Dark Castle by Shanna Handel

11

Willow

He rejected me.He told me he’s wanted me since the moment he saw me, made me feel things I’d never felt before. Done things to my body that I’d never even dreamed of.

Then, he just walks me home to tuck me into bed.

Even though he’s done wonderful things to me, I’m just as much a virgin as I was when I woke up this morning. Maybe it’s for the best. Santo is the bad boy, the playboy, no saint. Just like my father. And we’ve seen how that worked out for everyone involved. Practically married to three women, fathering children with two of them?

That’s not what I want.

He says we’re not meant to be.

Maybe we’re not.

It’s better this way. Isn’t it?

He turns his head as I wash and dress, slipping into clean panties and a white cotton nightgown. I crawl across the bed, settling against the pillows. “I’m decent.”

“Goodnight.” He gives me a nod. He goes to leave. I grab his hand. He looks back at me, his eyes searching mine. “What?”

“Stay,” I beg. “Just to sleep.”

His eyes graze over my body, covered only by my thin nightgown. My nipples rise against the cottony fabric, turned on by his stare.

He shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Please?” I just need him to be near me.

He contemplates it for a moment, then lets out a sigh of surrender. “Fine.”

He grips the bottom of his shirt and I make myself look away as he tears it off, tossing it on an empty chair by the bed. He slips out of his trousers, letting them fall to the floor.

He climbs into the bed, pulling the covers over both of us. Our bodies are only a pull apart, but he lies there chastely, like his tongue wasn’t just exploring the folds of my sex on the forest floor.

“Hold me?” It’s a strange tension between us. I can feel he wants to be closer, but this is a game and it’s his move. I’ve already asked him to stay.

“Fine,” he mumbles. He gives in, reaching out for me and tugging me across the bed.

He holds me against him, the bare skin of his chest curved against my back. It feels warm, safe, and thrilling to be in his arms. I’m unable to remember another moment in my life I’ve felt this satisfied. Our breaths fall into a steady rhythm with one another’s.

I drift off to sleep, perfectly content.

But that’s the funny thing about contentment. It’s fleeting. Always replaced by wanting. And in the middle of the night, I’m woken by his wanting, his primal need for me.

His hardness is pressed between the cheeks of my ass, demanding. His hand possessively cupping my breast as he holds me against him.

“Santo?” I whisper.

He’s asleep.

I think I already knew that—he’d never be this brash with me if he was awake. I blink the sleep from my eyes, moving and stretching carefully so as not to wake him.

As I twist to loosen myself from his grasp he holds me tighter, imprisoning me against him. “Don’t move.”

“Santo.” I give a nervous giggle, thinking he’s woken, that he’s teasing or something because he’s made it so painfully clear he’ll never sleep with me. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t respond. His steady, even breaths come quicker. The hand cupping my breast squeezes, his fingertips tracing over my perking nipple. The feel of him stroking the sensitive bud makes my hips squirm against him.

Which only serves to make the bulge between my ass grow harder. I sneak a peek over my shoulder. The man is fast asleep.

How far will I let this go?

Hot shame rushes over my face. How could you, Willow? You should wake him, tell him what he’s doing.

But the flush moves from my face, warming my body as his hand slips from my breast, traveling over my belly. He cups my hip bone in his hand, squeezing it. My breath catches in my throat.

Where will his hand go next?

His fingers slip downward, dancing over the seam of my sex through my thin clothing. He groans as he glides up and down, stroking me. He cups my sex in his hand, his fingers trying to make their way through the fabric, groping for my entrance.

My God—what do I do?

I hold in a moan, staying perfectly still so I won’t wake him. It’s crazy, to let him do this to me. It’s so very, very bad not to wake him. But I have needs too and is it so bad if we both want it?

To let it happen?

He turns further on his side so he’s now fully curved around my body. He grinds his hips against my ass, his erection growing harder against my soft curves. He strokes my sex with less gentleness and more need, his fingers inching my nightgown upward.

How far will I let this go? If he tries to sleep with me…will I let him? No. I shake my head to myself. I couldn’t do that to him.

I want him to want to be with me.

I don’t want him to have sex with me in this unconscious state, his body only wanting mine by forced proximity. Maybe he thinks I’m one of his many women.

Maybe he’s dreaming he’s in bed with that redhead from the town bar. She’s gorgeous. A real woman with hourglass curves who knows what she’s doing. I’ve seen the lusty looks she gives him.

My heart feels heavy. I go to wake him.

But then, he whispers my name. “Willow.”

He knows it’s me.

A little ping of joy tears through my chest, quickly replaced by more shame as he rolls over top of me, his mouth finding mine, hot and hungry. His sex is fully ready and in this new position, it presses against my sex. He rubs against me as he kisses me.

The hardness of his cock moves back and forth over my already buzzing clit. Is he awake? Does he know what he’s doing? I don’t know. I lose myself in the kiss. With every movement of his hips, I’m growing further from caring. The friction builds, hot and tight, his tongue exploring deeper in my mouth as he rocks against me.

I’ll wake him after this one kiss.

When I let out a low moan his body freezes in mid-thrust. His mouth breaks away from mine. His eyes snap open, glaring with anger and confusion. His eyes flit over my face and lower, taking in the tangled state of our bodies.

“What the hell happened?” He searches my eyes for answers.

Humiliation glues my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I look away.

“Tell me. Now.” He takes my shoulder in his hand, giving it a good shake, ungluing my tongue from my mouth.

“You…were sleeping. Against me. I guess the closeness…” What do I say?

Your cock was getting hard and digging into my ass?

You touched me and I let you?

Me, a silly little virgin, took advantage of a big strong man like you?

I feel so much shame it causes me physical pain, making my stomach cramp in knots. “I’m sorry.”

He pushes himself off me, roughly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? Who knows what could have happened?” He stands from the bed, running his hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “Who knows what I could have done.”

I have no dignity left. Nothing left to lose. I whisper my confession. “I wanted it to happen.”

His eyes search mine. “I didn’t want it to happen. I can’t go against my family.”

His words hang in the air. My heart tears from my chest, falling away from my body.

“I understand. I’m sorry. It was wrong of me not to wake you.” My throat swells up and stupid, childish tears fill my eyes and tip down my cheeks. Pulling the covers up around me, I turn away from him.

He grabs my hand. “I’m sorry, too.” He gives my hand a squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

I hear him thump to the ground, punching the pillow.

“It’s not that I don’t want you. This thing between us.” His voice grows quiet, softer. “It just can’t be.”

It can’t be.

I toss him a blanket. “I know.”

“Thanks. Now go to sleep. You’ve got a heavy day tomorrow.”

I close my eyes and try to sleep, but I can’t.

What will tomorrow bring?

What dark secrets will my father share in the forest?