Truth is, Rapunzel spent the day bouncing on my horse. It made me wonder what it would feel like to have her bounce on my cock during the night.
Wren claims to hate her. I’d bet my last breath that’s why he kept his stubborn ass on the floor when all he’s wanted since he was a boy was to get this woman in his arms. I don’t believe for a moment he actually detests her. He’s simply nurturing a severe fit of anger—which is righteous, of course, but in my opinion misdirected.
And Quinn, well, he’s a miserable prick on a good day. To him, women are good for one thing—and it doesn’t involve getting cozy.
“You could have added more wood to the fire.”
“Or you could take off your clothes and cuddle with me.” I roll her a bit, enough to give me better access to the front of her body. I trail my hand to her stomach and find it amusing how she stiffens beneath my touch. “This is the heat I want.” I dance my fingers lower and gather her skirts. When I drag the material up her legs, she releases the sweetest and weakest whimper in protest. “No need to be shy. Wren told us you let him finger-fuck you against the tower.”
Rapunzel molds herself against me, as if to escape from my hand—in the wrong direction, I might add. All she does is give me better access. It’s obvious she’s starved for contact. Given what else Wren told us, she spent much of her life alone. If I were her, I’d be screaming for someone to touch me, too.
“I didn’t let him.”
“But you didn’t want him to stop, either.” It’s not a question. “Just like you don’t want me to stop now.”
“Idowant you to stop.”
I nuzzle her hair, marveling at its softness against my cheek. It’s strange to know that within this tiny woman is a power so great, John is destroying his own kingdom to find her.
But right now, in my arms, body pressed to mine and green eyes wide with wonder, she’s no enchanted creature. Rapunzel is a woman full of curiosity after a lonely lifetime trapped in solitude. And unlike Wren, I’m not holding a grudge against her. I may be a thief and murderer, but I have a tender spot for the fairer sex.
Speaking of sex…
I skate my palm along her delicate flesh, loving how her soft curves are a contrast to my hard angles. “I see the lie written in your eyes.” Gooseflesh chases the path of my hand when I inch higher. Her resistance weakens as I coax her legs apart and tease her inner thigh. She makes such sweets sounds when I cup her cunt. “Tell me, Rapunzel, what did it feel like to have Wren’s fingers inside you?”
She hesitates, but only for a moment. “Scandalous.” Then confesses in a breathy hush, “But also thrilling.”
“Good girl.” I reward her honesty with the slide of my finger along the seam of her pussy. The damp material between us is irritating. I ache for flesh on flesh. “Let’s remove these cumbersome undergarments, shall we?”
“No, Dax, please.” She struggles to close her legs.
Then she gasps when she sees Quinn at the foot of the bed. His disheveled, shoulder-length black hair and scar-ravaged body add to the theatrics of his scowl. A muscle tics in his clenched jaw as he watches us with abysmal eyes. He heaves in a deep breath and then, without warning, jerks away the scratchy blanket.
Rapunzel scrambles, making a valiant grab for the cover. For a large man, Quinn is quicker than a miser running from the tax collector. The cloth sails across the room, leaving Quinn a daunting figure in nothing but his breeches. He looms beside the bed with hands on his hips and nostrils flared with anticipation. The vine-like markings that adorn his bare chest seem to twist and stretch across his torso under the glow of the dying, flickering fire.
In a tangle of hair, Rapunzel tries to yank down her skirt. But Quinn is determined. He shoves his large, tattooed hands under her skirts and, despite her protests, tugs off her underwear in a single rough pull. There’s the rending of fabric when he rips them from her body. She slaps at his hands. Struggles to scurry off the bed, but I grab her and slam her back against my chest.
“Easy,” I soothe. “We won’t hurt you. Quinn won’t even touch you.” I use the wall to prop myself upright, facing her toward Quinn. With one arm wrapped around her torso, I guide her leg over mine, spreading her. “It will just be me. Do you want that, Rapunzel? Do you want my hands on you?”
She’s trembling, and her heart is beating a frantic rhythm as she stares at Quinn. And he’s watching her, his face shrouded in shadow with eyes like two dark hollows. “Yes.” Her husky confession is so soft, I barely hear it. “But I’m afraid.”
“Of me? No, Little Captive. I don’t enjoy pain with my pleasure.” Smirking, I flick my gaze at my soulless friend. “That’s Quinn’s game. For me, it’s all about the fun. Now, off this comes. We need to see you properly.”
Again, Rapunzel hesitates, and I allow her the few precious moments she needs to gather her courage. While I wait in blessed agony, the tension eases out of her. Once she’s ready, I lift first the yellow tunic over her head, then the white chemise. I toss both gowns aside—aiming them at Wren. Then I take a moment to look my fill of her because, my God, this woman is exquisite.
Rapunzel’s hair is a golden curtain around her, pooling on the linen-covered straw mattress. Her chin is high in a brave display of dignity, with a captivating mix of curiosity and trepidation in her striking green eyes.
Quinn, who isn’t a man affected by much, sucks in a hard breath as he drinks in the sight of her. And, stubbornly on his pallet, Wren sits up straighter for a better view.
Can’t blame them.
Every part of Rapunzel is flawless. All smooth, pale flesh with dusty-rose-tipped breasts that beg to be sucked. A glimpse between her legs has me wondering if the brown curls are as soft as they look. The need for the tight squeeze of her cunt around my cock is all-consuming, and when she crosses her arms over her chest, I grab them and hold them wide.
With a shake of my head, Itskher. “Absolutely not, Rapunzel. To conceal such beauty is a sin.”
I didn’t think it possible for her cheeks to flame redder. I was wrong. “Please. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Of perfection?” I honestly wonder if her years of isolation have addled her wits.
