The Three Princesses Read Free Page B

save yourself for no good reason. All these years, restraining, fighting your passion. I shall give you release. I will bring you such sweet torment that it will feel as if I am lowering you into the fiery lakes of Hades, only to rescue you and bathe your burning skin with cool kisses and sweet succor. Oh yes." Her voice was little more than a throaty whisper now, and she pressed herself against him with the languorous sensuality of a cat. "Oh yes, tonight will be yours as well as mine."
    "No," said the Woodsman. It took all his might. "I will not."
    "You have no choice," said Circe, pressing her cheek against his chest and looking down at her hand as she finally lifted it and slipped it under his belt. "Not if you wish to see your son. You have no choice but to do what I say."
    Her touch was as cool as he had imagined, soft and smooth and demanding. She slid her hand between his abdomen and cock, down to his wiry bush of hair, and there grasped him around the base, her fingers curling around softly, so softly and then ghosting up his length, tormenting him, driving him to a frenzy.
    "You promise?" He could barely phrase his words. "If I do this, you promise to return my son?"
    "Oh yes," said Circe. "Oh yes."
    "Then so be it," said the Woodsman. He dropped his ax to the floor. It hit the carpet with a heavy thud. He took her about the waist, his hands so large that she was almost a doll in his grip, and lifted her up. She gasped, surprised, and her eyes flashed with wild fire as he walked over to her bureau and sat her on it, her legs spreading about his waist as her skirt rode up. He slid one broad hand behind her slender back and cupped the back of her head with his other hand, and leaned down to kiss her cool neck. She looked up, exposing her throat, and he kissed its marble smoothness, kissed it over and over until he reached the hollow behind her ear and there he licked her, nose buried in her hair. He felt her begin to scratch his back, running her nails up and down his sides as she began to breathe deeply.
    His anger and arousal and need and long, hard years of self denial came to a head, and he let loose his emotions, his need, his hunger. He held her to him without caring how hard he did so, pressed her lithe body against his broad, strong one, and kissed with hungry need the length of her jaw, bringing his hand round to cup her cold cheek, the curves of her ear pressed against his palm. She moved within his grip, never still, rubbing her chest against his, laughing as she turned her head from one side to the other, pretending to evade his kisses as he sought her ruby lips. He wanted to kiss her mouth, bite her lips until they hurt, taste her tongue, but she would not let him, and finally she slipped away altogether, off the bureau to back away from him, eyes flashing as she laughed low.
    The Woodsman turned; shoulders hunched, muscles taut, and stalked after her. She laughed again, and turned to dance away, leading him across the bed, a ghost that he could not catch, a wind that passed through his fingers as if he were a slow and clumsy oaf. The more she evaded him the more his savage desire grew, his anger and resentment blending into a need to dominate her, to control her, to make her beg him for more. She laughed and danced and on he followed, till she finally turned and slipped within the cradle of his arms. Before he could hug her to him, however, she dropped to her knees, and with a practiced flick undid his belt.
    The Woodsman froze, jaw clenched, and felt her pull his belt free with a snap. She tossed it aside onto the bed, and then pulled down his pants, raking his thighs painfully as she did so, looking up at him and grinning all the while. He stood panting, his hard stomach shivering as he watched her pull down his small clothes, and his cock sprang forth. It was large, wide, with a thick vein running along its length. The head was broad and smooth and massively swollen, and for a moment Circe simply