The Forbidden Room (Fairy Tales Behaving Badly) Read Online Free

could not stop thinking of your face, the way your body had leaned into mine, tempting me. I wanted you that day, would have thrown you atop the nearest table in that marketplace and drove my cock into you if I could. Have you seen my latest statue? I had it commissioned shortly after.”
    He gestured at one of the bronze statues in the room that was closest to the table, and Melisande gasped. It was the statue she had been exploring when the Marquise had entered; the statue of a girl constrained in the same way she was now, on her knees and elbows with her backside thrust into the air. She saw the look of pleasurable excitement in her expression. It looked so much like her, Melisande realized now, recognizing her features in the bronze woman’s. The man behind her was in the process of plowing his thick cock into her, his face lesser defined, but seemed to carry with it the Marquise’s arrogant bearing.
    “When I heard of the plague that swept through your village, I had feared for you. I sent healers to your village with the express instruction of saving you, though I am sorry they could not save your father and mother.” Melisande gasped softly. So it was the Marquise of Eddom who had been responsible for saving so many of the villagers, many who may not have made it had they not come. “I had wanted to take more time and introduce myself to you, to court you as you deserved. I knew you loved your village, but I knew you were struggling. In time you might leave, or accept another’s proposal. And so I acted. I took advantage of your good heart and your misfortune, but I am not sorry, for I would do it again. Can you still bear it, living with such a man? Will you choose to take your chances elsewhere - or remain with me?”
    She looked up at him then, and something in the look in his eyes, in the twist of his mouth, told her that if she chose to leave, he would set her free in that instant, despite all his desires, for all his tender harshness. “I would like to try,” she whispered, a swift tremor passing through her at her own words, and his green eyes darkened.
    “Are you willing to give up your body to me, Melisande, to have in each and every way I desire?” The dark promise in those words, the rough way he said them, only made her quiver, more wetness spilling down her thighs.
    “Yes, milord,” she whispered, only wanting him to ease the ache inside her, knew what he must do to accomplish this.
    He smiled at her then, low and seductive. He moved out of her vision again, and her eyes widened as she felt him again behind her, felt her strong, lean fingers drawing her pouting lips apart, exposing her wet, depraved little core for him. She felt the cool air touch her there, heat and shame rushing through her. Something soft and warm began to probe at her depths. The Marquise’s finger, sliding into her sopping wetness. Soon, his mouth joined it, began to explore her thoroughly, the bridge of his nose nudging into her reddened cheeks, his breath hot against her inflamed skin.
    Melisande cried out at the twin sensations, so different and yet so similar, the swirling tension in her belly growing with every second that his mouth lavished at her tight cunny, lapping at her sweet nectar. He changed direction abruptly, his expert tongue no longer a soft, stroking implement, but now a rough, piercing instrument, surging into her. He had withdrawn his finger, and both his hands gripped the back of her thighs to prevent her from moving back and forth against him, rendering her vulnerable to his tongue, which retreated to circle her exposed nub before stabbing back into her snug tunnel. Her clasping channel squeezed tightly around the invader, her fingers clawing at the wooden table beneath her.
    She cried out again when he stopped, this time from frustration. She felt him rise, felt the undeniable sounds of his breeches being unfastened, the rustle of cloth.
    “Do you know what I am about to do to you now,