She didn't flinch at the feel of the cold metal kissing her skin, didn't even swallow. Those eyes held mine unerringly. In them, I saw not fear but a strange serenity, as though she had made peace with whatever decision I might make. The steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin fabric of her shift was the only indication she was flesh and blood rather than some enchanted statue.
"You could end this now. One quick motion, and Arthur need never know how closean enemycame to his inner circle." Her words were pragmatic, but something in her tone suggested she didn't believe I would do it—that she knew me better than I knew myself.
The dagger grew heavier with each passing heartbeat. My duty was clear—I had sworn oaths to Arthur, pledged my life to his service and protection. Yet something deeper than duty kept my hand from moving.
I raised the blade to her throat, feeling the rapid pulse beneath her skin. Her eyes never left mine, steady and seemingly unafraid, but her chest was now rising and falling faster than before, betraying her fear. I pressed the tip of the blade slightly harder against her, and her breath hitched as she closed her eyes and patiently waited for me to end her.
"You will call me Lance."
The dagger clattered to the floor.
And in the next instant, my hands found her face, and then I was claiming her lips with my own. Hers were soft and yielding and achingly real. It took her a second to understand that the threat of death was no longer on her; then she wound her arms around my neck as if she too had been drowning in this tension between us.
The kiss deepened, becoming something desperate and consuming as I plunged my tongue into her mouth, and she eagerly met it with her own. She tasted of something sweet and forbidden, and when she gasped softly against my mouth, I knew I was lost.
My hands trembled as they traced the line of her jaw, her neck. And yes, I was very aware that Arthur would have given anything to switch places with me. Were he ever to find out what was now happening, he would never forgive me. Worse, perhaps he would even order my execution.
But I couldn't think of him—not now. I couldn't make the sacrifice I knew I should have. No,I had to have her. I had toknowher. I had to feel my cock penetrating her tight wetness, and nothing was going to stand in my way. Not even my loyalty to my king.
"Lance," she whispered against my lips, and hearing my name in her true voice—not Lioran's carefully pitched tones—sent fire through me.
I pulled back just enough to look at her, to see her face clearly in the moonlight. She was beautiful beyond anything, yet it was the trust I saw in her eyes that undid me completely.
"I should leave," I said, though my hands betrayed my words by threading through her hair. "This is madness."
"Then let us be mad together." Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, her skin so soft against the roughness of my stubble. When her eyes met mine once more, that familiar look of rebellion had returned to hers. "Because I will not allow you to leave."
I felt a smile tilt my lips, dark and devouring. "Is that so?" The challenge in my tone was unmistakable, even as my body responded to her with an urgency that bordered on desperation. "And how exactly do you plan to keep me here,my lady?"
"I believe I can…encourageyou."
When she kissed me again, it was with a desperate hunger that I understood completely. We were both drowning—in duty, in deception, in this dangerous situation that bound us.
I lifted her easily, marveling at how perfectly she belonged in my arms despite the wrongness of everything else. When I laid her gently on the bed, her hair fanned out across the dark fabric, and I had to pause simply to take her in, to believe this was real.
"Arthur will never forgive me for this." I ran my fingers down the front of her shift, pausing to palm each of her breasts. The buds of her nipples were hard, pushing against the fabric as if they wanted nothing more than to be set free.
"Then he doesn't have to know."
With that, I gripped the fabric in my fists, feeling the thin material bunch beneath my fingers. The sound of tearing cloth filled the chamber as I ripped it cleanly in half, the violence of the action making her breasts bounce free from their confines. The sight of her—finally, completely revealed to me—stole what remained of my breath.
All I could do was feast on her nudity, my eyes drinking in every curve, every shadow, every perfect detail that I'd only glimpsed that night from behind the tapestry. She was even more beautiful than my fevered imagination had conjured in the dark hours since—real and warm and trembling beneath my gaze like a goddess come to earth.
"I watched you, you know?"
She frowned in confusion.
"I had to know Lioran's secret." I ran my fingers across her nipples, and they pebbled even harder. Taking one between my thumb and index fingers, I squeezed it until she gave a little moan that echoed through the chamber like a siren's call. "So I came to your bedchamber, and I hid behind that tapestry." I motioned with my head to the tapestry in question.
"And what happened?"
"You removed your disguise until all that was left was you." My fingers moved from her breasts to her navel, and I caressed the taut skin of her belly as I watched a flush overcome her cheeks, spreading down her neck. "And you were unclothed." I remembered that moment as if it had just happened, every detail seared into my memory. "You looked at yourself in the mirror as you sat on your bed." I moved my finger down further until I ran it through the soft thatch of white hair that hid her cunt from my hungry gaze. The moonlight streaming through the window turned her skin to pearl and silver, making her seem otherworldly in her beauty.
"As I watched, you began to touch yourself." I brought my finger to her opening, feeling the heat radiating from her and the wetness that was already slicking her and now the tip of my finger. "Here." At the feel of her tightness, my cock strained painfully against my braies, demanding release. She arched her back and moaned beneath me, her body responding to my touch like an instrument played by a master.
"Tell me how wet you were when you fingered yourself."
"I was so wet." She groaned beneath me, her body trembling with a need that matched my own. Her hands clutched at the bedsheets, knuckles white with tension.
