ANYA
Whoa. Things are moving way too fast. What's happened to all that resolve I had stored up?
As I watch Fynn's ass move in his slacks while he leads me down the stairs, I realize that he's damn good at seduction. It's like he read my mind. He knew exactly what I had been thinking when I was standing in the vanity area while he was showering. And he knew that once I saw his body, there'd be little I could do to resist him.
I blush as I think about his dick. It was a lot bigger than I expected. Most of the time, when men act haughty and confident, I automatically assume they'll be small in the pants. I've been taught my whole life that guys who act like that are compensating for something. But Fynn isn't really the stuck up asshole that I've been trying to make him out to be. He's been nothing but kind and generous. Treasonous to his own side, if I'm being honest. And for what? I want to think it was to get closer to me—to make things the way they are now—but that feels delusional. No piece of ass is worth betraying your country for, especially my ass.
Fynn leads me into the dining room, and we sit on opposite ends of a table so long that I feel like it belongs in the movies. The distance between us makes me feel oddly cold and lonely, even though Fynn looks up at me and smiles every now and then.
I can't stop thinking about what we did upstairs. And it feels like I have bumble bees buzzing around in my stomach as I try to imagine what will happen later when we're up there again. Am I really going to give myself to him so easily? I insisted that I wouldn't, and I hate lying to myself. But being touched by a man has never felt so good before. Being kissed by someone has never made me see stars and caused my heart to beat out of rhythm. The intimate moments we shared have stripped me of all sense, and I'm seeing him less and less as an enemy and more as someone I could...
I sigh, frowning at the roasted duck and honey glazed carrots that are set in front of me even though it might be the best meal I've ever had. I'd never been able to afford something like this on my paycheck, and my adopted parents rarely even took us out for fast food as a treat because of the expense of feeding so many mouths. I shouldn't be thinking about how this is probably all temporary—about how once Fynn gets tired of me he'll cast me aside for someone else or return home and marry some princess. I should be living in the moment, enjoying the fact that I'm not having to try to fill myself on a few meager slices of roast beef and a sliver of potato. That I'll get to sleep in an actual bed tonight instead of on a hard floor. That I'll have a man beside me to protect me and keep me warm. These are all luxuries that I deserve no more than anyone else stuck here through the war—and they're being afforded to me because Fynn thinks I'm pretty. I should appreciate my good fortune instead of sulking over the fact that it won't last forever.
Fynn's servants give me queer looks when they enter the room, but Fynn gazes at me like I'm the most beautiful woman in the entire world. I wish I would have at least thought to pull my hair back. It's wild from not having been brushed since it dried. By comparison, Fynn's hair looks soft and perfect. Perfect like the rest of him. Lucky bastard, with his muscled body and his kind eyes and his sexy stubble. I can't even imagine what it must be like to be born with so many things in your favor.
“You're thinking too hard.” He grins at me from across the table.
“Am I?” I try to play it off.
Fynn points at me with his fork. “You get the tiniest crease in your forehead when you're thinking too hard.”
I make it a point to change my expression so that my forehead isn't creased, though I have no idea how to consciously do that when I'm distracted with other things. “You pretend to know me so well,” I say mockingly.
“I want to get to know you even better.” He cuts into his duck. If there's any sexual connotation behind his words, I don't hear it. He sounds completely sincere.
“Your Highness.” Elliott appears in the doorway. When I see the man with blonde curly hair from the military encampment at his side, my entire body tenses and I lose my appetite. “General Daniel Hansson is here to see you.” He bows before turning to return to his post at the door.
General Daniel Hansson squints at me in confusion, and when I look over at Fynn, I can see that the situation isn't good. It's like he just got caught hiding some big dark secret. And I'm the big dark secret.
“Who is this?” General Daniel Hansson asks, gesturing to me. There's fake politeness in his tone. His lips are pulled tight, his jaw set.
“Anya, would you excuse us for a moment?” Fynn balls his napkin up and sets it on top of the table.
“There's no need for that. I wouldn't want to disturb your dinner.” General Daniel Hansson holds his hand out to stop me from getting up, but he keeps his eyes glued to Fynn. “Perhaps I should make an educated guess.”
Fynn rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. My nerves are on edge from the tension between them. It's so thick you could cut it with a knife. The servants have all fled from the room, perhaps anticipating a confrontation. It would probably be smarter if I left too, but I feel frozen in place.
“You're from the camp in sector seventeen, aren't you?” General Daniel Hansson turns to me finally. He seems pleased with himself, as if he just figured out one of the great mysteries of the world. “You're the reason he's been sending food. You're the reason he's betrayed his country.” His words slice through the air, making me want to curl inside myself.
“I did not betray my country.” Fynn slams his fist down on top of the table, drawing our attention to him.
“Do you think I don't see what's going on here?” General Daniel Hansson hisses at Fynn. “Oh, this better just be some passing fancy for you. If your father knew you were sticking your dick in the enemy.”
Fynn is on his feet in an instant, his hand balled as he gives General Daniel Hansson a warning look. “It's not like that.”
“It's not?” General Daniel Hansson juts his head back. “Are you going to tell me next that she's not wearing your shirt? I don't think she would be wearing your shirt if you hadn't taken off her clothes.
“You can fuck the enemy, Fynn. But to bring her into this house.” He stomps his foot.
Fynn flies around the side of the table so fast that I gasp. He clutches onto the front of General Daniel Hansson's uniform and forces him back against the wall. “I'm not fucking her. I love her.”
My heart about stops from his words. He...loves me?
“I'm going to put my baby in her belly, and then I'm going to marry her, and there's nothing that you or my father or anyone else can do about it!” Fynn practically spits in his face.
General Daniel Hansson's eyes go wide. He glances at me for a fraction of a second before his gaze returns to Fynn and he brushes his hands away. The fight has left him, his expression filling with confusion and concern.
“You're serious about this,” he says. It's a statement, not a question.
“I am.” Fynn stands his ground, not backing down.
General Daniel Hansson looks at me again. “You love her?”
“I do.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“It doesn't matter.” Fynn waves the question away, stepping back from him finally to return to his seat.
“Your father—” General Daniel Hansson begins, but Fynn holds his hand up to silence him.
“I don't care what my father thinks. It is what it is. Nothing will change the way that I feel.” He avoids looking at me, and that hurts.
My eyes water. I'm overwhelmed with so many emotions. Right now I feel like Helen of Troy. Is his love for me going to cause a civil war? No one is going to sail their ships across the sea to get me back. I'm not a stolen bride, but I can't help but feel like my existence has drawn some dangerous lines in the sand.
“Well,” General Daniel Hansson straightens himself, smoothing down the front of his uniform, “I came to talk to you about the sweep of sector seventeen tomorrow, but I suppose that doesn't matter to you anymore.” His eyes cut to me.
“I've informed the people in the warehouse of your intentions. They should be out of the area by tomorrow,” Fynn speaks to him as if they're back to business.
“Very well.” General Daniel Hansson nods. “I'll take my leave then and allow you to return to your meal. Ma'am.” He tips his hat to me, but it feels forced. There's no respect in his expression.
The room is as silent as a tomb as General Daniel Hansson takes his leave. It's not until he's gone that I hear Fynn let out a deep sigh. It's as if he's deflating, like he blew himself up larger than life to defend me, but now he's returning to normal. The air of authority has left his posturing. He's not a prince anymore, just a man with his worries.
He props his elbow up on the table and rests his chin on his fist, staring down at his food but making no attempt to eat it. I watch him, wondering if he's alright but too afraid to ask. I take a sip of wine from the glass set before me, needing to calm my nerves.
“I've lost my appetite,” Fynn says suddenly, pushing his chair away from the table. His eyes sweep over to me and fill with the gentleness I'm used to seeing in them. “You can continue eating if you like...or you can join me.”
It feels like there's only one option, but it's the option I would have taken anyway. Even though it seems like a waste to leave our uneaten food behind, consoling Fynn is more important. He's done so much for me. All I desire is to put his mind at ease.
I follow him back up the stairs and out onto the balcony. This time, as I ascend the staircase, I feel different. I'm not a prisoner in this house, I realize. Not really.
We stand outside, overlooking the city. It's a painful reminder of everything. There's the untouched neighborhood, but beyond that, I can see the carnage from the bombs that were dropped. It's a reminder that this is all an illusion, that the safety I feel here with Fynn isn't real. We're enemies. Maybe not by choice, but that doesn't erase the fact. There are threats out there just waiting to tear us apart. General Daniel Hansson could inform the king about us, and if I were captured, I would surely be put to death. What Fynn feels for me is dangerous.
I inhale deeply, taking a step closer to him for comfort, though I'm not sure if it's for mine or his. I don't know what I can say to him that will make it better. He's obviously very upset.
“Maybe I should leave,” I suggest. It's the most logical course of action to keep us both safe.
“No.” He places his hand on top of mine. “I don't want that.”
“We don't always get what we want, Fynn. That's life,” I remind him.
“I'm a prince,” he snorts at me. “I always get what I want.”
“This isn't a game.” I turn to him, giving him a serious look. My life is on the line and who knows what else.
He matches my intensity, taking my other hand so that both of our hands are clasped together. “No, it's not.”
I don't know what else I can say to change his mind, so I simply step in and rest my head against his chest. He wraps his arms around me in a soothing embrace, and I listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You'd never be able to tell that just moments ago he had a heated confrontation.
“You'll catch a cold if we stay up here for too long.” He rakes his fingers through my hair, squeezing me gently before finally stepping away.
Fynn slips his hand into mine and leads me inside. We stroll back to the bedroom as casually as two people dating before the war. His face is filled with melancholy, and I'm still busy trying to figure out what we can do to fix this, if anything.
We enter the bedroom and Fynn closes the door behind us. I wait for him, feeling out of place. He walks past me to the bed and sits down, and I follow, sitting beside him. The silence is deafening. So many things are playing through my mind, but one stands out above the rest.
“You said you love me, but you don't even know me.” It's a comment, something meant to spark conversation, though I half expect him to remain quiet. He looks too deep in thought for words.
Fynn gazes out into the distance for a moment. Then he takes my hand in his once more, but he won't look at me. “That day I saw you standing in the window...” he begins but quickly gets lost. “No, when I saw you at your camp. The original camp, not the one you relocated to. I think I knew then.”
“The original camp,” I mouth the words, not understanding how he could have known about that.
“When I saw you standing in the window, I sent a man after you. He told me that you were with a group of unarmed civilians, but I wasn't convinced that you weren't a spy, so I went myself to check out the situation. You were carrying a box with the guiltiest look on your face.” His lips turn up in a smirk as he recalls the memory. “Your hair was pulled back in braids. I was...captivated by you.
“I followed you and your people to the warehouse. I've known where you were all this time. I came on foot and watched you when I had free time. I couldn't believe it when I saw you scavenging, that they would send out a woman so young and beautiful into the ugly war-torn world. It wasn't safe, and I didn't like it.”
“I'm not the only woman who has been scavenging,” I remind him.
“I know. But you were the only one I cared about.” His eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second. “I tracked you down because keeping my distance wasn't good enough. I needed to see you. To touch you.” Fynn squeezes my hand. “Of course, you were terrified of me. I half-thought you were going to jump out the window to get away.”
“I thought about it,” I admit, quirking my head to the side.
“I know you did.” He chuckles. “I could see it in your eyes. In your actions. The way you kept backing up. I'm glad you didn't jump.”
“I'm glad you didn't make me jump.” I grin at him.
“Anyway, after speaking to you, I knew that you were someone precious that needed to be protected. I couldn't stand the thought of you putting yourself in danger every day to forage for what your people needed to survive, so I started sending the food, hoping it would keep you safe in your camp. It did, for the most part.
“Daniel wanted to sweep the area earlier, but I put it off for as long as I could, trying not to seem suspicious about my actions. I knew he would catch on eventually, though, because I was never around whenever my duties were over. I was always off in sector seventeen just trying to catch a glimpse of you.”
“That wasn't very smart.” I furrow my brow at him. “You could have been captured and killed.”
He cocks his head toward me, looking at me from the corner of his eye. “I don't think I cared. I wasn't thinking logically anymore.”
“You're still not thinking logically.” I frown, thinking about how I should just disappear in the middle of the night to spare him from having to think about it at all. That probably wouldn't work, though. There's no doubt in my mind that he would move heaven and earth to track me down. He's already risked so much to protect me and bring me to his side.
This is serious. I can tell that everything he's said to me is true. He may still be a stranger to me, but he's watched me for a long time. To think that someone like him would take an interest in someone like me is more than flattering. But for as much as he wanted to protect me then, I need to protect him now. Maybe if I give him what he wants...show him that I'm nothing special, he'll realize he made a mistake and do what's best for both of us, send me on my way with nothing more than the parting memory of our intimate times together.
I swallow hard as I carefully consider my next actions. I'm not sure I'm ready for this, but I need to be. This is the only way I know of to save us both.
I pull my legs up onto the bed and crawl until I'm kneeling behind Fynn. My hands grab the collar of his jacket, pulling it down over his shoulders. He casts a look at me before helping me to take it off of him the rest of the way. Then I knead my fingers into his hard flesh, giving him a massage. Having almost no experience with massaging people, I can't tell if he carries a lot of tension in his shoulders or if his muscles are just so hard that they're difficult to manipulate. Whatever the case, I do my best job trying to help him relax.
I've never tried to seduce a man before, but there's a first time for everything. Carefully, I gather his hair and pull it over one shoulder, leaning in to kiss the back of his neck. It doesn't take long for him to queue in on what I'm doing. I move over slightly to clip his earlobe between my teeth before I lick up the shell of it. He makes a soft hissing sound and closes his eyes.
I slide my hand into his hair, tightening my grip to turn his head towards me. Our lips meet, and I can feel passion resonating through him. He's letting me have control, which is almost unimaginable to me. He doesn't seem like the type of man who would ever follow someone else's lead.
Fynn breaks free from the kiss to crawl up onto the bed with me. I barely allow him to reposition himself, taking his face in my hands and kissing him aggressively. There's no more playing hard to get. While it kills me that he may think of me as a slut after this, I need to throw myself at him to show him that I'm just like every other woman that came before me. I'm hurting myself by giving in to him like this, but it's for a good cause. The best cause. Survival.
I straddle his lap, and he grabs at the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it over my head and tossing it aside. He wastes no time going for my bra, too. While I feel incredibly self-conscious being exposed to him, I can't afford to act bashful anymore. His mouth descends on my breast, sucking my nipple, and electricity shoots through my body targeting my core. I grind against him, feeling his cock stiffening in his slacks. Everything he does feels so good; maybe it won't be as hard to pretend that I'm a promiscuous creature as I imagined.
“Oh,” I groan, tilting my head back as his mouth lavishes affection on my chest.
I savor the feeling of my fingers sliding through his hair. It's so silky and soft. His tongue laps slowly across my erect bud, and his hand comes up to tease the other nipple. I can feel moisture building on the crotch of the pajama pants he let me borrow as he pinches and tweaks my nipples, causing my pussy to water. When he looks up at me, I feel something deep within me give way. It's like a wall that I've been holding up for who knows how long has suddenly been knocked down. I'm lost in his eyes and the knowledge of his love.
This man would sacrifice everything for me. He said it to me before in so many words. But it feels like I haven't really processed it until now, and realizing the depth of its meaning hits me like a ton of bricks. And despite my resolve to act like I'm some skank that any man can have, I know that I belong to him. I am his, and no one else will ever be able to have me like he is having me now. I will never feel this way with any other man for as long as I live.
I unbutton his shirt, eager to render him naked. There's no shy apprehension in my actions. I peel the shirt away from him like it's on fire and this is the only way to save him.
Fynn kisses my neck, massaging the globes of my ass over the pajamas. Each rough stroke grinds my pussy against his cock.
“Too many clothes.” I writhe against him, yearning to feel the velvet of his naked skin between my folds, the soft burning sensation when he takes me for the first time. I want to know what it feels like to be beneath him. To be loved by a prince. Fucked by an enemy. The ultimate betrayal to everything I thought I knew.
“We can fix that,” he growls against my collarbone, hooking his fingers into the waistband of my pajama pants and pulling them down over my ass.
I lift for a moment to help him get them off. Within seconds, I'm naked and vulnerable. But I haven't felt as safe in months as I do right now. And I've never felt as adored as I do when he looks at me in the way he's looking at me right now.
“You have too many clothes on.” I kiss down his chest, working my way to his belt. His eyes follow me as I slide down his body. He leans back, the hard muscles of his abdomen flexing, and he looks so sexy I feel like I could die from desire.
I crawl over him for a kiss, rubbing his hardened length over his slacks. He cups my chin, holding me to him until he's satisfied. It's a game of give and take. He demands of me, and then he allows me free reign. I don't feel lesser than him. We're equals on this playing field.
I unclasp his belt and don't even bother pulling it from the loops before I unzip his pants and tug them along with his boxers down over his hips. His erect cock springs out, and I can't tell which is watering more from the sight of it, my mouth or my pussy.
“It's not fair.” I grin at his dick as I pull his pants off the rest of the way.
“What's not fair?” His eyes stay glued to my tits. I know they're bouncing from my effort to depants him, but I don't care. All shyness has gone out the window because of my need to have him.
“Nothing.” I shake my head before gripping the base of his cock. It's like steel in my hand. The veins are bulging. I can feel him pulse as if in resistance. His slit is already slick with arousal. I can't wait to taste him, which is odd because the thought of giving a guy head has always turned me off before.
He doesn't ask me to elaborate. What I was thinking, though, is that it's not fair that he's so physically perfect. It's not fair that other women have had him before me. It's not fair that this will probably be my only chance to be with him like this.
I stroke him clumsily, trying my best not to think too hard about pleasuring him. I've always heard that men are easy to get off, and if I look up into his eyes, my body seems to go on autopilot anyway.
Fynn gathers my hair in one of his hands, watching me as my mouth descends. I cup his balls and give them a kiss, making sure to keep eye contact. I have barely a clue what I'm doing, but he doesn't seem to notice. As I lick from his balls up his length, he moans softly.
I worship his cock with my tongue, taking my time licking up it slowly as if he's a drippy ice cream cone. Every time I feel him twitch against my palm, I know I'm doing a good job. And as I keep his gaze, I can't help but wonder if any man has ever looked this sexy while being sucked off.
I press my tongue against his slit, drawing the drops of pre-seed into my mouth that have leaked out of it. He tastes salty and delicious, and I find myself feeling greedy—wanting more.
“Slow,” he tells me, placing a hand under my chin to guide me.
I hold the base of his cock with both hands, keeping his dick pointing up like an arrow to the ceiling as I continue to lick and eye-fuck him to death. Every time I get to his tip, I find myself lingering, dipping my tongue into his slit, exploring the ridges of his helmet. I'm beginning to think it's my favorite part of him. How could I have ever known I would enjoy this so much?
“I'm worried your eyes are going to do me in,” he tells me with a breathy half-chuckle. Every once in a while, his grip tightens on my chin, forcing me to stop. I take great pleasure in knowing I have him so close to the edge already. We haven't even really begun yet. But I plan to make him come harder than he ever has in his entire life.
“I've never sucked a cock before,” I confess, “but you taste so good, I think I could do this all day.”
“Fuck,” he groans, enunciating the word as if it's painful.
He lets go of my face, and I descend on him, popping the tip into my mouth. His entire body shudders, and he presses his hips forward. I move down his length, feeling his cock stretching my jaw. Pre-seed sticks to the back of my throat as his glans kisses my uvula. I swallow around him, and he makes this O face that causes my clit to fire off in tiny contractions. Who knew that pleasuring someone else could be so sexually stimulating. I feel like I might come just from sucking him off.
I bob on his dick, disappointed in myself that I can't take it all the way to the back of my throat. I get about three-quarters of the way there before my mouth runs out of space. I end up having to stroke the rest of his length, squeezing hard to milk out every drop of pre-come that his body can produce. Then I slide my tongue down his length and suck on his balls one at a time, closing my eyes and taking pleasure in every little perverted act.
“Oh my God, you need to stop,” he tells me when I lick back up his length and take him into my mouth again. He's barely holding on, but I just want him to let go. I tighten my lips around him, working him faster. “Anya,” my name comes out as a warning. He fists his hand into my hair, tightening to pull me back. I lock my eyes with him, challenging him as I do the opposite of what he wants, cupping the underneath of his shaft with my tongue and sliding down on his cock until my throat hurts from being stretched so wide and my head burns from him trying to pull me off of him.
He lets out the most beautiful sound I've ever heard a man make, and then I feel his cock grow impossibly larger before a shot of hot come coats the back of my throat. His fingers flex in my hair, no longer trying to pull me away. It's like he's in a state of shock, his abs clenching as his cock pumps its load down the back of my throat.
I swallow in large gulps, wanting to down every drop. It's not anywhere near as unpleasant as I thought it would be, and the look on his face makes it more than worth it. I'd sell my soul to see him look like this all the time. But this is the only time. So I have to savor it for what it is.
I wait until his dick is drained, then I lick it clean, making sure not to miss a drop. When I'm done, he looks absolutely exhausted, though bliss is written all over his face. I grin at him, still stroking his cock which is slowly beginning to soften in my hand. “See. I told you, Fynn. You can't always get what you want.”