Page 29 of The Ballad of a Bard

W est’s face held nothing in it that signalled that she could change his mind. The panels of his throat were hard, golden skin plastered in a determined place.

“Fine,” Crimson muttered, the cold seeping into her somewhat immortal bones. The towel wasn’t doing much to cover the barely there corset and under things that Muse had practically shoved her into. “If you’re so determined to leave, then do it already.”

The cold water had soothed her for a minute, allowing her back into her own mindset but it hadn’t lasted long at all. The power of Heartache was still swimming laps under her sensitive skin and it was bubbling into another lapse of lust.

“Crimson-”

She hated how much she liked her name on his tongue, the quiet pleading behind it and it was only kindling to her fire. What would it taste like if he uttered it into her own mouth?

“West.” She said firmly, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. There was only so much that she’d lower herself to, and she’d already begged him to take her. Anything now, and it would be almost degrading.

“I-” His swallow was audible as he took a single step closer, arm outstretched as if he wanted to touch her, console her, comfort her.

But those were all things a friend did and at that moment, she wasn’t thinking about him as a friend. It would be wrong to call him that as she thought those sinful things. The blood still raged about her system, enough that Crimson was an inferno of desire and dangerous thoughts, ones that weren’t going to stop. No matter how much cold water West forced her to stand under.

She needed to ride something.

Him, or her own hand.

“I’m not trying to hurt you.” West said quietly. “I’m just being honest with you, because you deserve nothing but the truth.”

She needed him to leave before he stood there and watched her do something beyond his comfortable boundaries that he kept nailing into place.

“Go, West.” She barked, perhaps a little brutally but there wasn’t much time left before her hand snaked down and brought about her own pleasure. If he wasn’t going to do it, then she sure as hell was.

He flinched, eyebrows faltering as they raised up. As if he realised that she wasn’t messing around and actually wanted him to leave. Crimson almost wanted to laugh at the sincere surprise she found there, since he was the one who told her that he’d be staying in another bed, another room, another level for Saints sake.

“Fine,” His voice was hoarse as his throat bobbed. “I’ll see you… whenever we find more clues to Heartache’s whereabouts.”

The captain fell back, still looking rather astounded but left her there before she could say another mean word. She didn’t mean it but she was going to burst. The blood of her father swirled through her system, igniting every cell, every vein, every bone it licked and she couldn’t take it anymore.

As soon as his umber head of hair disappeared behind the wall, the handle curved and she heard the door shut, Crimson tossed off the damp towel. It slumped to the floor and she crawled onto the bed, tugging at the laces of the corset that was soaked to the bone. It was a struggle to pull the cord out of the assigned holes, one by one but she managed after tearing at the knot that held it all together.

Once she peeled that part away, she was left bare from the waist up. It was easy from that point to shrug out of the underthings, to kick them aside.

Before, when she and her brother shared a bed, she didn’t dare to touch herself. It’d felt wrong, oily, to even think about. But pleasure was a natural part of life and even if she’d never taken a lover before, she’d thought about it plenty of times. Instead, she’d waited until the bathing chamber at the Pits was free and allowed herself fifteen minutes of muffled pleasure.

Her legs hesitantly spread apart as her hand drifted southward. The scent of West surrounded her, on his sheets, on his pillows, on her, truthfully. She wondered how he’d react if he smelled her arousal on his sheets when he came back. Her eyes closed and she pictured his face right before things had come undone.

He’d pressed her against the shower wall and it was that lustful look in his eyes as she squirmed against him that she imagined, just as her finger traced her sex. She gulped, unsure if West was truly gone, or if he’d barge back in and stop dead in his tracks if he saw what she was doing.

In his bed.

To the thought of him .

It only fueled her passion, her legs falling even further apart as she ran up and down her lips, waiting for the perfect moment to dip her tip in and pretend that it was something else.

His hands.

His tongue.

Him.

Crimson’s breathing became laboured as she thought back to how close they’d been shoved together. As his hands held her to the wall, pinned her against the shower stones. As his mouth hovered so close to hers that she could almost taste it.

She became slick at the thought.

Her finger tested the waters first, pretending that West was here with her as his moonlight and stardust scent filled in, sliding into her with ease. It wouldn’t be hard, not with how often she wanted him.

“Do you know how absurdly tempting you were tonight?”

The soft growl that toyed with his words played on repeat in her head, allowing her to picture him with her now.

Crimson bit down on her lip to muffle her moan as her palm met the apex of her thighs. Not to be quiet, because there was no one around to hear her, but out of sheer habit. She slowly inched in, then back out, then in again. Her hands weren’t relatively small but she’d consider them small in comparison to his.

Saints, she wondered what his finger inside of her would feel like. If it would fill her up completely, if she’d be able to take him fully.

“In that gown, of all things? With my motif in your hair?”

How he’d looked at her, whisked her away when Altivar stole her onto the dance floor and refused to let her go. How heroic and magnificent he’d been.

Crimson pushed in even further, groaning as her skin tightened, ripples of pleasure breaking out along her spine. They were sparks of light, they were combusting stars.

The way his eyes had smouldered to the point of new nebulas coming into creation, his skin shimmering so bright and beautifully in that golden tunic. He was unbearably attractive and it was what she used now.

In and out, faster and faster she angled her hand between her legs, riding it as hard as she could. Her thighs were slick with her own desire, her breasts pebbled and aching from the need that she was creating. They were heavy, nipples hard and she longed for West’s mouth to cup one, sucking and licking until she burst.

“To hear you say such, delicious things, it ruins me completely. I’ve lasted decades without so much as a touch from a female, and yet there you are and it drives me wild to hear you say things like that.”

Crimson licked the tip of her pointer finger on her free hand, then brought it to her breast and began circling, her mind transforming it into his tongue as it left wet trails around the bud. She teased herself, pinching occasionally to add that necessary point of pain that had her back arching.

Would he be gentle with her?

Would he flip her over and ride her hard?

She had no preference since she’d never taken a lover before but as long as it was with him, she’d be down to try anything.

Her legs were quivering as she pumped in and out, her palm coated in her lust. She was wet enough to add a second finger, stretching herself out until she felt full. And with that, Crimson knew that she wasn’t far off.

She turned to her side, propping herself up on her arm and shifting her body to curve more, allowing herself to hit deeper, drive home. With the new adjustment, she scraped the very back wall and divine bliss coated her skin .

West had been rock hard below the belt, something she’d managed to feel before he’d jerked away, leaving her in the cold. She pictured that. Pictured that he never left, that he stayed by her and allowed her to toy with the band of his pants. That she’d been able to pull him free and touch him as he touched her.

How they wouldn’t last long.

Crimson thought about pumping him into her palm, feeling the hidden strength there as he tore off his jacket and revealed his muscled torso. She touched herself in time with that fantasy, imagining his strong arms cupping her, massaging her, hauling her to him and kissing her until there was no air left for either of them.

She moaned, a sound that was nearly his name as a slow but sure build began. She ran with it, too. The fantasy opened up, allowing her to see it even clearer now.

West led her to the room, backed her up on the bed and caged her with his body as she pulled the corset off, watching every move that she made as he kissed her. Her lips would have been swollen and she would have loved every moment of it as he gently brought her down, cushioned by the soft sheets and the wonderful smell of him.

Crimson whimpered, her fingers moving in tandem like shears inside of her.

He would have stroked her aching sex, would have groaned at how wet she was for him and only him. After that, he wouldn’t have been able to turn her away. He would have shucked his pants off, kicked his boots with them and climbed atop her.

West was glorious without his shirt on, from the moments she’d spied on him training. Crimson could only imagine what he’d be like in his full glory, naked as the day he’d been created, if her assumptions were correct.

The very tip of her finger hit a sensitive spot and she gasped, her blood thrumming to life, even more so. It was over for her and she knew it, one more stroke and she’d fall off the cliff of ecstasy. With a swift plunge of her imagination that she lined up right with her own actions, Westley Saint was inside of her and she combusted like the stars above that he lay claim to.

Her delight rocketed along every inch of her and her power flared to life, staggering the emotions that she was experiencing to tenfold. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Her heart trilled and her orgasm pulsed in wave after wave that she gasped through, her body taut with pleasure and ecstasy as it rose rapidly.

When it subsided at last, five minutes later, Crimson was trembling.