He devoured her actions with his eyes. “Why never to do it then?”
“Why?” She caught his gaze and once more recalled Ulred’s advice to do as instinct instructed with this lover. “Because, my Knight Divine, I have never had such manly inspiration.”
He sucked in his breath. “I would see more then.”
She smiled at him, her mouth watering to taste him, all of him. Purring like a cat, she spread herself out, arms wide in the luxurious bedding, legs brazenly dropping open to let him view his fill. Her body flared with excitement at Simon’s regard, and the crackling of the fire stirred her appetite for his acclaim.
Simon advanced, walking to and fro to survey her at every aspect and at his leisure. He hovered over every curve as he had had no time to do the other night when first they had mated. This time, his eyes lingered and caressed and his mouth dropped open at the sight of her fingers sinking quickly in and out of her cunt.
“How do I look?” Now that I am sworn to have you at all cost? “How do I seem after all these years, my lord?”
His quicksilver gaze flew to hers. Therein grew a storm of need. “Like never before. Like no other, Elise,” he declared in a low rumble of desire.
“Come closer then. The better to see what I have for you.”
He took two steps to the foot of his bed and braced two hands on the iron foot rail, his knuckles white with want. She placed her hands over her bush and, with the fingers of one hand, spread her plump cunny lips. With the other, she inserted one finger inside her warm and ready walls. Tempting herself, she arched, sighing at the feel of her fingers. God’s breath, she rejoiced, already dripping and crying for this man. What can I do to make him take me all through the night?
He gasped, strode around to her and leant over her. “Know you what you do?”
“I have a good idea.” She smiled, a woman knowing she was capable of luring her man. “Listen.” She stroked her cunt from deep inside to catch warm cream and bathe her lips in long languid stokes of her fingers. The sound she made was luscious, and she undulated on the bed. “My juices flow over my fingers.” She rubbed her lips in deep circles and spread her thighs wider for his admiration. “Never have I been so wet, so full.” Her gaze locked on his. “So swollen.”
“This gratifies me. For in spite of all this,” he said, waving an arm in the air to denote the castle and those elements that divided them, “you were mine first.”
“Aye,” she agreed on a whisper then lifted her knees and opened them wide, her feet to the bed. She let her fingers find her seam and gently pull herself open once more. There she found a tiny mound of flesh Alphonse often sought and rubbed. The same one Simon had loved to her distraction the other night. Now, she found the underside of it and circled her forefinger there, moaning at the beauty of the delight that swept over her. Suddenly, she knew she was too devoted to her own pleasure here to chastise herself any longer for her desire.
Simon gave an unintelligible sound, strode forward and put one knee upon the mattress. He reached out to take her wrist but halted, his hand in midair. “How is your injury from your fall?”
“Healed enough to pleasure you and me,” she stated. Boldness now carried her onward, wanting to explore her own body, needing to display it for him and, in the rapture of her self-pleasuring, give him a joy as glorious. And for a man who had roamed the world, this ripe display, she would wager, was the way to build his desire. So she ran her forefinger down along one soaked lip and quivered, shifting slightly at the stroke. She closed her eyes and caressed her other nether lip in same such fashion. Her cunny grew fiery and gave off a sharp pulse of need. She cupped her bush, pressed herself and cried out for the fullness she was about to have. All her vivid memories of kisses from a fond and daring boy were about to be brilliant hours of sexual fantasy come true.
“Oh,” she told that boy-made-man now, “how I have longed to have you here inside me, Simon. I have wanted to do this.” She sent two fingers inside her core with such a demanding thrust that she rose slightly off the mattress. “And this.” She pushed her fingers in and out, in and out, in such a rhythmic flow that she arched off the bed like an acrobat. “And this,” she moaned, as she found her tiny nub with two slick fingers and pinched her little swollen button to fast jolts of delight. She whimpered, her need as great for her lover in fantasy as in flesh.
He tore at his clothes. His cloak. His tunics. His boots. His chain belt. His linen undershirt. And as he flexed his magnificent arms to climb in beside her, he pulled her hand away and sank to kiss the skin above her belly. “This is mine to kiss. Mine to plunder. Mine to invade.” He turned to open her labia delicately with two artful fingers and leant down to press a kiss to her needy, greedy little core.
The fiery touch of him made her moan and raise her hips to push against him. “I cannot have enough of you,” she confessed on a small sob.
He slid his body down the bed and rubbed his jaw into her wet bush. “We must see you have so much of me that you are ever after filled with delight no other man can match.”
His words sounded bittersweet but soon died as he growled in the fury of his claim. With iron grip, he wrapped his hands around her thighs and braced her open. He crooned over her plump beauty as his fingers parted her swollen labia and he kissed each mound with a hard suck. His tongue shot out to lave her one lip bottom to top then kiss her in loud and juicy draughts. His raving talent had her keening as he delicately ate at her little love button and delved inside with darting tongue to capture more sex cream to drink from her.
She bucked beneath him, but he held her to his mercy like a conqueror as he laved her other lip from top to bottom. Pulling her farther apart for his fervent tongue, he devoured her as if he were a starving man, circling her fiercely tender nub and licking its little base and top. “Your pretty cunny is the only food I have ever wanted.” He put his lips to her again. There, he sucked her so delicately she thought she’d fall into a thousand pieces. He licked her so hard she thought her body was made of sugar. Then, he nibbled at her tender button and shot two fingers up inside her cunt so fast she thought she would fly apart at his possession. He built a raging fire in her, a violent tremor that made her keen in need as his fingers stroked her. She shouted and beat the bed with fisted delight.
“You must take me now,” she shouted at him.
But he grunted at her, laughed without mirth then pulled her up to sit. Her pounding core pressed to the cool bed, empty and crying to be filled. Slowly, he kneeled before her, cupped her chin and made her look him in the eye. His were silver madness, hot and swirling over her mouth, her nipples, her thick bush. He glanced down, leading her eyes to his actions. There, he threaded his fingers into her pale, curly hair and ran one blunt finger along her juicy seam. She moaned, but with his other hand, he palmed his rod up for her to see. “Touch me,” he commanded.
She shivered in delight at the size of him. He surely was longer than her hand. More, perhaps. And round, so full, that reaching out to touch him, her fingers could not encircle him. She petted him once and groaned in need then shifted to rub her cunt against the sheets as he began to stroke himself to an engorged blue-veined rod. Drops of his cum appeared on his penis, and in her own joy at his homage, she bent to pay her own.
She licked him. Laved him. Bathed his entire length in her own sweet claim, over and over again. She had never done this, never wanted to. But Simon’s rod she had to have in all ways that she could. She kissed his tip, ran her lips over the length of him and tried to caress him with one sure hand. She knew for the size of him, she could not embrace him totally. The lack drove her to do what she could to give him pleasure, and she bathed him with her tongue, as she prayed soon he would bathe her cunt with this fine rod. As she heard him moan in his delight, she revelled in the pace and strength of her pleasuring him. She could love him thus forever, and at the realisation, she sucked his bulbous end in one hard pull and declared her possession in one smooth pop.
&nb
sp; He shouted, lifting her off him and pushing her down to the bed. “You do me well. But there can be more, my love. Feel.” He fell over on his back. “Rise above me and put your pretty cunny near my lips.”
His endearment thrilled her, and she trailed a hand down the rope-like muscles of his massive chest to his shaft. “This can be done?”
“Come, sweet one,” he led her to place her swollen lips above his mouth, “and let me pleasure you as you do me.”
The feel of his possession of her core, the strong pull of his fingers to spread her as he nibbled and licked and sucked at her was rapture as she endeavoured to lick him and lave his hard rod. But her thighs trembled in the effort, her knees on the bed wobbled and she cried out, angry at herself that this delight was one she could not finish.
He rolled her over, reversed himself and dropped a quick kiss to one pointed nipple and the other. “Do not despair, my sweet. We will perfect this art.”
“Have me now, Simon.” She wrapped her arms and legs around him. “I am going to pound with joy soon and I do not wish it without you in my cunt.”
“Nay, beauty,” he vowed and kissed her hard and fast. “Loving you is what I was made me for.” He reached down between their love-soaked bodies, took himself in hand and rubbed his blunt head over her wet and tender lips. He took her with one swift stroke. “You are mine, only mine.”
Then he proved to her that no man could ever possess her heart as this one had her body.
She did not know how long she slept, but when she awakened, she saw Simon walking to his door. She heard him exchange a few words with his Oriental in a strange language and afterward, he softly closed the door.
“What does your man say? Is aught amiss?” she asked Simon as he came back to her, a golden pagan god in naked splendour.
“Nay, my sweet. I told Omar to knock several times a day to ensure we are well. I will have no one intruding on our pleasure, least of all Cleve or any of the servants. My Omar is a devoted man, and you should feel safe with him near.” Simon bent to cup a breast. “I want to love you without regard to others’ intrusions.” He laved his velvet rough tongue around her budding nipple. “Hard diamonds, aren’t they?”
“For you,” she told him, as happy for his care of their safety as she was for his devotion to their mating.
He bit her nipple lightly and her cunny vibrated with glee. “Shall I make these pretty points beg for me?” he asked.
“Oh, do, please.” She squirmed on the linens in her joy. “Come lick me and suck me. I cannot have enough of your mouth.”
“Only my mouth?” He pulled at her areola with his lips.
She gasped. “All of you.”
“Wonderful.” He smiled. His gaze caressed her while his fingers stroked her creamy depths. “I have a prize to display for your two pink tips.” His brows arched high in a teasing arc. “Shall I show you?”
She clapped her hands, eager as a child about to receive a toy. “Do, please.”
He strode to the cupboard on the far wall and opened the door. Reaching in to take his leather saddle pouch, he grasped crimson silk that billowed through his fingers.
She grinned at him as he approached. “What have you brought, my lord?”
His face grew sombre. “This I have carried with me for more than eight years.” He sat upon the bed, his gaze upon his closed fist. “I bought them for you when I had no hope I would ever see you again. When I thought I would die soon and in a heinous land.”
“My dearest,” she whispered and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “You are here with me now.” She did not say, all your fears are for naught. For that was useless talk. “Show me, Simon, what you have.”
He smiled again as he opened his fist to reveal a red silk bag with two draw strings. “I bought them from a caravan drover recently arrived in Jaffa from the Silk Road. The merchant was a leather-faced ancient, sans teeth and hair.”
As Simon spoke, she began to grin—and so did he.
“He sat upon the buttery walls of Jaffa, crying at the top of his lungs for all men to come and view his wares. He declared he had the means to make a woman want a man and never leave him.” Simon’s silver eyes met hers, and his voice fell to a rasp. “I had seen my two friends die not days before, their bodies mangled, torn apart by scimitars of the Heathens. I felt for certain my day to die must be close. To buy these for you made me feel somehow eternal.” Simon glanced away, and she knew he did so to hide his sadness.
She put a hand to his arm. “My darling, you bought these as a talisman to tell yourself you would one day come back to me.”
He faced her, his mouth lifting from a tight line of despair to dawning joy. “How could you know?” he whispered.
She gripped his hand. “I know you.”
Delight erased his melancholy. He bent to kiss her lips. “Shall I show you these?”
“Oh, please.”
“Hmm. Very well, be still now.”
“Like this?” She squirmed against the bedding and let her breasts sway a bit before him.
“Temptress,” he scolded.
“Sorcerer,” she countered and lifted her chin at him. “Show me, damn you.”
He took from his pouch two silver pincers, encrusted with tiny stones of aqua and pink, purple and topaz.
“They are lovely. But what are they?” She touched one with a fingertip.
“They are for your breasts. Your nipples.”
“But…how?” Her excitement made her breathless.
He cupped one of her breasts and bent to suck her nipple to a hard round point. She arched up into his hand and his mouth, speechless with his ardour. He drew away, took her areola between his fingertips and clamped her nipple between the clamp of the jewelled silver.
“Ah!” she shot upward into his arms. “Simon!” One hand went to her breast, where darts of raging need pierced her to her oh so ready womb.
He examined her closely. “You like this?”
“Aye, aye!” She grabbed his hand. “I like the way it looks, too.”
“Greedy witch.”
She cuffed him. “Give me the other.”
He hauled her up into his embrace and kissed her as if he would die now and be complete. Then he pushed her to the bed, stroked her other breast, laved her nipple with a sweet swirling tongue and clamped the other jewel on.
A shout sprang from her lips. Her hands plunged into her bush. He tore them away and dipped to put his mouth to her swollen flesh. “Quake for me, Elise.” He nibbled at her tiny nub then kissed her and parted her and finally possessed her with his huge rod.
He sat back, pulled her ass cheeks up onto his thighs and rode her as if he were a man on a wild mare.
She reached for him, tweaked his brown, hard nipples and cried in wanton need. “Simon, Simon, be quick, quick because I—”
She had no more words for the fury that overtook her, pulsed through her from her tight little nipples, pressed into a raging delight by the clamps of the bejewelled silver. She could only quake and milk the glorious staff that Simon gave her with sure hard pounds of his hips into hers. Once more, she felt his eruption bathe her womb, and she rejoiced that she had come to accept him, his seed and his service.
For long minutes, he remained upright, eyes closed, fingernails digging into her hips, his body buried deep inside her. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “You learn quickly.”
“I have an excellent teacher.” She asked nothing of how he had learnt. It was best she never ask. For these minutes that must last her all her life, she would keep them free of the bitterness about the past and trepidations of the future. Ponderings would do them no good. “May we do this again?” she asked with bright invitation, squirming against his hips.
He chuckled. “Unsatisfied, are you?”
“If I say aye, then…”
He grinned and gave her a thrust from his still-engorged rod. “Then, I must give you new adventures, eh?”
She had barely uttered, “Aye,
” when he lifted her with a hand beneath her neck and sent his tongue stabbing inside her mouth.
“You are such a sweet meat, my lovely.” He took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged at her while one hand covered her breast and twisted her nipple between two strong fingers. “I could eat all of you—and think I will.”
She leant up on an elbow and took his lower lip between her teeth to nip him and taunt, “And if I devour you first?”
He growled. “Think you can outlast me?”
Her eyes narrowed, playing. “Shall we bet?”
“Nay!” He laughed again, more deeply in his throat. “But we shall proceed.”
Another knock sounded.
“Omar,” Simon told her, “with refreshment.”
Simon pulled out of her with such slow precision that she groaned and covered her mound, now so empty, but so sweetly tender that she had to massage herself and sigh.
Simon closed the door, a tray filled with wine jug and bread in hand, and returned to watch her. “For a woman who never pleasured herself before, you do listen to your body’s needs. Open your chat and let me see you roll your fingers over your pearl of love.”
She parted her lips with eager fingers. “I can’t go slowly, Simon. I need more.” She caught her breath as she touched her nub and circled it. Her cunt was so sensitive and so very full of their juices that her fingertips glided easily over her flesh. “Come back to me. My hands are poor substitutes for you, my dearest.”
He seemed at first not to hear her, he was so devoted to watching her. But he shook his head then strode away. “We have wine and some bread. Later, we shall have some roast boar. The kitchen servants have butchered and dressed it for the spit.”
“Our boar.” She laughed triumphantly but was almost to the point of ecstasy again and mewled instead.
He poured himself a goblet of wine from the pitcher on the tray and walked back to her. “Go on, Elise. Give yourself the release you need.” He winked and drained his cup. “I promise to reward you for this lovely sight as soon as my rod fills up again. And you working at yourself does give me great desire.”
At Her Service (Swords of Passion) Page 6