Trick (Foolish Kingdoms, #1)

by Natalia Jaster

“Have you ever fantasized about flinging yourself into the fire?” the jester murmured, pupils glittering with intrigue behind the diamond cutting through his left eye. “Have you ever imagined being naked and breathless, clasping someone who’s as rampant as you are? Ever opened yourself for a man or woman, spread yourself so wide they could reach every deep, tight, and moaning part of you?”

Fascinating. I’d never made someone hate me with this much devotion. The ivory, amber, and red shades of her—innocence and fire—drew me in like a moth.

“Burning hot before melting into a lovely disaster.”

I debated how hard I’d have to smash into that barricade, to break through it completely. Indeed, I had a craving to find out. Whereas everyone else diluted my impulses once I’d finished targeting them, she kept stirring those impulses back to life.

I spread my arms. “At your service.” “You are despicable.” “Nonsense. You didn’t give me time to be despicable.”

“I am a princess,” she declared. “I can make you do whatever I command.” “From any other mouth, that would sound like a dominant-submissive kink.”

“I don’t care what these people think!” she snapped, her voice shaking like a leaf. “And I don’t care what you think. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am who I am. If that’s not enough, too bad.” “For someone who doesn’t care what Spring thinks of her, that’s a rather thunderous response. So eager to rage.” I cocked my head and studied her. “Your eyes, how they shout at me.”

Applause. Because sometime between last night’s hall and this night’s garden, she found her nerve. And I lost mine.

“You are a wordsmith, therefore a liar. I know what your tongue is capable of.” And I knew an opportunity when I heard it. I prowled forward, lowered my voice, and let the words drizzle down her skin. “Now, now,” I husked. “You haven’t begun to learn what my tongue can do.”

“I merely intended to return your ribbon.” “But the color goes so well with your hair.”

A little someone snickered. A little someone scrambled onto my torso and tugged on my earlobe. I pretended to be asleep and was rewarded with more ear tugs. Without opening my eyes, I seized Nicu by the ribcage. “Got you!” My son chirped with glee. He lay flat atop my chest, spanning my width with his twig arms and legs. “No, I’ve got you! You’re my prisoner, Papa!” “And I surrender willingly. You have no idea, my love.”

“I can feed myself.” “Please do. I’m too pretty to be doing a thankless job.”

“He’s my heartbeat. He’s my greatest achievement.”

“Need something to wet your tongue, do you?” he inquired, then lowered his voice to the faintest whisper. “So do I.”

I shall only say this. Had we been alone in the cottage, that night would have turned out differently. Had the princess given me a trace of permission, the counter would have been swiped of its dishes. Had she given the slightest indication, she would have been hauled off the ground—and that fucking water glass would have shattered to the floor.

“Be foolish with me, Briar.”

“Frankly, denying your effect on me is getting old quickly.”

“You’re brave. You’ll get right back up and try again. It would be a shame not to, because even the birds must risk crashing before they can fly.

“We’re finished talking, sweeting. So very fucking finished.” Then he grabbed my face—and his mouth slammed against mine.

At some point, the corrupter had become the corrupted. The seducer had become the seduced.

“You’re playing a treacherous game, Princess.” The response trembled out of Briar like a small flame, one that could detonate into an inferno at any moment. “Then play it with me,” she dared.

In the dark, fed up and pent up, I couldn’t tell anymore if we were kissing or fighting. Though, I hardly gave a shit. All I cared about was making her feel it—every ounce of painful pleasure.

A frantic, foreign type of desire shredded through me. Not only did I wish to help bathe her, to coast my fingers over her bare, wet flesh. Nay, I wanted to wash the muck from her hair, to rinse her skin until she tingled with satisfaction. I wanted to take care of her.

Protectiveness curled my knuckles. If anyone wounded her, I’d be forced to do bodily damage to them. Inflict the slightest harm to Briar, and I would tear them to shreds.

When the princess didn’t restrain herself, she still moved with a clunky lack of rhythm, but her awful coordination hardly mattered. For the dancing made her happy, and that happiness made her the brightest fucking thing in this garden. Enthralling woman. Hypnotized jester.

“I see you. I see your resilience and strength of will. I see your determination and tenacity. I see your desire for control and your longing to dance. I see your integrity and daring, even when every other fool in a packed room fails to. I see it all, and I want it all, for you’ve bewitched me out of my wicked fucking mind.”

“Now you’re in my head like a verse and a curse. You’re a plague and a fantasy. You’re there when I’m tossing and turning in bed, twisting the sheets into a heated mess. It’s you who I picture moaning beneath me, above me, in front of me. I’ve pumped my cock to those desires, and I’ll keep doing so until long after you leave this place. I won’t stop until you’ve drained me dry.” The humid words rose from my mouth. “I won’t stop until I’m so lost in your memory, your hand will tingle whilst I come.”

“You’re every bitter and euphoric feeling I have. You’re in every word I speak, every move I make. All of it is you. Whatever happens from now on, you will be my ecstasy and my downfall.

But it wasn’t until I released his hair, raced my fingers along his shoulders, and skated a trembling digit down his spine that I dominated him. Poet’s mouth shook. He sucked in a harsh gust of air, and his frame shuddered against me. How I loved wiping that mouth clean of mockery. How I enjoyed that my touch could do him this harm. I could rule a nation. And I could do this to him. Yet I could not say which felt more powerful.

I need you. I resent you. I envy you. I crave you. I miss you. I want you.

“I want to see your body. I want every beguiling part of you on my mouth. But most of all …” His breath sailed across my lips. “I want to see every truth about you—everything raw and real. I want you to destroy me.” He ducked his head and met my gaze. “Show me those lovely secrets, and I promise, I’ll honor them.”

“You’re dismantling all my assumptions.” “Aye,” he agreed again, prowling my way. “And you’re ruining all my plans.” “Breaking down the walls.” “Burning them to cinders.”

Her own name dangled from my tongue, but I kept it in, kept it close, because she was mine. And I was hers. All hers.

If she wished, I would have shown her passion from every angle, every position. Oh, but I longed to fuck her sweetly.

I wanted to make her happy.

Seasons almighty. At this rate, the woman would slay me.

“Would you like to know how you taste?”

I still feel your release like it’s my own pulse.”

“Princess, I never wanted to kneel before a ruler so badly in my life. My mouth has been parched for you.

Whoever deemed the ocean an invigorating place needed to reconsider the reality of sunburns, crashing waves, and sand wedged into places no one should have it.

at least fake your gratitude when a person cares enough about you to help.” “I care about you, too!”

No one would be safe from me if they touched her.

“Sweeting, if the princess doesn’t want to be touched—” he increased the pressure on the guard’s trachea and enunciated, “—you do not touch her.”

“The greatest courage a person can have is to love another, for there are only two outcomes. Either the love lasts, and our lives are compromised, or it doesn’t, and our lives are emptied. Either way, we suffer more than we celebrate. I’ve enjoyed suffering with you. We are a tale for campfires.”

Poet whispers, “Right now, I’m loving her … because I do, and have, and will.” My hands shook as they clasped his face. “Poet.” “I love her,” he hissed, capturing my mouth.

His deadly glower said one other thing. Touch the princess, and I shall impale you. My own deliberate scowl said something rather similar. Touch the jester, and I will shatter you.

She felt mesmerizing, sexual, powerful. She felt like my destruction.

I wanted her on every forsaken surface available. I wanted her beneath me like now, above me like before, bent in front of me like someday. I wanted her hair unruly and pouring like lava down her freckled skin. I wanted to see her lovingly fucked by me. I wanted her padding through my chambers in nothing but my shirt, the sleeves dangling past her wrists, the hem billowing around her thighs. I wanted her fast and slow. I wanted her hard and soft. I wanted her crazed and peaceful. I wanted her in darkness and daylight. I wanted Briar against a wall. I wanted her sprawled across a desk. I wanted her astride my cock, riding me on her throne. I wanted Briar in her bed and in my bed.