Chapter 2

Christina drifted in that heavy place between sleep and waking, the kind where the world felt soft around the edges. She was in one of the palace’s dim corridors, the ones with high arches and torches sputtering in their brackets. Somehow, she had her back pressed to the cold stone wall, her thin nightgown the only thing between her skin and the rough surface. Her heart thumped hard, like she’d been running.

Then he was there—Sir Aldric, walking toward her with that steady, powerful stride. He was dressed at first, tunic dark and fitted over his broad frame, breeches hugging his thighs. But as he got closer, closer, until he loomed right in front of her, something changed. He lifted one arm, planting his hand against the wall by her head, leaning in. His scent hit her full force—musk and leather, warm skin after a day in the sun, something sharp and male that made her knees feel funny.

His face was so near, lips almost brushing hers. “Are you alright, Princess?” he asked, voice low, rumbling right through her.

“Yes,” she breathed, barely a whisper.

He didn’t pull back. Just watched her, those gray eyes steady.

“Yes,” she said again, a little louder, though her breath was starting to catch.

“Yes...” It came out different now—thicker, heavier, like the word was pulling something up from deep inside her. “Yes ... yes...”

The sounds turned moan-like, soft and needy, spilling out without her meaning them to. And that’s when it happened—mid-way through those breathy yeses, his clothes just ... vanished. One moment there, the next gone, like they’d never been. It struck her as weird for a split second, a flicker of what? But then it made perfect sense. Of course he was naked. It felt right, like he’d always been that way, his powerful body bare and close, skin warm, muscles shifting as he breathed.

Her hands were on him suddenly, palms flat against his abs—hard, ridged, moving under her touch with each breath he took. She stared down, eyes wide, as his cock came into full view: thick, heavy, starting to stir and harden right there between them. Veined and long, it looked so ... alive.

“Yes ... yes...” Her moans mixed with others now, echoes of her sister’s voice from the garden that night—”Yes ... yes!”—sharp and desperate.

“Yes!”

She jolted awake, the scream tearing out of her throat loud enough to bounce off her chamber walls. “Yes!” Her body locked up, every muscle going tight as something exploded inside her. Her hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, twisting the fabric hard as her hips bucked up off the bed.

“Ahhh ... ohhh ... unh...” The moans kept coming, long and ragged, one rolling into the next. A hot rush hit between her legs, and then she was squirting—powerful, uncontrollable gushes that soaked right through her nightgown, spraying out in rhythmic pulses. “Unhh ... ahhh...” Another wave crashed, her pussy clenching hard on nothing, pushing out more liquid that drenched her thighs and pooled under her ass. She thrashed, back arching high, toes digging into the mattress as it kept going—squirt after squirt, each one making her moan deeper, body shaking like she couldn’t stop.