A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 2)

“You told me that I could’ve been great. As though you grabbing me would destroy that.”

“Yes. But I can’t really explain, or I’d die. I’ve changed my opinion, though. You will be great one day.”

But he still believed I’d have to leave him to do it.

“Now,” he said, pushing past a potentially bleak moment, “how much am I shaving off? A lot, a little?”

“All,” I said.

His hand touched the outside of my thigh and stroked down softly, supportive. He kissed the middle inside of my thigh delicately, and tears crowded my eyes. I heaved a shuddering breath.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, planting another soft kiss. “Everything is going to be okay. Please believe me.”

But it wouldn’t, not without him.

“Let’s just pretend we’re in an alternate reality,” he went on, wiping the salve across my skin. “A reality where we find ourselves stranded in this strange castle for a night, with just each other. This night is the only one that exists. There was no yesterday, and there is no tomorrow. There is only this moment. I, for one, don’t want to waste it. How about you?”

“Okay.”

He ran his hand down the outside of my leg again. “Prepare to be amazed.”

Twenty-One

I laughed softly as I struggled to get myself back under control. He continued working that razor the whole time, slowly and methodically.

“So, you never said, what did you think of that latest book I sent up to you?” he asked. “The epic fantasy. Did you hate it?”

I pressed on the cloth covering my eyes to soak up the dampness of my stray tears. “I liked but didn’t love it.”

“Interesting. Tell me more.”

“Well for one, the hero. Really, guy? You’re amazing at everything? He stumbled into the king’s guard—literally, because he’d been drinking at a pub—and got a job, because of course a drunk jerk got a job offer, and then he is suddenly the best at it. He knows it all because…logic! His only weakness? A woman. That’s it. He’s a Mary Sue, guy style. A Gary Sue. He’s that guy who saunters into a room, loudly bragging about how great he is, and then mansplains your job to you.”

“Yes…I see your point, though I did enjoy putting myself in his shoes. The young, misunderstood, hotheaded new guy who could have had it all but for the woman of his dreams.”

“Oh, goddess help me. I am going to pinch you if you blame his faults on a woman. Guys always act like sacrificing anything for a woman is a noble gesture. That’s bullshit. Women are always sacrificing themselves for men and children. It’s literally expected of us. What does your big hero do once he gets the woman? He goes back to exactly what he was doing before, only now he has someone else taking care of his personal life. He detoured to trap her, then resumed his dreams and aspirations.” I huffed out a breath. “In the next book, she’ll probably die to give him a hero’s vengeance journey. She’ll be nothing more than a plot device.”

“I think I’ve struck a nerve.”

“Yes. Yes, you have. I’ve spent my life thus far rebelling from all of that, and look what it’s gotten me.”

“Kidnapped into a weird fetish castle, being wooed by a man with a razor trimming your lady beard!”

I broke down laughing. “Yes. All of that, yes.”

“I hear you.” He chuckled and washed water over me. “Let’s backtrack. Were there any books in that last batch that you did like?”

“Yes. The one with the pirates. That one was exciting.”

“Yes, I liked it too. Not many heroes to speak of. Kind of all bad men.”

“Just on the wrong side of the law. They treated the female hostages well.”

“They didn’t push them against a tree and finger-fuck them to a near-climax, true.”

“Yes, and—”

My words dried up as his lips skimmed my inner thigh, this time in raw lust. He sucked and licked until he reached my apex. Once there, he licked up my folds and then to the sides. He kissed the newly shaved area, running his lips over the top and then down to my clit, sucking a little.

Heat pooled hot in my core. He’d distracted me with talk of books, and now the need for him rushed back in scorching deliciousness.

“Shall we move on to the next thing?” he murmured against my skin.

“No, I’m good right here.”

“Let’s do the next thing.” He ran his big hand up my leg, over my hip, up my stomach, and down the side, wrapping it around my ribs. His other hand joined on the other side, helping me sit forward.

After standing me in the water against him, taking a moment to nibble my earlobe and then my lips, he helped me out of the bath. The blindfold prevented me from seeing anything, but soft towels that smelled like fresh afternoon wrapped around me, drying the water.