Prin In Porta [A Humania Tale]
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by RaeLynn Blue
Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica
Description: Princess Courtney Rose, Prin, is not having a great day. Her brother, King Josuha has packed her up and shipped her off to Porta, a province known for its number of retired wizards, sorceresses and brothels. Bored out of her mind and given a new name to protect her identity, Prin is coiled to strike at the peaceful province. Missing the party life in Humania, this "deburoyale" longs to be back in the lap of luxury--if only she can survive the two weeks she's sentenced to Porta. All is a serious drag until she meets a servant, Patrick Butler. Patrick Butler is fed up with being a low-level attendant. Reared as a servant since birth, he longs for adventure and if possible, a little fun. Both Patrick and Prin get more than they bargain for when Lady Seaman sets her sights on snaring the young Butler for her bed and eliminating the young princess as well. With her brother out of contact, Prin is on her own, and she must escape Lady Seaman's clutches for not only her life will be shattered, but those of the royal family. Will this partying princess grow up in time to save her brother's throne, and manage to keep Patrick? Read the thrilling erotic fantasy from RaeLynn Blue, author of THE ONYX SCION [A HUMANIA TALE].
eBook Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press, 2008
eBookwise Release Date: October 2008
4 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [365 KB]
Reading time: 206-288 min.
"Oh, yes, right ... there, oh, yes, yes..." moaned Princess Courtney Rose, her slender legs spread wide against the wooden floor, the dark curls of Braden Evers' hair glistening under the torches' lights. "Mmmm, oh, do that tongue thing. Yes, right ... there."
She slipped her fingers into those silky strands. It glided through her fingers, and she wrapped them into her fist, making him grunt. Without asking, she pushed his head further in, his nose planted between her swollen lips and his tongue continued to tease her clit. The male used his tongue as miniature cock, diving into her soaking wet garden and zipping up again to press the button.
"Oh, oh, more," she whispered heatedly, her legs locking around Royal Advisor Evers' son, Braden's thick neck, securing him to the spot. No, he isn't going anywhere without a fight. "Faster, yeah, faster..."
As the speed and pressure of his mouth and tongue increased, words blurred into bits of unintelligible moans and failed attempts at speaking.
"Yes! Right there!" Prin screamed, her legs locked as if made of iron.
Arching her back, she moved her hands to his shoulders, gripping them so hard she was sure she'd left bruises, but until the orgasm finished sending sizzling ripples through her, she wasn't even thinking about letting go.
Slowly, her body still suffering tiny spasms, Prin unlocked her legs, and allowed Braden to sit back. His grin, wide and mischievous, spoke to his playfulness, but Prin knew without doubt, he wanted something more than an afternoon bite of muff.
"Mmm," she said, smiling back, the game afoot. "You did a very nice job, Braden."
"Nice?" he sniggered. "I was damn good, better than any fairy male."
Prin brushed it aside.
"Fairies are way too rough, to be true," she said, flashing teeth.
Braden, highborn, the youngest son of RA Evers, was trying his best to get into her brother, Joshua's good side. This little "gift" wasn't anything more than a bribe for Prin's big brother.
"Aye, you put your name in the satchel for my hand?" she asked, drawing her silk elven robe about her naked body.
"Shall I, Princess?" he asked slyly, stepping into his trousers with ease. Drawing the strings into a wonderful bow, Braden's dark eyelashes looked like curtains of lace against his pale skin. "If it pleases you, of course I will."
Prin knew beyond doubt she had no interest in marrying him. But his giving his name to his father, and his father giving it to hers, would more than solidify their so-called political ties. It would also serve to get her father off her back about marriage.
"Well, Braden Evers, I..." Prin started to say, hands on her narrow hips.
"Hurry up!" Heather Serverstein, best friend number one and all around gal pal shouted, racing into Prin's suite. "You're going to be late! Your brother isn't going to stand for you sliding in tardy to his meeting again, Prin. You know how he gets. Oh, hello, Braden."
He waved, cheeks scarlet for his shirt was still off.
"What?" she scoffed, dismissing Braden with a wave of her hand. He slipped out of the servant's entrance with his white shirt in his hand.
"The meeting," Heather emphasized with a glance back at the suite's main door.
"Whatever, I'm going to shower."
Ignoring Heather's pleas, she headed to her bathroom and started the shower, hopping under the heated streams without any thought of her brother's wants or wishes. That's why he had a wife.
Several minutes later, dried and once again wrapped in her robe, Prin's hair had exploded into a halo of kinky bushiness as the smoky puffs of steam billowed out of her glass shower. She stood with her lips aghast at the ridiculousness of her hair's frizz. She'd curse Farrell, the fairy stylist. His strange cut of her tresses had left them uneven. Outside her gilded windows, the Humania humidness awaited to further distress her golden, toffee lowlight strands.
"Freakin' fairies can't do anything right!" she grumbled, taking the silver-plated brush into her hand. She began to brush with hard strokes in an effort to repair the damage. After a few hard strokes, she secured her blonde hair into a braid, drawing the still damp strands between her fingers, weaving them together in a tight plait.
Afterward, she sat in her vanity's chair, wrapped in her purple, elven-silk robe. She wiped the steam from the looking glass and turned her attention to the various goblin-glass bottles, jars, and containers, each filled with rich rubs, globs of gels, or magical moisturizers. With lips moving, she read to herself the Elvish, Faere, Pixish, and human labels.
Prin shrugged, selecting a container of pixish skin cream.
Her brother, Joshua C. Prince, was becoming a troll-sized problem since their father made him king. His wife, Beauty, floated around the castle as if she'd been born a princess, which she hadn't. A fact that caused a slight stitch in Prin's heart each time she thought about it. Had her brother not married so swiftly, she would have been queen.
Granted Prin had to find a husband before she could even think of ascending the throne. Married. Kingdom royal decree stated in plain human, all princesses had to be married before becoming queen.
Which was exactly the problem.
Prin, christened Princess Courtney Rose, didn't want a husband. Oh, her dad had entertained the best and brightest, handsomest and hungriest nobles and sons of nobles and recognized advisors, but none stirred even the slightest interest in Prin's mind. The trollish tanks weren't even worthy to play around with, though she did date a few suitors very casually. Mostly to cease her father's complaining.
"Prin, come on!" Heather implored, her long braids brushed her shoulders as she slipped back into the massive suite, eyes on the doorway. The door clicked behind her. "I saw Beauty leaving the dining hall. She's headed straight for the staircase. Move your bum!"
"Queen Beauty," Prin corrected, as if she hadn't heard a single thing Heather said, but her sister-in-law's name.
"What?" Heather asked, with frequent glances at the door as she stepped further into the suite, brushing by Prin's bed. She stopped short at the metal, wrought-iron footboard, a look of complete exasperation wrinkling her face. "What are you talking about?"
"You should refer to my sister-in-law as Queen Beauty."
Prin opened the container and began working the cool cream into her skin. Flecks of pixie powder tightened her flesh. The tiny dabs stung and prickled as she worked it in. "She is queen."
Prin glanced in the mirror at Heather, whose brown skin and coarse skirt designated her as a servant. Yet, she had been Prin's closest friend since childhood. They'd grown up in the same castle, but their births separated them, slipping each into their respective stations in life.
Friendship had managed to weather those storms.
Heather blinked as if coming out of a long, dark tunnel into brilliant sunlight.
"Oh, oh, yeah. Well, Queen Beauty is nearly to the door! Your time is up!"
Prin nodded with all the concern of a troll at a feast of roasted pork. Already the threat faded from the front of her mind as a new dilemma took up residence.
What to wear?