Behind her hand, Dany stifled a yawn as she listened to her husband and his father, the Prince of Dorne, drone on about politics and courtly matters. Even without the aid of their dry conversation, the hot, afternoon sun overhead was lulling her into a drowsy trance. Her fractured thoughts were already elsewhere and had been so since the arrival of their noble guests some hours ago.
Before she could nod off, Dany stood abruptly from her chair. At the interruption, Quentyn and his father ceased their discussions and looked to her. She imagined they’d already forgotten she was there. “If you will excuse me.” She gave them both a sweet, practiced smile. “I’d like to see to our guests and make sure their quarters are to their liking.”
With a curt nod, Prince Doran permitted her leave, so she leaned down to kiss her good-father’s cheek. Turning to her husband, she held out her hand, and he pressed a kiss to the back of it in farewell. His dark eyes, however, imbued an understanding of her true intentions, and a tacit concession.
With a polite curtsy, Dany left the balcony that overlooked the gardens below and strode through the Prince of Dorne’s chambers in the Tower of the Sun. Areo Hotah—who, as captain of the guards, rarely left Doran’s side—opened the door for her and stood aside. Even in the face of his stoicism, she offered him her thanks before exiting the room.
Only when the door shut behind her did Dany pick up her stride, lifting her skirts as she hurried through the Old Palace. Her pulse fluttered with the surge of her excitement, which pooled low in her belly. She was practically giddy, as if she were a young maiden all over again, but she kept her face subdued, nodding at every servant she passed.
As she rounded a corner, someone grabbed her wrist and yanked her into a room off the hall. Her gasp of surprise was silenced by a warm, callused palm over her mouth, and her fear was instantly mollified by the familiar scent that invaded her nostrils: sweat and citrus and the salty breeze of the Summer Sea.
Her abductor pushed her back against a wall as he kicked the door shut behind them. Their privacy ensured, he finally removed his hand from her mouth, only to replace it with his lips. Dany welcomed him eagerly, her tongue meeting his with desperate, hungry strokes. He nipped at her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, before his hot tongue brushed against hers until she was short of breath. She broke away for air, her heart pounding in her ears, and he kissed her jaw, her throat.
“Jon,” she gasped, and he lifted his face from the crook of her neck to cup her cheek. “Jon, I’ve missed you.”
He touched his forehead to hers, his hooded eyes nearly black with his want of her. His breath was warm and sweet, tasting of the blood oranges he always ate. “Did you?”
His tone was teasing, but she could hear the doubt that underpinned his question, belying his nonchalance. She clutched at his waist to pull him closer, feeling the hard cut of his muscles beneath his loose tunic.
It’d been too long, months since his last voyage to Sunspear with his father, Ser Arthur Dayne. As the bastard son of a noble Dornish house, Jon wasn’t shamed or ostracized the way he would have been elsewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, but he still had little standing when it came to Prince Doran’s court. Not that he had any interest in the politics of Dorne or the Seven Kingdoms at large; Dany knew he only made the trip to Sunspear for her—and had since he’d first laid eyes on the shamed, erstwhile Targaryen princess. She’d been a child fostered with the Martells, her hand promised to Prince Doran’s eldest son. As the last survivor of House Targaryen, Dany would have been executed by King Robert in his lust for revenge against her brother, if it hadn’t been for Dorne’s interference.
She was grateful and always would be for what the Martells had done to save her life. She would play the part of Quentyn's dutiful wife, but only Jon invoked in her feelings of lust and desire; only Jon stoked the fire in her blood. Only Jon had her heart.
“Of course I did,” she whispered against his lips. “If you doubt me, you need only see for yourself.” She pressed her hips to his in suggestion, and he laughed gruffly.
“No need,” he said, his thumb sweeping over her cheekbone. His eyes danced with amusement. “I can smell your eagerness for me.”
She blushed, though it was true; her smallclothes were already damp from the wetness of her cunt. She’d been wet since that morning, when she and Quentyn had greeted him and Ser Arthur in the throne room, her anticipation slowly building to this stolen moment.
He kissed her, slowly this time, rubbing his lips back and forth against hers, then his tongue dipped between her parted lips to taste her again. His hands bracketed her hips before dragging down her thighs to fist in her skirts, hitching them up until he could touch bare skin. Jon hooked his hands under her thighs and lifted her into the air. Dany anchored her arms around his shoulders as he carried her to the bed of his guest chambers.
Once she was on her back, he reached beneath her gown to slip her smallclothes off her legs. Then he grabbed her feet and unlaced her dainty sandals. She squirmed as his fingers feathered along the arches of her feet, and he grinned with laughter. Her breath grew short at the sight of his happiness, and even as he held her feet in his hands, she opened her thighs, knowing he could see the wet flowering petals of her cunt by the way his face darkened, all humor fleeing in the wake of his burgeoning hunger.
“Don’t keep me waiting much longer,” she pleaded. Jon let her heels drop to the bed so he could pull his tunic over his head, the silk rustling his black, luscious curls. Dany’s cunt grew slicker at the sight of his bare chest, all that golden skin and planes of tantalizing muscles, which flexed in his stomach when he bent over to remove his trousers and boots. Her toes curling into the mattress, Dany dragged the light silk of her skirts up to her ribs, baring everything for him. When he looked up at her movements, he smiled knowingly.
“So ready for it, are you?” he asked as he straightened. The sight of his hard, darkly colored cock, flushed red with blood, sent a ripple of want through her cunt. She managed a nod, saliva filling her mouth, and he climbed onto the bed above her, crawling between her legs. “Do you need my cock that badly, Dany?” As he spoke, he tested her with his fingers, dragging the tips of them between her wet and swollen nether lips, making her gasp and jerk beneath him. She was already lost in the sensation, her cunt throbbing as he gently teased the nub of her clitoris. “Tell me,” he demanded, sinking two fingers inside her. She groaned as he curled them, pressing the tips against her spongy wall.
“Yes! I need your cock, Jon. I always need your cock. I wish you never had to leave me. I touch myself every night you’re gone, thinking of you and the way you fuck me.” She was babbling, too mindless with lust to be embarrassed by her raw honesty and wanton dishabille.
His belly rumbled with laughter, and he kissed a wet path along the low, loose neckline of her gown. “So shameless,” he quipped, even as he fucked her with his fingers, amplifying the wetness of her cunt in volume and sound.
“You love it,” she boasted, greedily running her hands through his hair. Indeed, she could feel just how much he loved it dribbling from his cock onto her thigh.
He looked up at her from between her breasts. “Only because it’s you,” he agreed, slipping his fingers free of her. She bit her lip at the loss, but then he wriggled his hand between the fabric of her gown and her breast where he teased her pebbled nipple with his wet fingers, plucking it into a tender peak. Then he pushed the dress aside and sucked the tip into his mouth, groaning as she arched into him and lapping the sweetness of her cunt from her breast.
After he’d ravaged it with his teeth, Jon sat back on his haunches and pulled her up with him, quickly freeing her of her silk dress entirely. Her loosely braided hair slipped through the collar and tumbled down her back, and they both reached for each other at the same time, colliding in a frenzy of lips and tongues and hands. He pushed her back down to the bed and stretched out above her, his hand tracing the curve of her breast down to her waist and hip to the swell of her arse, where he gripped her flesh possessively. When she felt his cockhead prodding her folds, Dany hiked her legs up around his waist and canted her hips toward his in invitation. Reaching between her thighs, Jon fisted his cock in hand and pressed his tip to her cunt, coating his flesh with her honeyed juices. She made a sound of impatience, and he thrust into her without warning, swallowing her cry with his mouth.
Then he was fucking her, a savagery overtaking him. She clung to him, lifting her hips with every plunge of his cock through the tight, slippery vice of her channel, his thickness opening her with a delicious stretch. She loved it when he got like this, so desperate for her he couldn’t hold back, like a ravenous beast feasting on his prey, or rutting with his mate.
Jon bit at her chest, her shoulder, her neck, and she moaned with abandon, raking her nails down his back, wanting to leave her own mark on him to match the love bruises that would no doubt bloom after their lovemaking. Her breasts bounced with the brutality of his thrusts, and he caught the tip of one between his teeth, sucking and biting hungrily until the nipple was red and tender.
Dany called out his name, and he brought his mouth to hers for a clumsy, distracted kiss, their tongues grazing together, but abruptly he pulled away, withdrawing his cock. Jon turned her on her stomach before she could express her disappointment, pushing her onto her knees so her arse was in the air. He pushed her cheeks apart and brought his mouth to her cunt, delving his tongue between her slit to lap up the nectar dripping from her.
“Jon!” she keened, pushing back against his mouth. As he devoured her cunt, his deft fingers pressed on her clitoris to rub quick, precise circles on it. She shrieked and buried her face in the bed, her thighs trembling as pleasure spiraled through every tightly clenched muscle in her body. The feeling of his hot tongue pushing into her cunt sent her over the precipice, and she howled her release into the bedsheets as his hand steadied her bucking hips.
He gave her no reprieve before he pushed his cock into her, this time from behind. Her wet cunt clenched around his shaft with the pulsing contractions of her orgasm, and he grunted, stroking her flanks to settle her as if he were mounting a wild mare. Dany tossed her hair over her shoulder and bowed her back, spreading her legs as wide as she could to accommodate his powerful thighs in between. Jon took her like that, fucking her hard and fast as he held her up by her hips. She muffled her moans into the bed, though there was nothing she could do about the harsh sounds of his flesh pounding into hers. Even as she feared their discovery by a nosy servant, she couldn’t deny how much wetter and wilder she got just hearing the proof of his hunger for her, the sheer force of their love.
Slipping his thumb between her arse cheeks, Jon pressed against the puckered furrow there, making her tremble, her entire body flushing hot with the illicitness of his touch. When her cunt tightened, he let out a pleased groan and shuddered, shoving into her once, twice more, then he pulled out to spill his seed on her back. Dany felt the hot, sticky flesh of his cock on her arse, pulsing as he thrust against her, stroking his cock between her cheeks to finish himself off. His issue puddled on the small of her back. With a pang, she regretted the loss of his seed inside her womb but knew his caution was necessary.
Her husband might permit her to take a paramour, but he would never allow her to bear Jon’s child.
When Dany stretched out on her stomach, Jon followed her, half-resting his weight on her back. He wiped his seed off her arse with the corner of the sheet, then he tucked his arm around her belly, nuzzling the back of her neck. His sweat-slick skin slipped against hers, and she turned her face to the side when his mouth reached her jaw. Acquiescing to her demand, Jon leaned over her to reach her mouth, sucking on her lip then kissing her gently. She smiled into the kiss and released a small sigh when he pulled away, turning onto her back as he propped himself on his elbow beside her.
She reached up and traced the beautiful slope of his brow and nose, feeling the crookedness from where it’d suffered a previous break. All the while, Jon watched her silently, his hand resting on her belly. His mouth flickered in a brief smile when she touched his kiss-stung lips next, but it faded as a troubling sadness settled in his eyes.
Dany frowned. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Just thinking how foolish your husband is. I’d kill any man who fucked my wife.”
Unnerved by his words, she offered him a reassuring smile. “If I were your wife, you wouldn’t have to worry about that.” She shrugged. “Quentyn doesn’t desire me. He didn't want this marriage anymore than I did.”
Jon snorted as he sat up. “Then he’s a bigger fool than I thought.”
Puzzled, Dany rose onto her elbows, watching his back as he scooted to the edge of the bed. “Where are you going?”
His shoulders hunched forward as he gripped the mattress then slumped after a moment. When he spoke, he didn’t turn to her. “I’m leaving, Dany.”
“Leaving Sunspear? But you just got here,” she said, confused. He shook his head.
“No. I’m leaving Sunspear, leaving Dorne. Leaving Westeros. I just wanted to come one last time to say goodbye.”
His words stunned her. She felt her heart stop. “But...where will you go? What will you do?”
“Essos. Sothoryos. I don’t know. But there’s nothing else for me here. I want to travel. See what’s out there. See what else I can do with my life aside from fucking another man’s wife.”
She flinched as if he’d physically slapped her. Her temper flared, his words invoking her defenses, but she deflated as she took in the defeat in the slope of his shoulders, the curve of his back. Her chin quivered, and she sat up.
But I love you, she thought. I never wanted any of this. All I ever wanted was you.
Her tongue was tied with the impossibility of it all. Helplessly, she moved behind him and wrapped herself around his back. He didn’t shy away from her, at least, instead holding her hands to his chest where they rested. Dany pressed her mouth against his shoulder, afraid she might weep.
They sat like that for that a while, until finally she felt Jon’s chest rise and fall with a harsh, final breath. Gently, he tried to pry her hands from him, but she only tightened her hold, a new determination gripping her. She’d made up her mind.
“Then take me with you.”