Taming the Beast

“Come with me,” he said. Tugging me next to him, he took me to the kitchen. My stomach rumbled when I smelled chicken cooking. When we were nearly inside, he paused.

“I’m sorry, I’m used to being quite informal in my home. Would you prefer for our servants to bring us dinner in the formal dining room? They would need to set up.”

“I’m so hungry that I don’t care where I eat.” I was touched by how considerate he was. He pulled me into the kitchen.

“So, you’re the new princess, eh?” The cook didn’t seem too impressed or to really care that I was going to live here.

“Yes,” I said.

“Good. He’s been alone for too long, cooped up in this dreary castle.”

I looked at the prince. I was very startled by the informality from his servants.

“I inherited the household servants from my parents. Believe me, they’ve known me since I was knee-high.” There was that smile again. He had dimples. I felt my knees get a little weak. His hand was still pressing me to his side. I felt very, very warm, and I didn’t understand why, since it was chilly outside. Even though we were in the kitchen, I shouldn’t have been sweating.

The cook gave us cassoulet and we ate it quickly and quietly. Eating with one hand, he never let go of my waist. I wondered if my new husband intended to stay connected to me for the rest of our lives.

I was so hungry that the stew was gone in minutes. His bowl was clean, too. There was a reflection of the roaring kitchen fire in his eyes. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Let’s have our wedding night.”

My face flushed.

“Good night,” he said politely before sweeping me out of the kitchen. He swept me off my feet as he sprinted up the marble staircase. I closed my eyes and hid my face in his shoulder. I was a little acrophobic, and the sight of the marble stairs behind him, where we could fall, scared me a lot.

I would like to have blamed my pounding heart on the stairs, but I was terrified of the wedding night. I knew what happened in a marriage bed.

First Time

Marceau

When I got to the top of the stairs, I put her down on my down-filled mattress. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

“Are you a virgin?”

She didn’t seem to know what to say. Her face colored.

“I am.” She backed away from me on the bed.

I ran my hand over my face. A virgin. I was a beast, not some delicate man who could see to her needs. What should I do?

“We don’t have to have a wedding night,” I told her, even though I was as hard as the stone of my castle’s walls. I’d leave her in my bed and sleep elsewhere.

“That’s kind of you,” she said, blinking. Her shoulders relaxed a lot. I knew I’d made the right decision.

“Good night, then.” I needed to go somewhere private so that I could think of her softness and her angelic face while I touched myself.

She shocked me as she reached for me. Her hand traveled up my thigh, following the inner seam of my pants. I couldn’t breathe as her face slowly got closer to mine. She twisted her face a little bit so that our noses didn’t bump before her mouth landed on mine.

Her lips were as soft as pillows. I’d never tasted candy as sweet as her mouth. Her tongue pushed inside of my own as if she were claiming me.

I put my hands on her hips and dragged her all the way into my lap. Her hand moved to touch me more fully. I couldn’t stop my hips from thrusting into her small hand. I fumbled with my pants, making sure that everything was lined up.

“More,” I growled in her ear.

She gave it to me. Up, down, up and down in a rhythm that made all the muscles in my body tense. When I knew that I was about to shoot, I pulled her hand away.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?” The little minx was smiling a little. She knew the power that she had over me.

I pulled her so that she was on her back, her thighs on either side of me. I lifted the hem of her dress until it revealed her luscious thighs and soft stomach, and I ripped through her underwear until I could see everything.