“I am the monster you need,” he whispered into her ear, his lips brushing the skin. “The monster that fills you.” His lips drifted down her cheek to her throat. “The monster you want inside you.”
“Damn you,” she mumbled, but her hands, trapped between them, dug into the fabric of his shirt. “If my mother were here-”
“But she's not.” He slid his mouth around to hers and those nimble fingers moved up into his hair. Not breaking the kiss, his hefted her and stumbled toward a bench he could barely see around her. To his surpriise, her legs wrapped around him, bunching her skirt in awkward lumps.
“Pandora,” he murmured.
That wasn't a problem. She could do all the talking, well, cussing, as he not only pleased himself, but explored to find all the places pleasured her. Eventually, she nudged him off the bench and into a bedroom. He took full advantage of the soft mattress to arrange her, turn her, expose her as he wished.
She did a fair job of exposing him, although it was definitely in fits and starts as he stole her focus. She lay naked, her skin covered in a slick sheen when he finally succumbed and curled up behind her, feeling her breast rise and fall in his hand.
“Beast,” she muttered.
“Twit,” he replied.
“Murderer.”
“Witch.”
She actually giggled at that. “I'm starved, but I'm not sure I can move.”
“At the moment, I don't think I'd make it far either.”
It was dark before he allowed her up from the bed long enough to find something for them to eat. After, he kept her in that bed until the sun was high in the sky again. He was sure he could repeat that for weeks. He should be satisfied, should be sick of her, but he only wanted more and she was willing and submissive in his hands. When he let her go, though.
“Why don't you get your own food? You know where it is as well as I.”
“Why aren't you tending your horse? Don't you think he needs feeding?”
“When are you leaving? I think it's definitely time for you to go.” It only took a kiss or a nibble to take her mind away from whatever she had decided to pin on him and become soft again. As the days progressed, the shrew made less and less of an appearance. Perhaps his father and King Victor had been right, and this was all he needed to keep her.
