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"And lying there half-sweetness, half-cherry pie, the princess could hardly credit what she'd seen. And moving to the window, she looked down, and there, sure enough, a man moving among the animals in the quiet rain. And she found herself going to the abandoned coat of quills and touching it, soft and warm . . . and remarkable."

-- The Storyteller

Chapter 3

As promised, when Cherry awoke the next day, the prince was not there. Ainsley came to collect her. She wrapped the girl in a warm housecoat and took her away to her own bedchamber. Cherry was in awe. The rooms she were given were lovely. Everything was white and yellow and covered in pretty light green flora patterns. There were elegant armoires bursting with gowns just for her, pots of flowers, vanities, a large canopied bed with silky white curtains, screens to dress behind, and huge windows. A balcony was open to the bright blue sky, and outside on a table, her steaming breakfast waited.

After breakfast, she sat on the balcony, happy in the simple white gown Ainsley and the maids had dressed her in. She hugged herself and looked out at the beach, at the crashing waves and rolling foam, and she listened to it contently. The cool breeze ruffled her curls, pushing them back from her eyes, and she thought she could spend the rest of her life there, listening to those distant gulls. She was surrounded by beauty and riches; she had a full belly and was guaranteed three square meals for the first time in her life. She was beginning to understand the jealousy of the other girls and why Dodry had insisted that she was lucky.

"How did it go last night?"

Cherry looked up to find Ainsley had returned. The maid eased herself in a chair opposite Cherry. They sat with the small table between them, its glass surface winking in the sunlight.

Cherry hugged herself. She didn't know how to answer.

"Ah," said Ainsley in amusement. "You're glowing. It must've gone well."

Cherry's long lashes fanned down coyly. "Ainsley . . . where does his majesty go during the day?"

"Away from you," Ainsley returned, still looking amused. "As well he should. If he's to break this curse before his wedding, he can't afford any risks."

Cherry bit her lip and tried not to look sullen. She failed.

"Poor thing, you're enamored of him, aren't you?" The maid shook her head. "Don't you go getting any ideas about him. You feel this way now because he's the first to touch you. It's fascination, that's all, my sweet. You don't really know him. You don't know a thing about him."

"And the princess does?" Cherry said stubbornly. She looked away, refusing to look at the woman. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Ainsley was nodding.

"Yes, Princess Rhiannon has known Ronan since he was a boy. I remember when they were wee things, running about his father's castle. I caught them playing house in the bushes once . . ."

Cherry's face hardened. "I don't want to hear this."

"Maybe you should," Ainsley said, not unkindly. "So that you learn not to expect anything from him. Give him your doe-eyed looks, but don't expect anything back." She rose and stood a moment, regarding Cherry with sympathy.

Cherry ignored her. Her lip trembled when the woman had gone away.

Cherry spent the day resting, as the prince had advised her. When she came to his chambers that night, he was sitting beside the fire, as before. He gestured carelessly with his claw for her draw near. She obeyed. He was silent for a long time, so she took the opportunity to study him. This time, he was wearing deep violet and tight-fitting trousers very similar to the ones he'd destroyed the other night. She felt something thump in her just looking at him, and the throbbing began below her waist. Suddenly, she could think of nothing else - just him inside, him kissing her, him touching . . . always touching.

His quills rustled softly when he turned his head slightly. He was sniffing. She stood very still as his sniffing continued.

"Good," he said. "You didn't bathe there. But you let them put perfume on your clothes." He sighed, sounding displeased.

"I'm sorry, majesty . . ."

"Don't apologize. Just don't let them do it next time. Now you'll have perfume on your skin . . ." He sighed again.

"Does it bother his majesty?"

"I want to smell you," he said quietly, "not perfume. The scent of your sex . . . you have no idea how that can arouse . . ."

She swallowed hard, feeling nervous and awkward. She kept thinking about what Ainsley had told her. She had to wonder if he'd slept with the princess, if that was the reason why she couldn't break his curse. He hadn't even looked at her. She was nothing to him. Nothing. Princess Rhiannon was the most beautiful woman in the world, and she . . . Cherry hugged herself sadly.

"They gave you a dress," he remarked, still not looking at her but at the fire.

"Yes, majesty."

"I want it tighter next time, with a deeper neckline. I should come to attention the moment I see you."

"Yes, majesty . . ."

He looked at her quickly. "Why so miserable, girl?" he demanded. "Are you well? Have they treated you well?"

"They've been wonderful."

He slowly looked away. "Ah, you're still sore. Perhaps tomorrow night instead --"

"No!" She said it more quickly than she'd meant to, and he looked at her, surprised.

"How hot and eager you are to bed this monster," he said slowly.

Cherry looked down, hating herself.

"You want this," he said, still staring at her. "You actually want this?"

Cherry didn't answer.

He looked at the fire again. "I suppose it makes sense. If you break the curse, you'll be a very rich woman. You and your father. You'll be taken care of the rest of your lives." He sighed, and Cherry heard the rustle of his clothing. "Come then. We've a curse to dispel."

When she glanced up, he was unbuttoning his trousers. She watched, her heart thudding, as he pulled his phallus free of the fabric. It was soft but had stiffened just enough that it was almost ready to stand. He spread his thighs and rubbed them, whispering for her to sit in his lap. His liquid black eyes burned a hole through her dress.

"And are you wearing panties under there?" he asked.

Cherry nodded dumbly.

"Hitch up your skirts. And straddle me."

Swallowing hard, Cherry did as she was told. It was awkward, but she was small enough that she was able to straddle his lap by kneeling with her knees between him and the armrests. She could feel his sudden erection against her thigh. He guided her hands to his shoulders, and her heart started pounding when his claws fumbled with the laces on the back of her dress. The dress came loose around her arms, allowing her bare breasts to bounce free. She blushed to her hairline.

He stared at her breasts and his tongue flickered out, licking his snout. She cried out when he yanked her close, burying that snout in her cleavage. Her head fell back. His hot tongue was everywhere. She hugged his neck and let her slender arms disappear in his mass of quills.

"M-Majesty . . ." she whispered, breasts heaving.

"Be quiet," he answered. His claws had gone up her dress. She went very still as he fumbled. He found her panties - small and white and silky - and suddenly yanked hard. She heard them rip, felt them tear and collapse around her pelvis. They dragged against her sex when he pulled them away. She watched, coloring up again, as he sniffed them. His eyes were fixed on her.

"Oh god," he whispered. He licked the cloth and she trembled when she saw it was dark and moist, that something white had come away on his tongue. "You're wet," he told her hoarsely. "How long have you been wet . . .?"

Cherry shook her head and her red curls cascaded around her. She didn't know. She hadn't even noticed.

"You're aroused, surely you felt . . . your clitoris throbbing? Something."

Cherry swallowed hard. "Yes, I felt . . . throbbing." She bowed her head. She felt so dirty admitting that. Throbbing . . . for a hedgehog.

"You've been wet since you were standing there," he said in amazement. "You get off on hedgehogs?"

She looked at him angrily. No. But she got off on him.

"Don't give me that look," he said, "as if I'm the bizarre one. I abhor this curse. You love it!" He shook his head. "But why am I complaining? Maybe you're just the sort of woman I need."

His claws went under her skirt again. She bit her lip when he took her buttocks in fistfuls and massaged. He closed his eyes and moaned. Then he lifted her hips. She clung to him, and she cried out when she felt him slowly filling her. He guided her hips and mashed her sex on him, hard. The glazed look in his eye made her throb even harder. He pulled her close and whispered, "Move your hips."

She obeyed. She cried out when he began to thrust, sharply, suddenly, breathing in her ear as they moved together in the chair, grinding, shifting, gasping and panting. His claws were still under her skirt and he explored her. She was shocked to hear her dress ripping and giving away.

"M-Majesty . . ."

"Quiet, I said."

She watched in dismay as her dress began to fall in tatters around her. But her shrill gasps continued even as he pressed inside. Before long, he was tearing it away with his teeth, growling like a beast, dragging his claws until the dress had fallen in ribbons against her skin. She rode in his lap, breasts flapping the faster his hips snapped. His claws closed on her breasts and squeezed until the nipples jutted. He licked them, whispering and moaning, his breath hot on her skin.

"Majesty, something's happening to me," she whispered. "Ah - ahh . . .!"

"Hush, you're climaxing . . . a-ahh . . . tight little thing. . ." He hugged her close and hunched his back to get inside.

Her breasts flapped against him as she bounced in his lap. She felt deliciously weak, trapped as she was in the wall of his embrace. And something was happening to her, something explosive, something overwhelming. Her head fell forward and she buried her face in the sweet nest of fur that was his neck. She clung tight to him, curling her little fingers in his quills. His snarls continued, vibrating up from his chest. She was surprised when he curled his fingers in her hair, and his hot tongue lapped her neck once, twice, three times in a line of fire. Her helpless cries grew louder.

"Bounce," he whispered, squeezing the cheek under her skirt.

She obeyed at once, and her breasts and buttocks flapped hard against him. Then it happened. She cried out as her fluids washed over him. He sat back and frantically grabbed her buttocks in fistfuls, quickly prying her off. She clung to his neck, kneeling over him, her ass pointed out as he clutched it. He grunted and she felt the wet slap of his fluids hit her skin.

They sagged in the chair together. She lazily kissed him on the cheek, on the chin. He looked at her, amused.

"Say . . . what you wanted . . . to say . . ." he panted, relenting wearily.

"M-Majesty," she whispered in a trembling voice, "I like . . . I like . . ."

The prince laughed breathlessly. "Yes, I know you like."

He gathered her to his chest, and rising from the chair, he carried her to the bed. She clamped her legs around him eagerly as he carried her, never wanting to leg go. He stroked her hair, and a thrill of happiness went through her when he kissed her cheek and whispered, "I don't know what to do with you . . ."

She lay there quietly when he had set her on the bed. She watched as he undressed, slowly and carefully. All his clothes were laid over a chair as his furry body was revealed, as tight with muscles as she recalled.

She moved to remove what was left of her torn dress but he told her to lie still. He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes taking her in, soft and admiring. Pushing her skirts up, he knelt between her thighs and suddenly started tearing. Her skirt ripped in his claws, the dress fell loose around her hip. He was so rough she was jerked around, and she couldn't help it: her legs started kicking either side of him in alarm. He leaned down between her kicking legs, scowling.

"Be still, I'm not going to hurt you! I despise this dress . . . I'll make sure you will never wear it again --!"

"Your majesty!" she squeaked. Her body was jerked forward when he tore the front of the dress. Her breasts wobbled everywhere.

"I said be still!" he snarled and she saw the rodent teeth flash.

Breasts heaving, she fell still, watching as his claws gripped the front of her dress either side. They braced a moment, then tore hard. The fabric ripped loudly in the silence, finally revealing her soft naked body, with its curves and freckles and peachy skin. His eyes softened and he smoothed his claw carefully up her hip to her waist. His fuzzy penis stood erect at the sight of her, lying there holding her breasts, helpless and gasping, her lovely curves finally bare to his eyes.

"There you are . . ." he whispered. "The smell . . ." he leaned down close, touching his snout to her trembling belly. "It was driving me mad . . ." He licked her skin.

Cherry closed her eyes as his rough tongue touched her. She was starting to realize that he didn't hate her dress. No, what he hated was the perfume that had masked her scent. He dragged his black snout against her skin, breathing her in as he went lower and lower, toward her sex. She closed her thighs on reflex, and glancing at her, he pried them apart. His nose found the swath of red hair that draped over her clitoris, and he tasted it with a careful tongue.

A shudder went through her. "Oh, majesty . . . Oh!"

His tongue plunged her, smacking and slurping as he ate her out with a careful skill that left her weak. She melted in the sheets. He paused often to sniff her, sucking his snout against the soft and swollen lips of her sex. He nibbled the lips with his rodent teeth, carefully, tenderly, then kissed her trembling thighs. He rubbed her thighs a moment, trying to relax her. She couldn't. She had tensed up and was holding her breasts. She thought she was going to explode.

"Calm," he whispered, rubbing her thigh. He glanced up at her. "Breathe."

Cherry nodded nervously and took a breath. The warning in his eye said that if she thrashed him another time, he was going to have her tied with her legs spread.

After measuring her with a long stare, he bowed his head between her thighs again. He was sniffing her as much as he was tasting her, and there were several times when she heard him whisper, "Oh god . . ." Two of his fingers glided carefully inside, curling to massage her as he sucked on the throbbing knot of passion between her lips. As his tongue continued tasting and caressing, he dragged her closer down the sheets, and brushing her hands away, he massaged her breasts as he licked her sex. She cried out as his fingers rotated her nipples. She arched her back to the ceiling, thrusting her breasts, breathless and helpless and wild in her passion. And there was no way to escape the insistent tongue, the skilled fingers. Her legs were locked against his shoulders and her hips in his hard embrace.

"P-Please, majesty . . . can't . . . take it . . ."

"You can," was the quiet response.

"M-Majesty . . ."

"Hush."

She hushed. Except to scream, sob, and pant, she hushed. It was too intense. She wiggled her hips to get away, but this served only to intensify her pleasure, for such wriggling smashed her sex against his tongue. He seemed pleased by it as well and whispered his encouragement.

"Oh - Ahh . . . M-Majesty . . ." She sobbed. "Please, something is happening . . ."

"Relax and let it happen."

He glanced up. She was distressed and her face was red as an apple. His gleaming rodent eyes locked with hers, and slowly, he sucked her clitoris into his lips. It happened: she squirted on him. She was horrified. She sat up, apologizing miserably as she cupped her breasts. He knelt back and licked the fluids from his face. She was surprised to see that he was angrily in the slightest.

He sat on the edge of the bed and spread his hard thighs. "Come," he whispered.

She knew what he wanted. She obeyed at once. She rose from the bed, letting the tatters of her dress fall off. He watched with a glazed look as she knelt between his thighs. She didn't know if he realized it or not, but his sex also had a smell, musky and strong, intoxicating in its saltiness. The heat of it blasted her face. She began to lick him carefully, slowly. He reached down to finger her and her heart skipped when his fingers were soaked and dripping with her juices. He licked his fingers clean, watching with hooded eyes as she continued to lick him.

"Now with your breasts," he told her quietly.

She blinked at him like a startled deer.

"Rub them on me."

Blushing furiously now, Cherry cupped her pointy breasts, and very slowly, she rubbed them either side of his erection. He grunted, watching weakly as it was happening. She licked the dripping tip of his penis as she massaged him. He choked, and for a moment, she thought he was going to squirt on her. His quills trembled but did not stand.

"You're slobbering wet," he whispered. "It's dripping down your thighs. I smell it . . ."

She bowed her head, feeling foolish and embarrassed. He was right. It was bizarre that she was so willing, so aroused for him, a monster and a horror. But he wasn't a monster. He was a hedgehog. A hedgehog who had made tender love to her the night before, so sweetly and so carefully and so intensely. She looked in his eyes, and each time she did, something in her thumped. She wanted to touch his quills again. And she knew if she could want him this passionately as a hedgehog, she trembled to think how much she could want him as a human. She had asked to see a portrait of him, anything, but Ainsley told her it wasn't allowed and what was more, the prince had destroyed them so the women he brought to the summer home would not see.

"You would sit on my face if I asked you to," he said.

"Yes," she said at once and blushed again.

He bit his furry lip. "Maybe tomorrow night. I want inside tonight. Again. I want . . ."

"Yes, your majesty," she whispered.

"You want it too . . . no, don't stop rubbing . . . yes, like that."

She rubbed her breasts on him, slowly and carefully.

"Answer me, Amarantha."

"Yes, I want it, majesty," came her trembling voice.

"Why do you want it?"

She started to shake and stopped rubbing her breasts on him. He didn't seem to care this time. When she tried to look away, he lifted her chin. He was frowning, sad.

"Why do you want it?" he repeated.

_Because I love you!_she shrieked in her mind. "You're the first - to ever . . ." she stammered.

"Make you feel like a woman," he finished for her and dropped his claw away.

"Yes," she whispered to his knees.

"I'll make you feel like a woman again," he told her.

And he did.

Once on the bed again, he sat her in his lap and made love to her, jerking his hips up sharp and hard as he cupped and massaged her breasts. He fingered her clit steadily, gently, and she sagged in his lap, watching as her belly twisted with every thrust, watching as the pink lips of her sex clenched to take him in. She could see him sliding through her juices, and his veined erection was thick and paralyzing in its size. Her head fell back and he licked her neck, kissed it. He grunted in her ear as his pleasure also mounted, and then he sank back on his back, taking her down with him.

He thrust so hard now, her breasts flapped to the ceiling. She reached back and grabbed his quills in fistfuls.

"No - don't grab them!" he whispered, his breathless voice in her ear.

She felt his quills quivering, threatening to stand, and she hastily let go. He pounded her until she came again, and frantic to get out, he pulled her by the hips. His erection sprang free, and lying on her back on top of him, she watched as it flinched and squirted his white seed.

They lay there in the silence, panting, weak and glossy with sweat. His fur was plastered with it, and she ran her fingers over his furry arm. He lazily massaged her breasts, lazily kissed her neck.

"Off please," he whispered.

She hesitated. She didn't want to. She rolled off his chest and onto her side. She heard him sit up behind her. When she looked again, he was sitting on the edge of the bed. His back was to her, and she could see only the mass of his quills.

"Majesty . . ." she whispered.

"Yes."

I want to stay here with you forever. "I have a request."

"I knew the goose was overdone."

She laughed miserably. "Majesty, no, I . . . want to spend the night with you again."

He sighed. "If you wish it. You really do amaze me. Most girls can't get away fast enough."

She felt the bed shift, and when she looked, she saw him stretching out on his stomach, careful to avoid the stain from their lovemaking. With his head turned away from her, he pulled a pillow close and buried the side of his face in it. She came to him, and after hesitating, she rested her cheek on the soft warmth of his quills. She closed her eyes and stroked them, stroked them until she fell asleep on them. They were as irresistible as the rest of him: soft, warm . . . and remarkable.