The princess closed the library door behind her with a satisfying thud. The sorcerer was just where she'd pictured him -- sitting at a massive desk with a pile of books to either side. The light from the candles in their brass stands shone in his brown-black hair and glistened in his gray-green eyes as he looked up at her.
She curtsied to the sorcerer, low and deep so that he could see the spill of her breasts over the top of her intricately laced bodice.
"You were not at my birthday feast, Sir Sorcerer. I was very disappointed."
"Princess," he growled, his eyes traveling the length of her body. "So you are of age, at last."
She swallowed hard. Years ago when the sorcerer first came to her father's kingdom, she'd been only a girl. She followed the young, strong man around the castle like a puppy, trying to turn his eyes toward her. One horrid time when she was seventeen, she'd flung herself at him. He'd gently pushed her off and said, "Among my people, we do not entertain advances from children. Only a grown woman or man may offer themselves to a sorcerer."
Tonight she turned the age of majority. Within a year, her father would marry her off to some princeling in a faraway kingdom. She had to have him tonight, if she was to have him at all.
"You know why I'm here," she said breathily. "Will you make me say it?"
"Yes." The sorcerer looked down at the thick tome spread before him on the table. He ran his tattooed hands down the pages and lifted a thin, long bookmark made of red silk ribbon. He laid it across the open spine to mark his place and then stood from the desk
The princess's heart leapt into her throat as he crossed the room in three great strides. His boots thudded against the floorboards, confident and strong. With his swirling robes and expressionless face, he looked a little terrifying as he advanced toward her. The princess pressed her back up against the door as he stood before.
He reached to clasp the brass doorknob behind her.
"You have to tell me what you want," the sorcerer purred. "Say it out loud--three times. Say you want it."
She breathed in the scent of him. Sweat, coal powder, and paper. "I do."
The sorcer dipped his head toward her. From the flare in his nostrils she knew that he smelled her, too. No part of him touched her, but the princess could feel the heat from his thighs to either side of hers. She licked her lips and watched the jump of his pulse within the pale column of his neck.
"Say it again," he commanded. The locked clicked in the handle, solid and firm.
"I want it," she answered.
Her eyes dug into his every detail, starving for more of him. She did not care who in her father's court had laughed at her childish crush. She did not care that the servants would whisper when she finally left this room disheveled and destroyed. The one person who even had the right to say anything at all over her lust was her husband -- and she was not married yet.
"One more time," the sorcerer coaxed. He locked eyes with her, his lips parting. She could see the delicate shade of pink inside his mouth, the place where she longed to stick her tongue.
"I want you." The princess closed the last fraction of distance between them. She cupped his chiseled face between her hands. "And I'm tired of pretending otherwise."
He chuckled, low and fierce. Then he let her pull his head down and pressed his lips to hers, still smiling.
Her hand slid down the length of him to press between his legs. She kept her eyes a little open, wanting to see his reaction. The sorcerer's mouth opened and she greedily slid her tongue inside, touching the tip of his. Her hand tightened on the bulge she felt beneath his robes and a small, fierce sound escaped his mouth.