Winter's Tale (5 page)

“Pajamas.” The ones she wore tonight were red
with white polka dots.

“They hide you.” Lips pursed in mock
disapproval, he stretched his pinkie sideways to brush her erect
nipple. Sensation streaked through her at the light contact.

Wanting her wits about her, December caught
his hand and tugged it away. “You seem to have no trouble guessing
what’s underneath.”

Hans’s gold-lashed eyelids hooded his
amusement. Surrendering for the moment, he let her trap his hand.
“I’m sorry we were interrupted when we were last together. And that
you were embarrassed.”

“You know about that?”

“My consciousness was able to track yours for
a short distance. I’m marginally aware of the world outside through
the perceptions of the people who visit me.”

“You mean the girls. I saw photographs of
some of them in a book, getting their pictures taken by your
statue. There must have been at least a dozen.”

“Yes.” He didn’t seem to like the reminder.
His knee shifted forward and bumped hers. In spite of her resolve
to maintain control, she went wet in two seconds. Maybe he knew.
His temperature jumped, the change impossible to miss when they
were this close. Waves of heat beat out at her from his groin,
where a growing bulge was tightening his pants. She wanted to
ravage him, to climb on top of him and go wild.

She had no doubt this was exactly what he
intended. He laid his hand on her waist, and she didn’t push it
away.

“What do you know about me?” she asked
breathlessly.

“That you’re a student at that school. That
you’re passionate and brave and you try to be fair. I can tell
you’re intelligent. Your mind has a certain energy to it.”

“Now you’re just sucking up.” She probably
shouldn’t have mentioned sucking. The word made her imagine doing
that to him. Would his cock be extra smooth like his hands? Would
it fit even halfway inside her mouth? The bulge she couldn’t help
noticing seemed to be increasing. She suspected she’d need more
than her mouth to pleasure it. Then again, if he’d gone without
release as long as he said, he’d probably enjoy whatever she
managed.

He must have guessed what she was thinking.
His Adam’s apple jerked, and his response was hoarse. “My faerie
blood renders me incapable of lying, though not—I confess—of
stretching the truth.”

The fog in December’s brain cleared slightly.
He had faerie blood? And was incapable of lying? From what she knew
of men—or boys anyway—that was a claim worth testing. “If you’re a
. . . a faerie, how did you get turned into a statue?”

His eyebrows rose. “I take it you’re not
going to treat me as if I’m a figment of your imagination.”

“For the moment.” Feeling daring she pushed
his chest. His sternum felt as hard as iron beneath the little
shove. “Answer the question.”

“I’d rather kiss you.”

“I see you’re capable of evasion.”

His tiny smile said he didn’t mind that she’d
scored a point. “Very well. I was cursed by an angry queen. My
queen, as it happened. She said I’d broken her daughter’s heart and
deserved to be punished.”

“Had you?”

“Not intentionally. I thought the daughter
hated me. She was . . .”

He trailed off and stopped speaking. “Why do
you hesitate?” she asked.

He pulled a rueful face. “You’re listening
now, but you’re a human from the human realm. Your kind doesn’t
believe in magic. I wonder what you’ll think of this story when you
wake up.”

Had other girls doubted him? Was December
different from them or the same? “You’ll never know until you try
me.”

His eyes turned sad. Clearly stalling, he
pulled her long fair hair from behind her, combing the curls gently
down her breasts. Liking the feel of that better than she ought,
she held her tongue and waited. His answer was preceded by a soft
sigh. “The daughter was a faerie princess, the purest blood the
realm of Faerie boasts. I’m half faerie and half elf, and I was her
father’s huntsman—a mere servant. I could hardly have been lower
compared to her if I’d been a troll.”

“But she fell in love with you anyway.”

He pursed his sculpted lips. “Perhaps she
did. She convinced herself of it. Elves are earthier than faeries.
I think it was a bad boy thing, as your kind put it. She struggled
with her obsession for far longer than I had any clue of it.
Finally, when she could resist no longer, she offered herself to
me.”

“And you turned her down.”

“Believe me, her offer wasn’t flattering. She
attached to it every insult toward my mixed genes and my occupation
she could devise. Despite being her social inferior, my opinion of
myself wasn’t humble. I didn’t cavil to refuse her, nor did I give
her feelings another thought. I had no idea she was suffering. Out
of pride, she’d returned to her old-cold manner. It was only when
she flung herself into the sea from the Cliffs of Doom that I knew
she’d been unhappy. Her mother blamed me, as mothers will. She
banished me here, where our two worlds overlap, until I’m able to
inspire true love in a true woman.”

This was a lot to take in. Too easily
distracted, December licked her lips, wanting to cruise her hands
all over his bare tanned skin. The dip of his navel, a shallow
comma within his hard six-pack, fascinated her nearly as much as
his now giant erection. She could tell where the head was behind
the buckskin, and that it flared like a bell. The rim formed a
lovely circle to run her tongue around . . . or to anchor tightened
lips while she sucked him dry. With an effort, she dragged her
attention back to his lovely face.

Surprisingly, the eyes that looked back at
her were grave. “You seem adept at inspiring infatuation.”

He shrugged one shoulder, dismissing the
compliment. “Females like my appearance.”

“It’s more than that. You seem sad and
lonely. You have a romantic air.”

His mouth slanted. “Do
you
like my
romantic air?”

“What do you think?”

Enjoying that, he laughed throatily. “Now
who’s being evasive?”

She liked his laugh, liked quite a lot of
things about him, to be truthful. Despite feeling sorry for his
situation, she couldn’t help wondering if that were smart.

“How many girls have come to you?” she
asked.

“Many visited me in dreams, though none with
the clarity that you have. Every year or so, I catch a glimmer of a
new one. In a hundred years, two asked to hear my story, but
neither believed it when they woke. None treated me as if I were as
real as them, not even when they were here.”

“None?”

“None.”

His clipped tone didn’t ask for pity, but she
felt it anyway. She thought of Nina and her warning to stay away
from him. “Maybe they believed but were afraid to admit it to
themselves.”

“Maybe.” His smile was wry. “None felt as
real as you to me either.”

December brushed one fingertip across his
lips’ meeting. Mesmerized by their satiny smoothness, she didn’t
expect to draw the sheen of emotion into his eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t—” He swallowed and began again. “I
don’t know how many times I can keep trying to win free before I
give up all hope.”

She uttered a noise that betrayed her
sympathy. Hearing it, he choked out a laugh. “I shouldn’t speak
this way to you. You’re so young. It isn’t fair to expect you to
understand.”

“I might be young, but sometimes I feel the
same. Every new school I’m sent to seems to end up disappointing
me.” Her mouth twisted like his had. “Probably the schools think
it’s the other way around.”

He tapped her nose with a fingertip. “Two
misfits then.”

Her vision blurred at his affection, rare
enough in her gypsy life. He stroked the side of her face, the pad
of his thumb brushing off a hint of moisture. “Such pretty eyes.
Like bluebells sparkling with dew.”

“I like your eyes,” she said shyly.
“Everything about you is perfect.”

He wagged his dark gold eyebrows.
“Everything?”

She slid her hand down his warm hard chest,
folding it when she reached his navel so that the backs of her
fingers ruffled the line of hair that dove lower. His breath caught
as she touched him there, the expansion of his pupils darkening
wintry irises.

“Everything,” she insisted. She pushed her
fingertips beneath his waistband into heavier curls. Given his
erection’s size, touching it was impossible to avoid. His hardness
throbbed as her hand glided under it, its thickness held close to
her explorations by his trousers. Her desire to claim this personal
part of him drew her thumb and index finger into a not-quite-closed
circle around his base.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his hips squirming.

Because she could, she curved her other
digits over a testicle. His scrotum’s plumpness and weight was
unexpectedly appealing.

“This is real to you, isn’t it?” she asked,
continuing to squeeze and rub gently.

He was temporarily robbed of speech. His hips
writhed against her grasp, his hand coming between them to press
the shaft of his cock into her forearm. Watching him squeeze
himself through his trousers, knowing he couldn’t help betraying
his need, was unbelievably arousing.

“Don’t tease,” he pleaded between gasps. “I
need release too much.”

“Do you want to take me?”

His tortured eyes opened, all their ice
melted and set ablaze. “Right this moment, I want to take you more
than I want to be free again.”

“Do it then,” she said recklessly.

He stared, lips parted and face flushing
beautifully. Even his nostrils flared with excitement.

“I mean it,” she said, answering his silent
question.

His doubt was broken. He pushed her back onto
the blanket and straddled her. The hasty shift dislodged her hand
from his genitals. Seeming not to care, he gripped the neckline of
her pajama top and tore down its buttons.

Before the disks finished flying into the
grass, a growling noise rumbled in his chest. He fell on her naked
breasts, turning his head between them, caressing them with his
face like he’d never felt anything that nice. His smooth-lipped
mouth chose the tight right nipple to latch onto.

He sucked its peak so strongly the tug
thrilled all the way to her toes.

“Oh my God,” she moaned, clutching his head
to her as she arched upward. His thick hair was a shock to her
tense fingers, so incredibly warm and silky she couldn’t resist
forking through it to knead his scalp.

Hans groaned and switched to the other
breast, pulling that nipple just as hungrily. Feeling him suck with
such enthusiasm, she could believe it had been a hundred years for
him. An ache shot through her pussy, her legs and hips moving
restlessly. Taking advantage of their lift, Hans grabbed the waist
of her pajamas. In a single motion, he yanked them to her
ankles.

He rose up then, rearing over her on his
knees. He was satyr naked, his rampant phallus arching up from a
nest of surprisingly pretty curls. December gaped at the visual
like a fool. A narrow slick of wetness, shiny as rain on stone,
marked his hard-on from crest to root. She wouldn’t have believed
his perfection could be real, except stone didn’t shake like he
was, didn’t jerk and flush as if the veins that fed his cock were
pumping blood in faster than his flesh could handle.

“Where are your trousers?” she asked. As far
as she could tell, they’d magically disappeared.

“Gone,” he growled, so maybe her guess was
true. He tugged the tangle of garments off her feet. Then he
shifted his knees between hers, making her realize how widely she’d
sprawled her legs.

She didn’t have it in her to be embarrassed.
She wanted his cock inside her like she could not believe. As if he
knew, Hans’s fingertips trailed down her quivering centerline. They
paused the edge of her triangle.

“December,” he said, her name a match struck
against the air. Her arms had fallen to her sides on the blanket,
her body declaring its surrender in every way possible. She was his
to do with as he pleased—to plunder or order as suited him.
Evidently, he knew what suited him right then. Gathering up her
wrists, he pulled both hands onto his blazing cock. “Touch me,
December. Rub me, before I lose myself in you and forget.”

Energy seethed inside her, none of it unsure.
To be asked was the same as wanting to fulfill his craving. She
only wished she had more hands. His hips danced for her as she
caressed him, his hold remaining on hers to guide and encourage. He
seemed to want her touch everywhere at once: pulling up his
engorged penis, squeezing his heavy scrotum, rubbing back and forth
along the firmness that stretched behind his balls.

“God,” he breathed, spreading his muscular
thighs and thrusting his pelvis forward to give her more access.
“You have no idea how wonderful that feels.”

She thought she did. Touching him was a
pleasure headier than any she’d known before. She sat up to kiss
his chest, giving in to the temptation to leave a hickey on one
nipple.

He sucked in a noisy breath, but seemed to
enjoy the sting. “Do the other,” he demanded.

When she did, his head fell back. That his
anguish was erotic she couldn’t doubt. She had to grip his waist as
tight as she could to control his writhing.

He kissed her mouth afterwards—so deeply, so
profoundly, she decided there might be reasons to give up
oxygen.

“I need you,” he panted when he broke free.
“If I could take longer with you, I would, but I’m completely mad
to get inside your body.”

Oh, she loved hearing him say that. Nothing
could be better than reducing a man like him to insanity. Savoring
the moment, she smoothed her hands down both sides of his ribcage.
Even his sweat was silky, his broken breathing like music. She
sensed he wouldn’t take her until she gave permission.