from his own flames rising in them.

But still they didn't speak.

She felt him growing hard against her thigh, and her already shallow breath began to puff.

Eyes on his face, watching for his reaction, she slowly, slowly slid her hand down, down, down his long body, to the dip where his thigh met his torso, then down his muscular thigh—intentionally avoiding anything more… provocative.

Etan watched her watching him, his lips began to curl upwards when she let her fingertips trail slowly, slowly back up—but this time letting them drop to trail between his legs so as she returned to his stomach, she teased the soft and hard of him there.

It twitched to meet her fingers, and Ayleth bit her lip to stifle a smile.

But still she didn't speak.

Letting her fingers trace up the rippled ladders of muscle in his lower abdomen, then turning her hand so she could flatten it at the center of his chest, she felt his heart slamming against her palm, under his skin.

His eyes, already heated, became intense when she started the downward progression again. He sucked in a long, slow breath as she trailed down his body, down his thigh, then in a single, slow curve, back up to trace one finger up the base of his arousal. It jumped as if it would leap into her hand, but she was already teasing her way up his stomach again.

When she started down his abdomen for the third time, Etan closed his eyes and groaned.

Ayleth allowed herself a smile when he couldn't see it, but she should have known he wouldn't let her tease like that without an answer.

Shifting slightly to give her better access as she traced up and down his body, Etan's large hand appeared suddenly on her inner thigh, two or three fingers tracing a slow circle on the soft skin there.

Ayleth's breath hitched when she realized it wasn't a circle, but an oval, climbing ever higher towards the apex of her thighs and the soft warmth there that was already beginning to pulse and ache for him.

She shifted too, raising a knee so he could more easily touch and stroke, trying to concentrate on teasing him, but her own touches stuttering when his fingers found her and, just as she'd done to him, he let them slide over her, pressing deliciously, but moving on to trail all the way up to her navel.

For minutes they teased each other, hands and arms finding their way around when they clashed or slowed each other's progress. Eyes opening and closing to concentrate when the teases became taunts—delicious taunts.

Then, desperate for more, Ayleth took him in her hand and began to stroke—slowly, still. Etan tensed, his eyes rolling back. But just seconds later, he reached for her and found her, his fingers dancing first through the soft curls, then pressing, stroking the places where they would join, sliding to that bundle of nerves that made her shiver.

Ayleth wasn't sure when she'd closed her eyes, but at some point while she stroked him, he leaned over her, making love to her with his fingers, curling within her to stroke and savor, her skin pebbling as pleasure built pressure within her.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps that wanted to form his name, but she was trembling now, near mindless with anticipation, still stroking him, but barely aware of it, until he shuddered and groaned, "Ayleth, I have to. I can't wait."

She opened her mouth to agree, but he was already over her, braced on one elbow, taking himself in hand and guiding himself into her in one smooth thrust that she felt to her toes.

Ayleth cried out as Etan cursed and drew back, his hands gripping her shoulders to hold her in place as he thrust again.

It was an assault on her senses, an overload of pleasure and Ayleth surrendered, her head dropped back and mouth open, cries breaking from her throat with every thrust.. She arched to meet him, panting, and Etan took her mouth, swallowing her keening, finding her hands and entwining their fingers, pinning both her hands into the cloak until she was unable to move except to writhe against him, to meet him, to seek the joining.