He drew closer to the water’s edge and she moved inward, too, on the sloping sand, rising from the water just enough that the round tops of her breasts shone porcelain beneath the sun—until a wave swept around her shoulders, knocking her off balance just slightly, making her laugh.
Clearly, the girl did not have a healthy fear of the sea as most people did. “And just what is so pleasurable about swimming?”
“Well, as I said, it cools the body down on a day like today.” Indeed, the sun burned down hot overhead, the cruelest part of summer definitely upon them now. “When we were young girls, I suppose it was an adventurous, forbidden thing to do. I was mainly following my older sister’s lead. But I found there is…a certain freedom, a certain comfort, in floating about in the water, feeling it caress your skin.”
He made no effort to hide a wicked grin. “If you want your skin caressed, princess, I can think of a better way. And should you get a sunburn on those pretty shoulders and delectable breasts, well…my caresses will not be so pleasurable then, will they?”
She cast a playful smirk. “Don’t worry—I don’t plan to spend the whole day here. It’s simply a quick dip to freshen me.”
“You could drown,” he warned.
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Even over the distance that separated them, he saw the roll of her eyes. “I swim quite well.”
He granted her a soft smile. “So I see.”
“And there is also a certain thrill in knowing the ocean is so much bigger than oneself, so much more powerful.”
He laughed. “And if you want something powerful, princess…” He pointed toward the bulge in his pants.
The gesture drew a large smile from the girl in the water. She’d moved close enough to shore that her breasts were visible, her hard, wet nipples seeming to bob atop the gentle waves. “Bring it here,” she said.
“What?” Had he heard her correctly?
“Bring your cock here. Come into the water with me,” she prodded.
“Why?” He, too, had snuck off for an occasional ocean swim as a boy, but those days were long behind him.
“I want you to fuck me,” she said, her voice going as silky as the dress she’d abandoned on the sand, yet even over the sound of the rushing tide, he heard the words with clarity. “Here. In the ocean. I want to be…a water nymph for you.”
With that, she smoothed her palms up her torso and over her breasts, which glistened with moisture beneath the sun. His rod appreciated the gesture, stiffening yet further, so as to press uncomfortably against the leather lacings above his crotch. As he’d noticed last night in the empty tavern, she looked irresistibly lovely when wet, her curves seeming to shimmer in a way that begged for his touch.
“A water nymph, eh?” he said, drawn still closer now without thought, so that the sudsy tide rolled up over the toes of his boots. “You want to be a mermaid for me, princess?”
They shared a knowing smile, a smile that spoke of a knowledge few others had, because they both happened to be more learned in the Before Times texts than the average Caralonian. “You’re grandfather
was
well read.”
“As are you, princess.”
She gave her pretty head a slight tilt, her lower lip a thoughtful little bite. “Only, I don’t see that a mermaid could have a pussy, could she?”
The notion drew a boisterous laugh from him. “That makes me glad you’re not really a mermaid.”
“Me, too,” she said, her expression growing sensual, seductive. She took another step higher on the sand, and when the tide receded, her lovely cunt was put on display for him as she said, “Because I
do
have a pussy, and it’s very hungry for you.”
She stroked her longest finger teasingly through the bare slit, offering a lusty smile that left him helpless. He had no choice but to start yanking off his boots, shrugging free from his vest, letting each item drop on the beach behind him. The potent heat of her
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eyes burned through him hotter than the sun as he worked the ties on his pants, finally pushing them down to reveal his hard length.
As he took one tentative step into the cool water, bared from head to toe, he gazed on her lovely nudity with a grin. “It’s a good thing for you that the rest of Myrtell does not enjoy swimming.”
She returned the flirtatious smile. “And why is that?”
“Someone could come upon us like this at any time.”
She gave her head a saucy tilt. “And you think I would care?”
“You wouldn’t?” He lowered his chin in speculation.
“I am not the same girl who came running into your tavern a few days ago, Garon,” she said, and indeed, the look in her hazel eyes was that of a bold, confident woman— no longer the little girl he’d saved from her father a mere three evenings prior. He’d thought he wanted her then—hell, he had
definitely
wanted her then—but this, now, was something much more powerful than that.
As he moved toward her through the foaming sea water, he forgot his wariness of the ocean and how odd it seemed to be wading into the vast body of water to reach her—all that mattered was, in fact,
reaching her
.
She took playful steps backward, easing slightly deeper again into the sea, her provocative gaze summoning him just as much as her wet body.
“Stay where you are,” he said on a bit of laughter.
She flashed a defiant grin, shook her head, and took another step back as a soft wave rose around her waist, lapping at the underside of her breasts.
“How can I fuck you, princess, if you keep moving away from me?” He’d forgotten how heavy ocean water was, how difficult it was to walk into it with any speed, and she seemed miles away from him.
“All right, fine,” she said with a cute giggle, “I shall wait here.” She stood in water up to her waist and, dear Ares, he didn’t think he’d ever seen a lovelier sight than the woman who had teased and cajoled him into the shushing tide.
As a wave rose, wetting his cock, he shivered slightly, but his steps became easier now that he’d descended deeper, and the shifting sand beneath his feet led him closer to her. Finally, he slid damp palms over her hips, up her sides, until he cupped the outer curves of her breasts, stroking his thumbs across their taut, pink centers. The hard beads felt delectably lovely against his thumbs and he stroked them, then twirled them, pinching lightly, making a hot sigh erupt from her throat.
Drawing him down into a kiss, she moaned into his mouth just as their tongues met. He pressed his impatient cock against the juncture of her thighs, molding his palms over her large breasts, and let the pleasure of so many connections with her body assail him.
As they touched and kissed, the water moved between them almost like a third person, and Garon suddenly understood what she meant about the waves caressing the
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skin. The sea lapped gently at their hips and asses, coming up onto their bellies where
his hardened flesh met with her softness.
When her small, wet hand wrapped around his thick length, he groaned and gave her a wicked smile. “Do you know what you do to me?” he murmured.
She nodded with playful confidence. “I tempt you into the ocean. See how fun it is?”
“Yes, princess, I do,” he replied, curling his hands around her ass at the water’s surface. He stroked one long finger into her pussy from behind. Whether she was wet from the sea or wet from her juices, it didn’t really matter—she was drenched, soft around his finger when he gently slipped it up inside.
“Mmm,” she purred, rubbing her slit against his cock as her pointed nipples brushed over his chest. She pressed kisses to his neck, his jaw, driving him to lean his head back at the scintillating pleasure. “Fuck me, Garon,” she breathed up into his ear, her voice throaty, needy. “Please fuck me.”
“Your wish is my command,” he said, quoting a common line from the Before Times tales his grandfather had told him as a boy.
She smiled, appearing familiar with it, as well.
Who was the slave now
? he wondered briefly. But he didn’t really care. Little seemed to matter at the moment except getting inside her.
With his hands still circling her bottom, he lifted her in his arms—noting how the water made her more buoyant—and lowered her slowly, surely onto his erection. They both moaned as her cunt sheathed him with wet ease, taking him to the hilt. They stayed still a moment—she pressed her forehead to his, as if trying to adjust to the pleasure of their physical bond. “I am so very glad,” she whispered, the words barely audible over the sweeping tide.
He sensually massaged her ass beneath the waves. “Glad of what?” Their heads still touched.
“Glad of everything. Glad I am royalty. Glad my father tried to marry me to an old man. Glad I ran away.” She looked up, into his eyes. “For it all led to this moment. And what I feel right now, Garon…” She shook her head lightly. “I wouldn’t trade it. I wouldn’t change a thing, even if I could. This moment, with you, is as close to heaven as I’ll ever come before death.”
Her words moved through him like a hot shock of lightning—almost paralyzing, but in a way that was inexorably…
good
. “Me, too,” he murmured, pressing his mouth over hers, drinking of her as, below, their bodies slowly began to move, to grind.
“Mmm, yes,” she sighed, thrusting her sweet pussy against him, writhing beautifully in his grasp. He thrust back, wanting her to feel his cock deep, as deep as he could go, but he kept his own movements gentle, knowing she’d find her ecstasy quicker if he simply let her ride him.
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“That’s right, princess,” he whispered hotly, every nerve ending in his body tingling with sexual energy. “Work your pretty little pussy on my cock. Ride me until you come. Ride me until your cunt explodes in pleasure.”
Her breath was hot, her eyes heavy-lidded, her breasts swaying as she moved on him, seeking that sweet release. “Oh, Garon,” she breathed. “Yes, Garon, oh yes.”
Her gentle murmurings sent still more intense pressure to his shaft and her climbing heat seemed to melt off of her and onto him. “Come for me, my princess,” he urged, then stroked his middle finger down over the fissure of her anus beneath the water.
“Oh…” she moaned, eyes shut, clearly lost in pleasure.
He stroked again, and again, then pushed the tip of his finger inside, until it caught
there.
“Oh!” she cried, her eyes bolting open to meet his.
“Come,” he said. No smile this time. Nothing soft. Everything hot and hard. “Come. Now.” Then he plunged his finger deeper in her ass.
She gasped, her eyes wide and wild—and then her head dropped back, her breasts arched forward and her pussy undulated slow but firm against him. She sobbed softly, her cries meshing with those of seabirds in the distance, and by the time the cries faded, Garon could no longer control himself.
He thrust deep, hard, rough, jolting her.
She clung to his neck.
He plunged his finger still deeper in her tight ass, aware that she was meeting hard strokes both from the front and the back, from his cock, from his finger. Her nails clawed lightly into his shoulders as he fucked her faster, the rhythm rising, rising— until she yelled out and came again in his arms when he least expected it, bucking violently, scratching at his back.
“Ares,” he bit off through clenched teeth as he shot his pleasure deep into her warm cunt, each pulse like a trip to heaven and back—again, again.
The orgasm left him so weak that he nearly released her into the water surrounding them, but he managed to hold tight, resting his forehead on her shoulder. The sun blazed down on them and the soft waves lapped gently at their torsos, but Garon didn’t feel it—he felt nothing but Laela. She was his slave, she was his princess, and she was becoming everything in between.
* * * * *
For Laela, life had come to be all about the joy of sexual exploration. In the weeks that followed, she barely even found time to worry about what might be happening at the fortress, missing home, or anything else. In some ways, she thought, it was as if she hadn’t even existed before coming here, to Garon’s bed.
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She still toiled to clean the tavern during the day, readying it for the night’s business ahead, but now Garon helped with the work, making it feel more as if keeping the business running was an endeavor they embarked upon
together
.
Sometimes Baelor helped, too—showing up at midday to help Garon transport kegs or jugs of ale. One day, the two men carried all the tavern’s tables outside, allowing Laela to mop the wooden floor. Yet when she joined them behind the building to help wash down the tables with water and soapy sponges, her dress grew wet and clingy, and before it was over, Garon had dragged her inside to the bedchamber, leaving Baelor to the task all by himself, something he’d teasingly complained about for days after.