Before Anne Boyeln, there was another. This is her story.
Scarlett, an orphaned, seventeen-year-old girl grew up on England's monarchy, tending the stables. Scarlett's gift of beauty soon becomes a curse as she catches the eye of the most powerful...
The sun was starting to set, and I could tell Tyson was still infuriated that our chance of escape had once again faded into nonentity. We started to head back to the castle, Tyson stroking the bloomed, freedom in his grasp...so close but so far, it can drive a man crazy.
"Should I dare ask what is on your mind?" I probed, pulling him out of sight of the castle and behind the nearest tree.
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He looked at me, his lips pursed. "What I always think about, you. Holding you in my arms as if you were mine. The hills, they roll further and further out of our reach. Escape to the country, what were we thinking? That's just it. We weren't thinking. We were dreaming." His eyes shot to the sky, as he inhaled the deepest breath I've ever seen a man take. "Sometimes I like to look into the sky and pretend we're there, in our little cottage in the country. You, me and this child who I will raise as my own."
A tear welled up in my azure eyes, turning them into wild storms. "Dreams can come true, we'll make sure of it," I promised, pressing myself into the firmness of his chest. Staring into our future, I ask Tyson, "If we were there now, what would be doing?"
"Well," he said as he turned towards me, kissing my cold hands, "The child would be sleeping, and we'd be outside looking into the sky and thinking how lucky we are because we're free." He smiled, his eyes turning glassy.
I held him dear to me, "Want to know what I think we'd be doing?" I probed, leading him deeper into the garden. I sit him next to me and kiss his nose, and then his cheek, and then his ear, and finally those sweet plump lips. The kiss was still at first, and then we moved together, finding each other's rhythm.
I tore away to look into Tyson's hungry eyes before he crawled on top of me and began kissing every inch of my exposed skin.
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I felt him harden between my thighs before he tore away. "I'm so sorry Scarlett. We mustn't. This is ridiculous. We could get caught, I'm so sorry-" He quivered, straightening out his coat.
"I'm not." I sang, forcing him down on top of me. His touch was encaptivating. I didn't know my heart could race this fast, I thought I was going to die... yet I've never felt more alive. I began untying his trousers.
"Scarlett," He breathed against the small of my neck, "not like this."
"Why not? Does it bother you that I've been touched by another?" I probed.
"Of course not. Does it bother you that I haven't?"
"Of course not Tyson. But let's change that..."
He held my hand firmly in his grip. "Are you sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," I whispered, against his flushed cheek.
And then instinct took hold. Slowly, but surely we began moving in sync. I ran my fingers up his rigid chest, igniting electric impulses of desire within me. The way he kissed me, held me, touched me... it was all very unlike the way Henry did so; we were making love.
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I had never seen his audacious emerald eyes travel me so frequently; I had never seen them gradually close as this enthralling smile tugged ever so slightly at his cheeks as our bodies wrapped around one another.
As our short but intense affair leads to its end, I wrapped my legs around Tyson's torso and held him as close as I possibly could. Rolling on our backs, we looked at each other in admiration.
"That was... incredible. Beyond incredible." Tyson managed between breaths.
"It was," I admitted, rolling onto his chest.
"Did I hurt you?" He asked, running his shaky hands through my tangled hair.
"No, quite the opposite actually." I beamed, kissing the bridge of his nose.
"Does it ever stop?" Tyson probed, holding my face in his hands. "The wanting you?"
I leant against the warmth of his palm. "I'm afraid not." I beamed.
"Well then," Tyson said as he stood tall, reaching his hand out for me to hold, "here's to forever."