Loving the Forbidden Prince

ETAN

His tether was beginning to slip. He'd schooled himself all day—first at the ravine, then when he learned they would marry, then for that cursed ride to the cottage. He'd been so certain he had it under control, that he could wait.

He'd brought her to the chair first with the intention to keep things slow, to let them build up to the act. But when he felt her sink prickle under his touch, and her breathing begin to tear in her throat, the beast within that was his desire began to roar, and he struggled not to throw her to the floor and take her there and then. 

Trembling with want, instead of throwing her down, he picked her up. Standing from the chair  he took her weight, then urged her gently, with whispered words and soft touches, to wrap her legs around his waist. With both of them still in leathers, there was only friction to torment him there. But when she pulled herself close, kissing his neck, and her breasts pressed into his chest, he shuddered and for a moment he couldn't breathe.

Then, gripping her ass to keep her balanced, still keeping the kiss, he walked her to the bed. He hadn't intended to move there so soon, but she seemed as desperate for him as he was for her. They needed fewer clothes, more room, and… dear lord, give him strength. 

He didn't slow as he reached the bed, holding her to him and whispering for her to hold on as he crawled onto the large mattress. Ayleth hung from his hips and shoulders, smiling when he pulled a pillow under her head, then dropped to kiss her throat, pressing her into the soft quilt, then letting his weight settle over her.

She arched, pressing into him, her hands exploring his shoulders and back, and they began to rock, only slowly. But Etan groaned with the pure torture of what it promised when they were finally skin to skin.

"Ayleth," he gasped a minute later when she'd whimpered for the third time. "I need you."

"Please, Etan. I don't want to wait."

His tether pulled tight, fit to snap. With a grunt of frustration, he pulled back and away from her, the distance necessary to get them unclothed, but a sick kind of torture at the same time.

He kissed his way down her middle, his tongue flat to her skin between her breasts, his lips teasing her belly, all the way down to the waistband of her leathers, then he made short work of the buckle and buttons there. When they were undone, he slid his hands under her, gripping the waistband at the back and pulling slowly but surely down, following it with his lips when the leathers pulled loose and down, down her hip, down her thigh, down to her knee where he gave up and sat back to pull them off and toss them to the floor. 

Cursing the seams that kept him contained, he started on his own leathers, but Ayleth sat up and put her hands on his. He knelt between her knees, but she sat before him smiling. "Let me do that for you," she said shyly. "That felt good." Her smile was light to his soul.

With a long sigh of pleasure, he let go of his leathers, instead raising his hands to cup her breasts, holding the weight of them while she worked at his trousers. And then, when he finally got him loose, he crawled quickly back off the bed to drop them to the floor. 

She didn't move and they stared at each other for a moment. He grinned and crawled back up, prowling to her—stunned by her welcoming smile as she let herself lay back down while he crawled over her, but didn't yet sink down onto her.

He stared. Her cheeks pinked and she brought her arms up to hide herself, but he tsked and shook his head.

"You are beautiful, Ayleth. So beautiful. You have no idea."

She blinked at him and removed her arms, her hands coming up instead to trace his shoulders while he stared at her, his breath ratcheting ever higher.

He took a moment there, braced over her, both of them naked but not yet skin to skin, to thank the Father for bringing them together—and to sear the memory of her, innocent, but eager, and waiting. For him. Only for him.

Then he dropped his head to kiss her and his body surged wanting the fulfillment that only their final joining could give. He shuddered, groaning again, and she gripped him.

"I'm here," she whispered against his jaw, as if to comfort him. "I'm here. Finally."

Sinking between her knees, he let his weight cover her and they both gasped as their entire bodies came skin to skin for the first time.

It was overwhelming. His entire skin came alive.

Etan groaned, low and long as she arched up to meet him and his hips rolled instinctively so they slid against each other. 

He cursed. She was already ready for him. He needed to slow this down or they would be finished far too quickly. 

But then she arched in truth, pressing herself against him when he rolled again, and her mouth open as she sucked in a breath. 

So he did it again.

And again.

And again.

He trembled, and Ayleth shivered, her hands determined, but shaking as they explored his torso. His name crossing her lips in whispers and cries. He hadn't even entered her and she was already building towards her release. He prayed he could hold himself together until she reached it.

"Etan!" she cried when he pushed up to brace on his arms and shift the angle of the slide, that perfect slide, showing her what this could be, the rhythm of it. Then she looked down between them. Etan almost lost control when her eyes opened wide and she bit her lip. 

"I… oh, goddess…"

"Let go, My Love," he whispered. "Let go."