XII

Woman's devil.

How could she use her sentence against him? She knocked him out.

But he could shut up and see her go to the silent room.

Now he was in the chair looking out the window, wondering what she was doing, if she thought about how crazy this whole thing was, if she thought about him.

The love of his life, the woman he had infatuated that morning at the market, was Princess Antoinette of France. Crazy. Surreal.

She was supposed to marry Prince Luka any day, he took her. Maybe they could have run away together and lived happy, maybe she never should have given herself to anyone but him. Yet you specifically told him that, because of the feelings you had towards him, you would give her the first pleasure. What did he do? He refused out of fear. Fear that there might be serious repercussions for the woman he loved, afraid that she could no longer help but fear because she would eventually go back to the palace and he would go to a dive trying to get more women. Women who would never have had enough.

Maybe he didn't get the speech right. She wanted him. Not the prince. He didn't know exactly if he loved him, but he certainly felt something strong if he wanted to tie himself to him like that. He must have been happy, right? He should have rejoiced. But why then could he just see how bad it would be?

And around him his classmates were groaning, and they were struggling in their sleep. Lucky them.

She wanted it.

She wanted to give herself to him.

They could have consumed their love that night.

How many times did he dream of her with sweat-flapping skin? The mouth opened in a silent cry choked. Eyes tight to resist pleasure. The shaking hands wandering around her body. Hot breasts.

He barely swallowed.

You shouldn't have thought about it.

He got up from the session and started in the room that they had been improvised bathroom. He needed cold water on his skin.

He remembered the nights he cried, believing he never made it. Now he believed in himself. Now he promised people he'd trust him. Now he was fighting, he was a warrior in the house and a hero to people. But surely he did it only for fame, just for the rivalsa, to forget days spent starving to death. He grew up in the cold until he found the heat three arms of a woman. Woman a little of all, woman never entirely hers. You wanted to take her away from that reality, but what could you offer him? He was a coward. He saw her die and he was desperate, but then what?

That last time, with the freezing of Paris alleys, they made love and maybe they didn't shake from the cold, and then he didn't even kiss her.

Who was she with before?

He squeezed his fists and tried to calm down and breathe again.

He walked by the door of his princess's bedroom, found her slightly pulled over and curiosity was stronger than him. Would you have seen her sleep?

Instead, she was standing in front of the toilet, mirrored herself trying to get her black hair dry with a wooden brush. She had changed for the night, probably Bernadette had helped her take off that bulky dress and then left her alone. Did she ask her to be alone?

The night robe was white, a veil that was going down on her skin, covering her, but not entirely hiding her, it was enough night rays to show the sweet curves.

The sleeves were wide and short with a veil curled at the end, to close down small pearl buttons and lace define the edges.

He didn't want to, but he went too far on the cleavage, wide, squared, with the button that didn't close well because of the generous forms of women. Could he have been jealous of a robe? He would have wanted to be on her like that sublime and delicate way, petting her naked breasts like the fabric, laying on her belly and follow her movements.

Women's demon, he tried it not knowing it.

He had to resist her. He had to get out of there.

From the mirror she saw him and she snuck, she blushed his face, but while he was completely enchanted, too much to notice that he was caught, the woman turned to him, laid her brush and pulled her hair from above her shoulders pushed them all behind her back.

Damn it. He thought.

What was he doing? Why did you stare at him, but like she wanted to be watched? He gave him the most beautiful vision a man could wish for, and he felt ready to take it. She was in front of him, with semi-transparent linen covering her. His whole body was at the mercy of his eyes.

Both of us were threatening to come out of the chest, breaths were deep and irregular. As embarrassment devoured her, desire grew in both. She wondered why he didn't rush over her. Then it was true that he didn't really want it.

He didn't have time to finish that thought, he was on her in a second. His hands were everywhere, his mouth on his own.

He kissed her like a dehydrated in the desert would drink water.

With his hands, he caressed her hips before he swept her for her life and pressed her back to get her as close as possible. Her hands between her hair and the groaning that came out of her mouth were the drop that made the vase cross. He took her by the thighs and moved to the bed, and she made her softly and set her between her legs.

Antoinette felt Adrien's desire to press hard against her and felt a pain in the belly that pushed her back to her back and asked for more contact. In the meantime, the boy had brought a hand to shake them, without any respect, breasts. She found herself thinking that garment was too much covering her.

He stood up with his bust and took off of the crap from her and, without wasting time and without worrying about buttons, he opened her robe violently. In the room, only the noise of the buttons fallen down.

The woman was confused, she didn't expect all this irritation, but she let him do, and she gave her hands on her face encouraged him to go back to kissing her above her. He did what he wanted, but this time his hand on his naked breasts shake harder to make her mouth widen open into a cry that was severed from his tongue that came in search of her.

With his other hand he was down on a thigh and pressed his fingers on the skin like he wanted to leave it imprinted while he held it up along his side.

Damn. It was what the prelude of sex always was supposed to be.

She noticed how, with shaking and uncertain hands, the princess tried to free him from her clothes. She was so clumsy, and that's when she was even more excited.

She helped her get her shirt pulled and then smiled at her kidnapping while her fingertips caressed her abdomen from the muscles. He had a thrill to hear those hands go all the way to the belt on his pants. He helped her with those too.

Once completely naked, she went back to kiss her, but she felt tighter, so she pulled up with her arms so she wouldn't think of her and looked at her better.

<< What do you have, m'lady? >>

<< You still call me like this? >>

<< Well, sorry. >> He Smiles.

They kept silent looking, both naked and their desires to ask for satisfaction.

<< I don't know. >> She tried to talk even if she was in agitation and embarrassed.

Adrien understood and went down to touch her lips lobe. She was really nervous and tense.

<< Ssh, princess, let me... follow me. >>

She didn't know if she had regained her confidence for his words and his rock and solid voice or because he finally spoke to her so intimately and informal. She let herself go. His lips kissed her on her neck and left her skin wet completely covered in chills, one hand went to pick up the girl's and brought her on her erection. He made him squeeze it and moved it along with his. He's moping.

As soon as he realized that the hand of the loved could be left alone, he brought his on her lips.

<< Watch that. >> Showed her the index and the medium. She didn't understand but did as suggested.

God, seeing her pull out of her mouth his wet fingers was one of the most exciting things he'd ever seen in his life.

He brought his hand on her intimacy and started touching it delicate. He felt her stiff under him, but she took a little to let herself go again. She sighed.

<< Good girl, relax. That's it. >> he whisper on her soft lips. He went back to kiss her. The fire seemed to have faded but burned more than before.

When he realized she could be ready, he took his fingers off. She seemed to understand it just by looking into his eyes.

<< Will it hurt? >>

<< Just a little bit, but I'll be quiet. >> he reassured her.

He stopped her hand and slowly tried to enter but stopped feeling her wailing.

He looked at her intensely again.

<< You sure? Is that what you want? >>

She just nodded and he started making space again.

Before he set himself up, he only stopped once more. He raised his head again, which was hidden in the loose of her neck, looked at her and smiled at her, a smile overwhelming, ironic and arrogant, but inside it hid the fear and insecurity of a man in love.

<< Don't break my heart, princess. >>