accidental 11 - accidentally ever after (21 page)

His tender words were a stark contrast to the powerful body lying so close to hers—so tender, she wanted to curl up next to him and stay in this moment forever, so tomorrow didn’t have to come and she wouldn’t have to make a choice she might regret.

Rather than give him direction, Toni decided whatever Jon wanted to do would end up pleasurable, so she pulled him close, placing a hand on his chest where his heart beat, and whispered back, “Do what your instincts tell you to do, Jon—do what your heart tells you.”

Jon clearly needed no more words as he hauled her close—so close, their thighs touched and her breasts crushed to his chest. He kissed her with abandon, without holding anything back, until she almost couldn’t breathe from it and the heat he stirred in her nearly boiled over.

Toni’s hands went to his back, roaming over the wide expanse, her body arching into him to get as close as she could, to feel every square inch of his naked flesh.

And then he was pulling his lips from hers and slipping down along her body until his mouth was at the place where thigh and hip met. He brushed a kiss over her skin, making her buck and sending ripples of pleasure along her heated flesh.

Jon parted her thighs with a gentle hand, slipping between them and resting his palm at the apex. He shuddered a breath, the air fanning across her skin just before he slipped a finger into her folds and spread her wide.

When he placed his mouth over her core, she jolted with a groan, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming, the feeling so intense. His tongue slithered over her clit, tentatively then with bolder strokes, licking, tasting, exploring her until she squeezed her thighs together, unable to stop the roar of orgasm. Toni bucked beneath his mouth, pressing the pillow to her face to keep from screaming her pleasure.

White-hot flashes of light synced with the spike of her climax, spreading upward, climbing until she let go, falling into the abyss of her release.

Her chest was tight, her mouth dry, but she managed to drag him upward, pulling at his wide shoulders until his lips were back at hers.

Jon brushed the lone tear that fell from her eye, murmuring against her mouth. “This coffee you speak of, ’tis nothing I imagine compared to the taste of you.”

She had to cling to him to keep the dizzy swell of his words from overwhelming her. No one had ever spoken to her like this. No one had ever stirred this kind of a response from her, and she wanted everything—all at once. Now.

Reaching between them, Toni smoothed her palms over his chest, down along the lean indentation of his hips. She enveloped his cock, thick, strong, hot in her hands, and circled it, stroking him, letting him thrust against her.

Slipping down along his hard frame, she savored each inch of his silken skin, brushed kisses at every available turn until her lips found his shaft. Toni ran her tongue along the length of it, smiled against him when Jon hissed and his hands went to her hair, clenching fistfuls between his fingers.

His knees raised upward, his muscles clenching as she kept him deep in her mouth, caressing his calves, swirling her tongue over his cock until his hips bucked.

Jon’s fingers dug into the caps of her shoulders now, pulling her upward, rolling her to her back and crushing her with his heavy weight.

He was delicious as she absorbed his hot flesh and sinew, letting his body sink into hers, running her hands along his sleek lines, parting her thighs, welcoming him.

Poised at her entrance, Jon rose up on his knees, wrapping her thighs around his waist, looking down at her, his eyes flaming with desire as he took his first thrust into her body.

His head fell back on his neck then, the strain of veins and corded muscle pulsing along his throat as he adjusted to being inside her.

Toni fought not to squirm beneath him, fought to lie still and savor watching his first time, luxuriate in the emotion. She clenched him tight as he stretched her, deepening his thrusts until he was embedded inside her.

He sighed a long groan, falling forward onto her, slipping his hands beneath her back and pressing his mouth to hers.

She saw stars behind her eyelids as each stroke into her grew more confident, harder, more satisfying. Curling into him, she matched his thrusts, lifting her hips, reaching toward release.

Wave after wave of pleasure swept through her, pooling in her belly, tingling in her toes, stroking her core until she thought she might explode.

Jon began to rock against her, lifting her leg higher, pushing into her wet depths, his body greedy, his lips on hers, and suddenly it was more than Toni could bear.

A swift wave of bliss rolled over her, beginning at her core and rising upward. It was slow, lazy, fast, sweet and sharp all at once. She clung to him then, nipped his earlobe as she strained against him, feeling every definition in his abs, loving his pubic bone scraping against her clit as they came.

Jon grunted, feral and low in her ear, expelling a long breath as he whispered her name. She tightened her grasp around his neck, rode the last remnants of their orgasm until their writhing slowed and their bodies settled.

And then Toni closed her eyes, smelled his hair draped across her cheek, savored the feel of his flesh against hers, kept him as close to her as possible for as long as possible.

Lived in the moment.

For as long as the moment would allow.

* * * *

As Toni slept in his arms, her beautiful face serene, Jon warred with his emotions.

This—
this
had been worth the thirty-five-year wait. Not just the beauty of their lovemaking, but lovemaking with the woman he knew was meant to be his for all time.

Yet, he had things he must tell her. Secrets he must share.

What if the king granted her happiness and sent her back to her homeland to find her brother? He would never ask her to choose between them. He would never require she give up the only chance she had to comfort her heart—to know her brother was safe.

Yet, his gut tightened. How could
he
leave behind his own family and obligations?

Still, he knew he would. He would learn to adjust to this place called Jersey, with phones and movies and a place called McDonald’s where they crisped potatoes and made hams in buns.

But he must tell her one thing.

The one thing that could make her change her mind about how decent and good he pretended he was.

Forever.

Chapter 12

J
ust so you know, we have trouble. I don’t just mean the kind of trouble that involves the queen’s daughter Resplendant’s heart, either. The sweet and fair Resplendant’s been officially dumped by the prince upon his father’s orders. There’s been crying. So much crying, and wailing, and head-bent, draggin-ass moping, a common storyteller like myself could almost need an antidepressant to help her get through the day.

Also, for future reference to all those who wish to visit a castle because it’s cool? Castle walls make for one helluva echo.

Alas, here in Shamalot, we don’t have
Ben and Jerry’s
and old T-shirts in the realm for our poor Resplendant’s funk.
You
try soothing a broken heart with a new crinoline and some thistleberries with roasted boar. It’s just not the same as a hearty scoop of
Chunky Monkey
and a vodka gimlet, you know?

Needless to say, nothing is easing our gentle Resplendant’s pain-swollen heart, for she loves Prince Iver Daring with all her being. She is his one true love, no matter what the doddering old Roz says.

Since King Dick, on the advice of the Great and Wonderful Roz, ordered the end to his son’s relationship with Resplendant. Prince Iver, too, has been moping about the castle, wandering from room to room, sword dragging pathetically at half-mast by his side, refusing to speak, let alone hear his father’s reasoning.

But King Dick is certain he’s made the right move for his firstborn and he won’t hear another protest.

As you can imagine, Queen Angria’s pretty bent out of shape at this point. Not only has her daughter been ditched, but she’s been foiled over and over by a mere snippet of an icky human girl (her words, not this storyteller’s. I personally like the kid’s chutzpah), and she wants blood.

Spilled.

Everywhere
.

She also wants to know WTF is up with this guttersnipe and her amazing warrior-like skills. Where did she learn to do battle with such adeptness? Who is her sensei?

Why isn’t he working as one of the queen’s masters in weaponry?

And where did she get those fabulous shoes? Oh, the sparkle—it makes her giddy.

The queen’s beside herself now that our bedraggled band of realm-hoppers is almost to the castle. But she’s decided, rather than bring the battle to them, why not let them bring the battle to her? Why not wait until the much-touted Christmas Eve ball and
really
turn it into a party chock-f of blood and gore?

Why not let them all believe they’ve made it to safe harbor, and then take everyone out in one deliciously fell swoop? King Dick and his precious son Prince Iver Daring for dumping her beautiful Resplendant, this misfit pack of wanderers who talk too much and have managed to escape her wrath, and Toni of the fiery hair and sparkly shoes?

None of the particulars mattered anymore. All that mattered was everyone had to die on a night that would go down in infamy as the night King Dick would always remember crossing Queen Angria was unacceptable.

In fact, why not make it a double coup—like an all-out massacre—and steal the castle
and
the kingdom while she’s at it?

The queen’s decided this could be LOL hilarious—a way to make her mark and force the inhabitants of Shamalot to bow down and worship the very ground she walks upon.

And she likes that. She likes that a lot.

Then there’s our rugged, chivalrous Jon Doe, falling head over heels for a woman he might have to part with. Torn between two worlds—the one to which his fair maiden must return to possibly reunite with her beloved brother, and the one where he has many obligations.

Because our Jon has a secret. One I’m quite confident you’ve figured out by now.

However, it’s the journey, not necessarily the destination, yes? Plus, for Nina—this entire tale in a yellow dress, bluebirds singing above her head—retribution
can
be good for the soul. Just ask this storyteller.

Anyway, there’s a battle looming—filled with potential death and despair, and as we rejoin our band of misfits, everyone appears to be blissfully unaware…

* * * *

Toni was the first to hit the top of the cliff overlooking the castle, her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the beauty sprawling before her. Snow-capped mountains surrounded the gray castle, their majesty rising into the low clouds above.

Stained glass windows in the shape of elongated ovals, glowing with candles, spanned the high towers, preparing for the coming night. Neatly trimmed, tall hedges nestled along the endless miles of the castle, almost glittering in the freshly fallen snow. People milled about the small knoll in front of the steps dressed warmly, selling goods and fresh market fare.

Carriages bustled in and out of the square in preparation for the coming ball, weaving in and out of trees glistening with some kind of green fruit that appeared to have been dipped in sugar like the leaves in the Garden of Wings.

Water swelled below them in ripples of ebony and frothy white, crashing against the boulders near the shore. The salty spray made her heart beat faster. They were here. They were finally here.

She grabbed Jon’s hand as he came up behind her and tucked her to his chest.

“It’s magnificent, milady, don’t you agree?” he said at her ear, making her shiver.

She sighed against him, stealing yet another moment where she could be close to him. “I’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful.”

“I have,” he admitted in husky tones. “You, last night, with the fire gracing your perfect form and the serenity upon your face as you slept beside me.”

“It had to be the pillows. It feels like a hundred years since I slept on a pillow,” she teased, closing her eyes and smiling.

“Naturally, it had nothing to do with my quick aptitude at beginner’s bedsport.”

“Bedsport? I forgot all about that,” she joked, nudging his ribs with her elbow.

He turned her in his arms with a chuckle. “Tell me something, milady.”

Toni rolled her eyes at him. “Are you going to make me rate your bedsport performance on a scale of one to ten?”

“Nay,” he muttered, his eyes serious. “I’d like to ask you a graver question.”

“Rating the bedsport isn’t grave?”

“Toni…” he warned, letting her know he was done indulging her.

“Okay, fine. Ask away.”

“If it ’twere possible, would you live with a man such as myself—one without riches, in a small cottage in a clearing without phones or intor-nets or coffee spouts, and help me raise reindeer? Could that make someone like you, from a vastly different world, happy?”

Resting her cheek on his chest, she smiled against the hard surface. “Coffeepots. Not spouts. And yes…I think I could.”

“This is good to know.”

“Hey, are we doing the regrets thing? I thought we made a pact?”

“Nay, milady. I simply ask in order to stroke my vast ego,” he said on a rumble of laughter.

She laughed as her cheeks flushed despite the bitter cold. Lifting her head, she gave him a soft kiss, fighting the butterflies in her belly. “No regrets, right?”

“Not a one,” he said against her lips.

They’d decided to see what they could see rather than focus on when or if this would all end. Nothing was set in stone at this point. The king and this happiness she was supposed to find hadn’t been handed down yet.

She gnawed on her knuckle, thinking.

“What troubles you, Toni?”

“Just a feeling, I suppose. Here we are, finally at the castle, and this Queen Angria still hasn’t shown up. Why is that? You’d think after a couple of unsuccessful attempts to kidnap me, we’d have run into her by now.”