Warning to the young readers: Thanks to this chapter, this story is now rated Mature. Have a guess. Do we blame Dane or Cassie for this?
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He was far from being a virgin, and even farther away from having enjoyed his first kiss. She, too, was far from being the first woman to have made the first move to kiss him.
But for an admittedly visual creature like himself, who married his first wife for beauty alone, this was the first time he found himself uncontrollably intrigued by a woman without even knowing how she looked.
She was rude. She was a horrific dancer. And foolishly brave for doing what equated to tugging on a tiger's whiskers—multiple times. He must be mad, because he liked all of it.
And she was kissing him.
Sweet and tentative her kiss was, and he froze.
He bloody froze like a green boy of thirteen who had no bloody clue what to do with a girl he liked, spellbound by the magic she wove about him.
After long seconds without reaction from him, she withdrew, the gold chains of her masks clanging softly as they fell back in place. Her eyes rounded quizzically, filled with doubt as to whether he liked what she'd done.
Of course he did.
The distance she put between them was what finally kicked him into gear. He'd rewarded her boldness with ice, when really, what she deserved was fire. Like someone unimportant once said, he was an ass. A pathetic ass.
Tugging her back by the waist, he brushed her veil aside, noting the plump redness of her lips for a full second, and took the plunge.
For it was a plunge—into her welcoming warmth and sweetness. A warmth that turned into electrifying heat as she opened her lips and allowed his tongue to dance with hers.
No, not a dance. Something far better than a dance: a battle for dominance, as their conversations had been.
The little vixen swirled her tongue against his as her wandering fingers traced the shell of his ear, threatening to bring a king to his knees. It was a battle she started, and he was determined to win it.
Biting back on a groan, he gave a teasing bite on her lower lip, pulling it between his teeth before he kissed his way down to her jaw, her neck, circling back up to her ear.
"I want you," he admitted on a guttural whisper. She trembled against him, and he took it as his cue to continue his assault, licking up her ear, then down, and again, settling at last for gentle nibbling on her lobe, and there was no greater encouragement than her soft mewls in response.
With her hands laid flat against his chest, she pushed at him, and he allowed her to. Taking a few steps backwards, he pulled her with him until his back hit the trunk of a tree.
Under the generous shade of the tree, only the merest sliver of moon peeked through the foliage overhead. The woman in his arms was a dim, shadowy figure, yet he could still see the glimmer of her eyes, flaming with desire.
Her hands moved to the back of her ears, and with a deft twist of her fingers, she unclasped the chained veil, letting it fall to the ground with a welcome thud.
Before he could attempt to admire her features in the minimal light, she'd already wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him in for another searing kiss.
For the first time, with no obstructions between their faces, they were free to surrender to passion. He slid a hand higher from her waist, higher, and higher still, until he laid a full palm against the smoothness of her back. It was scandalously improper, what she was wearing. But he did not mind it one bit; not when it was all for him and him only.
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Bride to the Cursed: a Snow White retelling
Fantasy[COMPLETED] When a king makes an order, he expects it to be followed. When King Dane divorced his wife, he expected her to get out of his sight and stay out of his sight. Not reappear three months later in his bed, spouting nonsense about being a 'l...
