Free Before She Wakes: Forbidden Fairy Tales by Sharon Lynn Fisher Page B

confused.
    Once the dress is opened, Catherine pushes it over her friend’s shoulders and lets it hang at her waist. Henrietta fixes her eyes on my face as she slowly unhooks her corset. When she reaches the first hook below her ribs, creamy round breasts spill out heavily, their large nipples red as her painted lips.
    “Are you more comfortable now, dear?” asks Henrietta.
    My throat constricts until I feel my heartbeat there. The hot tickle spreads down from my stomach. What are these women playing at?
    I remember the last time I felt this way, and my gaze jerks downward, searching my skin for the marks of the dragon. This bedchamber is far too small to contain my animal self, and I’m not sure what would happen to me or the two ladies were I to shift. My chest quakes with my pounding heart, but there’s no sign of the telltale color.
    Henrietta stands before me now, and I can’t help studying her soft, delicate flesh.
    “Would you like to
touch,
dear?”
    My eyes snap to her face. The placid smile is still in place, but something in her eyes is alive and moving.
    Heat rising up my chest and neck, I reach out a finger, tentative. She takes hold of my hand and gently places it over one soft mound.
    I slide my fingers over the silky round, feeling its shape, and then, holding it with my whole hand, I squeeze gently. Henrietta lets out a whimper and pushes into my hand. Over her shoulder I notice Catherine has taken a step toward us, lips parted and chest fluttering with rapid breaths.
    With my other hand I take hold of the neglected breast and begin gently kneading them together. Henrietta’s head falls back and she lets out a moan. Heat builds between my legs as the pliant flesh moves under my hands, and in my mind I create an illusion that other hands are doing the same to my own breasts.
    It ceases to be an illusion when Catherine slips behind me and reaches around my ribs. “I’ve never seen a honey-colored lady,” she whispers. Shivering waves roll down my back at the feel of her hot breath in my hair. Her jeweled fingers alternate between pinching at my nipples and rolling my breasts under her hands. A cry of pleasure erupts from my lips and she gives a breathy laugh.
    “I need to fuck you, honeybee,” she mutters, pulling my back against her chest.
    Henrietta gives a bark of laughter. “You’re more goatish than any man I’ve ever bedded, Cat. Including His Majesty.”
    Henrietta slips from my grasp and moves to the bed. She settles back onto the mound of pillows, releasing the last two hooks of her corset. She motions me to follow. I crawl up beside her, and she reaches for my face, pulling me toward her. Our lips meet and she slips her tongue into my mouth, fingers grasping my shoulders. I roll on top of her and she grasps my head, pushing my face into the mounds of cleavage. I open my mouth wide and cover one breast, tongue pulsing against her hard nipple, and she gives a yelp of pleasure. She’s achingly soft and sweet, smelling of lavender and roses.
    “Raise your hips, honeybee,” the woman behind us orders.
    I glance back at Cat. She’s still fully clothed, but the nipples of her corset-bound breasts now peek out over the top of her gown. This cannot shock me now, but the fact that she’s wearing a belt ornamented with a gleaming gold cock causes me to gasp.
    She gives me a haughty grin. “My accessory came all the way from Persia. Do you like it, honeybee?”
    I can do nothing but stare at it. A bead of moisture slips down my thigh.
    Henrietta gives another breathy laugh. “She’s probably never known a woman’s pleasure, and you offer her a cock. Honestly, Cat.”
    Catherine frowns. “I’m not
offering.
Raise your ass into the air, Isabeau of Provence.”
    Panting now, whether in fear or anticipation I’m not sure, I arch my back, raising my hips and exposing my backside to the Lady Catherine and her accessory.
    Lifting her skirts, she moves onto the bed and then crawls toward me on