Charlotte Featherstone - Lust

Reaching for her hair, Thane pulled the pins free and shook out the long silky tresses that cascaded down to her waist. He studied her, thinking of her as an ancient pagan goddess with her heavy breasts bared and her head tossed back in an enchanting sexual display of femininity. This, he thought, as he palmed her breasts, was what he desired from his mate. This liberation to feel passion, to indulge in the needs of man and woman. One day, she would agree to come to him, to join him in his court, and there, they would be together, his intended mate. He would spend the night with her, awakening her in the dark with his kisses and the slow languid rhythm of his cock sliding inside her.

Chastity Lennox. His future mate. His virtue. His fantasy. He wanted her, regardless of the consequences.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as his fingers traced the rounded contour of her cheek. Her lips parted on a sigh, and he imagined what it would be like to have her on her knees, waiting for him to slip his cock between her lips.

Yes. Both the fey and Lust in him wanted her just like this, bare breasted with tousled hair and kiss-swollen lips parting, waiting to pleasure him with her lush, innocent mouth.

“Beautiful Chastity,” he whispered reverently, allowing himself the forbidden image of her taking his length in her mouth. Her mouth would be hot. Wet. Infinitely exciting.

“Please.” The word was whispered so quietly, almost pleadingly. No, he wanted to reply, no, he couldn’t stop. But he tilted her chin up and saw the shame in her eyes. Any glimmer of passion and desire was now gone, leaving her staring up at him with such fear, like a lamb going to slaughter.

“Do not look upon me with such horror,” he whispered.

“Then leave me be.”

Stepping back, he released her. Abandoning her was the most difficult thing he had ever done. Being denied was so shocking, so foreign to him. He found himself off center. His fey glamour had not been subdued. His beauty, he knew, was undeniable, utterly compelling to humans, yet here was this young woman, in the first flush of arousal, denying him and her own sexual needs.

She blinked, the glaze in her eyes clearing as she looked around her surroundings with confusion, then horror. She cried out and covered her breasts with her hands. He didn’t want to see shame make her face pale. He didn’t want her to hide anything from him, least of all her body. A body that could make the most celebrated courtesan murderous with envy.

He could only imagine the thoughts running through her mind, the indignity her virtue would force her to feel.

“I …” She jumped up, tears trickling down her cheeks. “You have humiliated me, sir.”

“No,” he said, his voice harsh as he reached for her. “There is no shame in desire.”

“There is a very great indignity in animal lusts, my lord. And you, sir, are the worst sort of defiler.”

“Does my passion disgust you?” he asked as he captured an errant curl and ran his finger through it, “or is it your response to my lust that mortifies you?”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth parted on a silent word. The ugly creature inside him rose, gnashing its teeth, wanting retribution for her slight. His sin wanted to take her, to ravish her and show her shame, humiliation. And the Dark Fey … He wanted to lash out as well, his pride stinging at her hurtful, if not accurate, assessment of him.

He captured her, brought her up hard against him so that her bare breasts were pressed against his silk waistcoat. She gasped as a button rubbed against her nipple, pebbling it. “You feign innocence so well,” he whispered hotly in her ear. “You act as though you’re offended, disgraced, ruined, but still your body heats for a touch. Your scent perfumes the air, and I would wager that if I were to search beneath the layers of lace, and innocent white linen of your petticoats, I would find your tight little cunt wet for me.”

She slapped him hard across his cheek. “Never.”

He smiled and allowed her to walk away, if only for a moment so he could collect what was left of his honorable intentions. “Have you thrown the gauntlet down, Lady Chastity?” he called after her.

“I will never submit to you,” she sneered as she righted her dress. Reaching for her, he brought her up against him, whispering hotly in her ear.

“You will do more than submit, I assure you. When I next have you, you’ll beg.”

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