For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love (59 page)

“Yes,” he said softly. “And I’d belong to you in the same way.”

“Would you…stay here with me?” Her prison would be no prison at all if she had a companion such as the man.

“No more tower,” he said. “You’ll be free to experience everything you never could while you were locked up in here.”

Free… she could touch grass. Feel the sun on her skin. Have friends, real friends. What else could she do? Swim in the ocean.

The man grinned at her, as if he could read her mind. “My girl, you have no idea what you’re even missing up here in the tower. There’s so much for you to learn.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Rapunzel realized. “I’ll have to learn that first.”

“Sir Jonathan of Huntington. But you may call me Jonathan.” He paused. “I should have introduced myself earlier. I wasn’t expecting my virgin captive to fight being rescued. My manners escaped me.”

“The virgin captive,” she repeated. The same words from the king’s edict. “So…I understand now that I’m the witch’s captive and not her daughter.”

The words didn’t hurt to say the way she’d expected them to. It did hurt to know that so many men had tried to rescue her, and all the while she’d been lied to and told men only wanted to harm her. Rapunzel had been so convinced she’d almost killed Jonathan before he even got to her window.

“But what is a virgin?” she asked.

Jonathan took a slow breath. “Untouched.”

“You’ve touched me all over,” she said. “You sat on top of me. My wrists still ache. I’m no longer a virgin, sir.”

He laughed and she knew she’d said something naive again. “I’d have to touch you somewhere else to accomplish that feat, Rapunzel.”

“Where?”

Jonathan took a moment, as if thinking, before getting up off the bed. In the small tower room, it only took him two strides to reach her.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she blurted out. Why had she said that?

“I don’t want you to fear me,” he murmured. “I simply don’t know how to answer your questions.”

“Do you not know the answers?” She smiled. “I thought you knew nearly everything.”

He rubbed his angular jaw. “If it’s warm outside your tower, do you still cover yourself?”

“Yes…” Her dress felt too tight now, in fact, too constricting. Would it be terribly improper to change into a night gown with him there to see?

Would he look at her the same way he had when she’d imitated his spread-thigh position? Because for some reason, the expression on his face had made her feel…powerful. Desirable.

“You cover yourself because you know,” he said, “despite having never been told…that certain parts are meant to only be uncovered for your husband.”

Jonathan leaned his head down and pressed his warm lips against hers.

My goodness.

She’d never known before how sensitive her mouth was, how much she would enjoy touching it to his. The stubble of his beard rasped against her own smooth skin, and she stood on her tiptoes for more.

“Are you going to be my husband?” she whispered.

“If you’ll give me the honor.”

The idea was sounding better and better to her. If the witch had lied to her about everything, couldn’t she have lied about the dangers of men, as well?

“I don’t know,” Rapunzel demurred. “What certain parts do you intend to uncover?”

His gaze dropped to the neckline of her dress, and he ran his calloused finger along the exposed skin. “Your breasts.”

Her skin tingled where he touched her, and she rolled her head back and let him untie her dress. His sturdy hands seemed too big for her tiny pearl buttons, but she didn’t want to help him. Jonathan seemed to be enjoying the process of uncovering her for himself, and she didn’t want to deny him that.

Her dress fell away, exposing her bare breasts to the man. Heat rushed to her cheeks, warming her even as her nipples tightened as they did when it got cold.

“You’re right, sir,” she said. “Uncovering myself for you does feel…” The word she required didn’t exist in her vocabulary.

“Intimate?” he suggested.

Rapunzel smiled, no longer embarrassed that she didn’t know—because she knew Jonathan was eager to teach her. “What’s ‘intimate’?”

“This,” he breathed, pulling her into him.

His warm, hard hand grasped her bare back, underneath her hair, and guided her to press against his chest. The material of his clothing—leather, wool, and metal buckles—tantalized her senses, stimulating the sensitive flesh of her breasts and small, pink nipples.

But she wanted more. To feel him. His chest. What did a man look like, underneath his clothing?

“It’s your turn now,” she said. “I want to see you as well.”

Jonathan grinned. “You must promise to marry me, first, if I’m to uncover myself for you.”

“We’ll see…”

If he wanted her willing hand in marriage, then she’d need to gather enough experience to understand what marriage to him would entail. It was already quite apparent that belonging to Jonathan would be different from belonging to the witch.

Very different. And that was good.

He unbuckled his heavy belt. It clattered to the floor as he lifted his shirt over his broad shoulders and let it fall silently next to it.

Rapunzel had never seen anything like a naked man’s torso before. The thick, striated muscles that formed his chest didn’t look like her own breasts. They looked hard. Strong. A sprinkling of dark curls decorated his chest and down his stomach, which was lean and muscled as well.

She couldn’t resist touching him. What would those muscles feel like beneath her hand?

“Rapunzel…” he whispered, as she trailed her fingers over his skin. “You are even more exquisite than I imagined you could be.”

He kissed her on her mouth, and tasted her, his tongue slipping past her lips to mingle with her own. It was…
intimate
. Very intimate. It almost felt taboo, forbidden. Did other men touch women with their tongues like Jonathan did?

“Am I still a virgin captive?” she asked softly.

“Yes, beautiful.”

His skin was so warm against hers. Flesh on flesh. How had she lived this long without feeling this comfort, this human connection? Even though her very nakedness made her more vulnerable than she’d ever been, she felt truly safe, truly protected. Not in the way the witch wanted to protect her—by shielding her from this moment—but in a way only this strong man, towering over her and yet cherishing her at the same time, could do.

In the same way that Jonathan had covered her head with his arm the instant their bodies met on their fall to the stone floor, Rapunzel knew now that this man would use his immense, powerful body to protect her and make her feel safe and loved, not to abuse her.

He tugged on the fabric at her hips, and she shimmied until the material fell around her ankles. Now all of her body was exposed to him, as if she had just emerged from a bath. Even after a bath she was dressed again within seconds, so being naked so purposefully, so boldly, was new and exciting.

She nodded toward his pants, silently urging him to take his turn at nakedness. “It’s fascinating,” she admitted. “You’re so different from me.”

“Yes,” he said, “even more so than you can imagine.”

He pulled his pants off, revealing thick muscled thighs and another thick appendage as well.

Rapunzel took his length in her hand, and he inhaled sharply. “Is this unusual for you to have, or am I the one who’s missing something?”

“Easy there,” he said, placing his hand over hers. “This is a man’s most sensitive, private area.”

She relaxed her grip and laughed. “I didn’t think there was a part of you I could so easily affect. You barely moved an inch even when I struggled against you with all my force before.”

“This is different.” Jonathan stepped toward her, his member hard against her hip as their bodies pressed against one another.

He brought his fingers down to the junction of her thighs, and gently touched her there. “You’re sensitive here as well, just as I am.”

Oh my
. His light, feathered caresses along her most tender area felt amazing. She’d discovered that area for herself, quite by accident, a couple of years ago. But she’d never allowed herself to fully explore her own body the way Jonathan did now with impunity.

“We’re made to fit together perfectly,” he said. “Man and woman.”

A vision of what he’d described flashed through her mind. “Do people really…do that?” she whispered.

Fitting body parts together seemed so incredible, so intimate. Goodness, that word would be important for her to incorporate into her vocabulary, now that she knew this man.

“It’s part of being man and wife,” he said. “One of the best parts. It’s a way I can make you feel good, Rapunzel, better than you’ve felt before.” He put some pressure on a special spot between her legs that made her gasp. “With time, we could even have a child together.”

Like her mother—her real mother. Pregnant with baby Rapunzel.

“I have a father,” she realized suddenly. “I must! Who is he—do you know?”

Immediately, Jonathan stopped caressing her. “Of course.” He took the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, hiding her nakedness, before embracing her lovingly.

“Your father is the King, princess,” he said in her ear. Jonathan paused and pulled back to look at her.

Princess
. Like in her storybooks.

“Once I bring the witch to her final justice,” he said solemnly, “and get you safely back to the Kingdom…wealthy princes from other lands will want your hand in marriage. With their power, they could easily circumvent the edict, if you wish for them to do so.”

Did he not want her? “I belong to you, sir.”

“You’re a princess, and I’m a knight. A prince would have more to offer you than I do.”

“Do you have a home with doors?” she asked pointedly. “Because that is all I require.”

He laughed at that, but turned serious again. “You don’t have to do this, Rapunzel… I won’t have you as my wife unless you
want
to be mine.”

“Whomsoever does kill the Witch and free the Virgin Captive in the Tower shall be granted her hand in Marriage, by Order of the King.” She stood on her tip-toes to reach his lips and kissed him. “
I want that
. So I’ll be yours, Sir Jonathan of Huntington, and you’ll be mine.”

The knight lifted her in his arms, holding her body against his own, and carried her to the bed. The blanket trailed along the stone floor behind them like her long braid had once done. But this time, Rapunzel had someone to share the blanket with, and by choice instead of coercion.

What a beautiful face her future husband had. Such intense, yet kind eyes. Yes, he was bigger and stronger than Rapunzel, but she did not fear him. Instead, she melted into his kiss as he covered her with the blanket. With his help, she knew she could move forward and leave her old life behind her.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“You don’t have to be the ‘Virgin Captive’ if you don’t want to be,” he whispered with a smile, and kissed her again. A lock of his black hair fell over his eyes, and she smoothed it back.

“Soon,” Jonathan said softly, “the whole Kingdom will be safe forever from the witch. You and I will be husband and wife. Rapunzel—you are finally redeemed.”

And outside the tower, in the light of the moon, a sing-song voice called out.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel—let down your hair for me…”

*     *     *

Want more erotic fairytales by NYT bestselling author Shoshanna Evers?

Beauty and the Beast (an erotic re-imagining)

Beast: The Untold Legend
(Beauty and the Beast/Snow White)

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Anna Zaires

Greece, Third Century BC

2293 Years Before the Krinar Invasion

H
er heart pounding,
Delia watched the naked god emerge from the sea. Water droplets glistened on his bronzed skin, and his powerful muscles flexed as he strode out of the surf, impervious to the violent waves crashing onto the shore. It was as if the storm meant nothing to him—as if the sea itself was his domain.

Was he Poseidon? Delia had never believed the gods were flesh and blood, like in the stories, but she knew the stranger couldn’t be a mortal man. The storm was raging, the wind howling outside her rocky shelter, yet the strongest waves couldn’t seem to budge him from his path. Ignoring the battering of the deadly surf, he walked out onto the dry strip of beach below her cliff and stopped, raising his hand to push back the black hair plastered wetly to his forehead.

As he did so, he tilted his head back, and Delia saw his face. Her breath caught in her throat, and whatever doubts she had about his origins disappeared.

The stranger was inhumanly beautiful. Even with the clouds darkening the morning sky, she could see the flawless symmetry of his features. His jaw was strong, his lips sensuously curved, and his cheekbones high and noble. It was as if an artist’s steady hand had molded his face, leaving no room for nature to add its imperfections.

With piercing dark eyes, straight black eyebrows, and a warrior’s broad-shouldered build, the stranger made the most handsome men in Delia’s village look like lepers.

A crack of thunder startled her, making her jump in her small, cramped cave. The man outside, however, remained calm, turning to look at the angry sea with what seemed to be interest rather than worry. Delia followed his gaze and saw something silvery shimmering far out in the water.

A ship? Several ships, perhaps? The object was certainly big enough—maybe even too big, given how visible it was from far away. Is that where the god-like man came from? That mysterious silvery something?