Page 27

First Claim

“Guess what! I gave the Shadow King a blow job,” I announced the next day to Brigid’s husband, whose name I still didn’t know.

“Muffin?”

This had become a bit of a routine with us.

Not always. But more days than not.

After brunch, I would usually walk by myself around the lake to get some exercise and cut back through the hedge woods after I passed the Mountain Fortress’s stone steps.

Brigid’s husband often seemed to be hanging out in bear form next to the rock I’d brought over from the palace’s back garden to sit on while I whittled.

And the day after I skipped my usual walk and whittle to go into town, I found him plopped down next to the rock, as if he’d been waiting for me.

And the latest gossip about my training.

He lifted an eyebrow at my opening blow job line.

But, as usual, he plucked the muffin from my hand, first things first. It was pear today, a winter fruit I’d been told by Chef Pascal grew in the rows of orchards the town kept on the other side of the Shadow King’s castle.

Though, ironically, there weren’t any lemon trees.

In any case, we’d only had apple trees and fruits that could be grown in the ground, like strawberries, in St. Ailbe.

So all the pear desserts I’d been getting lately were a real tongue treat.

The High Prince happily ate his muffin as I took a seat on the rock.

Then he settled in for another confessional.

That was what I’d decided—in an unprecedented act of self-grace—to call “our listening sessions,” as opposed to the much unkinder label of “him just sitting there, waiting for his second muffin, while I rambled on and on about everything from my complicated relationship with my mother to my sex life.”

Lately, my confessionals had mostly filled with me excitedly describing the new things I’d learned—mostly about myself under Tadhg’s and Cian’s tutelage.

But today, I found myself in a somber mood as I brought out the detailing stick to work on the huge bear I’d been whittling all December.

“I really liked it. Giving someone else pleasure instead of just receiving for once. But somehow, it only made everything worse.”

There was a splintery feeling inside my chest as I confessed, “I’ve never been in love. But I’m pretty sure that’s what this is. And I knew from the start that it would be stupid to get my heart involved. But guess what. I am stupid. Ask anybody back in St. Ailbe. And my heart is so, so involved. But they’re not free to love me back.”

I blew off some of the wood dust I’d created, then pulled out the gouging knife to work on the very last detail above the bear’s right eye.

After several minutes of silent work, my carving was done.

But instead of feeling happy, I had to ask my furry onlooker, “Am I the stupidest woman on Earth for agreeing to play the High King’s game?”

“Sadie? Sadie? Where are you?”

I rose from the rock and threw the High Prince’s bear a rueful look.

“That’s my cue. Thanks for the ear, as always. Here’s your muffin.”

I held out the muffin, and he plucked it out of my hand.

“And hey, this is also for you.”

Not sure where else to put it, I set the carving I’d just finished down on the rock.

“But this is not for eating, okay? It’s a carving I made of you. See the little streak I did with the gouging knife Tadhg got for me?”

The bear glanced at the carving, then back at me, his expression confused.

He was probably going to eat it as soon as I turned my back.

Still, I smiled and said, “You know what, do what you want with it. It’s yours. I just wanted to thank you… for everything. Your friendship over these past few weeks has really meant a lot to me. Brigid could not be luckier.”

The bear’s eyes narrowed in a way I couldn’t read—not that my other reads of him probably weren’t all in my mind.

“Sadie? Sadie? Are you out here?” Tadhg’s voice was much closer now.

So close, I could hear his sneakers displacing the leaves on the ground.

“I thought we’d go back into town for tea again, but if you’re not done, I can always come…”

His last word trailed away when he emerged through the copse of low-hanging tree limbs and found me there with the High Prince.

Now his eyes narrowed.

“I was just talking with your brother-in-law again,” I explained.

“Hey, do you have a muffin on you? He loves muffins.”

Tadhg’s narrowed gaze switched from me to the bear, back to me again, then back to the bear before he answered, “No, I do not have any muffins, Strawberry. ’Fraid I’m clean out. In fact, there won’t be any more muffins, I’m told, if the High King doesn’t put in an order soon.”

He was talking to me, but his eyes stayed on the High Prince.

Also…

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said.

“It’s just bread, milk, eggs, and whatever fruit. Why would Chef Pascal need an order to make them?”

“Because the High King can be a pain in the arse when it comes to letting someone else take control. Wants everything in his world nice and orderly. Even when it’s obvious the time for nice and orderly has come and gone, and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

Well, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say.

Especially in front of someone’s younger brother.

I glanced nervously at the High Prince.

Who just glared at Tadhg…

before lumbering off toward the lake.

Leaving behind the bear I’d carved for him.

What was that all about?

Did Tadhg and the High Prince not get along or something?

“C’mon, Strawberry.” Tadhg rolled up my whittling bag and took me by the hand.

He didn’t walk through the woods but pulled me directly onto the lawn on the palace side of them, striding so fast I nearly had to jog to keep up.

“I thought we were going into town,” I said when we passed by the golf cart still parked outside my room and came to a stop in front of my door.

“Change of plan.” Tadhg’s eyes burned over my body.

“Tell your door to open.”

“Open,” I commanded, ever dutiful.

But after we entered together, I turned to ask, “Tadhg, what’s this all about—mmh!”

Suddenly, it wasn’t just his eyes on my body—it was his lips, colliding into mine.

Devouring. Ravenous.

In a way he’d never been before.

Then he pulled back to ask, “Do ye trust me, Strawberry? Do ye trust me to claim you the only way I can before he does?”

“Of course.” The two words weren’t even a thought, just a fact.

“But he might not?—”

Tadhg’s lips were on mine again, stopping only for quick breaths and to yank his clothes over his head with wild urgency.

Catching on, I just managed to toe off the boots I’d never fully tightened before he pushed my underwear down my legs.

Then I was flying onto the bed, Tadhg using his superior strength in a way I liked.

I landed with a giggle and a thrill of anticipation.

Being manhandled. Yet another erogenous reaction detected.

But then, instead of going for my breasts or the part of me he and the Shadow King had spent hours licking and fondling, he flipped me over, hooking his hands around my hips to pull me to my knees.

And pushed up the strawberry dress that had no panties underneath.

He drew in a sharp breath, as if the sight he’d revealed had burned him.

But he wasn’t afraid to touch again.

His large hands spread my bottom cheeks, and then I felt his tongue in another hole.

One no one had ever touched.

Including me.

What…

what was he doing? And why did it feel so good?

!

Tadhg’s mouth was too busy to give explicit instructions, but somehow, my body knew what to do.

I melted into this never-before kiss, moaning at the new sensations.

Until he stopped to ask, voice rough above my raised bottom, “Can I have ye here, Sadie?” One thick finger replaced his tongue, rimming the hole he’d soaked with his mouth.

“Make you mine in this special place?”

“Y-yes,” I agreed, waves of the good shame washing over me.

This was so dirty. And I was saying yes to it.

“The Shadow King isn’t here, so this is the one time you’re allowed to touch yourself,” Tadhg said behind me.

“Rub at yerself as much as you need to in order to enjoy yerself.”

With that, his slow invasion began.

The thick head of him pushed into my back hole, stretching me, impaling me in a good way.

…

I moaned into the burn of him back there.

And Tadhg groaned back.

“Aw feck, you’re tight around me. Breathe for me, Strawberry. Welcome me in so I don’t have to push too hard. Ye’re not ready for it rough back here. Yet.”

That yet sent a shiver through me.

And I breathed into that part of my body, like he’d taught me.

Becoming as pliable as I could until he was fully seated—until I could feel the sac of flesh he’d told me to ignore the evening before.

Anything.

For him.

I’d do anything. Step over any comfort zone line he asked me to cross.

Suddenly, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I love you, Tadhg!” I blurted, twisting my head to look at him over my shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I tried to stop myself, but I love you—and the Shadow King—so much.”

Tadhg froze behind me.

And my heart seized.

I’d gotten too comfortable here.

Thought my blurting disease wouldn’t be a problem.

But of course, this was too much.

Too soo?—

“I love ye, too.” His expression was both sincere and pained.

“To the point I want to rip my heart out of my chest. Burn down my fortress. And fuck over everyone who’s come before or after me to have yer sweet everything.”

He let out a heavy exhale.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, Sadie. If I’d known how much I’d come to love ye, I never would’ve put ye in this position. Never would’ve risked him breaking yer heart. Or not treating ye like the treasure ye are.”

This was more than I’d ever expected.

Poetry to my Blurting Disease.

There was nothing I could do.

Nothing I could reply.

Except: “I love you! I love you! Please claim me. However you can.”

Tadhg hesitated.

“I’m giving you time to stretch and adjust.”

But I didn’t need it.

“Tadhg…” I whined. “Finish your claim. Please.”

Please was all it took.

His hands tightened on my hips, and with a heavy groan, he started to move.

Quietly. Fatally.

There were no instructions this time.

No praise or encouragement.

We were dirty, dirty animals, and the only sound in the room was that of our flesh slapping as he took me hard and fast from behind.

“Holy feck, Strawberry. Yer king cannot last long inside this glorious miracle you call a bottom. Come with me. Get yerself where you need to be to make the trip.”

I moaned into the bedsheets.

I could feel the orgasm building, even without clitoral stimulation.

But I remained compliant to a fault.

And I wanted to make the trip with him.

I rubbed at myself the way I’d only ever done in secret—in the shower, under hot water and denial.

I was already drenched.

It didn’t take long for the orgasm to shift from building to threatening to completely consuming me.

Like the muffin disappearing behind the High Prince’s jaws.

CLWOMP!

Someone was speaking Irish.

Was it me?

No. It was Tadhg.

Words I didn’t understand drooled out of his mouth.

But somehow, I could translate them.

He loved me. He loved me.

He never wanted to be without me.

I’d had sex before.

But not like this.

Never like this.

The orgasm came for me like a tornado, whipping me into the sky for dizzying seconds before slamming me back down onto the hard ground of present-day reality.

Just in time to hear Tadhg half-growl, half-groan as he filled my most forbidden hole with hot, pulsing loads of cum.

So much, it dribbled out of me when he pulled out with a wet sound.

“Feck, Strawberry…” Tadhg breathed, his voice filled with admiration, as if I’d done all the work.

I could only tremble in response—aftershocks from that shocking act still pulsing through me.

I felt, rather than saw, Tadhg climb out of bed as I collapsed onto my stomach.

He returned with the now-familiar bath mitt and towel combination.

But I shivered again when he cleaned me.

I was sensitive there now.

A bundle of raw, sparking nerves.

“I didn’t mean to lose control like that.” He ran a hand down my back.

“Did I hurt ye, Strawberry?”

I wasn’t sure my no-longer-virgin hole would ever recover.

But…

“Good sore,” I assured him.

“Very good sore.”

Another departure.

Longer this time. I suspected a shower.

That guess was confirmed when he came back smelling like only himself again.

Pie crust fresh out of the oven.

Without a word, he pulled me into his arms, settling in beside me to sleep.

That wasn’t unexpected.

Or new.

Since the first—and only—nightmare, either the Shadow King or Tadhg had always slept beside me after I was trained on something new.

Quietly providing a first line of defense against the mother who haunted my dreams.

But what was new was waking up to him still there.

Along with the smell of lemons.

He and the Shadow King always returned to their rooms after I was deep into sleep.

But when I opened my eyes the next morning, I didn’t find a double serving of brunch waiting.

Instead, I found Tadhg and the Shadow King—on either side of me—sitting up and watching.

Watching me.

Their expressions were rapt, as if they’d been there for hours.

Waiting for me to wake up.

What in the world?

I opened my mouth to ask the question aloud—But then I saw the sign the Shadow King held: The High King is ready to give you his YEA or NAY.