Update 7/11/2016: Fixed a few typos and some minor sentence changes.

Author's Note: This is one of those, "Don't ask me where this stuff comes from, I'm just the writer." I set out to write a true one-shot, like Intoxication was supposed to be, but my brain had other ideas. This has been languishing on my computer for a few months going nowhere. I figured I might as well post it and see what you guys thought of it.

In this little fic Cedric is on the receiving end of a misplaced spell that has him acting in an, um, unorthodox manner. I meant to write a fairly straight forward excuse for Cedric and (adult, grown up, etc) Sofia to get it on, but it took a decidedly darker turn. I liked the idea of Cedric as a predator just a little too much. There's some (very) vague links to my all time favorite fairy tale Little Red Riding hood.

This fic is definitely all about Cedric challenging Sofia's wide-eyed innocence. As always, Sofia is at least 18.

Spelled: Chapter 1

Sofia stood in the wings waiting to enact her part of the plan. With her apprentice wand hidden safely inside her elbow-length evening glove, she peeked out at the dance floor. Dozens of swirling ball gowns created a kaleidoscope of color, offering a momentary distraction as she waited for her sister's signal.

A flash of yellow and gold passed into her line of sight. Their eyes met in silent agreement before Amber slid her gaze to the left, indicating the corner just behind where Sofia stood. The brunette nodded in understanding and her sister smirked before a mask of placid interest slid over her face. Sometimes Sofia found it unnerving how easily her sister could mask her true emotions, playing the part of the bored, unruffled aristocrat to the hilt. Inside she knew Amber was seething.

Sofia leaned out from the alcove, not so much hidden as unobtrusive to the casual observer. She watched Amber approached their intended target. Slipping her wand out of its hiding place, she held it steadily despite her reservations. Doubts about this plan had plagued her from the beginning. Spelling a person without their knowledge breeched not only her personal ethics, but every moral philosophy that governed the practice of magic. What they planned was dishonest, underhanded, and immoral. But then, so was the individual from which Amber sought retribution. Sofia tried to assuage her guilt, reminding herself that the spell wouldn't cause any permanent damage, just expose his true desires, disclosing the unfavorable personality hiding beneath a veneer of charming civility.

Amber played her part flawlessly. Sofia couldn't read lips, but she could easily imagine her sister's words, carefully chosen to lure him in.

"Why, hello Hugo," she'd say, pitching her voice low while her left eyebrow raised.

"Don't be silly," she'd say when he expressed surprise at her cordial attitude towards him considering their last encounter.

"Oh, that."The blond princess would snap open her fan with practiced ease, lightly fanning her neck and exposed décolletage while fluttering her eyelashes. "Don't spend another moment on it. I know I haven't."

A practiced actress, Amber could produce a false personality on demand. Sofia knew what Hugo's arrogance and negligence had cost her sister. He would have no indication of Amber's hurt until her punishment had already been extracted.

Now Sofia merely waited for her cue. Amber would take Hugo's arm, leading him to a dance. Sofia's part rested on timing her spell precisely as they passed close by. Hugo would never know what happened, only feel the effects. The spell was simple enough, but her hands sweated all the same. Relief rushed in to soothe her nerves when they approached. She wanted this whole business over with and thoroughly regretted agreeing to this plan in a moment of sympathy. Once she gave her word Amber wouldn't allow her to renege, though Sofia had made her objections perfectly clear.

She readied her wand, holding it close to stay out of sight. Amber steered Hugo close to Sofia's hiding place. They would pass within an arm's length; all she had to do was aim straight.

Three more steps ...

Two ...

One.

She whispered the incantation, keeping her wand pointed ahead of her.

"What are you doing?"

At the moment the spell left her lips and she felt the familiar zing of magic traveling up her arm, through her finger tips and out the end of her wand, a tall, dark figure filled her vision. She watched helplessly as the spell jumped from the end of her wand into the man standing barely a foot from her.

Cedric had come around the corner, spotting his pupil sequestered quietly in an alcove, which in its self was a troubling sign. The girl was never quiet, and rarely still. He thought she might grow out of her constant exuberance as she crested adulthood, but even age couldn't constrain her. Beyond her uncharacteristic stillness, the tight posture of her stance suggested instantly that she was up to something.

Distracted, her focus intent on something in the distance, she took no notice of him as he approached. When he spoke, she jumped, her eyes going wide in surprise. He felt a curious buzz pass through him that tingled with familiarity. He scowled down at her, presuming the feeling was the result of misplace sympathy for startling her. And she must have been startled indeed, as her expression hinted at a feeling beyond shock that bordered on horror.

"Mister Cedric! You, um ... you surprised me." She eyed her mentor carefully, rearranging her face into something of a less shocked expression. She glanced around him in time to see Amber pass by with Hugo. The blond peered curiously over her shoulder, making eye contact. Sofia shrugged helplessly, tilting her head in a quick, sharp gesture towards the sorcerer. Without words the message was relayed. Amber scowled at the tall man, angry at his unintended interference.

"Yes," he said carefully, feeling curiously uneasy. "Well then, what are you doing?"

"Me?" She hid her wand in the folds of her skirt. "I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

He peered down at her, suspicion growing in his expression. "I asked what you were doing, not how you were doing."

"I'm not doing anything." Her eyes darted around, looking for the nearest exit.

"That's exactly my point. You're never just doing nothing. So I'll ask again, what are you doing?"

"Um," she chewed her lip nervously. She needed to devise a means of escape, for both of them. But she didn't wish him to know why if it could be avoided. A lie sprang to her lips with surprising ease. "Actually, I'm not feeling at all well. It's a bit hot in here and I'm feeling dizzy. Would you mind walking with me for a bit?"

His suspicious expression evaporated, replaced by concern. She batted her lashes, trying to appear frail. Coquettish tricks almost never worked on Mister Cedric; he always saw through her. But on occasion she could rely on his vanity to blind him to her trickery. She hoped today was one of those days.

"O-of course," he sputtered, his voice going high at the end.

Sofia smiled in genuine affection and breathed a little easier. She needed to get him out of the ballroom before the spell took hold. She'd never forgive herself if she were the cause of embarrassment for him, knowing her underhanded scheming had caused him distress. And he would likely never forgive her either.

Quickly she formed a plan. There was a counter-spell, though she couldn't readily remember it. She considered guessing at the right spell, but quickly discarded the idea. She didn't wish to cause further damage, and the answer easily lay in one of the books in his study. They just had to get back to his workshop, then it would be a simple matter to reverse the effects.

As they strolled across the dance floor, weaving between the crowd she noticed Cedric blinking hard, occasionally shaking his head as if to clear it. The need to hurry pressed speed into her strides.

"This way." She dared to slip her arm through his, a gesture normally reserved for a suitor or intended, but she had more important matters to worry about than fueling gossip.

A few guests lingered in the hallway, catching a breath of fresh air from the open windows. Cedric looked down at her dainty gloved hand clutching his arm and flushed. She was momentarily afraid he'd protest, but a subtle smirk played around the corners of his mouth.

Sofia nodded hello to a few guests as they passed, trying not to appear in a hurry.

Cedric's eyes lingered over the Duchess of Enderhaven. "What an awful dress," he remarked loud enough for the woman to hear.

Sofia picked up her pace. "You'll have to forgive Mister Cedric," she called over her shoulder as they passed, "He's not feeling well."

"I feel fine. I thought you weren't feeling well."

"Please, Mister Cedric," she implored, nearly dragging him in her wake, "lower your voice."

"Why?" He shrugged indignantly. "It is an ugly dress."

They were out of earshot of the small crowd and Sofia didn't bother to chide him further. It wouldn't do any good. She managed to guide him along the hall to the grand staircase before he began asking questions.

"Just where are we going?"

"To your workshop," she sighed, knowing that lying would prove useless.

"Why are we going there? Won't you be missed at your blasted ball?" His voice sounded insolent, lacking its usual obsequious tones. It belied his true distaste for the social gathering of the wealthy.

"Actually, no," she urged him along. "Amber knows what to do."

"You are up to something. I knew it."

"Please, Mister Cedric, we just need to get to your workshop."

"Very well." She looked at him, surprised by his easy compliance. An enigmatic smile danced around the corners of his mouth. If She didn't know him better she'd say he looked amused, but Cedric never seemed amused. By anything. And she'd known him going on eleven years. "Lead on, Princess, but you will tell me what's going on."

"Anything, let's just get there."

"My aren't we eager." Nothing about his words should have caused her to blush, but something in his tone unexpectedly brought color to her cheeks.

As they mounted the stairway approaching his door, Sofia felt spurred on by need, driven to correct her mistake. Closing the door behind them, she deposited him upon his stool like an invalid. Physically he was perfectly sound, but his mentality was a different issue.

"Sit here," she ordered before turning to her task. She perused the book shelf, murmuring titles until she came upon one that sounded promising. Fetching the thick tome down, she laid it out on the bench before her. Focused on finding the correct spell, she never heard him approach.

Thumbing rapidly through the worn pages, she paused when a pair of hands appeared, one on either side of her waist, laying flat on the table. She blinked in surprise to feel his chest press against her back, his arms caging her in. She froze, stunned completely by his actions. For years she'd been Cedric's apprentice, learning magic at his patient hands, but they'd never touched like this. She'd hugged him on the rarest of occasions, and he always pushed her hastily away. Other than that they only shared the briefest of touches, and always in a precise, impersonal manner while working on a potion or spell together.

"What are you doing?" He asked her. His breath ghosted over her ear, rippling goose flesh down her neck.

She hoped he was perhaps taking a professional interest in this strange occurrence, but the warmth of his body along hers left her doubtful. She had to swallow twice before any sound came out of her mouth. "I'm looking for a spell."

"I can see that," he chuckled. Standing so close, she felt the reverberation of his chest resonate through her back. "What spell would that be exactly? And why? I did say you would tell me everything."

That sounded like a promise, or maybe a threat. The effect left her feeling nervous and excited at the same time. She fumbled for something to say.

"Let's see, shall we?" He rested his chin on her shoulder, tilting his head down to peer at the book. The movement pressed him more firmly against her.

"How to de-scale a dragon? No, I don't think that's it." His right hand raised up to flip the page, brushing his arm along her waist. "Perhaps how to turn a teapot into a tortoise? No. How to purify bog water? Kill off rag weeds? Put a mountain troll to sleep? Hmm, this book doesn't seem to be of much help at all."

Sofia wasn't paying attention. While he'd flicked through pages, naming off useless spells, his left hand had curled around her, his thumb gently caressing her abdomen. His touches excited something in her that she'd never expected to feel in his presence. She always comported herself with the utmost manners when in his company, never once hinting at the attraction she harbored deep down.

She spent her leisure surrounded by the young and handsome gentlemen of noble breeding, and she was attracted to several of her peers, but Mister Cedric held a particular interest for her. His unusual look, rough personality, even his questionable morals fascinated her. But he'd never once suggested that he reciprocated any such attraction and to be suddenly exposed to the idea left her floundering.

"Mister Cedric, I believe I need to confess something." Flustered by his inappropriate attentions, she threw away all caution. She would have to come clean about the ill-fated plan between Amber and herself, and hope the consequences weren't too severe.

He turned his face so his nose was buried in her hair, his mouth beside her ear again. "Oh, a confession," he murmured, his voice making her shiver. "Yes, do tell me your sins, Princess."

The deep tenor of his voice seemed to resonate down her spine, rising to a thrumming crescendo in her core. She turned abruptly in his embrace, embarrassed by her own desire. She pressed her hands against his chest, putting some distance between them. "You're under a spell," she blurted.

Cocking his head to the side like a curious owl, he seemed disinclined to care as his eyes traced the outline of her lips. "Truly? And what spell am I under exactly?"

She licked her lips, nervous of his attention. His arms encircled her, and she couldn't gather the will to fight against what she'd wanted in the secret recesses of her heart. It was an illusion, she told herself, but it was one rooted in truth.

"No, let me guess." His lips parted in a mischievous grin that was thoroughly out of character. "Amplexus Amantium?"

"No," she murmured, at once entranced and dumbfounded by his mercurial temperament. His hands slid along her back, one traveling up to brush the bare skin between her shoulders, holding her closer.

"Conspectu Libidinem?"

"Um, no." She angled back, bumping into the workbench behind her, as he crowded her in.

"Verus Amor." He leaned towards her.

She fought the urge to let him kiss her. "You're not yourself." But she knew that was a lie. He was more himself now than any other time. The spell made sure of it. That was exactly why she and Amber had chosen it for Hugo.

The tip of his nose brushed hers. "Am I not? I haven't done anything that I haven't dreamed of a hundred times before."

Her eyes shot wide, utterly astounded by his confession. "Really?"

"Indeed," he murmured, closing the space between them.

Sofia was too shocked to respond when his lips brushed over hers softly. He didn't try to deepen the kiss as she expected, rather he pulled slightly away to sigh against her lips.

"Oh, what I would do to you, little princess."

His slight kiss had left her lips tingling. But she was more thrown that he wanted to kiss her at all. "Wha- What do you want to do to me?" She whispered, hardly trusting her voice.

"Well," he turned his head, brushing the tip of his nose along her cheek to the shell of her ear. His voice thrummed low and husky. He spoke slowly, with purpose, as if he wanted to paint each word vividly in her mind. He wanted her to see them they way he saw them. "First, I'd take you upstairs to my bedroom. There I'd remove each piece of your clothing, one by one, slowly, being careful not to touch any bit of your skin."

She was caught in the web of his voice, weaving a dark spell that burst inside her imagination in vivid detail. His thumb brushing gently across her skin felt like he was stroking her very soul. Her voice came out a hoarse whisper, thick with curiosity. "Why not?"

"Eager, aren't we?" He chuckled darkly. "That's good to know. I wouldn't touch you yet because I want you to shiver in anticipation. I want you to burn for my touch."

His voice dropped another octave. His mouth was so close to her ear she could feel the tickle of his warm breath and the barest whisper of his lips. It did make her shiver. "When I finally do touch you, I want you already wet for me."

What? She wondered over his meaning for the briefest of seconds before the truth sank in. Her cheeks flamed, and she didn't believe she could blush any deeper. But the seeds of his words blossomed ripe and full in her mind's eye. By all the realms, she did want him to touch her. Badly. The light brush of his thumb drawing circles between her shoulder blades awakened her, striving to capture every bit of sensation.

She shuttered to think on how he would react to this conversation once the spell wore off. She wavered in indecision, wanting to mitigate the damage, but tempted to let it go on just a little bit more.

"And then?" She murmured, keeping her eyes down.

"And then, what?"

She swallowed. "What would you do then?"

"When?"

She frowned, gathering the courage to look at him. He was toying with her, she realized.

"Go ahead," his smile was beguiling, "You can say it."

Sofia wondered wildly if this was how it felt to be tempted with forbidden fruit. Unable to look away from his intriguing eyes, she felt like a rabbit trapped by a wolf. Her heart began to beat too fast. "What would you do once I'm ...," she couldn't bring herself to use the same word he had. It was hard enough to say, "Excited?"

"You mean aroused?"

Her guileless eyes widened to blue saucers and she licked her lips, wishing for a drop of water to whet her dry throat. She managed a nod, unable to offer any murmured response.

He pulled away so suddenly that she tried to follow on instinct. His hands remained at her waist, holding her at arm's length. His expression changed, his enticing smile turning into a sneer. "But what would you know about all this? The unblemished flower of Enchancia, I hardly suspect you even know what transpires between and man and woman in bed."

The sting of his assessment shocked her with its intensity. "I know exactly what sex is, thank you very much," she found herself blurting before embarrassment could take hold.

"Really?" His smile curled into another devious grin. "And what exactly would you know about it, Princess?"

He'd done more smiling in this one evening than she'd seen in a decade. But these smiles were taunting, seeming to mock her. It turned her wide-eyed arousal to ire.

"I-," she stuttered to find a response. " I just do."

He cupped her chin in his palm, tilting her eyes up to his face. He regarded her with interest, before smiling again. She was beginning to despise those smiles. They made her nervous. "I'd wager all the kingdom's gold that you're a virgin."

"Why, of course I am," she sniffed with wounded pride. She was virtuous, as any princess should be. Who was he to mock her for it?

He sighed, sounding bored. "Do know what virgins are?"

"Pure and chaste," she answered immediately.

"Tedious," he said, his tone flat.

She tore her face from his hand, edging away. She'd had enough of this strange version of her sorcerer. He was an intriguing diversion at first, but somewhere things had turned. Now he seemed cynical, even cruel.

"I didn't mean to offend." Cedric folded his arms and began walking in a slow circle around her. "I'm only offering you the truth, dear Princess. How many people can you say that about?"

"I don't know what you mean." She struggled not to turn to keep him in sight. She tried to gather her strength with indignant rage. "I don't know anyone who lies to me. Except apparently you. It would seem you've been lying to me for years."

"Oh," he seemed unperturbed by the accusation, "Do tell."

"The way you're acting now. This isn't you, but it is."

"You're not making any sense," he continued on in the same, unbothered tone.

"The spell isn't a love or lust spell. It's a truth spell."

He paused in his circling, contemplating. "That makes sense," he muttered more to himself than to her. "The truth hurts, doesn't it little girl."

"I'm not a little girl," she jerked her skirts viciously, turning about to face him.

"To me you are. Not in body, mind you." His eyes did a slow sweep up her body, lingering a beat too long on her rounded breasts. His casual appraisal left her feeling sullied by the suggestive glint in his eyes."No, there you're all grown up. But in your mind, you still believe the world is sunshine and flowers. You believe that every servant is your friend, not that they are paid to do your bidding. You're well-liked, don't doubt that, but they will tell you anything you want to hear. What servant wants to be the one who angered the rulers of the realm? There's a saying, Princess, the nail that sticks out gets the hammer.

"But we've become distracted. What were we speaking about?" He asked, though she knew he hadn't forgotten. "Ah, yes, virgins and their tedium."

She fought back angry tears. She didn't want to believe it. Any of it. But she really didn't wish to believe this of him; That this is who he truly was beneath the surface, callous and cruel.

"There's the physical," he went on, undaunted by the embarrassed anguish on her face. "All the tears and pain. It hurts the first time for women, did you know that?"

She shook her head, horrified.

"I suspected as much." He went back to pacing around her. He seemed to be speaking to himself more than her, contemplating. "But there are other, more enjoyable things I could do to you. No need to compromise your virtue completely." He passed into her line of sight, making eye contact. The heat in his eyes emanated pure sin.

She stood there, frozen with attraction and the scent of danger. His mercurial nature proved unnerving, but curiosity tempted her. He was under a truth spell, bound by magic to disclose his true thoughts and feelings, but he was acting like a complete stranger from the man she saw day in and out. So much of himself had remained hidden from her notice, and now he spoke plainly of wanting to do devious things for her pleasure.

He wanted to pleasure her.

He'd thought on it and she'd never suspected.

She knew it was wrong to give in.

"Intrigued?" His right eyebrow cocked up. "Shall I detail out some examples? I hardly suspect you know what I speak of."

She gulped, wondering at the options. She should insist he perform the counter spell , or allow her to. But he was aware of his current compromised state and didn't appear concerned.

"Has anyone ever touched you," his eyes swept downward, "There?"

She blinked, paralyzed with uncertainly. She shouldn't be discussing such things with him.

He stepped closer, intrigued by her silence. "Have you even touched yourself?"

Trapped by his intent gaze, she managed a slight nod, her eyes sinking to the floor in shame.

He slid closer, tilting his head to catch her eyes. "But no one else, am I correct?"

"No one," she whispered, uncertain why she would answer such a question.

His fingertips caressed her cheek and she looked at him, mystified by the gentle touch. "Shall I be the first?"

Her mouth worked, but no sound came out. That he would suggest ... That she would consider ...

Her mind spun off in a thousand directions at once, chasing the options. Clearly she should refuse, but something in his tone had changed. It held a potent mixture of sincerity, hope, and just a touch of desperation. He wanted her to say yes. The very idea sent her mind reeling.

"Or I could kiss you."

She nearly sighed in relief. Finally a tame and familiar expression of affection. "Well, that is customarily the place to start," she offered, tilting her head towards him, wanting to feel the tingle of his lips again.

He chuckled and it sounded dark to her ears. "I meant down there."

She straightened immediately. "Oh!" Blood rushed to her face and she imagined she must look like as red as a summer tomato. He could kiss her ... down there? The very thought was scandalous. Wasn't that indecent? Wrong? Was she some sort of deviant ? Because she was very much considering the option.

"Perhaps not," his mouth puckered in a silky moue of contrite apology, but that duplicitous smile still toyed around the edges. "I don't think you're quite ready for that."

She wanted to protest, but snapped her mouth shut. Shouldn't she protest such a suggestion? Confusion twisted her thoughts and desires into a tangled jumble. Despite her mental indecision, her body seemed to know what it wanted. Heat coiled in her belly, rising to an inferno between her thighs. She pressed her knees together, not sure if she meant to halt the sensation or heighten it.

"Let's start with something simple, shall we?" He peeled off one glove after the other before tossing them both carelessly to the floor.

She allowed him to approach, her whole body tight with anticipation. She expected he might kiss her as he had before, but instead his bare hands slide round her, framing her corseted waist. He continued to look her in the eye and she was too intent on his gaze to protest. She felt like she was the one under a spell, unable to refuse what she wanted so deeply. Her whole life she'd been told how good she was, but perhaps she was actually very wicked indeed.

One of his hands moved lower, his right eyebrow arching in challenge when he began to gather up the lengths of her skirt, raising the edge of the elegant garment off the floor.

She felt a bit like one of those ridiculous heroines in the bawdy novels Amber and her friends passed around in secret. Every breath pressed her breasts sharply against the edge of her bodice. Her stiff nipples were a subtle torture where they chafed against the confines of her corset.

This is wrong. So wrong.

The words replayed like a mantra in her mind. He raised her skirt up around her waist. The bare skin of her thighs tingled in the cool air. She nearly jumped when his warm hand caressed the lavender rosettes embroidered onto the lace trimmings of her stockings.

He fingered the delicate satin threads. "How charmingly ironic," he muttered.

She didn't understand his meaning, but when his fingertips slid up to touch her bare thigh she lost the ability to comprehend anything but the yawning ache that screamed: Yes! Yes! and, Just a bit closer, please. Her knees parted obligingly and she turned her face away in bashful shame. She shouldn't ...

His touch danced over the satin of her bloomers, less a caress and more a question. She couldn't help the answering undulation of her hips.

When he pressed against her firmly, she moaned outright.

She cringed despite the pleasure, embarrassed that while his words had offended her mind, her body reacted with arousal. Wicked, her mind taunted, wicked, wicked girl.

His other hand came up to cup her chin. The gentle insistence of his touch on her face contradicted the needy pressure of his other touch below. She allowed her head to turn towards him.

He watched her intently, his expression carefully blank except for the excited rasp of his breath and the banked fire behind his eyes. She wanted him to kiss her. His thumb swept across her lower lip and she parted her mouth in invitation. When he moved towards her, she was already leaning in, but he veered off to press his mouth to her throat, just below her ear. His busy fingers left the damp satin of her drawers to crawl up to the waistband of her drawers. His hand slipped slowly and deliberately inside, gliding over her lower belly, into the nest of curl no other person had ever touched.

Her threadbare composure cracked. Desperate to hold something of substance amidst her wildly shifting emotions, she grasped his forearm, not restraining, but encouraging his explorations.

"What do you think about?" He whispered, startling her.

She searched for an answer. "W-What?"

His fingers skimmed closer to the beating heart of her virgin sex. She held her breath. Please, please ...

His tongue flicked out to caress her ear lobe, eliciting a gasp from her. "When you touch yourself?"

She moaned quietly, in distress or pleasure, she wasn't sure. Perhaps both. He was so close, but moving so slowly. Teasing her. "When I ...," she couldn't stop her hips from rolling towards him, seeking absolution. "I ...,"

She shouldn't say ...

He drew the edge of her sensitive ear between his lips and sucked.

"I ...," her other hand came up to clutch his robes in a desperate grip. His fingers brushed between her legs, testing around the edges. Yes, please ...

"You," she gasped, humiliation washing over her.

His fingers stilled for a moment, and she huffed in frustrated anguish. "You'll make a fine ruler one day," he replied evenly, his tone surprisingly bitter.

"What?" She blinked in a daze.

He started moving again. His fingertips slipped between her folds and her mind washed blank as a wave of pure sensation engulfed her.

"To lie so convincingly under duress."

She was scarcely able to follow the thread of his words. Her head shook back and forth, barely aware of what she did. "But, I'm not ..."

He bit down on her ear, not hard enough to mark her flawless skin, but the slight sting surprised her. "Don't," he growled, his voice rough. "Just ... don't"

She wanted to protest, but his words fell away as his rocking hand elicited alien sensations. She'd explored her own body, but his touch was somehow more: the feeling fuller, deeper, more intense. His fingers slid easily over her sex and she realized she'd fulfilled his desire: she was indeed wet.

A helpless whimper caught in her throat, rolling her hips against his questing fingertips. She quaked as much from the knowledge of his desire for her as from his touch. Pressing her cheek against the warm skin of his throat, her lips sought him out. She feathered light kisses over his neck, before brushing across the light stubble on his cheek. Seeking some tenderness to ease the sting of his earlier words, she arched back, pressing deeper against his hand, while rearing back to seek his mouth with her own. Her lips barely touched his before he pulled away again.

"Why won't you kiss me?" Her voice broke on a pleading sob.

He hesitated, his eyes clouding with indecision for the first time.

"Please," she whimpered, needing some familiar and caring act to anchor herself to.

Her plea seemed to break something free inside him. He surged against her, kissing her hard while his fingers breeched her body. Her lips parted in a gasping moan and his tongue filled her mouth in a crude act of possession sure to challenge her innocence. She tried to kiss him back, barely aware of her own actions, her thoughts scattering as her consciousness was torn between concentrating on his mouth or his hand. A sweet stretching sensation caused her inner muscles to clamp as he eased a second finger into her.

She whimpered, on the verge of overwrought tears. The burning, rising sensation in her core built higher each time his finger thrust up and deep into her. Every muscle in her body stretched taut, forcing her up on her toes. His thumb pressed up, rubbing the most sensitive part of her womanhood and she tore her mouth away with a pealing moan. A fierce wave of ecstasy enveloped her, more intense than any completion she'd ever managed from her own novice touches. She clutched at him, relying on him to keep her from shattering into pieces.

He pulled his hand from beneath her skirts abruptly, leaving her floundering in the wake such pleasure. Sofia embraced him, hugging him tightly to her as she continued to shiver, unaware that he didn't return the gesture. Exhausted tears gilded her lashes, one slipping down her cheek before dripping off her chin. A muddled indolence weighted her limbs, a poignant disparity to her restless mind.

She'd just been fondled by her mentor and teacher. A man twice her age, she should be filled with humiliation and shame. A proper maiden would rather perish than surrender her virtue; another willing casualty on the altar of propriety. She must be a very wicked girl indeed, her true provincial nature showing as she craved for him to continue; to bestow upon her the other carnal delights he'd hinted upon.

She tilted her head back, her neck lolling like a well oiled hinge. She blinked in lazy awareness, her fluttering lashes loosening another tear. She watched Cedric's eyes trace the smudged track left behind in its wake. He swallowed deeply, the taunting, self-assured man dissolving before her eyes like a water colored painting left out in the rain. Remorseful shame crept in, evident in the sullen tilt of his mouth, and wide searching eyes. In turns intriguing and frightening, she was curiously sad to see this brash stranger go.

"Cedric?" She murmured, humbled by the wavering tremble in her voice. That was the first time she'd ever called him by his proper name.

He pried her nerveless fingers from his robes. She let him push her away, too inept at this foreign dance to do anything but follow his lead.

Staring intensely down at the floor, Cedric blinked hard, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge his very thoughts. The furrow of his brow and clenched hands cautioned her to silence. Apprehension crept in to overtake embarrassment, blooming full flower in her chest. Fully cognizant of his compromised state, she'd allowed him to take liberties neither could afford, no matter how much she'd enjoyed it.

"Get out."

His flat tone cut through her tumultuous thoughts with brutal efficiency. "What?"

"Get. Out."

"You want me to leave?" Confusion threatened to smother her in the face of her tortured nerves. "Now?"

He shook his head, but said, "It doesn't matter what I want. You need to leave."

She gaped at him. He seemed to be warring with himself, and she wasn't sure what she should do. She felt like she had to fix the damage she'd carelessly done. But when she stepped closer, he jerked away in a slightly frantic movement.

"Don't."

The harshness of his tone warned her way. She bit her lip in uncertainty, feeling a shiver of fear shoot down her spine. His glazed eyes darkened, staring at the contours of her mouth. He looked fit to jump on her like a starving dog upon a morsel of meat. She took an involuntary step back. Her fear only seemed to heightened his dark-eyed arousal.

When she backed away, he advanced on her, his voice a silk purr that sounded completely foreign from his usual acerbic tones. "Or perhaps you should stay. You seemed so wonderfully eager a moment ago. I've already compromised your virtue. It would be such a small matter to ruin you completely."

Her still tingling sex throbbed like a wound, mocking her foolish innocence. How had she thought she could compromise her body without losing her soul? At the moment Cedric seemed the perfect incarnation of a fallen angel. A inky harbinger summoned up to drag her down into carnal destruction.

In her wide-eyed fantasies she'd imagined stolen kisses and sweet caresses, but nothing like this dark temptation. She trembled, afraid less of him and more of the unknown ruin he suggested. Her first blush with true pleasure had opened a vein of erotic curiosity, but the pulse beating wildly in her throat warned that she wasn't prepared to accept the sensuous bargain he offered.

She wavered in indecision, caught between her exceptionally pristine soul and this new born desire. She wasn't sure if she wanted to plead his forgiveness or beg him to touch her again.

He circled her. This time she felt a shiver of trepidation when he disappeared from her line of sight. Goose flesh prickled between her shoulder to have him at her back.

Suddenly he gripped her by the waist, his fingers digging in hard enough to feel them through her gown and corset. He pulled her back and pressed against her in the same rough motion, molding his body to hers ruthlessly. She felt his bared teeth against her ear. "Run, little girl, before I eat you up."

He shoved her forward just as quickly as he'd snatched her against him a moment before, and she stumbled a step towards the door. Overwrought and horrified, she scrambled at the handle, flinging the door wide. Grasping thick handfuls of skirt, she did as he bid her and ran.

Author's Note: Your reviews are amazing, and the reason this story will continue. Thank you, dear readers for your encouragement and input.