The Uncharming Prince Charming
George’s lips puckered. His attempt to steal one last thing; a lady’s choice, exposed Taal to the extent of his evilness.
“Go away, Sir! You got what you wanted.”
Her gloved hand pushed his face away but his lips knew all about staying the course.
“Not quite,” he retorted.
The rejection flamed his loins and he dragged her by the waist and kissed her. His lips firm and hard on her delicate ones.
A rustle behind her captor alerted her but George was too deep into her mouth.
“Let the Lady go, you hooligan!”
The not so couple turned at the unexpected hero and each gave a disappointed look. Taal thought her hero would be more—dashing and George thought there would be no hero at all.
Gracefully unsheathing his saber, he threatened George to a fight.
“Ha!” He turned his full attention to the newcomer reaching for his sword. His fingers fumbled with the pommel and its grip. “You think me to be afraid of you? You have—”
With a heavy foot and her graceful, high-heeled Victorian boot, Lady Taal gave a kick to Georges’s most valuable jewels. With a high pitched moan, his hands flew to the fly of his trousers.
“You think you can take advantage of ladies like myself?!” she growled. An unknown beast within her, now that there were two, against one.
Her hands reached for him once again. She was going to pummel him silly, but between her fingers he slipped, leaving the ebony cloak in her hands. His feet shuffled beneath him and with a large stone, he tripped, face-first into the creek.
“Hmph!” she puffed looking at the perp in disdain while flattening the dress over her voluptuous body, lifting the girls gently against her palms.
The stranger came close, his shaft pointed straight up.
“Beware where you point that—thing, Dear,” she said wearily of her thoughts.
He bowed before her. “M’Lady, Marque of the Manor and youngest son to the Eorl, at your service.” He reached for her delicate hand and barely tickled it with his lips.
She purred. “When one such as yourself appears out of nowhere to protect a lady, they earn the right to call me by my birth name, Taal, also at your service.” She closed the gap between them and purposefully kissed his cheek.
A silly grin covered his face, and he ran long fingers through his unkempt blond curls. Although not her dream mate, he was chivalrous and confident and she preferred those qualities over beauty. Lewd images had her feeling slightly nervous. Exciting thoughts, Devon was the protagonist of no longer, popped in her head as erotic images of pleasure took her mind over.
She looked at the defeated thief and kicked him once more—for good measure, then bent at the waist to retrieve all he took from her with pleasure.
“What are you doing here, in the middle of nowhere?“ she questioned. “It was opportune for me, I must say.”
“I—” He reddened and Taal caught a glimpse as she eyed him amused.
“I saw an owl—I followed it. My purpose was to acquire it.”
Sultrily she laughed. “Looks to me you’ve acquired something else.”
Fleetingly she looked below the belt at his waist where his sword upright stayed. Marque shifted his legs turning crimson. In light of the moonlight, it was easy for her to see.
“Would you be so kind as to help replace my jewels?”
“Yes,” he replied wasting no time.
She handed him the heavy necklace, turned and lifted her red hair at the nape. His hands shook as he clasped it behind her. His fingers brushed the softness of her neck and Taal swallowed a sigh.
She then offered a stretched arm and felt the velvety touch of his fingers at her wrist. Taal could hardly withstand the tickles in her heart when he lifted eyes the color of the sea. Licking her dry lips she watched him slide a couple of rings on her slender fingers.
Lastly, fingering through her tousled hair seductively, she stared at his fumbling fingers that held the diamond tiara. Tenderly he placed it atop her crest and dared kiss the crown of her head.
“Gorgeous,” he breathed with desire.
“Excuse me?” she advanced full of hope. But her new friend was too shy to express what was reflected in the deepness of his eyes.
Taal gave him a knowing look. She was too smart to be a fool.
“If you say so, my dear lad.”
Taal walked back to the carriage where she had extra leather reins and handed one to Marque. “Tie his arms and I will tie his feet and we’ll leave him closer to the bridge so he can be seen.”
Marque nodded and together they dragged him closer to the top of the bridge.
“I’ll walk you to your carriage, M’Lady.”
Taal looped an arm to his and through her glove, she felt a light current, or was it a sting? It jolted her being. Her heart galloped and her breath hitched swooning her head, it made her want to feel free.
“I can move the obstructing sapling in the middle of the road and we can be on our way,” he said opening the carriage door gallantly. “I shall escort you home.”
“What’s the hurry? Do you have somewhere to be?”
With a different emotion in her eyes, Taal’s chest lifted rapidly as she took in shallow breaths. The softness of her voice raised every hair on his body. His eyes grew large and fervently he shook his head.
“I—don’t,” he swallowed loudly, “Need—anywhere ... No one expects me—”
For a moment coquettishly she stared. “There’s one last jewelry piece I forgot to ask for your help with.”
“It’s a broch,” she said pulling it out of her handbag. The gorgeous piece of jewelry sparkled in her hand.
“Where does it go?” he asked full of hope.
Pushing her bust forward, he stared. “Here.” With a finger, she pointed at her left breast.
Nervous hands reached for it but it fumbled through his clumsy fingers. A great smile languidly spread on her face and the intensity of her eyes burned his skin aflame.
“I—Uhm.” He knew not what to say or do. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to drop it—”
She kissed him then. Hard and with want. Her body pressed snug against his leanness. Her hands held his face and the movement of her lips leisurely guided his in response.
“Taal ... how I’ve waited for thee,” he murmured against her open mouth.
She giggled in reply, kissing him deeply. Their tongues merged as one, the taste of champagne mixed with cherry wine lingered. Taal drew her knight by the lapel, pulling him inside the welcomed comfort of the carriage’s cushioned bench seat and secured him atop her.
Downy kisses he steamed upon the peaks of her bosoms. Lowly she moaned. He ran the pad of his thumb across her upper lip, then the bottom. She kissed it, then tickled it with the tip of her tongue. He lowered his hand to her throat caressing downward until his fingers rested at her chest.
“Unsheath thy weapon, my lord,” she cried in angst.
Understanding it wasn’t the sable, his Lady spoke of, his eyes veiled with corrupt pleasure while he lifted the hem of her dress. Quick hands unfastened unnecessary trousers that got in the way of their lovemaking.
Her uncharming, Prince Charming was a skilled lover. And cries of passion ricocheted through the forest. They were loud displaying ample pleasure, and the horned owl, who sat regarding the scene before him, flew in search of a new adventure, as this one, was clearly over.
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