One hand slid down and unbelted her gown, leaving her fully exposed. My hand then slid further down until it was nestled between her thighs. I rubbed and kneaded her mound, the coarse curls already dampened with her excitement.
"Oh, Caside," she moaned as my fingers dipped further into her treasure and found her button. I began rubbing it, and she in turn rolled her hips and thrusted against me. Every movement caused her ass to rub against my straining cock and rip my own moans from the back of my throat.
She turned her head and found my mouth with her own. Our tongues danced wildly as we ground ourselves against each other, our passion growing. We were both panting, groaning, moaning into each other's mouths. Both frantic for release.
My fingers were soaked with Anabelle's juices and her thrusts became more frenzied. I used the hand which still fondled her breasts to tweak and pinch the erect nipples, knowing that this would send her over the edge. It did, and before long she stiffened and shouted, once, into the night air.
I couldn't wait for her to recover, so great was my need for satisfaction. I pulled down my pants just enough to release my throbbing, dripping cock and pulled up her gown, then spread her legs with my knee. One strong, smooth thrust and I was buried inside her to the root.
Quickly I thrusted, humping her as one animal would hump another. Frantically I pumped myself into her hot, wet hole. Soon she began moaning as the force of my fucking drove her insane with lust.
"Yes, yes, yes," she panted with every thrust. I felt the sensation building, felt myself overcome with desire to explode within her. Every bit of consciousness was focused on the connection between my cock and her cunt as I slammed into her over and over again.
Her moans grew louder and longer, driving me even closer to my climax. Our bodies slapped against each other, her ass cheeks bouncing off my hips every time I slammed into her. Soon her sheath began quivering, gripping my cock, trying to milk every drop from me as she came again.
Her cries of passion, mixed with the added tightness as her muscles clamped down on me, sent me sky-high. I threw back my head and breathed a column of fire into the night, just as my cock released a stream of hot juices into Anabelle's cunt.
I leaned against her for support, trying to regain steadiness as my knees went weak. I felt the satisfaction only she could give me. I withdrew from her, my cock slick. She stood up and I took her in my arms, then lifted her and carried her to the bed. I finished undressing myself and slid in beside her.
She grinned, satisfied for now. She wriggled her warm, slim body closer to mine and buried her face in my neck. We laid there in each other's arms, still not exchanging a single word. My hand traveled up and down her back, tracing the bumps of her spine as it went along.
Her left leg snaked up and over my own legs, and my hand continued its journey over her smooth cheek, then down her leg until it reached her ankle. Back up I went, relishing the feeling of the pale skin beneath my fingertips.
I could feel her breath quickening against the skin of my throat as my fingers began exploring even more sensitive places as they swept over her. The sole of her foot. The back of her knee. Gently my fingers grazed them, and she whimpered with every stroke.
It was when my fingers dipped inside the cleft between her cheeks that she gasped, and moaned. Again and again I stroked her there, ever so gently.
"Please, please," she begged when I continued to tease her. "Please, it's killing me, oh please … "
But I refused to stop, and she writhed in agonized pleasure. The sensitive skin was covered in goosebumps. She pleaded with me to stop, then begged me to never stop. "Touch me," she groaned. "Touch my cunt, please. Let me finish … "
I wasn't about to be so merciful, however. Instead I pushed Anabelle over onto her back. She was panting for breath, frenzied in her desire. "Yes, yes," she whispered, "fuck me. Take me. Please … "
As much as I longed to, I was determined to drive her nearly insane with pleasure before I took my own.
I reached over to the small table beside our bed and plucked a full, red rose from the small vase she kept there. It was one of the little touches I had come to appreciate about my Queen – her love of fresh flowers.
I knelt beside her on the bed, the rose in my hand. Then, starting at her foot, I touched the soft flower to her equally soft skin. She sighed. "That feels good," she whispered.
I brought the rose up the inside of her leg, causing her to whimper and flex her hips. I grazed her skin with the smooth petals, bringing it up to just above the apex of her thighs. I circled the rose around her belly button, and her back arched. Over and over I caressed her with the rose until she panted with desire.
Then I moved higher, her squeaks and whimpers getting higher the higher I went. I ran the rose petals underneath the swells of her breasts, careful not to touch the sensitive nipples. She gasped, then let out a shuddering sigh. "Yes, please, please, oh gods … " she moaned. I grinned wickedly.
I brought the rose up between her breasts, then brought it toward me to circle the left. Anabelle's head rolled from side to side as I gently dragged the flower around and around, growing closer to that pink, erect nipple with every pass. When I finally reached it, she cried out and gripped the pillow beneath her head.
I let the flower's petals dance over that sensitive area for an agonizing, blissful eternity before I repeated the same action on the other side. There was an unending stream of gasps, moans, whimpers and wordless cries pouring from Anabelle's mouth now, and her hips flexed and circled. She was crying out, begging to be released from this torment.
I, too, needed release. Just looking down at her as she writhed in unspeakable pleasure was enough to make me want to skewer her with my aching cock until she screamed. I tossed the rose aside and climbed between her open legs.
"Yes, my love," she moaned, her hands traveling all over my skin as I guided myself into her. On the first thrust we both groaned deeply.
I leaned forward, pressing my body more closely to hers. I wanted to lose myself in her. She was all I felt, all I saw, all I smelled and heard as I buried myself deep inside her again and again. Her little cries of pleasure, her gasps for breath, the way her hands roamed my back and her fingers gripped my shoulders. The way her legs wrapped around me, pulling me closer to her, holding me there inside of her.
I rode her like that for what felt like eternity, feeling her body beneath mine, until we both quickened our pace. I held on just until she broke through, then I followed. She dug her fingers into my back and cried out, over and over. I felt her teeth sink into my shoulder in an attempt to stifle the screams of pleasure that finally escaped her when her long-delayed climax was felt. Finally she fell silent and trembled beneath me.
I rolled onto my back, and we stayed that way for a long time. When I got my senses about me, I rose and went to the tray that had been set before the hearth. I poured a mug of water for the both of us and returned to bed. Anabelle took hers with a grateful smile before gulping the liquid down.
"My gods," she whispered, still slightly out of breath. "I thought you were going to kill me."
I laughed softly. "While I can think of many less pleasant ways to die, rest assured I'd never go that far."
She rubbed the patch of skin between her breasts, where a red mark had formed. "Oh, my dear, forgive me," I said. I felt like a fool. I hadn't removed the Heart from around my neck; the stone had dug into her flesh while I was pressed against her.
"It's nothing," she assured me. "Believe me, I hardly felt it at the time." She giggled, and I joined her laughter.
She rolled over onto one elbow to examine the chain and stone. "It is so unusual," she remarked, looking at it from all angles. "I've never seen such fine craftsmanship. How old do you think it is?"
I shrugged. "There is no telling. As far as I'm aware, it's been passed down through many generations, from one King to the next. Ever since the Celtic dragons came to rule these lands, the King has worn this as a symbol of his leadership."
"It is beautiful," Anabelle murmured. "The stone is a rare one; never have I known a jewel to appear to burn, as this one does."
"Legend has it the stone was created by fire – the fire of a dragon, of course. The heat and the magic behind it melted down a common stone and crafted it into what you see before you."
"It is almost a perfect heart shape," she observed. I nodded. "Hence its name," I joked, and she scowled at me.
"There was never a day in my life that I saw my father without it," I told her. "That is, until the day of his burial. He wasn't wearing it, then. Normally that would be because it had been passed down to the first son. I remember how my mother wept at the knowledge that it would not be passed down to me."