Pale Painter Ch. 09

The prince had purchased a charming old townhouse not far from the palace. There was a plaque on the front door that read, "The Crossed House." It was a few hundred years old, but it had been renovated to make it safer by contemporary standards. Instead of fashionably rectangular bricks adorning the outside, there were ancient gray stones, taken and reused from buildings built in the feudal era, on the first floor and timber framing on the upper floors. The frames had a nearly dizzying variety of patterns. There were diamonds, rectangles, and even circles and simple flowers.

There were servants ready to wait on their new mistress. There was a tiny bit of a yard in the front with a happy garden. For once, Rosanda considered painting something that wasn't a portrait. In this case, a still life. She wanted to make an image of a freshly cooked loaf of bread with flowers from the garden laid near it on a table.

On her first night in the Crossed House, Alex came to her. They ate fried vegetables together. He asked her typical questions. What did she think of the new house? Did the servants find favor with her? Did she like the garden?

Rosanda gave him positive answers. She was in a lovely situation.

And when they finished their little meal, they retired to Rosanda's new bedchamber. She whispered a little secret to him. "I once paid a man to lick my pussy."

Alex laughed softly, but also deeply. "Did he perform well?"

"Most certainly." She felt her blood rush to her clitoris as the memory fluttered in her mind.

He kissed her throat. "Is that a challenge for me?"

It wasn't, but he pretended it was.

He set her nude backside onto her new bed, and he knelt down, his palms nearly searing her shins. Rosanda squealed into her tightly closed fingers as his tongue spread her labia apart, seeking out the most sensitive part of her. He chuckled into her, and then he licked her again, letting the front of his tongue scrape against her urgent little clitoris.

"Alex!"

"Hmmm?" He gave her a little kiss, and then he went back to his lapping.

Her hips rocked a little bit, her flesh rubbing against the bed-sheets. Her fingers grazed his ears, testing out their smooth texture and proud shapes. She felt the skin of her toes as they chafed against each other.

The most intense feelings were between her thighs, where the prince's tongue assaulted her nerves with slick sensations.

"It's so good! So good!" Her glasses fell off, bounced off her bare thigh, and softly landed on the mattress. They hadn't been attached to a chain at that moment.

And he seemed to slurp her clitoris up, drawing on it, making her shriek and tug on his hair. Alex grunted, but he kept going, refusing to give her nerves a moment of rest.

She fell back as her orgasm weakened her.

It wouldn't be the last time he put his mouth on her.

While there were days where Alex was too busy to spend time with her, he certainly tried. On one night, when Rosanda was sleeping, Alex had apparently let himself into the house, which made sense, because Rosanda had paid a locksmith to design copies of all the keys to her new house. She had wanted the Crossed House to be the prince's second home.

And as Rosanda was snuggling into her pillows, bundled under her blanket, heat and sensation pulled her from her dreams. Her blanket rose up as her inner thighs were licked and kissed, even nibbled.

Her nipples puckered in the slightly cooler air. Her breath seemed to shoot out of her. She thought to kick at the intruder, but his fingers sank deep into her cunt and caressed the surprised, yet delighted muscles inside.

"Hello, Rosanda." Alex's voice was very impish.

Her mind relaxed at his voice. Then she smelled hints of his rosy, woodsy cologne.

Alex's tongue flicked and swirled about her, and then, as he curled his fingers inside her, he suckled her little clitoris.

"Ah! Ahhhh!" Rosanda's vision wasn't very good. Not only was it blurred, but the only light was a small, dim bit coming from a nearby oil lamp. The dial had been turned down to a level that put out barely anything at all.

Still, she knew it was him. She loved that it was him.

When she almost reached her peak, Alex put it all to a halt.

Her blanket was flipped aside. Then she felt the mattress bounce as Alex slid up her body. She was held close, one of his hands pressing into the back of her head, and she was kissed by a mouth that tasted like her desire.

She was holding him too, her limbs all around him, her fingernails making little bristling noises against his back. Then she moved one hand off his back, between their bodies, and to his turgid girth. Alex groaned as she pressed and squeezed him, running her hand up and down. Then she moved her hand away to lightly cup his testicles.

"Rosie!"

Rosie?

She grinned in the darkness. "Is that a nickname for me? That's sweet."

His breath was thick and strained as it fanned her brow. "Have you ever been on top of a man?"

"Once. It was fine."

"I won't allow such a cold tone for this next performance."

He rolled away, onto his back, and then he asked her to try him out.

"I need to encourage the lamp," Rosanda said as she reached for her oil lamp. She felt around for the dial, and then she let more light out, just enough so she could see her lover's slightly blurry outline. Then she maneuvered her body over him, tapping his erection with the lips of her excited pussy. Her palms pressed against his firm chest. Her fingertips grazed his nipples.

Then, as he held his cock ready for her, Rosanda let her body sink.

He still felt as tight as ever.

Hmmm ... perhaps a bit tighter?

Rosanda decided to grind her hips, and she was rewarded with delicious sensation. She quickly rocked and bounced, listening to Alex's hushed, whispering groans of delight. His hands slid up the sides of her body, then to her small breasts. He kneaded them gently, lovingly, and the feeling drove Rosanda to move faster.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ahhhhhhh!!" Her hair danced around her face. Her heart was pounding out pure wonder.

When she finally climaxed all over him, she fell over.

***

The first time Esther had seen the little woman, she had been a guest at the Fertility Ball. Despite the rarity of the opportunity, Esther had originally planned on spending the evening at home, looking over an old case file. She changed her mind, though, partially on a whim.

Even someone as practical as Esther couldn't deny the honor of receiving such an invitation while being a commoner. The king had been very impressed with the rapid pace of the solving of the "Adurant Case." He told her he was obligated to give her a reward.

So, Esther had commissioned a pretty cream colored gown and enjoyed herself at the Fertility Ball.

And that was when and where she had seen Marchioness Lillitu Masen, the Lady of the Kloen province. The only reason she knew her name was because of the dragonfly crest embroidered onto the back of her over-skirt. She was short and fragile looking, with big blue eyes and a nicely sized pair of pink lips. At first, Esther had wondered how old she was, but when she saw lines of stress around those large eyes, she imagined she was older than she looked.

Esther had been wondering about her ever since that evening at the ball.

So, when Esther happened to see the Marchioness in a large park in Henrisk on a warm morning, she was pleasantly surprised.

Coincidentally, the Adurant couple was there too.

The three adults were kneeling on large blankets under a tree's shade and watching two very small children playing with each other. As far as Esther could tell, they were small boys that hadn't grown into breeches yet. Their dresses weren't particularly lacy, and their tiny hats seemed rather masculine. One of them had curly black hair, and he was bigger than the other boy, but he seemed quiet. The smaller boy had brown hair, and although he mostly used two-word statements, sometimes with a noun-verb pattern, he was chatting up the bigger boy with an innocent geniality.

Esther casually leaned against a tree that was a few feet away from the group. She tried not to seem sinister. Some people might have thought she had no business watching the scene. She couldn't help herself, though, because not only were the children adorable, but one of the adult women in the group was quite interesting.

Marchioness Masen was speaking in a mournful, heavy tone. "I assume you've heard the news."

Duchess Adurant leaned towards the smaller woman, her great bosom quivering as she took a worried breath. "You sound so terrible. Are you ill?"

The marchioness shook her head. "No. You don't know about Bethaline?"

The duke spoke up next, his scarred and hairless brow rising. "What happened to her?"

"She's gone to the Afterlife. She was dangling in her townhouse."

Two gasps came from the married couple.

"His Grace, Duke Bransted," the duchess said as she nervously grasped at her blonde curls, "his heart must be ravaged."

The marchioness folded her thin arms against herself. There was something miserable thinning out her lips. "I've heard that he clung to ... Bethaline," and here, the marchioness' eyes darted towards the children, as if she was afraid to say something too morbid, "and he wailed and wept over her. He had to be convinced to take the ... I mean, her ... to the morgue."

Duchess Adurant pressed her hand against her husband's shoulder. Her face was compassionate. "I know we weren't on good terms with her, Darling, but she was your beloved once. I know you must be in a dreadful state."

Esther agreed; he looked dreadful enough. Duke Adurant's hand covered half of his face. His head lowered, and his eyes turned empty as he seemed to look at nothing.

"Mama!" That came from the tinier boy, the one with brown hair. He ran up to Marchioness Masen, holding a hoop in one hand and a stick in the other. "Mama, help?"

The marchioness patted his little hand, and she said with a faint smile, "Now, now, Ismael. It's best for you to learn how to hoop roll. I shouldn't do it for you."

The other boy marched over to Ismael and tugged on his sleeve. Esther noticed that he wasn't looking at Ismael's face, or at anyone's face, really. "Isma! Isma, ca!" Regardless of his broken words and lack of eye contact, the boy sounded confident.

"What?" Ismael's soft little brow furrowed and he stomped his little foot. His skirt and apron fluttered.

"Ca! Ca!" The bigger boy kept tugging on his sleeve.

Duchess Adurant said very sweetly, "Ismael, he wants you to come."

"Why?" asked the cute little Ismael.

"I hel! Hel!" The bigger boy managed to get Ismael to return to their little spot where they had been playing.

The duchess explained, raising her voice only slightly, "He wants to help you, Ismael." She squeezed her husband's hand. "Isn't Andreo such a caring little boy?"

Andreo proceeded to move Ismael's arm in the correct motion, saying over and over, "Dis, dis!" Then he put a hoop near Ismael's stick and said, "Go, go!"

Ismael seemed to understand, because he moved his arm, and he managed to force the hoop to roll a bit. The hoop fell quickly, but it was progress. Esther hadn't seen him succeed to roll any hoops at all before that point. She couldn't suppress her grin.

"Wonderful, Sweetness! You've done so well!" Marchioness Masen applauded him and laughed as joy seemed to be injected into her face. It was rather lovely to witness.

Esther watched the children play for a bit longer. Soon, though, the married couple rose and claimed that they needed to leave. Duchess Adurant went to Andreo as her husband folded up their blanket. She crouched down to the boy's level and told him it was time to leave. Then she helped him gather up his toys.

Once the marchioness and Ismael were alone, Esther decided to seize the opportunity. She sauntered over to the small woman, curtsied, and introduced herself as politely as she could. Then she said, "I couldn't help but notice the beautiful child. He seems quite sociable."

Marchioness Masen nodded, and then she shuffled to one side on her blanket. As she patted the space beside her, she said, "He's my little piece of perfection. Do you have any children, Miss Urvine?"

"No, Your Ladyship." Esther tried not to inhale too much of her scent as she seated herself. The aristocrat had a perfume that reminded Esther of freshly cut grass and wildflowers. "I do enjoy children, though. They're ridiculously entertaining at times."

Ismael trotted over to Esther and said, holding his tiny hand out, "Hello!"

"Good morning!" Esther gave his hand a very gentle little squeeze. "My name is Esther Urvine."

"Ismael!" The boy hopped a bit as he said his name. Then he pointed up at Esther's head with his tiny finger. The layers of his coral bracelet tapped against each other. "No hair?"

Esther wasn't offended at all. How could she be? This was a toddler. Her broad, round nose wrinkled with amusement. "I have some hair. It's simply been cut very short." She pointed at her scalp. "Do you see the black color on my head? It's not my skin. It's my hair."

"Why?" His eyelashes fluttered around his large blue eyes.

"My hair was getting in the way. When my hair grows long, it gets big, like a fluffy cloud. I don't like it that way. I like it short."

Ismael shrugged at that explanation. Then he said, "Goodbye."

Esther told him goodbye as she watched him walk back to his toys. Then she turned to the marchioness. "Has he taken his friendliness from his mother or his father?"

With a quick quirk of her delicate shoulder, the marchioness replied, "He's taken it from me. He hasn't seen his father since he was squirming in swaddles."

"I'm sorry. Is he ... is he in the Afterlife?" Esther didn't mean to pry, but she certainly wanted to know about the woman's availability. There was pity too, but she silently admitted to herself that she was being selfish.

A stiff nod, and then the marchioness said very quietly, "He was kicked by a horse. Then his head was stomped on."

"How awful!" A few rocks' worth of empathy tumbled in Esther's throat and belly. It was an unpleasant feeling. She had to press her hand into her abdomen for a moment. "I'm so sorry."

The noble gave another nod, but it was much smoother than the last. Her fingers played and tugged with a small silk ribbon. It seemed to have been in her hair at one point. Similar ribbons were weaved into her tight hairstyle. "What do you do with your time, Miss Urvine?"

"I'm the head agent of the Royal Investigators." Esther's back straightened and her chest puffed up a bit.

"Oh!" A sad sort of recognition flashed in the marchioness' pretty blue eyes. It wasn't quite horror, but it certainly wasn't a positive emotion. "You investigated the ... problem at Castle Adurant."

Esther popped the joints of one of her hands. "I did."

"I suppose you don't want to share any details of your experience there."

"No, My Lady."

"Such a gruesome occupation." The marchioness sighed and rubbed her thumb into her ribbon with an extra bit of pressure. The flesh of her thumb was turning a dark pink.

"It pays well."

"I'd imagine so," the noble said, wrapping her ribbon around her fingers. "Would you care to join us for a light meal? I know of a delightful place that serves the finest sweets."

Esther grinned as she said, "I'd love to."

***