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Dove had only been in Jacques’ room once when she still running around in tiaras, and that was to hide from her father when one of her pranks failed horribly and he became her unplanned target.

It is just as immaculate as she remembered it to be. Neat and clean like one would expect of an organized healer as himself, his bed made crisply with his pillows stacked like only a perfectionist would. But the order is soon disturbed when he lies her down on those perfect sheets, granting her a moment to admire him while he hovers over her. From his sharp chin to the edges of his cheekbones, his warm and tempting gaze, and his wavy hair dangling around his face.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Jacques nods, lightly brushing his thumb down the side of her face as though she is the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

“I’ve wanted this for a while now.” Dove smiles. “And I never thought I’d say it, but it’s frustrating not to get what you want right away.”

“It’s a humbling feeling, right?” He grins. “Because you are so terribly spoiled, Princess.”

“Hmm, so spoiled,” she whimpers when he bends her leg up to trail his fingers up her leg, starting at her ankle and slowly moving underneath her skirt.

“Then let me make up for lost times, Dove. Let me spoil you senseless tonight.” Breath hitching, Dove cranes her neck aside when his lips trail down her jaw to her neck, pressing a soft kiss to her pulsing vein. Only to pause momentarily to look at her in confusion. “Can I just ask, what happened to your shoe?”

Casting her eyes downward, Dove breathes a laugh when remembering she’s only wearing one heel. Beaming up at him, she confesses, “I lost it in the maze.”

“The maze?”

“After Rubin kissed me and I realized I wished it was you instead.”

He couldn’t even be mad at the little fact. She was here with him, not the prince, and she lost a shoe in her haste to get here.

Lacing his fingers in her hair behind her head, he leans down to kiss her again, pouring every drop of love and desire he’s kept bottling up for days into her welcoming mouth. She kisses him back with abandon, only adding fuel to the euphoria he feels in his chest, the blissful relief and satisfaction in knowing that the girl underneath him finally belongs to him. That she chose him over a prince.

Dove’s hands begin to wander, exploring down his chest while unbuttoning his waistcoat along the way. Reaches between her and the mattress to tug at her dress strings, Jacques makes quick work of pulling them all loose, prompting her to worm herself out of the bodice. Only when the dress accumulates between them, do they break the kiss for him to slip it down her waist and legs, tossing it to the floor.

Jacques nearly loses all function over his mind and body when his eyes drink in her naked form underneath him, sprawled out so beautifully on his bed. On his sheets. Just for him.

Dove observes him headily as he begins his exploration, starting at her clavicle and letting his hand wander between her breasts, down her torso, and over her lower belly where it lingers. Leaning down, his lips brush down the length of her neck, trailing scraping kisses over the swell of her breast before pausing at her nipple.

His tongue flicks over the sensitive peak, the breathy sound that escapes her nearly bringing him to completion. And then he encloses his lips around her nipple, flatten his tongue, and suck.

Dove arches into him, gasping as his fangs scrape against her soft, supple flesh. Her sounds are music to his ears, prompting him to roll her peak between his teeth until she’s a squirming, begging mess underneath him. And doesn’t she sound so beautiful begging.

“I want to taste you – all of you,” he purrs against her breast, the vibrations of his voice rumbling deliciously through her.

“Please,” Dove whispers, her voice strained and thick with want, “I need you. Need to feel you inside me. Make me yours.”

“So needy.” He chuckles, kissing down her sternum to her belly. “Such a princess.”

Jacques’ kisses are wet, heady, as he drags his lips over the curve of her stomach, stopping when his head is nestled between her legs. He’s seen naked women many times before due to his profession, but never in his life had he hungered for one more than he does for her. Her scent is downright sinful, the thoughts that invade his head even more as he stares at her dripping heat, his mouth watering for a taste.

He hasn’t fed in five days; it is finally time to feast.

Pushing her thighs all the way open, he delves in, locking his lips against her aching core and sucking lightly, just enough to make her moan and snap her hips upwards. Dove’s hand grabs at him on instinct, tugging his hair while pressing her further down on her at the same time.

He drags his lips over her clit and speaks against the throbbing bundle of nerves, “Told you I want to taste all of you.” Dove utters a shrill moan when his voice, headier than usual with lust, sends sparks through her core. “You’re so beautiful when you’re desperate.”

Finally, he puckers his lips and kisses her clit softly, the small action eliciting a downright erotic moan from her mouth, her back arching off the mattress.

Smiling at the desires effect that had on her, he rewards her with his tongue, slowly swirling it around the sensitive bud and making her go absolutely feral underneath him. Her hips violently grind into his mouth, begging for more.

He continues feasting on her like starved man, lips enclosing her clit and giving it a suck, while two fingers sneakily move to her entrance and slip through her folds.

Dove spasms at the uncomprehendable pleasure, her jaw going slack when she feels her release coiling in her stomach. So close…she’s nearly there…

Jacques hums against her core, lapping at her faster, dragging his tongue and swirling it around her sensitive bud until the motions of her hips turn desperate and uneven.

“Oh, gods, I’m close…” she whimpers above him, back arching, legs thrashing, and toes curling into the sheets, head thrown back in bliss, and chanting *yes, yes, yes* like a prayer.

Jacques finally throws her over the edge, pressing his fingers into that special spot inside her that clouded her vision with stars and tears. He feels her spasm around his digits before a flood of warmth pulse out of her, and he laps it all up like the starved predator he is, reducing her to breathy whimpers and shuddering legs.

As soon as her hips stilled at their own accord, his body is pressing her down on the bed, his lips claiming hers and kissing her with white-hot passion. “You were so good, my Dove. Tasted so good,” he hums against her lips, teeth dragging over her lips, tongue running over her teeth.

Dove finds herself already wanting him again when she tastes herself on his lips and tongue.

“I need to be inside you,” he begs, rutting his hips into her throbbing core, achingly hard and needy for her. “Can’t wait any longer.”

“Then don’t,” she croons against his lips, opening her legs further and rolling her hips into his desperate ones. “I am yours; you can do with me what you want. Make it so I can’t walk when you’re done.”

Jacques’ head drops to her shoulders, his length pulsing with her vulgar words. “Gods, Dove…”

At last, he straightens up to remove his shirt and undress the rest of the way. The night is young, everyone is at the ball, and he intends to use every second to show her exactly what fantasies he harboured about her in his mind.