“You’ve been such a good girl.” Quinn rubs his cum over her nipples and then blows on them, making them tighten. Rolls the tormented peaks between his fingers. Pinches them hard enough to make her cry out. Introduces Rapunzel to pleasure with pain. “Now come for us.”
Her legs stiffen, then tremble. Every muscle in her body strains as she chases her release. Keep working her and drink the rush of ecstasy that floods my mouth when she finds it. I pump my cock faster. Harder. Squeeze tighter. Imagine what my cock will feel like wrapped inside her wet warmth.
That’s the push I need to find my release. I pinch my eyes closed and shoot thick ropes of cum into my hand, wishing it was her cunt. Savoring the remnants of her climax on my tongue, I pull my head from Rapunzel’s legs and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Quinn is standing over her with a wicked grin as sharp as the scar on his face. Rapunzel is sweaty and heaving, hair wild around her. A glance at Wren shows him tucking his spent cock in his breeches. He pushes himself to his feet, his upper lip curled in a snarl. He probably doesn’t know whether to hate her or himself at this moment.
With my clean hand, I retrieve the blanket from the floor and toss it at Rapunzel. The arrogant prick I am, I keep my breeches down as I cross the room to the basin and use the tepid water to wash.
“That was interesting.” I offer Rapunzel a mischievous wink. “I’ve never had my tongue inside a lady before. Women, yes, but never an actual lady.”
“She’s no fucking lady.” Wren whips back at me.
I roll my eyes as I clean my cock. “She’s still on my tongue, and I’m telling you, that’s the taste of a lady. You’re just grumpy because it wasn’t your mouth she poured into.”
“We should have left you on the road, your deflated cock flapping against your balls, with Lord Nolan chasing after you,” Wren grumbles.
Releasing a false, wounded gasp, I slap a hand over my heart. “Such cruelty.”
Wren stabs a finger at Rapunzel. “You have less than an hour to get yourself together before we take to the road.”
Rapunzel, her hair a riot of golden waves, clutches the blanket to her breast. She nods, her eyes flooded with unshed tears.
To soften Wren’s brutality, I say to her, “Little Captive, you wash, and I’ll procure you a fresh gown.”
Her watery smile is devastating. “Thank you.”
“See?” I motion to her, but I address Wren and Quinn. “Gratitude. It’s nice to have someone who finally appreciates—”
“One more word, and I’ll slit your fucking throat.”
“Fear not,” I assure Rapunzel. “Wren is more bluster than bite. He won’t kill me.”
At least, I hope he won’t. John’s order to raze Leeds and the subsequent murder of Mary Kincaid has, in a single day, changed Wren for the worse. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s been cold and measured, whereas Quinn is hot and aggressive. Now, his temper has an unpredictable edge, which is dangerous for all of us.
“I would hope not,” she whispers. “The innkeeper might charge extra to scrub the room.”
It takes me a moment to grasp Rapunzel’s jest. When I do, I let out a hearty laugh. “Wren, she’s not as meek as you thought.”
Rapunzel tilts her head, regarding me with avid curiosity. “You assumed I was meek?”
I motion to Wren. “He did.”
“Well, Wren is wrong.” She notches her chin. “There were two paths I could have taken while locked in the tower, one of madness and one of fortitude. Guess which one I chose.”
Quinn strides up to her, gathers a fistful of her hair at the nape, and tugs her head back. “A wise woman knows her place.”
Rapunzel narrows her eyes on him, and a hint of a smile curves her lips. “And where will you place me?” She waves a hand at the straw mattress beneath her. “In a bed? Or on top of your…” She motions at his cock. “A woman’s place is at a man’s side. A wise man would keep her there lest she walk behind him with a clear view of his back. It gets her to thinking of all the ways she can take advantage of her position to put a blade between his—”
“She’s going to be trouble,” Quinn cuts her off, then glares at her for a good long while before releasing her with a jerk.
Wren drags a hand through his dark, rumpled hair. “She’ll do as she’s told.”
I bounce my gaze from Wren to Quinn to Rapunzel and know, without a doubt, one thing is for certain—now that she’s free, she won’t comply with petty demands.
Once we reach Dyhurst, it will be entertaining to watch Wren try to maintain his ridiculous hatred for Rapunzel given the raw desire that burns in his eyes whenever he looks at her. Wren may have freed her from the tower, but he’s trapped them both in a mental prison he constructed the day his father died. When he rids himself of that rage and finds peace, he’ll realize that Rapunzel isn’t to blame for his pain.
Then they’ll be free—if he doesn’t kill them both first.
14
