Really Unusual Bad Boys. MaryJanice Davidson

started the day planning to be dead, after all. She knew she should be thinking about how to get home, or at least worrying about her future. This place couldn’t be as great as it seemed. It just couldn’t. But all she wanted to do was let Damon rub her all over, then take a nap.

      “You are sooooooo good at that.”

      “Thank you. It is a true pleasure to attend to my lady’s needs.” Now he was washing her breasts, working the sudsy petals all over her skin, paying special care to her nipples, which instantly swelled and started to ache.

      What’s wrong with me? I’m letting a stranger feel me up in a public bathhouse! And it feels really, really good.

      She batted his hands away, and he obligingly drew her closer and began working the suds into her back. She was pressed against his broad chest and could feel his erect length pressing into her stomach.

      Thank goodness it’s a public bath, or who knows what I’d let this guy do.

      “Um.” She turned her face so her cheek was resting against his nipple. It was either that, or give in to the urge to lick it. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I s’pose I should figure out where to go tomorrow, or at least—”

      “Later,” Damon said firmly, still stroking her back.

      “Works for me,” she sighed. One of the flowers floated by and she grabbed it. “Here, let me return the favor.” She pulled back, rubbed it over his chest, and watched in fascination as the leaves crumbled into a sweet-smelling foam. “What’s this stuff called?”

      “These are beriblooms.”

      “Well, they’re great. I could ship a crate to Mary Kay, make a fortune.”

      “Is Mary Kay as lovely as you?” He kissed the corner of her mouth at the same time she felt his hands slide over her buttocks and rub, rub, rub.

      “Um…what?”

      “Mary Kay.”

      His fingers were kneading her flesh, and she had to fight the urge to grab his cock.

      “What about Mary Kay?”

      “What?”

      “Um.”

      “Ah.”

      She was reaching for what she craved when…

      “Oh ho, good brother!”

      She looked up and saw the other two princes standing by the pool. The smaller one—“smaller” meaning he was only five inches taller than she, as opposed to seven—was kneeling by the pool, dabbling his fingers in the water. The taller one—was it Maltese? What, was that as in falcon?—was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. She jerked back from Damon, feeling her face grow hot from mortification.

      “Now, my good lordly brother, you must give everyone a chance,” Maltese chided.

      “No I must not,” Damon replied cheerfully. He reached out and pulled Lois back against his soapy chest. She wriggled, but he had a grip like iron.

      “It should be an interesting sunrise, then,” Shakar said, grinning. “Even more so if Father joins in.”

      Damon lost his smile, not to mention his hard-on. “You don’t think—?”

      “No. Still, he is our good lord, and his will is the will of the SandLands, so who knows?”

      “I wish you guys would tell me what you’re talking about,” she said irritably. Then, to Damon, “Leggo.”

      “Tomorrow is the Bridefight,” Shakar explained. “Many, many royals and nobles will come to battle for mates. The winner gets first choice of the ladies. The second-winner gets second choice, and so on. This happens once every three sunrounds, so it is our great good luck that you are visiting.”

      “Oh. Say, you’re not kidding. That sounds kind of interesting. Can I watch?”

      “You are the guest of honor,” Damon whispered in her ear, which made her shiver.

      “Quit that. Great! I’d sure like to see it. Uh—you guys don’t battle to the death or anything, do you?”

      “Hardly ever,” Maltese said after a pause.

      Shakar considered for a long moment, then gave her what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, showing only about six hundred teeth. “No one has perished in many, many sunrounds.”

      “Of course, when there is a new element—”

      “Tempers flare.”

      “But all will probably be well.”

      “The three of you can stop teasing me any second now,” she said irritably. “Really, you’re like a bunch of kids.”

      “Goats?”

      “Children.”

      “Ah! Cubs!”

      “Anyway. I’m clean enough. And so are you,” she told Damon, who tried to grab her again, but slick as an eel, she slipped away. “Can someone show me where I’m s’posed to sleep?”

      Maltese and Shakar tussled so hard for the privilege, it was an easy matter for Damon to boot them into the pool, and escort Lois to her sleeping chambers.

      Lois peeked in on the king, who was asleep. “I’ll come back tomorrow morning,” she whispered to Damon.

      “I will tell him, if he is wakeful.”

      “Thanks.”

      He brought her to the next chamber, which was as large as the king’s, except with softer colors—moss greens and tans and pinks.

      “Holy cow!” She added in a whisper, “Are you sure I’m supposed to sleep here?”

      The two servants—the room was so big she hadn’t noticed them right away—jumped to attention. “Good even, my lady!” one of them—it was Zeka—said. “If it is your will, we will help you retire.”

      “Would my lady like a bedsnack ere she retires?” The other servant, a short, stocky man with reddish blond hair and a goatee, stepped forward with a covered tray.

      “A bedsn—yeah, sounds great. A sandwich would be perfect.”

      “We have pupoons, graldens, and derslangs.”

      Pupoons turned out to be fruit that tasted like a strawberry mated with a pear, except it had blue, pebbly skin. Graldens were delightfully chewy nuts that put hazelnuts to shame—and you could eat the shells, too! Derslangs were tiny little biscuits that tasted like they’d been smothered in honey and butter, and baked until tender.

      “No more,” Lois groaned sometime later. “Cripes, I’m so full I’m gonna puke. And I think there’s been enough of that for one day.”

      “Good eve,” Damon said to the servants, who cleaned up the platters and quickly left.

      “Say, they had a major attitude adjustment,” Lois commented, sitting on the bed. “When I was helping your dad, I thought they were gonna hit me.”

      “Mmmm.”

      “You didn’t—uh—say anything, did you?”

      “No. My father did…when he gave you the queen’s chambers.”

      She blinked. “The queen’s?”

      “My departed mother’s,” he said simply. “She took a bedfever when our sister was born, and perished. My sister did not wish to be a babe without her dam, and quickly followed her to the Place of Spirits.”

      “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

      “Yes. It sucked quite a lot.”

      “How old were you when it happened?”

      “I