Rogue and Rae: Prologue

Absolutely unbelievable,

she thought as she sat down hard on the edge of the bed.

I've known monks—practicing,

celibate

monks—who were easier to get into bed.

She bent down and began unbuckling the brown knee-high leather boots she wore. They were pristine except for one dark smear across the toe of the right one. Grimacing, she thought briefly of the fae crocodile that had ended up as that smear. Bastard deserved it. The boots did not.

I get the man drunk off his ass, we actually leave together, then I take my eyes off him for

one second

and he's following some common human whore up to his room! Unbelievable!

Kicking off the boots, she collapsed back onto the bed with a huff. She ran both hands through her long, tousled black hair in frustration before dropping them to undo her bodice. Her long fingers worked nimbly, opening the clasps and lacings that held the boiled leather piece together with ease. As the cuirass fell open, she inhaled deeply, reveling in the instantaneous release. This was always the best moment of the day, being able to comfortably breathe again.

And for what?

she wondered sardonically. The daily stares, cat-calls, and even propositions from strange men (and occasionally women) were flattering, certainly, but if she couldn't hit the one mark she was interested in...

"I'm losing my touch," she groaned to the empty room, pulling a pillow over her face.

It certainly sounded like the elven bastard had had a pleasant evening. From the way the townsfolk at the inn had been talking, he had entertained more guests than just the prostitute she had seen him leave with. One man even claimed to have seen as many as six people entering his room over the course of the night, though the man

had

been drinking enough to be seeing at least double by then. But everyone seemed to be in agreement that, at the very least, their "fun" was vigorous, and had lasted well into the morning.

Whereas I woke up alone, behind a water barrel in the Fivers' warehouse

, she sighed to herself.

She couldn't remember most of the events of that evening between when he had wandered off and her waking in the thieves' lair—making friends with a bottle of rum had the tendency to do that to a person—so there was always the possibility that she had had a good time of her own. But she doubted it. She knew exactly how her body felt after a good workout, and this wasn't it. Even if he hadn't wanted

her

, the jerk could have at least shared some of the apparently numerous grateful citizens lining up outside his door instead of just leaving her hanging.

Last night had been an amazing buildup, unparalleled for her since she wasn't used to having to actually wait for anything she really wanted. It had been the culmination of weeks of unbridled sexual tension between the two of them, so thick that you could have cut it with their damned wizard's quarterstaff. She had executed her plan with perfect precision, placing herself at all of the right moments last night, always with another drink ready in hand, making sure he had no inhibitions left to speak of. Then, just as she was sure that all of his bloody defenses were down... she had missed it. And now, instead of basking comfortably in the afterglow of a great chase and even better conquest, she was kinked up, sore from sleeping on hardpack dirt, and hung over, alone in her room. And very, very frustrated.

She let the stiff leather fall onto the bed to either side of her and took another deep breath as she stretched, attempting to work out some of the kinks she had developed the previous night. Underneath the leather bodice she wore a thin cotton chemise. She pulled the shirt off over her head, tousling her hair further. The feeling of the soft material running over her skin raised gooseflesh as she removed the garment. Her nipples instantly hardened in the chill air once exposed, and she gave a little shiver. Had she a lover in the room with her, this sight alone—the contrast of the nearly sheer cream-colored shirt moving over her bronzed skin, finally being removed to reveal her small, dark nipples—would have been enough to drive them mad with lust. As it was, unfortunately, she wasn't going to have the luxury of someone else working out her kinks for her.

Slowly, she raised one hand to cup her left breast, pinching the nipple as she massaged the soft flesh. Her other hand slid down her bare stomach, fingertips first, until she came to the top of her trousers. She luxuriated in slowly unfastening each of the three buttons. Once freed, she lifted her ass off of the mattress in order to slide the soft leather leggings, along with her underthings, down and kick them off completely. Trousers thusly dispatched, she returned the hand returned to her crotch. She lay stark naked on the bed, one hand massaging her tender breasts, still hypersensitive after being released from their leather confines, the other hovering just above her dripping slit. She was so wet she was surprised that there had not been even a small spot showing through on her trousers.

In no mood to delay her suspense any further, she moved the hand down further, parting her lips with index and ring fingers, letting her middle finger gently graze her sensitive clit. It was swollen and tender, just as it had been all night—

and every night for the past couple weeks

, she admitted to herself. Rotating her middle finger around in a couple of short circular motions, she instantly felt the delicious pleasure wash over her. She was not normally the type to cum easily, and she enjoyed making her companions work for her climax, but today might be a rare exception. She had been holding back touching herself for at least a week, not ever really having sufficient time or privacy while travelling with the rest of her group to allow her the opportunity to relieve the ever-building tension.

Now, with a room all to herself, she was going to make it count. Briefly, she considered pulling her clothes back on and finding a whore of her own, but dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it had come. She didn't want to waste the time, or risk getting noticed and detained by the wizard to talk logistics. No, for the time being she would have to be satisfied with amusing herself. As her fingers worked, gliding smoothly through the copious juices seeping from her pussy, she imagined that last night had gone just as planned...

Instead of getting distracted at that pivotal moment, the two would have come directly up to her room. The oak plank door would have been slammed closed by her body being shoved roughly against it as he kissed from her ear all the way down to the hollow of her neck. He would know exactly where she loved being kissed, along the edge of her ear right where it began to flare upward into the softened point that betrayed her not-entirely-human heritage.

As he bit her earlobe, perhaps just a bit too hard, his hands would pull at the lacings on her cuirass, ripping it aside as soon as it was loosened enough. She would comment in a breathy voice that he would be buying her a new armor piece if he damaged this one in his excitement, and he would smile wickedly, chuckling before grabbing her hair and pulling her in roughly for another hard kiss. She would find her usually agile fingers almost clumsy as she unhitched the clasps fastening the rough hide armor across his chest. All the while, he would continue undressing her, pulling her chemise up over her head and tossing it to the same corner the cuirass had ended up. She would let the hides fall to the floor and run her fingers over his smooth chest, small for a warrior but still tight and powerful, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to touch his tanned bare flesh.

The slam of a door out in the hallway brought her back to reality with a start. Her fingers were working frantically to keep pace with her imagination, and the other hand which had been massaging her tits was now clutching the mattress sheet as if hanging on for its life. She also realized, with a measure of embarrassment, that she had been moaning aloud. It hadn't been very loud, true, but she had been trained better than to completely lose all track of herself like that. She shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed, propping her head up on the pillows, and closed her eyes again, a mischievous smile creeping across her face. She wasn't finished with him just yet.

By the time she returned to "last night", they had both lost the rest of their clothing. It would be strewn about the room in a way only the throes of passion could accomplish. Her legs would be around his waist as one of his strong arms wrapped around her own, effortlessly supporting her weight. He would have the other hand braced against the wall so that he could lean into her without needing to pin her back against the wall. He knew she hated that. She would be holding her body just a little too high to allow him access and he would not force her down. Yet. They would be kissing passionately, with one of her arms flung around his neck and her other hand tangled in his shaggy chestnut hair, gripping fast. His cock would be unimaginably hard, and still growing, its swollen head bumping up against her ass with every futile thrust. She would grind her crotch against his waist in response, encouraging, while also letting him know that he could not have her just yet.

Finally, he would not be able to take the torment of her teasing anymore. He would spin them both around and throw her from him, onto the bed. The frame would shudder as her body impacted the soft stuffed mattress, banging its posts decidedly against the wall so that their neighbor could take a damn good guess as to what was going on. Deviating from her normal routine, she would resist the urge to sit upright and beckon him to the bed so that she could straddle him; this was when she would let

him

take

her

. She would instead raise herself onto hands and knees, slowly backing up to the edge of the bed. Lowering her shoulders so that her ass was raised up invitingly, she would glance back at him as she felt a calloused hand brazenly grab one cheek.

"Have your way with me," she would say in a husky voice dripping with lust, a devilish twinkle in her eye, "and don't be gentle."

It would be all the invitation he would need. She would feel his hands on each side of her hips, holding her steady while he brought himself into just the right position. Then suddenly, almost violently, he would pull her toward him as he thrust his engorged rod into her. Her wetness would allow him to sink into her effortlessly, full to the hilt, and she would moan loud with pleasure. He would feel enormous, bigger than she ever could have imagined, and fill her up more completely than she ever could have thought possible. Those twin bastard swords he wielded would not have been compensating for anything.

As she reveled in the fantasy of being utterly dominated by him, she pushed a finger deep inside her pussy. Then a second. Then a third. She was dripping, and her fingers slid in and out without any resistance. They were a poor substitute for the object of her true desire, but they still felt undeniably good. She could feel the walls of her pussy gripping at them every time she thrust them inside, not wanting to surrender them every time she pulled them out. She hammered herself with her fingers, keeping pace with the imaginary cock that filled her waking dream. Every time she inserted them, she would wriggle her fingers, stimulating that special spot that made her swoon.

Her fantasy lover would know just how to reach that spot. Even mounting her from behind, hammering into her with concern only for his own satisfaction, he would be able to find it and stoke her pleasure. Every time he pulled her hips, her ass would slap against his thighs, driving his cock deep into her. He would keep a hellish pace, not stopping even if she begged—which she wouldn't. It would be so good to be subjugated by him. He would use her thoroughly, and still she would beg for more. Harder. Faster. Anything, just

more

.

As she fell into a constant rhythm in time to his thrusts, he would move his hands from her hips to seize her breasts. His calloused hands would squeeze them roughly, kneading them and torturing her pebble-hard nipples as his immense cock abused her cunt. As requested, he would not hold back, and he would not be gentle. He would drive into her like an animal in heat, giving her exactly what she had been needing for so long.

She thrust her fingers inside her once more, and the hand that was gripping the sheets moved to her clit. She was more than just aroused, she was out of her mind with desire and the need to cum. The hand began to rub at her clit, violently, desperately, as if she needed this orgasm to go on living. For all she knew, she did. The stimulation was becoming overwhelming, and it felt wonderful. Just a few more moments now. She was going to cum. Finally, she would have at least a measure of satisfaction. She felt the delicious tension as it built in her muscles, as her entire body responded, eager for the release. She was cumming! Oh, gods! She was cumming! She was—

There was a loud knock at her door. Years of training overrode whatever she was in the throes of, making every muscle in her body freeze. Her breath caught in her throat as she at once became utterly still. She was caught between her instinct to hide silently and her mounting orgasm, and the orgasm was winning.

"Are you awake yet?" an impatient voice called through the door. It was the wizard. "I saw you come in a while ago, but didn't get a chance to pull you aside this morning. They're serving meals right now down in the tavern's common room."

"Eat your bloody porridge without me!" she growled through clenched teeth.

"Umm. It's actually supper, not breakfast. And they're serving stew."

"Do you

need

me there to be able to eat stew?!" she demanded as her legs quivered. She was still frozen in place, including the hand between her thighs, pinching her clit in just the right way to stave off her climax. For the moment, at least. "I had a rough bloody night, and I've not the temperament for making small talk with you over a bowl of mediocre vegetable broth! Do us both a favor and leave me!"

Perhaps her reaction had been a little harsh. But if he knew her predicament at that exact moment, maybe he would be a little sympathetic. Then again...

"Sorry, I need you there. We've got a visitor. An investor, apparently. Need the whole company there to meet his agent," he called, exasperated. It sounded like he banged his forehead against the door for emphasis. "You've had more than enough time to sleep and even soak in a bath, which is more than I can say for some of us. We'll expect you down directly."

She listened to his footfalls as they retreated down the hallway in the direction of the stairs.

Bloody wizard.

Finally able to relax, her fingers released her pinched clit, only to find that her orgasm had slipped away at some point during the conversation like a thief in the night. She let out a low groan of frustration, hurling one of her pillows toward the door as if it were her vengeance incarnate she was flinging at the wizard, had he still been standing in the hall. The pillow impacted the door with a soft

poof

, exhaling a few downy feathers as it fell to the floor. She stood up, walked to the small pitcher and basin in the corner, and splashed some cold water onto her face. She should have expected something like this. Things had been so difficult up to this point, why should she be able to get even this short release?

She sighed again as she pulled on her trousers. No sense mourning something already lost. She would just have to give it a better go next time. Over her head went the cotton shirt so readily discarded before, and she cinched her sword belt around her waist. With her boots pulled on, she was as presentable as she was going to get "directly".

"Oh well," she muttered to herself as she slid out the door and into the hallway, "no rest for the wicked. Not yet, anyways..."