The Prince
“I’m stronger than her,” Kingsley whispered into Søren’s ear. Søren responded with so vicious a bite on Kingsley’s neck that he cried out. “I can take so much more pain than she. She’s gone. It doesn’t matter if she’s coming back or not. For now, she’s gone. Let me warm your bed in her place.”
“Who?” Søren pushed Kingsley even harder against the tree and thrust his thigh between Kingsley’s legs.
“Eleanor.”
Kingsley was free. No hands held him. No mouth kissed him. He stood against the tree, alone, untouched. Bewildered, he stared at Søren, who stood five feet away from him, panting. Søren raised his hand and wiped a drop of blood off the side of his mouth.
“Mais…” Kingsley protested.
Søren lowered his hand.
“You said my safe word.”
SOUTH
He couldn’t stay mad at the woman if his life depended on it. How could anyone stay mad at Nora? She had this thing about her, this force, this wildness... Of course she hadn’t slept with him last night. That’s exactly what Wesley had wanted, exactly when he wanted it and exactly who he’d wanted it with. So it hadn’t happened. Nothing ever happened except on Nora’s terms. That’s why she made him want to scream sometimes. That’s why she made him love her all the time.
Wesley led Nora through the quiet stables. Dozens of horses greeted them with low, breathy whinnies. He had to physically restrain her on several occasions from reaching out to pet the horses.
“Thoroughbreds, Nor. These are Thoroughbreds, not kittens. They’re geared up and ready to run. And they’ll bite you if you get them in the right mood. And now, they are in the right mood.”
“But they’re so cute with their little socks on,” she said, pulling Wesley toward another stall, where a horse named Don’t Need the Money pranced about peevishly. “Plus, I bite back.”
“You know horse racing is called the sport of kings, right?” Wesley teased. Nora had a rather irreverent take on horse racing. He blamed all those clients of hers that were into pony play. She couldn’t look at a saddle or a bridle without telling him about her ex-client who watched My Friend Flicka for the same reasons other guys watched p**n .
“So what’s going on here?” Nora waved her hands around at the stables.
“Prerace prep. Horses get rubbed down and dressed. Then it’s off to the starting gate.”
“The stands don’t look that full. Do people really make money off horse racing?”
“Nora, this one race that’s happening here in Charleston Park? People all over the world are betting on it.”
“Damn.”
“I know. The purses aren’t really where the money is. You want to win races so your horse proves he can win. That way, other horse owners will pay you a fortune to breed their horses with yours.”
“So they can go on to win races and not win very much money, but then sell horsey spooge to the next generation.”
“Right. Disgusting, but right.”
“So do the horses like running?”
“What?”
Nora turned around and leaned back against the stable wall. A horse named Good Golly Miss Molly stuck her head out of the stall window and stuck her tongue out at Wesley.
“Do they like it? Enjoy it?”
“I don’t speak horse. But I think a lot of them do. They’ve been trained to enjoy it, trained to want to run.”
“But it’s dangerous.”
“Being a wild horse is dangerous, too. Being an animal is dangerous. Being a human is dangerous.”
“Putting bridles on them, making them do dangerous things for the pleasure of others…isn’t that wrong?”
Just then Wesley noticed the wicked little twinkle in Nora’s eyes. They were green today. He’d asked her once why her eyes changed colors so often. One moment they shone bright emerald-green. In a blink they could turn black as night. “I have mood eyes,” she’d answered. “Green when I’m happy. Black when I’m horny.”
He sort of wished they were black right now.
“You’re not talking about horse racing, are you?”
Nora shook her head. “I am. But I’m not.”
“Horse racing isn’t like kink. Yeah, they both can be dangerous. And yeah, there’s some, I don’t know, non-consent involved...”
“And riding crops.”
“Yeah, and riding crops. But there’s a big difference between horse racing and kink.”
“And what’s that?” The twinkle remained in her eyes.
“It’s sad when a Thoroughbred gets hurt in a race. But when Søren hurts you, I die inside.”
Nora said nothing. The twinkle in her eyes faded. She pushed herself off the stable wall and came to him. Throwing her arms around his neck, she brought her mouth to his and kissed him long and deep. So shocked was he by the sudden kiss, it took Wesley a second before he could even kiss her back. But when he did, he met her passion with hunger, met her lips with his tongue, met her lust with love.
Wesley slid his hands down her back, and Nora pulled away.
“What?” he asked, searching her face for any clue as to why she’d stopped.
“Tonight,” she said, panting.
“What’s tonight?”
Nora laid her hands on his chest. She came up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “What you wanted. We hang out, we watch movies, we eat dinner together, we talk. But instead of separate bedrooms…we go to bed together.”