Ravishing Rapunzel (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales, #6)(32)

Her body livened with every touch, and she moaned her pleasure to let him know. He spread her legs, lightly gliding the hair along the insides of her thighs, a savory kiss that left her wanting more, her insides moistening in anticipation on him.

He traced the length of her body, again, the teasing wait driving her mad with anticipation. He kissed her lips lightly and said, “See, your hair didn’t get in the way.”

She nodded. “No, it didn’t,” she agreed, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him to her for another kiss, this one long and enduring. She felt his hand slide down her torso, fingers gliding over her hip, through the tangle of pubic hair, and spreading her lower lips. He poked a finger inside her moist walls, and she gasped. The anticipation of his thick rod slipping into her, clenched in her gut, and she whispered, “I need you, Bradyn.”

“Oh,” he breathed, “not quite yet.”

He nestled his head between her spread legs, his hands gripping her thighs for support as he went headlong into a ravenous attack on her insides, licking, tasting, teasing. She squirmed as he greedily ate her out, the pleasure such at that her eyes rolled back in her head and her body yielded, her legs becoming jelly, her lady parts aflame at his touch, her mind devoid of all thoughts except the sheer tortuous pleasure that she was experiencing.

Her breaths came in spurts as her body trembled, wave after wave of unadulterated bliss pouring over her.

As he lifted his head from her, he smiled. Despite her labored breathing, she smiled, too, and said. “Now, my dear.”

But it was her turn to shake her head. She grabbed a swath of hair and quickly wrapped it around his wrist. He raised an eyebrow. “Not quite yet, my love,” she said.

He looked at his single bound wrist. With faux concern, he asked, “What is it you intend to do to me?”

“On your back to find out,” she said.

With a wink, he flopped down beside her, his single wrist still bound. “I’m worried that you intend to steal my virtue, milady,” Bradyn said, continuing his teasing.

“Never steal,” she teased as she kissed his chest, sticking out her tongue and encircling his nipple. He let out a low moan. “Stealing is very wrong.”

“And this, milady — is what you’re doing to me now wrong?”

She kissed down his stomach, and as she reached his rod, she swathed it in a section of her hair, and said. “Does this feel wrong?”

Bradyn shook his head.

With that, she caressed his stick gently with her hair, and he closed his eyes as if in deep concentration on the sensation. She liked the look of him, stiff and warm under her touch.

She slipped the hair from him, and took him in her mouth, the rippling thick staff hot in her mouth as she sucked him. A deep, earthy sound escaped his throat as she pleased him.

When he seemed hot and hard and ready, she released him from her mouth and mounted him. They both let out a shudder of pleasure as her juices enveloped his hard staff, and she began to rock. His steel inside her made her entire body quiver, and as they gained a steady rhythm, they were as if one. She took the hair looped round his wrist and looped it around hers, as well, joining them together with hair as their bodies were. With his free hand, he caressed her body, adding to the elation of his fierce thrusts.

Her walls clamored for more of him, and he licked her nipples that flung in his face as their bodies bobbed in unison, the sensation driving her wild and she cried out, “Oh, Bradyn!” Oh, he was so magnificent and pleasing. With a few more thrusts, she melted into ecstasy, as did he, and collapsed atop him, her breath as heavy as if she’d run a mile.

She smiled as she listened to his heart beating beneath her ear. “You have exhausted me,” she said

“No, I think it’s the other way around.”

She laughed, and then rolled off to lay beside him, their hair-twined wrists between them. She could see the brightening sun through the window. “Oh, Bradyn, I don’t know how we’re going to get my hair done before mother comes home.”

“Worry not,” he whispered to her. “I told you I’d help. We’ll get it done together, you and I, the way we will get all things done in our new life once you leave here.”



*

Bradyn had been true to his word. He’d helped comb and detangle her hair, working amazingly quickly and painlessly. With his help combing and brushing, Rapunzel was able to deftly braid it herself. Her arms and hands ached and it would never win a prize for best braid, but at least it was done. He’d tied the bow around the end of her braid, then she’d kissed him goodbye and sent him on his way. As soon as he was down the braid, she began tidying up, endeavoring to remove any trace that her lover had been there before Mother Gothel returned home.

Her lover. They’d been together for nearly two months now, enjoying each other’s company in every way, yet she’d been reluctant to think of him as her lover. She’d been reluctant to think of him too much when he was gone, worrying her mother would see her change and catch on. But now, as she stood on the precipice of leaving, she couldn’t help but think of him, think of the life they would lead together. Of the time they would have exploring. She would be his wife, his princess. She’d only read about them in story books. The idea of actually being one seemed odd to her.

But maybe it wouldn’t be odd. Not with Bradyn. He didn’t carry himself like the princes of storybooks — rude and pompous. He was kind. Always kind to her.