Page 49 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)
Lord Vasil
Our first wedding ceremony was a private affair, held at an elvish temple dedicated to the Goddess Imogen and overlooking my Cysgodian Cliffs.
There were only a few witnesses: my commander, cousin, and best friend Anika; her second-in-command Erlander along with a few of our household guards and servants; my cousin Sinclair; and Galen, who would accompany us soon after on our journey to the fae realm in order to reunite with his family.
His beloved horse Fidget would be making the trip too.
In order to honor both our cultures, our second wedding ceremony was a lavish spectacle of grand proportions held in Queen Gwyneth’s Crystal Castle for all to see.
The crowd was dizzying in its number and fervor, but I had my fae consort to ground me, and I appreciated the public acknowledgement of my new title.
Mercier of the Vasil Clan, now King of the elvish realm.
Now that it was public, there was very little the queen could do to take it away.
With that business having concluded, my husband and I were now heading toward our honeymoon destination, something I’d arranged ahead of time with the queen and kept as a surprise to Cedrych.
We were making the journey in one of her royal palanquins, since this site was only accessible by air.
I’d forbade Cedrych from even peering out the curtained window until we arrived, delighting in his frustration, until at last, our attendants informed us that we were swiftly approaching.
“All right, Cedrych, now you may look,” I told him.
Ever the eager puppy, Cedrych pulled back the palanquin’s curtains to gaze upon the lands below.
The manor was stately with pale stone walls veined with ivy and tall, arched windows that caught the sunlight in shifting iridescent patterns.
The manor’s architecture was a series of graceful curves–balconies that resembled leaves unfurling to the sun, turrets that tapered into blossoms, and stairways spiraling around the structure like vines.
All of it lending the manor a whimsical air.
“Bivenbriar?” Cedrych said with a mixture of astonishment and delight.
“I thought you might want to visit your father’s lands one more time before moving to the elvish realm.”
“Mercier,” he said, gazing at me with tender affection.
“Are you pleased?” I asked, for that was my missive with regard to my new husband and royal consort.
“I’m very pleased. I can’t wait to give you the tour,” he said before planting a wet and exuberant kiss on my lips.
The staff of Bivenbriar welcomed us both with open arms. Many of them, having served when his father was alive, were delighted to see the prodigal son returned home.
There were tearful reunions all around and the recounting of many fond memories from when Cedrych was a lad.
I listened attentively, for the subject of Cedrych Avondale of the Vasil Clan was one I loved to study.
The manor itself was several stories high with an open courtyard in the middle, meant to be navigated by flight, which made exploring a bit slower for us, since we had to take the stairs.
A fountain in the shape of a gryphon was the centerpiece of the courtyard, surrounded by a pond dotted with water lilies—according to Cedrych, their petals only opened under a moonglow.
Interspersed throughout the pale gravel walkways were a riot of native flowers–poppy, bluebells, heather, and foxgloves–all being visited by industrious honey bees.
Cedrych showed me his room as a lad, the billiards room where his father taught him to play cards, the window ledge where he’d first tried to take flight but had slipped and cut his chin–a faint scar still remained, giving him a roguish look.
Once the tour had concluded and the cooks and servants were off preparing an elaborate homecoming meal, Cedrych led me through a field of wildflowers where more bees buzzed merrily, to a nearby creek in a lovely shaded glen.
Cedrych skipped stones across the water while I admired the fresh bite on Cedrych’s neck.
No longer a betrothal bite, this one spoke of my ongoing commitment to my beloved.
Cedrych regaled me with more happy recountings of his youth.
I gathered this was where he and his father retreated from palace life and the demands of the crown.
“Goddess, I love this place,” Cedrych said with a longing I wished to quell.
“I’m glad, my sweet prince, because it is yours,” I said mildly.
He turned toward me, blinked a few times, and asked me with gravity, “Mine? What do you mean, it’s mine, Mercier?”
I smiled faintly, amused by the occasions Cedrych chose to address me by my first name, especially in this moment.
“Well, my husband, I convinced your mother to return your lands and title. Consider it a wedding gift from me to you,” I said, repeating his own words back to him.
“You did what? How?” His expression turned to one of dread. “Goddess help us, what did you have to give her in exchange?”
I leaned over and kissed him, partly to settle him and also because I wanted to. He gave himself to me freely, fully, never holding back his affection.
“Well, my darling boy, I promised her an heir, when we’re both ready. One who is part fae, part elvish, and part vampyre with pretty blue eyes and a terrible temper. Half brat, half grump, all ours.”
His expression turned into one of wily delight. “You didn’t.”
“I most certainly did.”
The prince lunged and rolled with me until I was trapped underneath him, my hips anchored between his thick, sturdy thighs, my wrists pinned against the ground above my head.
I rather liked being the prince’s captive.
Smiling along with him, I said. “Well, my handsome husband, what do you have to say about that?”
“I’d say, we’d better get started, Your Majesty. After all, practice makes perfect.”
I smiled up at him, happy to obey my princeling brat’s command.
Later that evening we were treated to a sumptuous meal of our favorite dishes, his, fresh fruit tarts and sponge cake drizzled with local honey, and mine, curry kebabs. Then we retired to the suite of rooms that once belonged to the king and queen and now belonged to him.
Cedrych showed me his father’s attached study where his desk and books were kept as well as the private bath where we were able to wash the toils of our travels away.
“What now, my husband?” Cedrych asked while standing patiently at the side of the large bed. He wore a loose, silk robe that opened in the front, revealing just a tantalizing strip of his groin. With his head slightly bowed and his tone demure, he was the picture of a perfect submissive.
“Now, I will ravish you on your parents’ bed,” I told him. The bedding was freshly laundered but not for much longer. “Will that be awkward for you?”
“A little, but it sounds enticing nonetheless,” Cedrych remarked with a small smirk, daring a glance up at me.
I approached and slowly circled his still form, then laid a hand on his shoulder “Look at me now, boy. Tell me what you need.”
He swallowed and stared up at me, revealing a vulnerability that never failed to disarm me. “I need to be centered, sir. The last few days have been a whirlwind of performing at court and entertaining guests. I need something to calm and focus me, remind me who I am and where I belong.”
I was proud of him for expressing his needs so openly. We certainly had come a long way. “Would you like me to reorient you to my desires?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything else, my love?”
Cedrych reached down and pulled the hemmed edge of his robe to the side, revealing his ample cock and the veins that fed his manhood. I had an idea of where this was going but wanted to be sure.
“Tell me what you want,” I said.
“I was hoping you might bite me. Here.” He glanced up at me with a tentative longing. I took his cock in one hand, lightly stroking, and squeezed his balls with my other hand, laying claim over my most cherished possessions.
“Here?” I asked while tracing one of my favorite lines from his navel down to the end of his cock. “Are you asking me to bite your dick, Cedrych?”
He gave a snort of laughter. “More like here,” he said, placing my hand on the cleft between his thigh and his groin.
“Why there?” I asked my adventurous boy.
“I want a mark that’s just for us, somewhere no one else will see.”
I’d never bitten anyone there, though the idea aroused me greatly, another first between us, another fond memory to share. “I would be delighted, sweet prince. But first, you’ll have to do something for me.”
“What’s that?” he asked, looking only a little apprehensive.
“You’ll have to beg.”
He smiled, somewhat shyly. “Don’t I always beg, my liege?”
My mind swam with all the ways in which I might torment him, but for this, our first night alone together after all of the pomp and ceremony of our wedding, I settled on something very simple.
An opportunity for him to demonstrate all that he’d learned in our time together–self-restraint, obedience, discipline.
A performance that I would direct from start to finish.
“Undress, my husband, and lie down on the bed. I’m going to blindfold you,” I instructed him.
He complied with my demand, eager as ever.
The poor dear didn’t realize just how long I’d make him wait, how much stamina I had to both pleasure and deny him.
Using the silk sash from his robe, I gently tied it around his eyes, checking to make sure that he couldn’t see.
Without my own equipment, I’d have to improvise, so I glanced around the room, seeing all manner of implements to arouse and frustrate him.
My gaze alighted on a soft peacock feather, fitting for a man as proud as my husband.
I plucked it up and drew the soft down of the feather across my forearm. Perfect.
“Master?” Cedrych asked, for I’d been quiet for too long.