Page 34

He first reaches down to his boots and throws them onto the grass, quickly removing his stockings.

Then, all the while keeping his eyes on me, he loosens his britches and lets them fall to the ground.

His legs are long and muscular, and I feel a stirring of desire deep within my abdomen.

He releases the belt from around his waist and reaches over his shoulders and removes his tunic and undershirt in one swift movement.

I gasp as the last of his garments falls to the ground.

He is the first man I've ever seen naked and I’m struggling to visually take him in all at once – from the breadth of his shoulders to the honed muscularity of his arms, the tight ridges of his abdomen and the dark pubic hair of his manhood.

He is a heady combination of masculine perfection, and I need to force myself to breathe.

However, just as I take a gulp of much needed air I notice the scars.

An angry looking red welt runs from the outside of his elbow to the inside of his wrist on his left forearm.

A circular indentation sits just below his left clavicle and I guess it's where he was punctured by an arrow.

An older looking scar runs from just over his hip bone to his lower abdomen, but it's the barely healed gash that runs from the middle of his abdomen and around his ribs to just underneath his heart that really grabs my attention.

I slowly exhale the breath I was holding and move towards him, my right arm outstretched, instinctively needing to touch him.

He doesn't do anything to stop me and I gently place my fingers on the hideous looking scar, wondering if it has something to do with the terrible event Barra spoke of earlier.

“What happened to you? How did you survive such a wound?” I ask in a low whisper.

He places his hand on top of my fingers.

“Don't fret over it, Elinor,” he replies, a hollowness to his voice.

“We'll speak of it some other time, but today my heart is happier than it has been for a long time, and I wish to simply enjoy the rest of the day with you and not speak of things that will sadden me.”

He pulls me close and before I can ask any other questions he places a soft kiss upon my lips.

“And now I will complete my wager,” he says as he turns and starts to run around the rock.

He does so in comical fashion, running in the silly manner of the court jesters, and I start to laugh so hard I fear I will collapse to my knees.

However, on his final lap he fails to reappear.

“Prince Ronan?” I call out. “Prince Ronan, are you all right?” Silence.

I move towards the rock. “Prince Ronan? Prince Ronan, are you there?” Again, silence.

I walk around to the back of the rock, and much to my concern there's no sign of him.

For a fleeting second I consider all the myths and stories surrounding this place and wonder if something has happened to him.

Then I hear a roar behind me and the next thing I know my feet are off the ground as the prince encircles me with those strong arms, pulls me to his chest and lifts me into the air.

“Gotchya!” he declares as I squeal with both fright and delight in equal parts.

He places me down so that my feet once again rest on the ground but he doesn't release me from the hold he has on me.

Instead, he squeezes me closer and places hungry kisses on my neck.

Their effect is instant and lightning bolts of desire shoot through me.

He continues to kiss the back of my neck and even nibbles the tender flesh with his teeth.

I sigh as ripples of pleasure start to move through me.

His left hand cups my breast and I moan with desire.

He pulls me even tighter to him and I can feel his hunger for me as his kisses get more feverish and his fingers knead my breast.

“Oh, Elinor,” he groans into my hair, “you make me feel things I never thought I’d feel again.

” Then he spins me around and devours my mouth.

Such is the ferocity of his kiss I find myself lightheaded and grab onto his shoulders for support.

However, as my fingers make contact with his naked skin, I find they itch to explore the rest of his flesh.

So I let them wander freely over his shoulders, down the muscled planes of his back, across the tight ridges of his torso and upwards towards his rock-hard chest. Each touch and movement only serves to inflame my desire even more, and by the time my right hand is resting over his heart I am aflame with need.

He instinctively seems to understand and his kisses move to my neck and his fingers to the ribbons of my dress which he quickly loosens.

He tugs on the fabric and one half of the dress falls from my shoulders, exposing my right breast. A guttural sound comes forth from his mouth from somewhere deep inside him, and he descends upon my breast with a merciless need that leaves me gasping for breath and weak at the knees.

Somehow, in the height of his desire, he senses the weakness in my legs and leans me back against the rock for support, but not for a second does he stop licking and sucking me. He places both my arms out to the side of my head and pins me against the rock as I writhe in need.

I long to touch him, to pull his naked flesh against me, but he holds me in place and continues to feast upon me. All I can do is look upon him as he takes pleasure from my body, and the sight alone causes an inferno of need within me and I ache so badly for his touch between my legs it hurts.

Then he takes both my hands in one of his and places them over my head.

He places his free hand under my skirt and dips it into my underwear and runs a long, firm finger upwards, from where I have yet again become wet for him, to the throbbing bud at the apex of my womanhood.

I cry out in desperate need and feel him smile against my breast. Then he takes its swollen tip between his teeth and flicks his tongue over it with merciless precision.

At the same time his finger rubs over the swollen bud between my legs and the effect is mindblowing.

I struggle to free my hands as I feel the need to touch him and anchor myself to his form as I fear I’m going to fly away but he refuses to release them.

“Trust me, Elinor,” he groans against my skin as he keeps applying his delicious touch to the pulse points of need on my body.

Faster and faster he goes, his tongue and finger moving in perfect symphony and I cry out to the sky, pressing my back against the rock for support and bucking my pelvis against his groin in an ancient rhythm I seem to instinctively know.

“That’s it, Elinor,” he urges, “let go.”

The feeling of his deep voice vibrating through my breast is the tipping point and just when I think I can’t take any more of the pressure building in me, something gives, and a wave of pleasure washes over me.

It’s followed by multiple waves of pleasure so intense I feel a sob of emotion escape from my lips.

The prince quickly covers them with his own. “There, there, Elinor,” he whispers into my mouth, “come back to me.”

I open my eyes to find him staring into them. He smiles. “You’re so beautiful, and the depths of your passion is spellbinding.”

I smile back. “You certainly know how to kindle the flames of my passion.”

He kisses me again, long and slow, and I feel as if my bones could melt into him.

Then I become aware of something pressing into my stomach.

I break the kiss and look down and there, in all its naked glory is his manhood, not the sausage-like appendage from before, but more resembling a baton, a rather big baton.

“Oh,” I gasp in surprise.

He smiles. “Don’t be alarmed, that’s what a man looks like when he desires a woman. It’s perfectly natural.”

“But it looks painful,” I observe.

He laughs. “Hmmm...well I don’t know if I’d go as far as using the word painful, but it's certainly uncomfortable.”

I reach out my hand to touch it, but quickly pull it back as I’m unsure if my touch will cause him further discomfort.

“It's fine,” he says, “you can touch it if you like,” and if I'm not mistaken there's a hidden plea in his voice.

I reach out again and this time place my fingertips on its tip. A groan escapes his lips and I look up into his face to make sure I'm not doing him any harm.

“I'm fine,” he reassures me, but nevertheless there is a pained expression upon his face. I curl my fingers around his manhood and, taking my other hand, I place it at the base near his balls and caress him.

I feel a jolt go through his body like a lightning bolt and a deep moan escapes from his mouth as he places both his hands on either side of me against the rock.

“Does my touch bring you pleasure?” I ask.

He nods. “Yes.” His voice is husky with desire and need.

“Then show me how I can pleasure you more. How can I bring you release?”

He places his hand over mine, applies a light pressure and then proceeds to move it up and down, along the length of him. After a few strokes I sense a rhythm and move to it. His hand falls away.

“That’s it, you’ve got it,” he pants into my ear as he places his hands back on the rock.

I continue making firm strokes and am astounded at the response in him.

He grips the rock and groans and soon he is thrusting into my hand.

I slow for a second, not sure what is happening and if he is trying to escape my touch.

“Don’t stop!” he commands. “By all the gods in all the heavens, Elinor, please don’t stop.”

I resume my stroking of his manhood and his thrusts pick up in pace. I squeeze a little tighter, trying to hold onto him and he cries out.

“Faster,” he rasps against the bare flesh of my shoulder and I increase the speed of my strokes.