Page 44 of The Withering Wood

Oberon turned, the waves from his movement flowing against her chest. Her body tightened as he appraised her, the claw marks that ran over the curve of her shoulders, down to the swell of her breasts. The prince sidled closer, gaze lingering on the scars, tracking their paths across her body.

Ugly, ugly, ugly, echoed through Cerise’s mind and heart as each deformation seemed to blaze anew beneath his gaze.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and Cerise pinched her mouth tight at the sudden swell of emotion that surged through her. Getting closer, he took the soap from her restless fingers. Stretching out her arm as if to wash it, he asked, “May I?”

Throat clogged, she nodded once more.

The prince swiped the bar up her arm and over her shoulders, gently scrubbing. He did the same for the other side, cleaning her in long, slow motions as if worshipping her skin. Each stroke was like a sigh of relief cascading through Cerise’s body, the firm press of his movements a gentle massage. Their bodies drifted closer, yet never quite touched. He sudsed the soap bar between his hands, then washed her hair, massaging her scalp. She groaned and closed her eyes, tilting her head back, giving in to the pleasure of his hands, the gentle tug of her hair releasing the last fragment of tension from her shoulders and neck.

He pulled and massaged her head for several minutes, then cupped water in his palms and spilled it over her head, guided it through her hair several times to clean out the soap. His hands drifted below water, a delightful shiver coursing through her body as he found the back of her calve, fingertips sliding over her skin to the top of her injured knee. He lifted her leg, stretching it out. She groaned again as he pressed into the swollen ache of her old wound, and she dipped her head back, resting it on the ground outside the pool.

A mimicking sound of desire escaped the prince and she opened her eyes, following his gaze to where her breasts now peeked out of the water. Brief self-consciousness flickered through her at the exposure of her deformities. But his ravenous expression dissipated the shame, and all she wanted to know was what fantasies spun behind his eyes.

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, do it.”

A pleased rumble went through him, one hand squeezing up her leg as he closed the distance between them. He nudged her leg so that he rested between them, although their bodies still did not touch. With one hand on her upper thigh, the other swept under her head, tilting it up. Bringing his face to hers, he held her gaze for several moments, thumb brushing her cheek.

Oberon pressed his firm, warm lips to the scar that split her face. The back of her eyes stung, a lump forming in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep those too soft feelings from escaping.

He kissed down the scar, following it to her jaw, neck, and shell of her ear. She focused on his fingers, the bright bursts of pleasure they trailed over her skin. His submerged hand slid up her torso, pausing on the new, puckered wound from Vraethik on her gut.

“You shouldn’t have saved me first,” he breathed against her ear.

Through the haze of his touch, it took Cerise a moment to understand what he meant. How she’d sacrificed her chance to end Vraethik quickly to free Oberon from the bone cage. Even looking back at it, she couldn’t justify any other course of action. She couldn’t risk the extinguishing of his light. There had only been freeing him. Keeping him safe.

“I had no choice,” she replied, hand drifting up his muscled arm.

Oberon lifted his gaze, his nose brushing against her own. “And why’s that?”

Images of him flickered across her mind. A peaceful yet desperate bear, clawing away runes. The fur sloughing off him, revealing the handsome prince within. All the times he’d covered his snout or nose in a promise to not cause harm. Gazing at the sky, telling her the constellations. His relentless flirting. Startling vulnerability. The offering of strength when hers failed. Of kindness and compassion for herself and others when she had none. Of the terror that seized her when the bones wrapped around him, carrying him away.

But she’d never been much good with words. She didn’t know how to transform all those images and the fond feelings they created into thoughts.

Instead, she kissed him.

As soon as her mouth met his, he leaned into her kiss, lips opening her own without hesitation. His tongue swept across hers, tasting her. A low groan rumbled through him, as desperate as a rose for water after a drought. Oberon’s arms swept behind her back, tugging her closer.

She lifted her arms around his shoulders, hand twining in his waves, every place he touched her ablaze.

His firm lips and exploring tongue. The brush of his soft beard. The comfort of his bare, broad chest against her own. The gentle pressure of his arousal between her legs. His hands, at once powerful and soft, roving over her skin. Never hesitating on the scars or flinching away. Instead discovering her shape as if trying to memorize it.

Cerise wrapped her legs around his hips, bringing him closer. He groaned as his cock rubbed against her, a similar moan escaping her at the combined sound of his pleasure and that which shot through her. He broke their kiss, pressing his lips down her neck as he moved against her. She leaned her head back on the ledge once more, relishing the sweet waves of pleasure that coursed through her.

Oberon’s mouth trailed down her shoulder, her chest, tongue flicking over a nipple and taking it in his mouth. She moaned, rocking her hips at the heightened pleasure. A satisfied grumble reverberated through Oberon. He shifted his knee, widening her legs, a hand replacing his arousal, two fingers twirling her clit before dipping lower and plunging inside her.

“Oh, fuck,” she groaned, as his fingers found that sweet place inside her while his palm pressed against her bud, blinding her with pleasure. He rubbed slow, a blissful need building in her belly.

His hot mouth left her breast, and he leaned an arm on the ledge beside her head, eyelids heavy with desire as he gazed upon her. Cerise’s hands trailed the hard muscles of his chest, down his stomach, around the narrow of his hips. Oberon’s breath caught as she stroked them around his cock.

With a leg around his hip and a hand around his erection, she pulled him close to her entrance and whispered, “I want you inside me.”

He moaned, and removing his hand, slowly slid inside her, a gratified groan escaping them both as he filled her. She rocked her hips as he moved with a terrible, tender slowness, one hand on her ass and the other bracing the ledge beside her. He dipped his head again, taking a nipple exposed to the cold air in his mouth, fingers tightening on her skin as she squeezed around him.

She pulled him closer and faster with her legs, grinding against him as his cock thrust within her, heightening waves of pleasure washing over her. Steaming water coursed over their bodies, over the sides of the pool, as they created their own tide.

Flicking her nipple with his tongue, he kissed up her neck, nipped her ear. Moving in and out of her, following her desperation, he whispered with gently panting breaths, “Are you going to come for me, Cerise?”

She dug her hands into his shoulder, the sound of her name on his tongue heavy with desire making her move faster.