Winning Violetta


M/F Medieval Faery Tale
26,100 words
Beautiful Princess Violetta is facing the fact that the winner of her father's joust will become her husband.  For starters, her father broke his promise to let her choose her own husband.  Her two faery godsisters aren't much help. According to Fae Code, they can't make her fall in love with the handsome prince, they can only facilitate it.
Prince Colin arrives undercover in the castle and immediately falls in love with the woman who shoots him with her bow and arrow. He didn't know at first that she was the princess. His mission is in danger from all sides. If/when the king discovers his true identity, he's doomed to death as a spy. If/when Violetta discovers his true identity, she probably won't believe in his love.
What will happen when the truth comes out, and how will the faery godsisters facilitate a happily ever after for the Royal couple?

R-rated Excerpt

“Would you like some wine?” His eyes sparkled with an odd sort of humor.

“You want to stop for a drink?” She couldn’t hide her combination of surprise, irritation, and breathless anticipation. “Now?”

Giving her a teasing wink, he rolled over reaching for the flagon of wine on the bedside table and poured some into a goblet. Surprising her, instead of taking a drink, he dipped his forefinger into the liquid and dragged it in swirling movements down the center of her body.

“I want to drink from you.”

Gasping at the sensuality of his husky promise, she hadn’t realized—hadn’t known—that men and women played like this. She watched his lips trace, watched him lap at the wine from between her breasts to the liquid pooled in her navel. His stabbing tongue drove spears of desperate hunger, like streaks of lightning, lower. Would he touch her—lower?

He dipped his fingers again and drew liquid circles over the gentle swell of her stomach above the triangle of hair at the top of her thighs. Moisture trickled from her passage, thick and hot, and she felt swollen and very, very open.

Lick me there, too. Kiss me there. Down there. Her hips lifted off the bed as the heat of his breath smoothed over her. She felt his lips curve into a smile on her belly.

“You like that, my flame-haired lady?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, not knowing if she could ask for more. Did ladies do that? She wanted it so much.

His hand trailed up the inside of her thigh. He brushed teasing fingers over her trembling skin, probing closer and closer into the folds guarding the place she wanted him more than anything in the world. She inched her other thigh open in implicit invitation, knowing with every fiber of her being she was ready for whatever came next. Her passage, no longer protected by her thighs, throbbed and ached for the paradise only he could give. She moaned, shifting her hips in an unspoken order.

His lips and tongue explored her, kissing her thighs, the hair on her mound. More hot moisture gushed from her softest, secret tissues, made open and throbbing by his depraved and wonderful torment.

“So pink. Pretty. Sweet as honey.”

Oh, good Lord. His breathy murmurs, down there, fanned over her skin in little spurts making the sensations even stronger. In private, she’d touched herself, discovered the little bud, had drawn surprised moans of pleasure. But it had never occurred to her that a man’s lips and, oh Lord, his teeth and tongue would burrow into her like this.

He lapped at her, his tongue shoving deep, even inside her passage.

She bit her lower lip to hold back a shriek.


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