Naughty Flings: Twelve Naughty Little Romps

by Alexa Silver

  “Are you running away from someone, wench?” he inquired in a deep, throaty voice that made her body clinch.

  “I am in need of a man,” she said.

  “I believe I qualify,” he replied. “I have all the right equipment.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “You misunderstand.” She back-stepped down the stairs and walked along the pathway until she was directly under the tree, gazing up at him. “I need a Sentinel.”

  “Because you are running away from someone,” he suggested.

  “Are you taken?” she asked.

  Please, please, please, please, please! she thought. Please say no.

  “I am,” he replied and she wanted to cry.

  “Oh,” she said and let her shoulders slump, her head drop.

  “By you,” he said.

  Slowly she lifted her head to find him smiling at her.

  And what a smile it was! There was one lone dimple in his right cheek that gave his handsome face a boyish cast but it was his smoldering gaze and full lips that held her captive. He intrigued her.

  “You will be my Sentinel?” she asked.

  “I will be anything you want,” he replied.

  *****

  She was stunningly beautiful, as he knew she would be when he found her. The golden hair that fell in thick curls over her shoulders was a wealth unto itself. From the moment he saw her running across the bridge he knew she was the one he had come to Téarmann to find. His soul recognized hers. His body was drawn to hers. He knew she was feeling a pull toward him, was intrigued by the way he looked. Her chocolate brown eyes were boring into him like lasers.

  He also knew why she had been running.

  She was running from him.

  “The Gravelord is here,” he said. “And you know you are his Life-Mate, the one he seeks.”

  She glanced back toward the teleport. “Yes and I need you to shield me from him.”

  “Why?”

  “He is a Reaper,” she said.

  “And you are afraid of him?” he asked. He would have to remedy that.

  “I hate Reapers,” she stated with a vehemence that disturbed him.

  He wasn’t expecting that.

  “May I ask why?”

  “They are evil,” she replied. “Evil and despicable creatures.”

  That hurt almost as much as the rough bark digging into his arms and ass. He wished he could get his arms and legs to cooperate but he dared not let go of the tree because he knew he’d fall helplessly to the ground. The tenerse was beginning to wear off but not quickly enough.

  “Tell me why you think so,” he said.

  “They killed my mother,” she said. “My mother, my sister and tried to kill me. Had the Great Lady not hidden the youngest amongst us from them that day on Rysalia Prime, I would not be here talking to you.”

  He knew about the massacre on Rysalia Prime. It had not been Reapers who had perpetrated that great malevolency. It had been bulgars, rogue warriors who were first cousins to Reapers but who possessed none of the Reaper honor and sense of duty. The bulgars were under the strict mind control of the Ceannus—a brutal species of alien scientists intent on ruling the Megaverse.

  “Will you come down?” she asked. “I am getting a cramp in my neck.”

  “I would if I could but unfortunately I am—” How did he tell her he was stuck in the gods-be-damned tree? Some Sentinel he would be.

  So he lied.

  “Trying to keep an eye out for the Gravelord,” he told her.

  “You fear him too?” she asked.

  “Not at all, but if I am to be your champion, milady, I must know where the threats to you are at all times.” He glanced toward the teleport. “He’s yet to come out of his craft.”

  “He can stay in his craft,” she snapped. “Please come down.” When he hesitated, she stamped her foot. “I am ordering you to come down, Sentinel!”

  Her command amused him. That adorable little face peering up at him with a pert nose lifted disdainfully in the air was almost his undoing. He managed to tighten his arms around the tree to keep from sliding down the trunk.

  “Come down!” she ordered. “You need to recite your oath to me then we must leave. Being out here in the open is asking for that ruffian to see me!”

  Oath? How was he to take an oath when he knew nothing of it?

  “Milady” he began but stopped when he saw her face light up.

  “I know! If you take my virginity, he will not want me!” she said. “We must hurry. I will have you rid me of my maidenhead immediately!”

  That stunned him so completely he let go of the tree trunk. Big mistake that! he thought as he slid off the branch and plummeted what had to be twenty feet to the rocky bank beside the brook. He landed with an oooph that took every ounce of air from his lungs, his knees buckled under him and he crashed to his ass on a layer of very sharp rocks. Instead of feeling bad for him when he yelped, she shushed him.

  “You want the bastard to hear you?” she demanded.

  Gasping for breath, feeling every hard poke pressing into his flesh, all he could do was stare up at her. She was glaring at him as though he were nothing more than a bug to be squished.

  “Oh, do get up, Sentinel!” she told him. “There is a stone quarry not far from here. You can deflower me there.”

  Chapter 3

  Limping behind her, clamping his teeth tightly together to keep from begging her to slow down, he watched her delectable little backside swaying from side to side as she stomped across the meadow, heading for the forest beyond.

  “Don’t you want to think this over, milady?” he asked.

  “He won’t have me if I’m damaged goods. Once you despoil me, the point will be moot,” she said without looking around. “No, I don’t want to think it over.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her it wouldn’t matter if she was damaged goods or not if he was the one who was doing the despoiling. That he would be the only man who would ever lay claim to her sweet body. She was his and before the afternoon was over, she would know—and accept—it.

  “I was going to take vows of chastity but him coming here put an end to that!” she said with a sniff. “Now I will need to leave Sanctuary and take up life as a courtesan I suppose.”

  Over his dead body, he thought. No other man would ever put his hands on—

  He realized he didn’t know her name. “What is your name, milady?” he asked.

  “Jordan,” she said. “Jordan Brell.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Jordan,” he said.

  “I hate him for causing all this trouble!” she said, ignoring him. “Reapers are the scourge of the Megaverse and a hybrid Reaper is worse yet!”

  That wasn’t true and he would make her see that it wasn’t. What he had to do was explain what really had happened that ill-fated day on Rysalia Prime so she would see him and his kind in the correct light. They were champions of mankind, not murderers.

  “What do you know of Gravelords?” she asked.

  “Enough to fear them,” he answered truthfully. There were different levels of this new breed of warrior to which he belonged and a few men above his level that truly disturbed him.

  “I had not heard of them until today,” she said. “I did not like what I heard.”

  He asked her what that was and when she told him what the Custodian had said, he frowned. “Surely they can’t be as bad as you think, milady.”

  “They’re part Reaper,” she stated. “That makes them the worst of the worst.” She glanced around at him. “They swill blood, you know.”

  Realizing he had his work cut out for him in trying to temper her feeling toward that part of his being, he didn’t say anything else until they reached the stone quarry.

  “The stonemason’s hut,” she said, pointing to a small building off to one side of the quarry. “It has a cot.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “And just how do you know this?” he asked.

&
nbsp; She shrugged. “A few of my friends have made use of it with their Sentinels,” she said blithely.

  “For what purpose?” he demanded, a bit harsher than he intended.

  She looked around. “For what purpose do you think, Sentinel?” she asked then rolled her eyes.

  That shocked him right down to the toes of his boots. “Have you been here before?” he snapped.

  “Not with a man,” she said. “This will be my first time, but I venture to say it will not be my last if I like what happens here.”

  He stumbled then felt his jaw drop open. When he clamped it shut, he dug his fingernails into his palm. “I’ll venture to say it will!” he swore under his breath.

  So, he thought, what you need to do is make that little witch’s toes curl.

  “Are you experienced?” she asked.

  “In what?” he growled.

  “The art of taking a woman.”

  He squinted so hard at her he thought his face might well stay that way for all time.

  “Experienced enough,” he replied. He saw her cock a shoulder, and her next words made him want to rush forward and grab her, shake her ’til her teeth rattled.

  “Well, considering I’m not experienced at all that isn’t saying much, now, is it?” she countered.

  Oh, baby, he thought. Just you wait!

  *****

  Jordan could hear him breathing heavily behind her as they drew near the door to the stonemason’s summer quarters. She knew she was going to be sorely disappointed if the handsome man she’d chosen as her Sentinel proved to be out of shape and unworthy of the great gift she was about to bestow upon him. Her virginity was all she had of any value but rather than have the Gravelord take it from her, she preferred to give it away to a man of her choosing. The man following her…

  She turned. “What is your name?” she asked.

  He seemed taken aback by the question. “Beg pardon?” he questioned.

  “Your name?” she asked. “You do have one, don’t you?”

  She watched the color creep into his cheeks then his blue eyes grew stormy.

  “Of course I have a name,” he said.

  “Then what is it?”

  He seemed to need to think that one over then his face lit up. “Senti,” he said. “My name is Senti.”

  “Short for Sentian?” she inquired.

  Those devastatingly blue eyes narrowed in what looked to her like puzzlement then cleared.

  “Aye, Sentian,” he replied.

  “Well, Sentian,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Before we enter the hut, I will hear your oath.”

  His eyes widened. “M…my oath,” he repeated.

  “You do know the Sentinel’s Oath, do you not?” she demanded. “I hope you do for I do not.”

  A beatific smile slipped over that gorgeous façade of his and he nodded. “Aye, I do know it.”

  Was that a sly gleam in those azure orbs? she wondered.

  He cleared his throat, doubled his fist and laid it against his heart.

  “With all my heart and all my soul and all my being, I pledge myself only unto you, milady. What is mine will be yours. You, I have chosen of mine own freewill and without reservation or protest. I will walk the day and sleep the night at your side and at no other’s. I pledge myself only unto you for as long as there is life for us both. I will be, forever, your true—Sentinel—in word and deed. We are one flesh, one inseparable entity and until the end of time, once mated, never separated.”

  She stared at him. “That is a beautiful oath, Senti,” she said.

  “Aye,” he said with a nod. “It is and it is heartfelt, milady.”

  She drew in a long breath then turned to the door. Her hand was shaking as she pulled down on the latch. Her heart was racing.

  *****

  Rhyman was holding his breath when he recited the Vow of Joining, praying she had never heard the words before and would take them as the Sentinel’s Oath of Allegiance. He had substituted Sentinel for mate but he had meant every word. She was his Life-Mate and he was hers. One day, the Vow of Joining would be repeated before a priest. Even so, when he joined his flesh to hers, the bond forged would be sacrosanct, unbreakable. There would never be another for either of them.

  He followed her into the musty smelling hut and winced. He would have her first time be in a soft bed with silken sheets and in candlelight. That was possible. He could wave a hand and make it so. If he did she would know he was not who he professed to be. He had to win her heart—and body—first.

  “Not the most ideal accommodations,” she told him, looking at the small cot in the corner. “But they will suffice for our needs.”

  Thankfully they were not big people, he thought. She was a slight thing; he doubted she weighed more than one hundred pounds. He was roughly one hundred and fifty, give an ounce or two. The cot looked sturdy enough to take their combined weight. He wasn’t a tall man so he knew his feet wouldn’t hang over the edge of the flimsy-looking cot. It was just wide enough for a couple of bodies to writhe.

  “Should I undress?” she asked and he could hear the nervousness in her voice.

  “If you like, milady,” he said. “Or you could recline on the cot and I will strip for you.”

  Even in the low light he saw her eyes glitter.

  “Strip for me?” she asked.

  “It would be my pleasure to do so,” he said. “If that is your desire. I am at your command.”

  With him unclothed—which he had absolutely no problem with—he would put her at ease. Let her see his body. Touch it. Be aroused by the power she would have over it. Instinct told him her virgin’s body was readying itself already for his possession. Knowing that set his blood afire and his cock to lengthening.

  “Then strip for me, Sentinel,” she said. She sat down on the cot, folded her hands in her lap. “I would very much like to see you naked.”

  And he wanted to be naked, he thought. He put his hands to his shirt and tore it open.

  Her eyes widened as he ripped the garment from his chest. “Oh!” she gasped.

  He smiled.

  *****

  Jordan stared at the rippling muscles that were stacked down his broad chest. She dragged her gaze from the broad shoulders to the flat belly to the slight curve of his hips as he unbuckled his belt. As the tang came free of the buckle, he locked his blue eyes on her.

  “Have you ever seen a naked man, milady?” he queried.

  She shook her head, unable to answer.

  “A man’s body differs greatly from a woman’s,” he told her. There was a straight back chair beside a small table and the chair was his destination. With his belt unbuckled, he went to the chair and sat down to begin tugging off his boots. The entire time, his attention was riveted to her. He removed the first boot then set it aside.

  Watching the flexing of his biceps, his pectorals as he took off the other boot, she began to feel a strange tingling between her legs.

  “A male cannot hide his arousal,” he said, getting to his feet. He slowly unbuttoned the top of his pants then leisurely ran the zipper down to part his fly. “His body stirs to garner the notice of the female.”

  Her eyes lowered to the front of his pants where a dark V of hair was shadowed at the opening of his fly. Moisture flooded her mouth. She flicked out her tongue to lick her lips and as she did, his eyes took on a rapacious gleam that made her heart race.

  Barefoot, pants open, he walked toward her.

  No, she thought. His movement couldn’t be categorized as a walk. He was on the prowl. The easy, loose movement of his limbs, the way he tracked her with his steady, hooded gaze, had all the markings of a beast after its prey. She didn’t dare look away for fear he would lunge and take her down. She eased up from the cot, prepared to run if need be but the look he was giving her made it impossible to move away. With her heart pounding in her ears, she stopped breathing as he came to stand directly in front of her.

  “A man’s body re
acts strongly to the sight of a beautiful, sensuous woman,” he said. He held his hand out to her. “Take my hand, machree.”

  Unable to resist the piercing, mesmerizing glow in his eyes, she slipped her hand into his. He pulled her closer, lifted her palm to his lips and kissed her softly. Holding her gaze through the sweep of his dark lashes, he slowly lowered her hand. When he pressed it firmly to a hard bulge at the juncture of his thighs, her knees felt as though they would buckle. He pressed her hand tighter to him.

  “Do what you will with me,” he said softly.

  *****

  Whether by reflex or design, her fingers tensed around the fabric covering his erection. He could feel the heat of her palm through the material. Her face had bled of color but her lips were parted and her breath was quick, shallow.

  “Would you like to see what it is you are feeling, milady?” he asked.

  She raised her head to look up at him and her sweet little tongue came out to sweep across her bottom lip.

  “May I?” she questioned.

  “It would be my pleasure to show you what it is I have to offer you,” he told her.

  Instead of easing her hand away, he took her wrist and guided her fingers into the opening of his fly. The instant her flesh met his, she jerked her hand away.

  “I shouldn’t!” she said, sidestepping along the cot until she skirted the foot and put it between her and him.

  “Why not?” he asked. “No one else has the right to touch me. I belong to you. Did I not so swear to you before we entered the hut?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “What I have, I offer freely to you. It is yours for the taking. If you will not accept what I have to give, neither will I offer it to another.”

  Her eyes darted to the door as she stood there wringing her hands. She tucked her lip between her teeth.

  “The Gravelord has come to claim you,” he reminded her. “Who would you rather have? Him or me?”

  The reminder of what awaited her beyond the door of the hut brought her attention back to him.