"...we're going to finish what you started three years ago."
Danaë shivered, remembering that night, those stolen moments in the breakfast salon, and the things she'd witnessed in the gloom.
He pressed against her, gliding his lips over the delicate skin of her ear, "Did you like what you saw, Princess?"
"N-no!" she breathed.
"Liar." Danaë felt his lips curve into a smile, "You went to your virgin bed frustrated and wet that night, didn't you?" His hand released her wrists, and slowly, he began easing the bodice of her nightgown off of her shoulders. "Did you touch yourself?"
Danaë trembled as his teeth made little love bites down her neck.
He paused, returning his lips to her ear. "Did you think I didn't know?"
She gasped as the linen garment, her last shred of modesty, slipped down her arms.
"Know what?"
With a jerk, he sent the nightgown sliding down her body, forming a soft, white pool at her feet.
"That you wished you were the one under me."
His wicked, adventurous hands explored the exquisite softness of her skin.
"I didn't-"
Fingers trailed down the curves of her abdomen as he tutted in her ear. "We really need to do something about this habit you have of lying to me."
"I'm not-" Danaë cut off with a cry.
Cenric cupped the soft mound of her sex, gliding the pad of his middle finger along the separation of her folds, collecting the moisture there.
"Then why are you so wet for me now?"
"I-" Danaë began, before Cenric dipped his finger inside of her, causing her to clench at the shock of pleasure.
Finding the sensitive bead that ached for his attention, Cenric began a slow, torturous circling that had her unconsciously spreading her legs wider.
"Yes, Princess, just like that – open up for me."
His words broke through her growing, hazy need. "Please, don't..."
Cenric's fingers ramped up their teasing, and he bit her lip.
She gasped, and he captured her mouth again, tasting her thoroughly.
He broke away, staring into her helpless eyes, "A deal then; I'll leave, and we will never discuss tonight ever again – if..."
"If what?" she whispered.
"If you look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want this."
Danaë opened her mouth, willing her tongue to form the words.
But they wouldn't come.
She couldn't say it.
Cenric recognized her defeat. Smirking, he said, "Then, we continue."
Removing his hand from between her thighs, he brought his fingers up to his lips and licked them one by one.
Danaë quivered, breathless and frightened.
His smirk disappeared, and he gripped her hair.
"Get on your knees."
She whimpered but obeyed. Her knees hit the floor, cushioned by her discarded nightgown, and she faced the laces of his pants.
"Untie them."
Slowly, hesitatingly, Danaë reached her hands up, feeling the heat beneath her fingers as she worked.
Releasing his hold on her hair, he took off his shirt and tossed it aside.
"Pull them down."
Looking up, she met his eyes, as cold and unforgiving as a god's.
Steeling herself, Danaë hooked her fingers over the waistband of his pants and drew them down.
And there it was.
The thing that had haunted her dreams and fantasies for these three years.
His hand reached down to cup her cheek.
Danaë shook her head, "I don't understand. What... what do you expect me to-"
His thumb pressed against her lips, silencing her.
Heart pounding in her chest, she watched as he wrapped his free hand around his member and began to stroke himself.
Mesmerized by the movement, Danaë felt curiosity superseding her fear.
And then he tightened his hold on her cheek and demanded, "Open your mouth."
Her eyes grew wide. Surely he was joking...
Looking up, Danaë saw no humor, only a deadly seriousness in his eyes.
Slowly, his thumb pushed past her lips, and she reflexively began to suck.
Cenric groaned. "Yes, Princess, just like that-" Taking his thumb away, he pressed the head of his cock against her lips.
Shaking, Danaë relaxed her jaw, and his hot, pulsing hardness filled her mouth.
Above her, Cenric's breath hissed through clenched teeth.
Adjusting to the foreign sensation, Danaë experimentally rubbed her tongue against the salty smooth tip.
"FUCK-" his hips jerked forward and the head of his cock pushed into her throat.
Danaë's gag reflex triggered, and she pulled away, fighting the urge to empty her stomach.
"I can't – I can't..."
His hands pulled her up and pulled her close, soothing her.
"Shh. It's alright. That was my fault."
Bending down, he wrapped one arm around her back and another behind her knees. With a grunt, he picked her up and laid her down on the bed.
Danaë came to her senses in time to begin crawling backward away from him, but to no avail. On hands and knees, he stalked her, kneeling between her legs and pressing her down into the coverlet with a kiss that blistered her soul.
Breaking away, Cenric sat back, his burning gaze taking in every inch of her body.
Danaë felt the flush searing her exposed skin, and with trembling hands, she tried to cover herself.
Cenric grabbed her wrists, leaving her totally bare and helpless before him.
"You are so incredibly beautiful..."
Danaë swallowed hard, desperate to look away, but unable to make her eyes obey her.
The man between her thighs wasn't chiseled out of marble, or painted in the image of a god, but rather built of muscle and scar tissue and battle and hardship. His hands were rough and callused...
...and he looked at her like she was the most precious thing he had ever beheld.
Releasing her wrists, he stood, and wrapped his fingers around the meat of her calves, pulling her toward the edge of the bed.
He knelt, and Danaë shivered to feel his breath against the most private part of her.
Looking up, his eyes met hers, and he smiled.
Then, he leaned down and kissed her in a place she never knew she could be kissed.
Danaë jolted around him, but he held her firm, his arms holding her thighs apart while his tongue explored her. When he found that exquisitely sensitive jewel, Danaë's back arched up off of the bed and she thought she would die.
She didn't.
With her hands fisted in the coverlet, Danaë couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel the beautiful, wicked things his tongue was doing to her.
When he slid the first finger inside of her, and then another, and another, slowly stretching her, preparing her, she moaned aloud, beyond caring about propriety or decorum or anything beyond the sweet, sweet tension building in her core.
At the sound of her pleasure, he glanced up, eyes locking on hers even as his tongue continued its ruthless, relentless teasing.
Danaë felt the hitch in her breathing, felt the sharp almost painful sparks of ecstasy and knew what was coming next, knew she couldn't stop it, knew that she didn't want to.
Then his tongue swirled around her clitoris as he suckled, and she came undone. Toes curling, spine arching, head thrown back, Danaë rode out her orgasm, feeling herself clench and throb around his fingers.
Through the hazy afterglow, she felt him leave her, felt the heat of his body and the pressure of his fingers fade.
For a moment, she was confused.
Then she felt him flip her over, felt the force of his hand against the back of her neck, and the haze was gone.
Not this position. Not THIS position-
With her toes digging into the weave of the rug and her memory flashing back to that night three years ago, Danaë was keenly aware of the heat of his body, scorching her backside as he leaned over her.
And then, the slick, hot head of his cock, rubbing against her folds.
Her breath caught, and above her, she heard him say, "You never did answer my question, Princess."
Danaë quivered beneath him. "What?"
He pressed forward, penetrating her slick heat. "Did you touch yourself, thinking about that night?"
She whispered, breathless as her pussy stretched to fit him, "...yes."
Slowly, giving her time to adjust to the intrusion, he entered her in agonizingly patient inches.
"How many times?"
Danaë bit her lip as the strange, new discomfort faded, and she began to crave more.
Cenric pinched her buttock, and she cried out.
"How many times, Danaë?"
"Dozens." She gasped.
"Dozens?"
He moved deeper, and she moaned, "Hundreds."
Cenric chuckled, pulling her hard against him. Danaë saw stars as he sank his full length inside of her.
"You know, I don't even remember that maid's name," His grip tightened on the back her neck, "But I'd wager that you do."
The head of his cock began slowly dragging back through her cunt before plunging forward. Violent shivers raced through her as he did it again and again and again.
Danaë bit her lip, fruitlessly trying to hold back her cries.
"Come, Princess, don't be shy now..."
His next thrust hit her sweet spot, and Danaë made a sound she didn't realize she was capable of making.
"Good girl-"
It was no use holding back, not now that he knew how to make her squeal. Danaë writhed underneath him, hands clutching the coverlet, helpless to stop the way her body responded to his.
Disbelief flashed through her as she realized she was on the cusp of another climax.
Cenric seemed to realize it as well. Leaning over her, he sank fully inside her and whispered in her ear, "That maid?" His hot breath scorched her skin, and he rocked against her, "I chose her because she looked like you."
Danaë's heart skipped a beat, and then her orgasm came crashing over her like a tidal wave.
"Oh, God-"
Danaë lost the capacity for rational thought, lost all shame, and lost herself to the sensations of her release.
Cenric continued fucking her roughly while she tightened around him like a fist. Then, groaning, he pulled out and Danaë felt the hot spurts as he came on her backside.