by Kai Andersen
“All right?” His lips nuzzled her neck as his hands busied themselves with her breasts. He was cupping and weighing them in his large palms. She decided he must be a “breast man.” She’d noticed that he couldn’t stop fondling that particular part of her anatomy.
“Yes.” She lay back against him and sighed. This was pleasure indeed, but another kind, a gentler, more low-key type of pleasure, creating a satisfying buzz as she rode his cock in a slow rhythm that was set by the horse’s gait. She heard a faint slurping sound as more cream gathered in her pussy and trickled out. Hearing it caused her breath to quicken and a low stirring to start in her belly.
“Your breasts are beautiful.”
“They’re small.”
“I love them. They’re soft yet firm, and most importantly, they fit my hands.”
“All right, my breasts are beautiful.”
He chuckled against her skin, the sound a light rumble vibrating through her body. “I like women who appreciate their bodies.”
She was starting to appreciate hers because of Rodin and his obvious delight in it. “Did you have many women?”
He pinched her nipples, and she yelped, although a streak of pleasure sizzled through her.
“What was that for?”
“You surprised me.” He alternately palmed and squeezed her breasts.
“For asking about your women?”
“Yes. Most women don’t like to know about other women.”
Giselda gave an unladylike snort. “That’s dumb. It helps to know the enemy.”
“And why would you think they are your enemy, Giselda?”
“Because they’ve had you.”
“That was in the past. You have me now.” He nipped her shoulder.
“That’s true. And I intend to enjoy every minute.”
“Wise thinking.”
Giselda thought he smelled nice, and his arms around her made her feel warm and secure. Not only that, but his cock thrusting subtly into her in minute movements was making her feel cherished, despite the blatant carnality of the act.
Suddenly, she wanted to know more about Rodin. Not the Rodin who was Frederick’s friend and bodyguard, not the Rodin who had had many women and was now her lover, but Rodin the person. She didn’t know where to begin, though, so she started with “Why did you decide to become Frederick’s bodyguard?”
She could feel that Rodin was startled. He obviously had not been expecting her to ask that question.
“Frederick and I grew up together. The king sought me out to be his son’s companion; Frederick is only two years older than me, you know.”
That made him twenty-eight.
“I shared in his lessons, and we became close. But he never once treated me as a servant, though he could have. After all, he was the crown prince, while I was merely the son of the castle gardener. But Frederick never let that become a barrier to our friendship. He was also truly concerned for his subjects, unlike other monarchs’ sons who knew only to take from the rich coffers of their fathers’ kingdoms. From a young age, Frederick has had lots of ideas on how to make the people’s lives better. He would ask the senior minister to present them to the king, and some were even approved. You know the irrigation system that was installed five years ago on most of the agricultural land?”
Giselda gasped. The system had been received with much favor by the farmers. “He suggested that?”
“He did.” Rodin confirmed as he played absently with her nipples. He’d rested his chin on top of her head. “And a whole lot of others. Though we both trained in martial combat and swordsmanship, I wouldn’t hesitate to give my life to protect him. This kingdom needs him. He is a worthy man. Capable, too. I expect the kingdom to flourish during his reign.”
She didn’t want to think about Rodin giving up his life for Frederick, not when he made her feel free, not when he made her feel like a woman, made her feel that nothing was more important than being with him and being in his arms.
She paused. Now that was a dangerous thought. She immediately talked to occupy her mind. “What about your father? Didn’t he object to the king’s, uh, demand?”
“Are you kidding? He was overjoyed. It was an honor for him that his son was appointed the prince’s companion. Anyway, he has other sons to help him take care of the castle grounds.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
She could sense in his voice the affection he had for his siblings. “Three brothers and two sisters, all younger than me.” One hand drifted to her midriff and rubbed sensuous circles.
“Where are they now?”
“One brother was apprenticed to a blacksmith.” His hand slipped lower. “But the other two followed in my father’s footsteps.”
His fingers dipped into her pussy and flicked against her clitoris.
She sucked in her breath, the previously low stirring tightening into a welcome pressure in her belly.
“My two sisters are both married, each with her own brood of kids, one to the head cook of the king and the other to one of the footmen.”
He shifted, his fingers slipping slickly among her folds as more of her moisture seeped out to lubricate her. He rubbed in a slow, sensuous manner, intensifying the spiraling sensations within her. She arched against his hand, sighing. “Rodin.”
“Yes, Princess?”
Though he still called her “Princess” at times, she didn’t mind, for there was a different inflection to it, almost caressing, like an endearment.
“Go on.”
He flicked his thumb several times against the hard nub. She felt the urge to move, to bear down on him, but she controlled the feeling. She wanted to see how far he could arouse her before she snapped.
“You have to know, our family has been in the service of the king for generations. It is our pride and honor to serve our king.”
Giselda’s breath hitched as his fingers rubbed faster, fueling the coiling pressure. Soon ... soon ...
“It is my pleasure, however, to serve my princess,” he added in a husky voice as he nudged the stallion to a trot.
Giselda held tight to the pommel of the saddle as she rode Rodin’s cock, bouncing violently just as she had earlier. Her clit came down hard on his hand, rubbing desperately, up, down, up, down, escalating the pressure, until she couldn’t bear it any longer. She let go and exploded into a series of fierce contractions, screaming as she clasped his cock urgently, milking him until she pumped him dry.
She slumped over the horse’s neck, Rodin on top of her.
Her clit rocked against the saddle, setting off a series of mini-orgasms. She shuddered. “Rodin!”
He immediately slowed the horse to a walk. “Better now?”
“Better and better each time.” She turned her head for his kiss, though it hurt her neck to do so.
He claimed her lips in a passionate kiss. Her lips parted as she responded, kissing him the way he had kissed her. His lips pressed down firmly, became more insistent. His tongue sought entry, and she allowed him, feeling shivers of delight tingling through her as his tongue met hers, stroking fiercely, caressing, claiming.
He lifted his head for air, then bent again, placing numerous small kisses on her lips, as if he couldn’t let her go. His green eyes burned fiercely into hers as he smoothed her dark hair away from her face. He smiled and touched her cheek gently, then gathered her close so that they were sitting upright on the horse, his chest providing a strong wall for her to lean against.
“I have always loved riding,” she whispered, “but I think I love riding you more.”
“Then be prepared to do a lot of riding.”
Chapter Sixteen
It was when they spotted the smoke trailing up from one of the village houses that it happened.
“Oh, gods and goddesses! Randalin!” One of Giselda’s hands snaked out from underneath the blanket, which covered every naked inch of her body, to clap against her mouth. “I can’t believe I forgot all about her!�
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Rodin immediately wheeled the horse around. “I can’t believe I forgot, either.” His voice was grim. “If Randalin is as well-trained as the rest, she should still be grazing where we left her.”
“Unless someone has taken her.” Giselda hated herself for the scared note in her voice, but she hated herself more for being so focused on this new experience with Rodin that she had forgotten her loyal steed and friend. How could she have let that happen?
“Let’s not think ahead of ourselves.” He hesitated, his hand tightening about her midriff. “Do you want to get dressed?”
She finished dressing in the time it took for Rodin to put on his trousers and to sit astride the horse. She was silent the entire time. Rodin was also quiet. The silence that descended was not the comfortable one that sometimes came upon them, but one that was fraught with tension.
A moment later, she found out that it was guilt eating at him. Just before he spurred the horse into a gallop, he said in a choked voice, “I’m sorry, Giselda. If there’s anyone to blame for this, it should be me.”
The rushing wind made it impossible for her to speak, so she just squeezed his arm where it lay against her midriff. Though she worried about Randalin, she couldn’t help but enjoy the warm feel of Rodin’s solid body against her back, the way his arm tightened about her as they galloped back toward the cave they’d left this morning. One enlightening difference was that, though she was worried, she knew she wasn’t alone and that Rodin would be there beside her. They’d solve the problem together.
It was mid-afternoon when they spotted Randalin grazing near the spot where they had left her. Giselda jumped from the stallion’s back when he slowed to a trot. She ran to throw her arms around Randalin’s neck.
“Oh, you poor dear! Were you scared all by yourself?”
Randalin whinnied, nuzzling her mouth against Giselda’s hand for a treat.
Giselda laughed, tears running down her cheeks. “You are so greedy,” she scolded, but her tone was full of affection.
“Her foreleg is still swollen.” Rodin stood up from where he had knelt to check on Randalin’s condition.
Giselda threw herself into Rodin’s arms, feeling them coming around her slowly. “Rodin, she’s all right! Except for that swollen leg, that is.”
“Yes, she is.” His hand was oddly soothing as he smoothed her hair.
She nestled against his chest, hearing the strong beat of his heart. “I don’t think we’ll be able to reach that village by tonight.”
“It doesn’t matter. There’s still tomorrow.”
The mood between them was different -- almost tender. At the same time, something was shifting within her, between them.
Rodin broke the silence. “But that doesn’t mean we should laze the rest of the day away. We still have to make whatever distance we can before nightfall.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Giselda gave him a mock salute.
“If you’re a good girl, I’ll give you a surprise.”
“What surprise?” Giselda’s eyes were alight with curiosity.
“Would it still be a surprise if I told you?”
* * * * *
The surprise was a freshwater bath in the river about an hour before night fell.
Giselda threw her clothes on the riverbank and plunged into the water with glee. The cold took her by surprise, and she yelped. Her shrieks rang across the small glen, rousing a flock of birds into flight. As she grew accustomed to the cold, however, she submerged her whole body in the water, knowing that some of the dirt and germs that had clung to her for the past few days would float away with the current.
She rose from the water, feeling like a wanton sea nymph. From the look in Rodin’s eyes, she wasn’t far off.
“Where’s the soap?”
“Soap?” Rodin’s face was comical in his dismay. “I didn’t think I would need it.”
“Oh.” Having a woman around must be a bother. Giselda bit her lip and thought hard. She remembered seeing ... “Clean sand! We can use that.”
She scrambled up the riverbank and soon returned with a handful. She came to stand in front of Rodin, holding up her hand to him expectantly as the water swirled gently past their thighs.
“Is that effective?” Rodin looked at the minute white grains doubtfully.
“It’s a little rough, and it doesn’t have the fragrance of soap,” she conceded, “but it does take away the dirt, which is what we’re after. Look, let me show you.”
Giselda took a few grains of sand in her other hand and rubbed them lightly against his chest. She started on his left shoulder and worked down to his pectoral muscles, her fingers tangling among his chest hair and brushing over his nipple. Her breath became a bit ragged as her thumb flicked over it repeatedly, teasing.
He groaned, his eyes half-lidded as he enjoyed her attention. He placed both hands on her shoulders, his thumbs making sensuous circles against her skin. His cock started to harden and rose up between them, thumping against her gently.
Giselda shivered as a ripple of heat tingled through her body. Scooping more grains of sand, she repeated the process on the other side of his chest, enjoying the smooth-roughness of his skin and the warm steel underneath her fingers. As she rubbed, she stared boldly at his cock, which she had never before seen in full daylight. She watched, fascinated at the way it rose higher and nudged against her stomach.
“I see what you mean,” he said in a low, husky drawl. “I feel so clean already, while you, my princess, are still so dirty. How can you stand it?” He was mildly inquiring as he took some grains from her hand and rubbed them all over her chest.
His touch was both gentle and rough, stroking heatedly over her skin, over her breasts, the grains further sensitizing her nipples, igniting the fires of pain and of pleasure. Like her, he thumbed her nipples until they were hard and thrusting out proudly.
“I am not done with you yet.” Her own voice was hoarse as her hand dipped past his abdomen and cupped his jutting erection. She caressed his hard length, and from his raspy moans and harsh groans, she could imagine the sensations the rough grains were wreaking on his sensitive cock.
“Neither am I.”
There was a wealth of promise in those words.
Chapter Seventeen
“Giselda, quit playing!”
A mischievous smile covered her lips as she ignored him. Instead of obeying his command, she turned his foot and kissed his ankle. Such a strong, broad, male part when compared to her own dainty ones. She enjoyed teasing him, enjoyed his groans and moans, enjoyed prolonging the moment and heightening his anticipation.
It gave her a sense of power -- power not born of rank or status, but the power of a woman over a man.
In the darkness of the tent, all her senses, save for sight, were magnified. She heard the clenching of his teeth as they snapped together, and felt the pull of the bedroll as he gripped it in his hands. She heard his labored breathing and sensed the tension in his body.
A few hours ago, she’d had her most sensuous and fun-filled encounter with water in her entire life. She didn’t think she would come across a body of water in the future without remembering what she and Rodin had done.
After playing with the sand and rinsing them both by dunking hurriedly into the water, Rodin had thrown her across a smooth slab of stone by the bank and had proceeded to have his wicked way with her. Not that she had taken it lying down. She had managed to wrest a promise from him that she would have her turn with him later.
And now, it was later.
She kissed her way up his leg, lingering over his muscled thigh, then repeating the process on the other leg. She was awed at the power inherent in his legs, the way he had gripped the horse’s flanks, the way they had supported him as he thrust into her.
The thought made her own breath quicken, and dampness began to gather in her pussy. Anticipation thumped through her veins, making her eager for the moment of completion.
Her ideas did have a
tendency to backfire on her.
She moved ... and heard his sudden intake of breath, felt the straining of his cock in her direction.
Her lips closed over his balls, taking one sac into her mouth and sucking lightly.
He emitted a harsh cry.
She transferred her focus to the other sac, studiously ignoring his hardened cock, which was standing proudly at attention. Her long hair brushed over it, caressing it and causing it to jerk.
“Giselda!”
This close to him, she smelled the musky scent of his sex. It stirred her blood and excited her senses. For a moment, she hovered above his cock, allowing her hair to fall like a curtain around her, enclosing her head and his shaft in their own private cocoon. Her breath fanned it, caused it to twitch and stretch toward her.
“Giselda ...”
She liked the pleading note in his voice; oh, yes, she liked it very much. Which was why she bypassed his cock, letting her hair trail over him on her way to his abdomen, the soft, silken threads wrapping around him in a sensuous tangle.
“Giselda! You’re killing me!”
“Have I told you how much I like your washboard abs?” His muscles bunched and rippled beneath her fingers.
“You are not going to distract me with talk!” he roared. “Gods, Giselda, just suck my goddamned cock!”
“I intend to save the best for last, Rodin. In the meantime, can I distract you with this?” Her mouth wrapped around his nipple, sucking gently. Her hand found its twin, her fingers plucking and rolling the tight bud.
“A bit,” he gasped. He grabbed her and was able to steal a squeeze on her buttocks before she slapped his hand away.
“What did I say about touching me?” she demanded severely, her hands on her hips.
He took his fingers away slowly, stroking her ass cheek as his hand slid back down to the bedroll. Even in the dark, his eyes burned into her. “Please, Giselda,” he groaned in an agonized voice. “Stop torturing me!”