“A little bruised up, but otherwise, I’ll be fine. You were quite the gentleman. I wouldn’t have expected it.”
Blythe chuckled. “Me either.”
I grinned back at him, sharing his mirth. “Thank you. For all of it.”
“It’s just my job.”
The simple phrase sobered me with its oversimplification. Elements of the assault drifted in and out, but Blythe’s rescue was awe-inspiring.
“I can’t believe you killed them all.”
“I wasn’t going to let them kill you. Not while I could stop it.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight.”
Blythe’s head sank. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was necessary.”
“You shouldn’t have to see me like that.” The scar line deepened as he turned his head away from me. Unlike David, Blythe didn’t revel in the aftermath of mandatory violence.
“But I’d be dead without it. I’m the one who fell apart. I was useless.”
“Most people would be.”
I grimaced. “You weren’t.”
“I didn’t grow up as fortunate as you. My life was… not.”
“But if it hadn’t been, mine would be over. Protocol and etiquette lessons aren’t exactly useful during a mugging.” I took a stuttering breath. “He wasn’t going to take me hostage. David would have killed me no matter what. He told me he was looking forward to it, and I believed him.” I pulled the towel back and exposed the brand. “He said it would make this look like nothing. If Alexandra hadn’t managed to call you out, things would have ended much differently. Whenever things have gotten difficult, you’ve always been there when I needed you.” I placed my hand on his cheek and his body went taut.
“It… it’s my job.”
“Stop saying that.” I hated him reducing everything down to something so perfunctory. It grated me. “It means more than that. You know it does.”
Each inhale made a dramatic swell in Blythe’s chest. The exhale shuddered. “It’s my job.”
He tried so hard to make his part minor when it was anything but. A man this coarse shouldn’t have been capable of such gallantry. The dichotomy intrigued me and urged me forward until our lips met.
Blythe tasted of salt and spice. The scrub of his unshaven chin razed my mouth. I licked at his mouth, coaxing it open when he grabbed both shoulders and shoved me back, holding me against the headboard.
“Stop it.” Blythe trembled with need, his eyes fixed on my mouth. He wanted this as much as I did.
“What?”
“Don’t do this to me.”
“I don’t understand. Why not?”
Blythe gritted his teeth and seethed. His eyes watered as if the answer razored his insides and uttering them might be the death of him. I held his face and wouldn’t allow him to turn away.
“Because you’re not mine!” The confession burst forward, painful and cathartic, darkening his visage with each sentence. “I think I’ve wanted my cock in you since the day the boss brought you home. I could ignore it, pretend it didn’t mean anything until he hurt you, but now the thought of that bastard touching you makes me die inside! The worst part is I can’t have you. I can’t keep you. I should leave Delaga House, but he won’t let me. So I have to settle for protecting you and watching you make nice with a man who doesn’t fucking deserve you.”
He crawled up and shoved his chest against mine, gnashing and snarling like a defensive animal, each word an unnatural growl in my ear.
“If you keep pushing me, I won’t be able to stop. I won’t be nice. I won’t be gentle. I’ll use you like my personal dirty whore and come in you until you can’t take any more. You don’t want me to do that to you.”
I slapped Blythe—hard—and shoved him back, a move that stunned me as much as him. “Stop trying to scare me and stop telling me what I want. I’m sick of being ushered about by the whole lot of you. For once in my life, I’m making my own choices.”
We both trembled as I reached up and closed the distance between us. Clutching his collar, I grazed my mouth over his and caught his lower lip between my teeth.
“Blythe… take me already.”
Surging forward, Blythe plastered his mouth over mine. Whatever control I thought I’d gained evaporated with the first bold swipe of his tongue. It was sloppy and heated, and I welcomed it. He crushed his arms around me with delicious force. Brute strength allowed Blythe to position me as he wished, and he ground me against himself like some stray creature in heat.
I didn’t try to disguise my hardening groin as the messy kiss escalated.
Blythe reared back and ripped the towels away, leaving me on display. His dark gaze roamed over me as he panted hard, taking in all my exposed skin. My shyness stayed in the past. Basking in his thirst, I didn’t cover myself, allowing him to drink as he licked his lips and swallowed.
“Never thought…. Never believed….” Blythe chanted half-complete thoughts to himself. The trance lifted and he attacked his own shirt, desperate to remove it. The seams groaned with the frenzy. He tossed the shirt aside, giving me an unfettered view.
His mass made me quiver. Hard, rounded muscle roamed under the dusky skin, shaped by dense fur. I threw myself forward, rubbing my face over his chest and the precious pelt. A ruddy teat peeked through, demanding I suckle it.
Blythe clamped his hand over the back of my head. “Use your teeth.”
I saw no reason to ignore his request. He hissed and tightened his grip, increasing the pressure. I only gave up his nipple when he released me to dismantle his grossly tented trousers. I shivered at the thought of seeing his organ unleashed and up close. The accidental sighting before at Delaga House hadn’t been sufficient to quell my newly inspired curiosity.
Removing his pants and undergarments was clumsy and frantic. Neither of us could be called patient, and he completed the task with one hand on me at all times as if I might somehow vanish if he lost contact for even a second. His discarded clothing landed on the floor, and I took full view and feel of his prize.
A steel rod sheathed in the finest velvet sprang forth from the dense thatch of hair at its base. My fingers wouldn’t meet around its girth. Veins snaked the length, reminding me of a gnarled tree with the most beautiful arch. The foreskin had already rolled back, showing the bulbous head. One stroke produced a glossy pearl of sap at the slit.
Blythe didn’t give me much time to explore. Rolling forward, he covered me head to toe, skin to skin, cock to cock. I let out a wail of rapture, which he drowned with a fresh kiss.
The day’s horror bled out of me with his touch, his possessive want. I wasn’t a victim anymore. I wasn’t the pawn in a criminal pissing match. I was the man losing himself to a passion I’d never been given permission to ask for, and I accepted it with abandon.
Stroking my body with his, Blythe captured me and I submitted. He held me tight and rocked into me. Every inch of me ignited at the delicious slide. I squeezed him tight, wishing to somehow bring him closer, needing more contact.
Blythe rolled over, taking me with him, and spun me head to his toe. His posed me like a doll and I complied, because this wasn’t a wealthy lord breaking in his newly purchased stallion. This was me being part of something I wanted. Something I asked for. Something I craved.
Atop his body, I found myself facing his rigid member and gripped it to steady myself. I quaked as he kneaded my bottom, snuffling and licking into my groin. He presented me two fingers.
“Get ’em wet.”
I wasted no time getting them into my mouth. When he took them away, I returned to his cock. A clear string of fluid drizzled down into his stomach hairs. Not wanting to lose it, I put my mouth over the fat knob and coaxed a fresh surge of honey. The way it filled my mouth, flattened my tongue, and tickled my throat were welcome sensations. The spongy organ almost smothered my howl as his slickened fingers found my backside entrance.
He drilled inside, making me buck and
grind myself over his face until he captured my own cock down his throat.
The words were no longer vulgar. The acts no longer shameful. I wallowed in the decadence, a freedom only Blythe could give me.
Gripping one buttock, he probed, reaching and rubbing the knot that made me squeal. I increased my fervor on Blythe’s pulsing beast, but he was going to finish me first. I couldn’t stop it. This was not the practiced skill of a carnal artist working his magic on me. It was the unleashed aggression of experience and eagerness working in tandem.
Blythe controlled the rhythm, forcing my hips up and down, in and out of his mouth. His throat swallowed me, making me groan with each plunge. The intensity took me in its grasp and my body seized. I came hard, and Blythe made happy grunts as he took every shot.
Once again, he tossed me around, placing me on my back as he climbed between my legs. He spit heavily into his hand and slathered the horn between his legs with my semen. Raising my legs, he exposed my anus and poised his glistening cock. Holding it with one hand, he nudged the iris in a tight circle, giving the head a shallow dip inside.
Blythe fixated on the physical connection. “Aw, look how it kisses me. Like it’s begging me for more.”
“Yes, it does. I do.”
“I swear I’ll try to be gentle. Can you take it? Are you ready?”
Now that I’d found my nerve, expressing myself became easier. “Stop playing around and give it to me.”
Rother had given me a great deal of rehearsal, but I was unprepared for Blythe. He inched forward but might as well have given me the whole yard. The stretch was fierce, but I knew I could take it. I’d suffered worse. He read my reaction and stopped, no matter how much I could see he wanted to drive home. Patient yet vibrating with lust.
When I relaxed my grip on his chest hair, he shifted forward a tad and back, testing me. He did no more than that for long minutes, working me open until the burn gave way to an itch deep within me his slight thrusts weren’t scratching. Reaching for his hips, I pulled him forward, taking more and more of his length into me until his hair tickled my balls.
My voice stalled. He’d reached the itch but it wasn’t enough, so I urged him to move faster. Blythe’s self-control dissolved and he hammered me full force. I begged him not to stop. Shocks flew through me as he bottomed out on each stroke. He was so wide, he couldn’t help but batter my inner gland in a way Rother never could. My eyes flew wide.
I was going to come again.
Blythe snapped his hips over and over, hitting me in all the right ways, and I unleashed all over us both. Spasming over the swelling cock buried in me only boosted its power.
It also made Blythe scream out loud, “Oh shit!”
He howled and grunted, lifting me off the mattress as he drowned my insides. With both hands on my hips, he drove all the way in, continuing to thrust even though there was nowhere else to go with each new surge.
He fell forward and kissed me, a hint of my seed still flavoring his lips. Both of us huffed and heaved. We’d survived the little death, and he held me close. “Oh fuck. I’m still coming.”
I stayed still while the aftershocks ravaged his hirsute frame, doing my best to keep every inch planted, luxuriating in his weight over me.
I lost track of how long we lay that way—I didn’t want it to end—but at some point I drifted off, overtaken by layers of exhaustion.
Chapter 20
WARMTH AND luxury suffused me with gossamer tendrils of pleasure. Glowing embers that never cooled. It surrounded me and weaved its magic on my weary bones. Caressing away my aches and pains, it coiled tight around me and staved off the looming nightmares.
And I knew there would be nightmares.
Flashes of David and the alley came and went. Knife points and violent ends. Fooling death’s hand. Snippets of fear laced with anger pricked at me, but my delightful shelter warded them away into manageable discomfort.
Staying submerged was easy. The firm heat with its musky scent wanted me with equal enthusiasm. Touching its robust walls made me happy in a way I couldn’t ever remember. It made me giddy. It made me feel loved.
I drifted to the surface as soothing strokes combed the hair from my forehead. It was so tempting to dive back under, but I’d spent so long beneath, I knew I needed to come out. I couldn’t hide forever.
Carefully I opened my eyes, knowing what came next. My chest began to flutter, anxious and expectant. A dense valley of flesh and fur faced me, close enough to kiss. As I tipped my head up, Blythe’s sleepy gaze met mine. I found a new brightness within their reverent pools, even in the lack of light. He cradled and blanketed me within the scope of his massive arms. It should have panicked me. It shouldn’t have inspired me to smile.
Blythe whispered so soft, as if the world might break with more. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s all right. I can’t sleep forever.” I craned my neck to see the room. A subtle haze bathed us from the single gaslight at the faintest setting. Shadows were still strong, but we weren’t lost in the dark. Drawn for privacy, the drapes covering the windows weren’t heavy enough to block the sun, but no daylight came through. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A while. You went down quick.”
Blythe grazed the back of his hand down my chest and I almost purred. Until I thought back to the end of our encounter. My experience was limited, but I knew the condition I’d been left in when I fell asleep. I ran my hand over my torso, a touch confused.
“I’m a little fresher than I’d expect.”
“I got up after you fell asleep and cleaned you up. Getting stuck together can hurt.”
Vague dreams came forward. Warm, wet, intimate strokes. Nurturing. Caring. The kind of contact that would have scared me in the past, but somehow felt right. So I accepted it. Languished in it. Begged it not to stop.
“I think I remember that.”
Blythe gave a soft laugh and the rumble made me shiver. “You barely moved.”
Arching my back, I stretched out the stiffness of my limbs and winced at a sharp tenderness along my side.
“Are you hurt?” Blythe leaned over me, trying to see my bruised side and a spot along my jaw.
“I’m a little sore where David struck me.”
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
I shook my head. “David didn’t have time to do much else.”
“No… I meant… did I hurt you?”
“What…. Oh! No.” Feeling a fool, I ducked, speaking into the deep chasm of his chest. The words were there, but I wasn’t ready to face him as they came forth. “Not in any way I didn’t like. I may not have much to compare to, but you, sir, are not average.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Blythe rocked me out of my lovely hiding place, but I kept a hand over my eyes to bolster my courage. At least the night would hide my flaming skin. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but some hurt is a good hurt.”
It was much easier saying these things while being mounted by a prize bull.
I refused to remove my hand, unprepared for even the smallest yet unlikely chance he might tease me. His hand circled my wrist and could have pried it away, but didn’t. Instead his mouth on mine erased my lingering doubts. This kiss lacked the intensity of this afternoon, but was no less potent. I melted and my hand found its place alongside his gruff, handsome face.
Wrapping himself around me, he rolled us until I lay perched over him. Mount Blythe was a magnificent summit to traverse. Planting a flag at the peak was pointless. This climber had been conquered by the mountain’s bluff.
I sat up, straddling his hips. The duvet spilled back, pooling behind my knees. I needed a proper look at the man under me. The waking member nestled under my buttocks grew firmer with each second. Blythe was so unlike the men I knew in Deilia. His hirsute form was the result of a lifetime’s hard work, giving him the physique a nobleman would never possess. The unabashed way he held himself, his unforgiving
nature, was as attractive as his bare strength. I wanted to see it better.
Leaning over to the end table, I turned up the gaslight. A glint of metal caught my eye. On the desk sat a silver tray loaded with sandwiches, fruit, and a sweating water pitcher.
“Is that food?” Sitting next to the tray were two neat piles of folded clothing. One large enough to be Blythe’s and one smaller with a few odds and ends from my pockets on top, including the audio amplifier I’d purchased. My ardor flattened as I took in the work of a careful servant. “Oh…. Harston’s been in here.”
“Yeah, I guess. He must have come in while we were sleeping.” Blythe frowned as I climbed down and dragged the covers over my waist. “What’s wrong?”
“You. Me. Harston. Given all of our histories, this is a little….”
“Fucked-up?”
I flopped on my back beside him. “To say the least.”
Reality started to crash in. When there was only Blythe and I, hiding in the fantasy was easy. The drama of Delaga House couldn’t reach us through these four walls. Now that there was a witness, the whole scene took on new meaning.
“He brought us food and cleaned our clothes. How pissed could he be?” Blythe shifted back higher on the pillows, smirking with his hands behind his head. “This must be what it’s like to be royalty.”
If I’d stayed in Deilia, it might have been. Had I preferred women, would Harston have drifted in to clean around myself and a lover? Did my brothers enjoy such care with their personal valets? Harston had been my faithful servant and only friend. Had our path stayed true, I didn’t doubt he would have stayed with me until he retired. But fate had other plans.
Blythe said Harston didn’t harbor a grudge. For anyone else, the food and laundry should’ve been an obvious sign. I had no decent reason to disbelieve him. My ability to trust was more damaged than I realized.
Staring at the ceiling, I gathered myself. “Am I worrying over nothing?”
“Probably.”
Blunt as ever. A good foil to my careful phrasing. Contrast and compare.
“I should talk with him before we leave. I may not have another chance for a long time.”
Innocence and Carnality Page 26