The beast is more than she knew.

Based on a post by secret sexy writer. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Once back inside, he removed the cloak and laid her on his bed. She sighed in her sleep, and the creases in her forehead disappeared. He ran a warm cloth over her cheeks, washing the dirt away. And then he turned to her foot.

A dark bruise circled her swollen ankle. He carefully ran his hand over her leg and foot, not feeling any broken bones. Certain it was only a bad sprain, he cleaned and wrapped her ankle loosely, and then propped it up on a pillow to reduce the swelling.

Before he pulled a blanket over her, he gazed down at her sleeping form. Her lips parted as she breathed evenly once again, her head tilted to the side, exposing the delicate lines of her neck. His eyes traveled downward, following the curves of her torso as the nightdress clung to her, and rested on the dark patch visible through the material at the apex of her legs.

His loins burned with fire, and he hardened immediately. Then he threw the blanket over her and forced himself to turn away. He turned the chair to face the fire, and he eased himself down into it, brooding over the day’s events.

How could he have thought she’d run away? Did he not trust her? She had proven herself to him time and again. But he had jumped to conclusions. He’d almost lost her due to his stupid fears.

He made a swift decision: the dogs would be destroyed in the morning. He’d do it right now, but he couldn’t bear to leave her side. What if she needed him while he was gone? But they had to go. They’d already caused at least one death. They were a weapon, triggered by his temper.

He dozed off eventually, but he woke throughout the night to check on her, adjusting her ankle, watching the swelling, making sure she appeared comfortable. And each time he forced himself to return to the chair when he wanted to sit and watch her sleep.

A dull throbbing in her ankle woke Kristiana. She opened her eyes to see Prince Dalemond wrapping a cool white cloth around her entire foot. He placed her foot on a pile of pillows and reached for the blanket. When he turned back toward her, he started.

“You’re awake!”

“I am.” She stared up at him. At his five o'clock shadow; at his messy mane of hair; at his wrinkled shirt, open at the neck; at the thick muscles in his arms where the sleeves had been rolled up. She swallowed and tried to sit up, propping her elbows behind her.

His eyes dropped down to her breasts.

She realized they were jutting out in this position and lay back down. But her nipples tightened, painfully. It had been almost a year. How much longer could she go on denying her attraction to him? He obviously felt some himself. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be looking at her all the time.

“It is late. I did not mean to disturb you.” His fingers grazed over her ankle. “How do you feel?”

“Sore.” She licked her dry lips, refusing to meet his gaze. Instead, she watched his hand on her foot. The heat of his skin was evident against hers even through the bandage.

“I’m sorry I overreacted earlier.”

She flinched, her eyes leaping up to his. “I, I had only gone for an evening stroll. I did not disobey you. I never have. I never will.”

“I’m sorry about the dogs. They won’t bother you again.”

“Thank you.” It was hard to swallow. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Was it her imagination, or was he stroking her ankle? She didn’t dare tear her eyes from his; it was a nice feeling. And she didn’t want him to stop. She settled back into the pillow and tried to keep her breathing steady when his hand crept up to caress her shin.

“Did; did you have a good trip?”

He nodded, tilting his head to the side. His chocolate-brown eyes watched her. Watched when her lips parted as his hand moved behind her knee. Watched when she gasped as he slid his fingers up and down her calf. Watched when she moaned as he pushed the hem of her nightdress up her leg.

“I didn’t mean to be so late. Things took longer than expected.”

It was her turn to nod, and she licked her lips again when he massaged the top of her thigh. Then her breath hitched when his fingers brushed her inner thigh.

“Do you want me to stop, Kristiana?” His voice was a low whisper.

She shook her head, unsure of what she was feeling. She’d never been with a man before. It was exciting and scary at the same time. He seemed to know what he was doing. She told herself to relax; and for once be glad he was in control.

His hand stilled, feeling the tension in her muscles beneath the silkiness of her skin. Prince Dalemond had never seen such a timid woman before. Her soft gasp when he’d first touched her made his chest tighten with anticipation. He was sure this was a new experience for her. He intended to make it memorable.

He told himself to go slow. He knew this evening had been frightening for her. He wanted to ease her fears. Regain her trust. Nothing more.

He’d bedded many women before, but the inexperienced were the most interesting. He enjoyed their expressions, their sounds at the new sensations he brought alive in their bodies. And once they’d become accustomed to his ways, they were eager to please him again and again.

She would be no different. He was a man with needs; she was a beautiful woman. They would both benefit. When he’d tired of her, he would decide what to do at that time.

Until then;

Kristiana gasped again, and his eyes jumped up to her face. Her gaze was focused on where his thick fingers stroked the inside of her thigh. When he inched them upward, her eyes closed, and then she licked her bottom lip.

His breath caught at her reaction. The thin material of her skirt collected at his wrist as he drew closer to the source of heat he could feel against the back of his hand. And then his fingers grazed the bed of curls.

She let out a whimper. When he gently pressed his free hand to her other thigh, her legs parted.

“Do you want me to stop, now?”

For the briefest moment, she said nothing.

He prayed she would not resist him. He would not try again with her if she did.

There were always the day-trips to find a willing partner, like the one today, and others he’d taken without her knowledge, returning before she’d realized him gone. He would just rather use the opportunity under his own roof. That’s why he’d formulated the plan on his return today; aghast with himself for not thinking of it sooner. He could have her whenever he pleased without worry that she would go to the arms of another man.

His anger had been renewed, though, when he’d returned to find her missing from the castle, the gates still securely locked. He had not thought it possible for her to escape over the wall, but she was a clever woman. He had underestimated her. And that only deepened his frustration.

“No.” Her eventual response was the strangest sound, as if she was forcing herself to say it. But he gave it no heed. It was the answer he desired.

His index finger swept up through her curls. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth when he felt the gathered slickness beyond. She moaned and her hips moved slightly against his hand. He flicked the tip of his finger at her hidden bud, and she cried out, her eyes flying open to stare at the ceiling.

“What a delightful sound from such a beauty as you.”

He flicked again, receiving the same reaction. He stroked further down into the heat and more wetness. She was as needy of this as he was. The thin fabric of his trousers strained against his own arousal, and he groaned.

Several minutes passed as he slowly stroked one and then two fingers through her swollen lips. Her eyes had closed again, fluttering open whenever he moved against her bud. When he felt he’d teased her enough, he gently inserted his finger into the source of her womanhood.

Kristiana gripped the sheets beneath her. Her whimpering grew louder as he stroked in and out of the tight opening. And then her hips lifted off the bed with a gentle shudder.

Dalemond chuckled. He pressed his left hand against her right thigh, holding her down, and then inserted another finger. That earned him a strangled gasp and another arch of her hips, pushing his digits deeper. When he stroked faster, occasionally rubbing his thumb against her bud, the slickness grew thicker, producing a heady scent that he relished.

He kept his eyes on her face, but he couldn’t help noticing how her ragged breathing made her now swollen tits press against the fabric barely encasing them. He moved his left hand up and caressed one mound through her nightdress, mesmerized by the fullness of it and how it felt to finally touch her there after all these months of admiring her from a distance.

She moaned, rolling to press into his hand. His fingers continued a steady rhythm below. Above, he sought out and stroked her nipple, which hardened instantly. She felt so good, his hands aching from squeezing and flexing around and within her most intimate parts.

He was considering what her breast would feel like, taste like, without the barrier currently hiding it when her muscles tightened around the fingers of his right hand. Her breathing became shallower, and her moans turned into unintelligible mumbling.

His focus returned to what he was doing between her legs as he silently urged her on, the pain of his own restraint maddening. But he forgot about himself when she screamed his name, her back lifting off the bed completely. His fingers continued to stroke within as she climaxed, only ceasing when she relaxed again, shuddering.

“Shush; shush;” He eased his hand away, pulling the skirt down again.

She moaned, pressing her cheek into his touch when he caressed her there.

They were both silent except for her small whimpers as aftershocks rolled through her body. He couldn’t stop watching her, her cheeks flush, her chest moving in time with the slow tempo of her breathing now.

When he realized she’d fallen asleep, he covered her with the heavy quilt, blew out the candlelight, and settled into the chair by the fire for the rest of the night.

Confined and impaired.
Kristiana opened her eyes and blinked. Sunlight poured in the window; on the wrong side of the room. She sat up with a start, wincing at the dull ache in her left ankle. As she glanced around, noting the expensive tapestries, the oversized ornate furniture, she realized she must be in Prince Dalemond’s chambers. But why was she in his bed?

Her cheeks burned as she remembered. And the more she thought of last night, the hotter she felt in other places. Had she really let him touch her like that?

“Good, you’re awake.”

She screamed and clutched a hand to her throat.

“My apologies, my lady. I did not mean to frighten you.”

Prince Dalemond stepped toward her from where he stood in the doorway. She automatically pulled the quilt up, covering her bosom. When his eyes darted down and lingered, her nipples hardened and she wondered what he was thinking. The memory of his hand on her breast made her moan softly.

One of his eyebrows shot up, but he only said, “I came to see if you were hungry.”

She nodded and tried to swallow.

“I should check your ankle.” And then he proceeded to pull the quilt back, exposing her bare legs where the skirt of her nightdress had ridden up during her sleep. He glanced there briefly but moved on down to remove the cloth bandage he’d applied in the middle of the night.

She worried her lower lip while he gently prodded, his hand cool against her heated skin.

“The swelling has gone down, but I think you should stay off it today.”

“If you insist, Your Highness.”

He seemed to bristle at her formal tone, but he said nothing more. He dipped the cloth in the water basin, wrung it out, and returned to the bed to apply it to her foot. When he was finished, he covered her legs again and stood. “I will bring you your breakfast shortly.”

She shivered as he left, her heart racing. How did he affect her so with just the simplest of touches?

He returned carrying a tray laden with breads, fruits, juice, and three books. She raised her gaze from the latter to his eyes, and he simply said, “To keep you occupied.”

He helped her sit up, propping pillows around her and under her injured foot, and then he proceeded to sit on the bed facing her. As he picked up a cluster of grapes and plucked one, placing it in his mouth, she realized he intended to eat with her.

It did not bother her, it was his house, his bed. However, each time his fingers picked something from the tray or raised the food in his mouth, she thought of what they had done to her last night. Part of her wanted to ask him why he had done it. But she was too embarrassed.

Best to pretend it had never happened.

When the tray contained only crumbs and rinds of fruit, he placed the books on the bedside table and removed the tray from her lap. “I have matters to attend to, but I will return to check on you.” And then he excused himself and closed the door on his way out.

Kristiana stared at the decorative brass bars crossing the heavy wooden door. Who was this man? He seemed to change from night to day, mean and beastly one moment, kind and generous the next. Her head hurt after a while, tired of trying to understand him. She turned to pick up the top book, and soon lost herself in the story.

Prince Dalemond brought Kristiana a tray for the noon meal, sharing it with her again. He left her reading a book, but she was sleeping when he looked in on her later. At dinnertime, he roused her for the meal, helping her to the chair by the fire before they dined together.

Once they were finished, he made her comfortable in bed again before checking her ankle. Satisfied that a day of rest had begun healing it, he rewrapped it.

Her gasp of surprise pleased him when he began to repeat the rendezvous from last night. He did not ask permission this time, her moans and writhing body under his ministrations confirming her consent in his mind. He left her satisfied and drowsy, choosing the chair by the fire again for his bed.

In the morning, her ankle still seemed too tender to apply weight to it. And so, he ordered another day of rest; and another night of pleasuring her followed.

On the third day, she insisted on getting out of bed. When she asked to take a bath, he prepared it for her in her chamber; and he remained outside her closed door. He told himself he was only being cautious, in case she needed anything. But deep down, he wished he were in there, assisting her.

Both thoughts bothered him. Surely he wasn’t having feelings for this woman; this guest; this prisoner in his home? Once, he had considered letting her leave, to go home to her father. But now; now that she seemed to desire him, and he wouldn’t need to travel to find relief for his sexual tensions, he didn’t want to let her go.

A Literary escape from confinement.
Kristiana had convinced him to let her spend the day in the library. Even though her ankle felt better now, he’d brought the noon meal to her and shared it with her.

It felt good to have washed and dressed properly for once, a simple red gown with an empire waist today, but she half wished she were still in her nightdress; still in his bed.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when she thought of how his eyes would wander down to her breasts while they ate, as if he were hungry for more than just food. At night, after tending to her injury, the nightdress made it easy for him to seduce her.

Suddenly, she felt constrained in her gown and undergarments. Her breath caught, remembering how he had not asked for her consent the last two nights. How that aroused her even more than spending the day wondering if he would return and do it again after the evening meal.

“You have not turned a page in quite some time, my lady. What thoughts occupy your mind?”

She cried out, and heat rushed to her cheeks, as if he had been reading her thoughts. Part of her wanted him to. Wanted him to know she craved for him to do more than just pleasure her with his fingers;

Adorned.
Prince Dalemond felt his heart beat increase when her cheeks colored, almost matching the shade of her dress. And it was a lovely dress, despite its simplicity, especially on her petite frame. He couldn’t resist smiling, knowing he had been correct to presume she had not been reading for the past several minutes.

“You seem to enjoy startling me.” Kristiana closed her book and set it aside.

“Do not blame me for your ignorance of my presence.” If possible, her cheeks darkened even more. It occurred to him he might have insulted her.

“Maybe your presence does not garner such notice as you presume.”

He smirked at her bravado. Maybe he would keep her around for enlightening conversations such as this long after she ceased to please him in bed.

“Your Highness thinks very mightily of himself.”

He meant to snap at her retort this time, but she had stood and began to approach him when she stumbled. Instinctively, he rushed her side, catching her before she hit the floor. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and winced as he helped her regain her balance. “Too much resting, I think. My ankle is not used to serving its purpose; keeping me upright.”

For a moment, they stood silently. Then she must have realized his arms were still around her, supporting her, because her eyes shot up to meet his, and she gasped softly.

He bit back a groan, enthralled with the feeling of her in his embrace, as loose as it was. His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer, and her eyes widened. She had to tilt her head back now to see his face. Without thinking, he lowered his mouth.

She struggled at first, but as his lips moved against hers, her small hands gripped his arms. Soft mewling sounds escaped with her breathing. Her lips parted when his tongue glided over them.

He tasted the sweet berries from their recent meal when he swept into her mouth. Her inexperience showed as she tried to copy him, their tongues battling awkwardly. He moved to cup her cheeks in his large palms, holding her still while he deepened the kiss, slowly instructing her what to do. It took several attempts, but she seemed to finally catch on. When she subtly rubbed her tits against him, he growled and nipped at her lower lip, drawing a startled moan from her.

The softness of her body pressing against his hard chest. The taste and smell of her. Her petulant attitude, even. It all made him weak in the knees. This was not how it was supposed to be. She was just another woman. He was supposed to seduce her. And yet, he felt that his plan was backfiring on him.

She must have shifted her balance to her injured foot because she suddenly cried out, her grip on his arm tightening as her legs gave out.

He realized he wasn’t thinking rationally when he picked her up, one arm under her legs, and resumed kissing her, muffling her startled cry. And then he was crossing the room,