Yes, the sight was intoxicating. Erotic and wildly exciting. He’d dreamed of doing this for so long and indeed for years, he’d steadfastly buried the temptation to look at, or even think about Minerva’s figure out of respect for David. But now, tonight, he could fondle and caress and ravish her body with abandon.
Take her.
Tristan’s orgasm was starting to build and the urge to pump faster and coat Minerva’s tits with his seed was overwhelming. But he didn’t want to spend just yet. Not when he wanted to satisfy Minerva. He’d already introduced her to his darker, debauched side so for the rest of the night, her pleasure was paramount, not his.
Tristan released her breasts and withdrew his cock from her cleavage. “As much as I want to come all over your delightful tits, my beautiful Persephone, I think it’s time to focus on your desires.”
Minerva blinked. Come on her tits? She’d never heard of such a thing. While it sounded intriguing, the desperate need to orgasm burned within her. Her clitoris throbbed and her feminine folds were slick with moisture. Concentrating on what she wanted sounded wonderful.
Tristan helped her up. She was a little unsteady on her feet at first so he slid his hands about her waist. As he drew her naked body against his to support her, the feel of his taut muscles and the hot velvet glide of his bare cock against her belly, were most distracting.
His next question claimed her full attention though. “Would you like to watch me undress? Turnabout is fair play after all.”
Delicious shivers of anticipation shooting through her, Minerva nodded. “I would love that.”
Tristan grinned wolfishly. “Well, I’m more than happy to oblige. Sit on the bed. I hope you enjoy the show.”
Minerva climbed onto the soft mattress and curling her legs beneath her, leaned against one of the carved wooden posts. “I don’t see why I wouldn’t.” While Tristan’s enormous erection was mightily impressive, she knew the rest of his body would be the epitome of masculine perfection and she couldn’t wait to see all of it.
With no sign of the uncertainty she’d felt, Tristan deftly unbuttoned his black brocade waistcoat and shrugged it off his wide shoulders. Gripping the back of his shirt, he then dragged it over his head revealing the most beautifully chiseled body Minerva had ever laid eyes on.
Her avid gaze traced over all his hard edges and sleek planes, all the places her fingers itched to explore: the bunched muscles of his shoulders and well-developed upper arms; the heavy pectoral muscles with their whorls of black hair; the tantalizing ridges of his flat abdomen. His partially undone breeches were still slung about his waist revealing the outline of lean hip bones and his proudly jutting cock from its nest of fierce black curls.
“You’re... you’re magnificent,” she whispered in awe. David had been tall and lean, but he’d never revealed his entirely naked form to her. She’d caught glimpses of him beneath his banyan and nightshirt when he’d come to her bedchamber in the night, but that was all. He certainly hadn’t been as well-made as Tristan. Or as devilishly handsome.
Tristan gave a courtly bow, completely at odds with his semi-naked state. “Why thank you, fair lady.” Taking a seat, he swiftly pulled off his boots and hose, then in another flash of movement, divested his breeches revealing thick corded thighs and taut buttocks.
“You’re going to keep your mask on too?” Minerva asked as he padded in his bare feet toward the bed. Her heart was racing, her body trembling. This powerful, beautiful, breathtaking man with fire in his blue eyes—the friend she’d known for years—now seemed like a stranger to her. But perhaps that was his purpose. And part of the thrill.
“Yes.” Pausing in front of her, Tristan stroked her cheek with gentle fingers. “Donning a disguise—the pretense—is freeing, don’t you think?”
Minerva’s lips curved into a smile. “Most definitely.” She reached out and ran her hands over Tristan’s chest and down his torso, enjoying the feel of rock-hard flesh and the tickle of hair beneath her fingertips. When his nipples contracted, her smile widened. “I like this game.”
A shadow of some emotion Minerva couldn’t quite identify clouded Tristan’s expression. But within a moment, the sinful, seductive rakehell was back. “You know, I haven’t kissed you nearly enough tonight. And I’m not going to lie, I’m still a trifle piqued that you allowed that Egyptian minx to kiss you first.”
She arched a brow. “It’s hardly my fault. I was beneath the kissing bough after all.”
Tristan’s eyes darkened and he pushed his fingers into her hair, cradling her head. “Well, kissing bough or no, I’m going to have my fill of you now.”
Minerva gasped as Tristan’s mouth crashed down on hers. This kiss wasn’t gentle or teasing. It was a masterful, passionate, almost bruising kiss. Hot and hard and hungry.
Wild.
Tristan’s tongue thrust into her mouth, plundering and devouring. Pushing her back onto the bed, one of his hands sought her breast, plucking and rolling her nipple. Pinching almost to the point of pain. But as she’d discovered with the spanking, it seemed a little pain when one was highly aroused could be pleasurable.
Releasing her grip on his powerful shoulders, she raked her nails down his back and nipped at his lower lip eliciting a deep, appreciative groan from him. The sound vibrated through her. Perhaps he liked a little pain too.
“Turn over,” Tristan growled against her mouth.
“What?”
“Turn over.” He pushed himself away to give her room. “Lie on your belly with your legs hanging over the side and your feet on the floor.”
Curious, Minerva did as he asked, resting her head upon her arms. “Another spanking?”
“No... I’m going to devour your sweet, sweet cunt. And I won’t be satisfied until you come on my face.”
Minerva gasped at the shocking words. The wanton imagery in her head. Even so her quim pulsed in anticipation.
Tristan ran his hands over her still slightly sensitive buttocks, his strokes feather-light, almost tender. Then his fingers skimmed over the underside of her cheeks before trailing down the back of her thighs, making her shiver. She felt him move. Was he kneeling? His hands gently pushed her legs apart, exposing her most intimate parts. How vulnerable she felt. But if Tristan was going to relieve the unfilled ache inside her, she wasn’t about to complain. Or resist.
A barely-there cool sensation brushed over her hot wet quim. Tristan was blowing on her, teasing her with his breath. The shivers that had begun before soon turned into shudders. She bit her lip to suppress an agonized moan. If he didn’t touch her clitoris soon, she’d scream.
“Trist—” She broke off as his fingers slid between her folds, pressing the petals of her swollen sex wider. And then his tongue arrowed deep inside her, plunging and retreating in the manner of a cock and she did moan. Her thoughts spun away and her inner muscles rippled around Tristan’s tongue.
She gripped the silk counterpane and opened her thighs even more. Her orgasm shimmered just out of reach, a coiling pressure, an exquisite tension that kept growing, building like an oncoming tempest.
Tristan’s wicked tongue began to work her clitoris. He licked and lapped, tormenting the tight, swollen bud with fast, tiny flicks. Dear God, it felt so good. No, better than good. It was breath-stealing. Toe-curling. Heart-stopping.
It was divine.
Writhing, she mewled with mindless abandon and a fresh rush of moisture bathed her quim. Tristan’s mouth slid away and one of his fingers, slick with her juices, circled her tightest, most intimate opening. Gently pressed into her, making her gasp, then withdrew and circled again. The next moment, he caught her clitoris between his lips again, drawing on the nub with tight, insistent suction. She cried out, caught between agony and ecstasy. It was too much. Too wanton. Too wicked.
Too perfect.
Minerva shattered. The sweetest, most devastating cataclysm crashed into her, engulfing her, sweeping her up and carrying her away in a whirlwind of bliss. Moani
ng Tristan’s name, she floated on high for an indeterminate time before slowly drifting back down to slump upon the bed, shuddering and spent. Dizzy and boneless and utterly replete. Her womb still pulsed with tiny ripples of pleasure as Tristan lay down beside her.
Wonder suffused her soul. All this time she’d known Tristan, she’d suspected her dear friend was an accomplished lover. But he was more than that. He was a master of the erotic arts. A virtuoso.
His fingers traced down her nose, across her flushed cheek. Pushed her tangled hair away from her face. “My sweet, Minerva,” he murmured. “Your cries of ecstasy are the loveliest sounds I’ve ever heard.”
She cracked a heavy lid and smiled at him, smiling back at her. She was pleased he’d used her name instead of calling her Persephone or his Lady of Misrule. “All thanks to you. You are,” she caressed the lean line of his jaw, “quite extraordinary.”
Was that a flush of pleasure washing over Tristan’s cheeks? Even his mask couldn’t hide it. He cleared his throat. “Thank you. But we’re not finished yet. The night is but young.”
“Yes.” Minerva stroked her fingers over the strong column of his neck; the strong beat of his pulse beneath her fingertips made her smile again. “What do you recommend next? I’m happy to try anything tonight. Tell me what will please you, and I’ll do it.”
Tristan’s cock jumped and his balls contracted as searing lust shot through him. If Minerva had any inkling of the salacious mental images her words provoked, perhaps she wouldn’t be quite so amenable. There were so many possibilities. So many wicked things he could do with her...
An idea he’d thought of earlier leapt to mind. “If you agree, I’d like to take you from behind.”
After all they’d done tonight, it amused Tristan that Minerva promptly blushed bright red. “If you’ll forgive my ineptitude, I don’t quite know how that will work,” she said softly. Her long dark lashes shielded her gaze, as though she was ashamed. “I mean, I’ve seen animals mating in that particular fashion. But I’m afraid you’ll have to guide me.”
Tenderness tempered the fire in Tristan’s veins. Minerva was so responsive, so passionate, he’d momentarily forgotten this was all new to her. “There’s nothing to forgive. And it would be my greatest pleasure to show you, my lady.” He rose to his knees. “Let me help you kneel upon the bed. On your hands and knees.”
She did, facing the carved oak bedhead. Looking back over her smooth-as-cream shoulder, she threw him a coquettish glance. “I must say, I’m not sure if this is the most flattering pose I’ve ever adopted.”
Tristan placed one hand on the small of her back while he gave her rump a playful slap with the other. “Sweetheart, from where I am, the view is outstanding.”
Grasping his pulsing, weeping cock, he slid it between the plump cheeks of her buttocks, before gliding along the intimate furrow of her sex. She was so wet, he was sure his entry would be easy. Nevertheless, it had been at least two years since she’d last had sexual intercourse so he would take things slowly at first. He sure as hell wasn’t going to slam into her like a randy buck at the height of rutting season.
The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Minerva. He wanted this coupling to be perfect for her.
Parting her delicate folds with his fingers, he nudged her entrance with the head of his cock. Her slick sheath sucked at him, clasping him in the most intimate of embraces. The fit was tight, but not as tight as he’d expected.
Minerva sighed and pushed back. “That feels wonderful. Go deeper, Tristan. Take me. I’m ready.”
Tristan’s balls jerked at her wicked invitation. He leaned forward, covering her back and wound a hank of her glorious hair around his fist. His voice was a harsh whisper in her ear. “You want me to fill you then fuck you, Minerva? Fuck you hard and fast until you come around my cock? Until you scream your pleasure?”
“Yes,” she groaned. “Yes, please.”
Tristan didn’t need any further encouragement. He straightened, grasped Minerva’s hips firmly then thrust home, burying his cock completely in her hot, satiny depths. On a gasp, she pushed back and her inner sheath quivered around him, squeezing him tightly like a fist that never wanted to let him go.
Sweet Jesus. He froze, breathing hard, struggling against the need to spend immediately. He couldn’t do that to Minerva, not when he wanted to give her the best orgasm she’d ever had. As he fought for control, he splayed a hand over her back then stroked along the length of her spine, palmed one of her breasts, plucked at her pebbled nipple. Anything to distract him.
But the overwhelming urge to pound her tight pussy, to fuck her hard and fast in the way they both wanted, soon returned. He just prayed he could stave off his climax until she achieved hers.
He set up a steady rhythm, gliding in and out of her slick body. Minerva instinctively pushed back and before long, he increased the pace and force of his pumping. Her elbows buckled and she fell to her forearms, but her breathy pants, the way she met him on each and every thrust, told him he didn’t need to slow down.
The slap of his flesh against hers, his wild plunging, the greedy clench of her sex were becoming too much. His orgasm was gaining momentum. It licked about the base of his spine, made his ballocks tighten, and his veins throb with blood that had been simmering with unfulfilled lust for far too long.
Leaning forward, he covered her body with his and her arms gave way completely. But he was without mercy. His heart thundering harder and faster than His Majesty’s cavalry at full charge, he continued to ride her, determined to push her over the edge too. He wouldn’t fail. She deserved nothing less than ecstasy and he would give it to her.
Seizing her chin, he turned her head to the side so he could ravage her mouth with a hungry kiss. “Come for me, Minerva,” he rasped. “Come with me. Let go.”
And to his deep delight, Minerva did. Her inner muscles trembled then gripped his cock in the most exquisite embrace he’d ever felt. Arching beneath him, she cried out his name.
Yes. Tristan pumped into her once, twice more then let out a great shuddering groan as he at last succumbed to his body’s demand for release. His orgasm hit like a bolt from the heavens, roaring through him as his seed erupted in hot, powerful spurts that seemed to go on forever. The pleasure flooding him was thought-robbing. Profound.
Gasping for breath, he collapsed on top of Minerva, entirely spent yet completely satisfied. And not just in a physical sense. Yet again he’d shown Minerva the pleasure she’d been long denied. The pleasure she deserved to have.
Minerva stirred beneath him and he rolled to the side, gathering her into his arms. She curled an arm around his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I have no words,” she whispered, “other than thank you. Again.”
He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re most welcome.”
They lay that way, drowsy and content, for long, blissful minutes. Tristan slid off his mask then Minerva’s and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent—floral perfume and soap, and sexually satisfied woman. If they could both stay awake, he’d have her at least once more before morning came. But for now he was happy to lie here, just like this, watching her face as she smiled sleepily at him.
But then her expression changed. Her brow knitted into a frown. “Why... why do you like spanking so much, Tristan?”
A sharp sliver of remorse pierced his heart. He must have gone too far. His sexual perversion had shocked Minerva after all. “I’m so, so sorry if I hurt you,” he began. “Or scared you. That was never my intention—”
Minerva touched his jaw. “No. No you didn’t. As I told you before, I enjoyed it. I’ve enjoyed everything. Truly. I suppose I’m curious. But if you prefer not to discuss the subject...”
Tristan searched her gaze. To his immense relief, there was no fear or censure in her soft brown eyes. Only interest and a warm emotion he guessed might be affection. “I’ve never really analyzed why, let alone put it into words before,” he s
aid. “But I’ll try. I... I haven’t always wanted to spank my lovers. Indeed, my desire to do such a thing didn’t emerge until I’d begun to serve in His Majesty’s Cavalry. I have other sexual predilections too.”
A small crease appeared between Minerva’s eyebrows. “Such as?”
“Nothing dangerous or too strange I assure you. Sometimes, I like to tie up my partners—with their consent of course—with ribbon or silk rope. Other times, I like to blindfold them. Or use a riding crop or birching rod to pinken the flesh rather than my hand. It adds to the... the spiciness of the encounter.”
Minerva nodded. “I see. So this all began four or five years ago?”
“Yes, when I was fighting on the Continent. Particularly after Waterloo. These... activities, for want of a better word, seemed to stimulate me in a way regular sexual congress couldn’t any more. I needed more excitement. And I wanted more... more control. I suppose I often found the battlefield to be an unpredictable, terrifying place so exerting my will in the bedroom compensated for that loss of control. War changed me.” He shrugged a shoulder and sighed. “I actually sound a little mad, don’t I?”
Minerva smiled and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. “Well, you’re in good company because I thoroughly enjoyed every single thing that we did. It was wicked and thrilling and I loved every minute of it. So I must be a little mad too.”
Tristan kissed her tenderly. “I’ll tell you what,” he said when they at last broke apart, “I think we’re both mad lying on top of the covers now that the fire is dying. You must be cold, Minerva. Let’s climb beneath the counterpane before we both catch our deaths.”
Once they were both settled in the bed, Tristan tucked Minerva’s head beneath his chin. But as he began to fall into slumber’s arms, one particular thought slid into his mind and niggled at him. It was a concern which he had to voice. “This world of erotic pleasures, it’s all new to you, Minerva, and I would understand if you wanted to explore it further... with other people,” he murmured. She’d smiled and blushed like a smitten debutante when Preston had flirted with her on their arrival. And she’d kissed another woman without batting an eyelash.
My Lady of Misrule: Wicked Winter Nights, Book One Page 9