Ruler's Concubine

by Peri Elizabeth Scott

  He was still taken aback, and thought to give her more time. “Have you nothing to ask me? Nothing you wish to talk about?”

  “I trust that Bast filled me in on whatever I need to know, aside from what he obviously avoided telling me. And he couldn’t because his first loyalty is to you. You’ve filled in the blanks.”

  “True, but—”

  “I can’t wait. I mean, I can’t think about it any longer. It’s too upsetting to have it out there, just waiting to happen, you know? It’s like taking medicine. Best to get it done.”

  His pride should be punctured at being compared to medicine, but she was so earnest… And she wasn’t angry or defiant. He forced a smile and found it easier than he thought. “Are you suggesting tonight?”

  Flushing bright pink, she nodded. “I’m in the middle of my cycle like I said before. At my most fertile.”

  Contrarily, it pained him, the way his concubine stripped the situation down to the bare bones of the contract. “You may have the choice of the breeding pallet—or not.”

  “I don’t care.” She was on her feet, clenching her hands in the fabric of her skirt. Her face was pale once again and her full mouth set. “Whatever you’d prefer.”

  Insanely, he’d prefer to seduce and woo this scrap of female until she gave herself to him, and begged for his touch, but he had put this plan into play. And now he had no idea how to change its course without it appearing he lied about finding her attractive. Or appearing … unRuler-like. It then struck him she hadn’t indicated feeling any attraction to him. Lysett had never backed down from a challenge, but he quaked in the face of this one. It didn’t help that he still felt conflicted in betraying Trosan.

  Working hard at hiding his quandary, he spoke in a measured voice. “Come with me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Pattering along behind Lysett, Celeste resisted the urge to pinch herself and ensure this was real, that she was actually going to have sex with him. Instead, she focused on the tall length of him moving steadily and gracefully, the stuff of his shirt clinging to that muscled back. His long, strong legs made her take two steps to his one, and she shamelessly ogled a very nice bottom encased in form-fitting fabric that flexed as they mounted the stairs.

  She should still be angry with him, but the sense of humiliation had eased with his sincere apology. Oh, she knew it wasn’t a great apology, but recognized the effort—and the reasoning—behind it. As Ruler, things went his way and he’d have little call to make amends. So that made it more heartfelt in her mind, no matter it was a poor excuse for one.

  Not usually given to such deep thoughts—likely because her lack of interaction with males—Celeste found herself searching behind the Ruler’s public face, and thought she was correct in detecting a wealth of pain, tamped down by the effort it demanded to run his planet. Probably that was how he coped.

  She felt sorry for him, easily identifying with his personal angst. Losing people one loved took its toll, and he’d lashed out at her when faced with that loss. He had a duty to perform and in all likelihood felt he was betraying his former concubine. She found that admirable even as she felt a bit like she was in competition with a ghost. Which was crazy thinking because she meant one thing, and one thing only, to him.

  Analytical thoughts aside, she’d admit that she found him incredibly attractive, and surely accommodating his sexual overtures wouldn’t be a chore. That’s what she’d signed up for, so she should face facts and take the initiative, seeing as he’d evoked the royal decree that she couldn’t refuse him. It gave her a modicum of power and would guard her heart in the end. One couldn’t fall in love with someone if one treated the process as a clinical arrangement. And if he maltreated her, she’d tell his mother. Her anxiousness resolved, she went forward with a lighter heart. And let herself admit to a burgeoning sexual interest, manifested in the beading of her nipples and the flare of damp heat between her thighs as she anticipated what was about to transpire at his hands.

  Lysett stopped at a door she remembered entering the night before, feeling both tentative and hopeful, and then fleeing out of in umbrage and confusion. Her heart hitched in her chest as he gestured her inside. Maybe sexual interest wasn’t going to carry the day.

  They stood facing one another, and awkward didn’t begin to describe it. Celeste pretended the breeding pallet wasn’t front and center. The Ruler smiled, the movement easing the strictness of his features and warming his eyes. He gestured, and she tracked the strength embodied in that big hand. It comforted her, somehow.

  “I can order the elixir, Lady Celeste.”

  Someone she didn’t recognize spoke from within her, in a positively teasing tone. “Will I require it?”

  His green eyes darkened to a turbulent emerald, and she trembled, wishing to call the challenge back. What was she thinking? Before she could react, he was in her space, the heat of him permeating the gossamer gown she wore, and then his hands were sifting through her hair as he tilted up her head. His stare lanced to the center of her being and her belly clenched. That spicy smell wrought havoc on her senses again.

  “I don’t believe you’ll need the elixir.”

  Somehow the difference in height wasn’t an issue as he fit his chiseled lips over hers and worked them in soft seduction, playing against the seam until she parted to allow him access. His tongue flirted along her lower lip before skating inside in ever bolder forays, exploring her mouth and engulfing her senses with a wash of heat that made her knees fluid. He tasted of the drink they’d had at dinner and fiery male, an altogether heady mix.

  As if sensing her diminishing capacity to remain upright, Lysett wrapped one arm around her and welded her to his hard chest. She stood on tiptoe and strained to get closer. His heart thundered against her breast—or maybe that was the pounding of her own. If he could reduce her to this crumbling mess with one kiss, what would his touch do? Any second thoughts she’d entertained slipped away on a river of desire.

  Releasing her mouth, he trailed kisses over her cheek and temple as he set her slightly away from him, his hold firm until she was steady on her feet. She blinked until the room came into focus. The hard length of him throbbed against her abdomen and she closed her fingers into fists to resist the urge to touch. Bast had made it clear she wasn’t to do so. In any event, she most definitely didn’t need a drop of that elixir.

  Aware he was studying her with an enigmatic look, she strained to read him. He was clearly aroused without the potion, so found her physically attractive, but there was nothing in his features or the depths of his eyes to suggest anything more than lust. No surprise, considering he was a widower of sorts and there was such a dearth of females on the planet—the man had been without female companionship for a long time. Somehow she knew he’d been faithful to … Trosan.

  So what had she expected, given the circumstances of their arrangement? That he’d suddenly regard her the way her father had regarded her mother?

  Shoving the romanticism aside, she huffed a tremulous breath and willed her body to cease its fine trembling. But the yearning in her core simmered with molten heat and she gave over to it, welcoming the distraction from her ridiculous thoughts. Lysett raked his gaze over her with intent and one thick brow quirked upward.

  “May I undress you?”

  She visualized those big hands efficiently stripping away her apparel and managed a nod. Something inside was screaming for him to go on the offensive and ravish her so she could lose herself in sensation and avoid the implication of what was about to transpire. Ambivalence threatened to derail what she’d decided was the best way to approach her current lot in life, and when his eyes narrowed, she impulsively reached to press a palm against his cheek.

  His lids lowered further and a slight pressure met her hand before they sprang open, a certain coolness lightening his eyes, and she knew she’d transgressed in the effort to settle herself. His mouth set in a straight line and he stiffened. Why had she contravened the rules? What
if he stopped and decided another night would suit better?

  Unable to imagine the wear and tear on her nerves if forced to wait longer, she pleaded, “Please, Ruler. I don’t know what to do.”

  Mouth softening, he set his hands on her shoulders and smoothed her gown downward, the material whispering softly against her skin as he bared her upper body. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to observe her own seduction as the cool air made her nipples bead even tighter.

  “You are lovely, Celeste. Perfect and sweet.”

  A press of his lips over her heart startled her eyes wide and she quivered as he went down on one knee to guide her garment over her hips and allowed it to pool at her feet. The gossamer stuff of her panties was no barrier to his avid stare and she shifted in response, that heated need between her thighs matched only by the increasing weight of her breasts.

  The Ruler had a thick head of dark hair with a suggestion of curl, and she longed to weave her fingers through it, especially when he drifted his lips across her belly and along the top of her panties. But she again fisted her hands and tried to remain passive, not that she could control her breathing. She couldn’t seem to fill her lungs with enough air and panted with abandon.

  Hooking his thumbs in the thinner fabric at her hips, he tugged the undergarment down, where it joined her gown. One long, thick finger teased among her scant curls and Celeste wanted to kick the clothing away, freeing her feet. She didn’t know if she wanted to run or step wide so Lysett had room to slip his digit between her thighs and ease the ache that continued to build.

  “I scent your arousal, my sweet human.”

  A tiny whimper slipped past her lips at the deep and throaty tone, and any hint of embarrassment faded in the face of his appreciation, but she couldn’t form any coherent response. Especially when his finger followed the seam of her cleft, sliding easily on her wetness. She wanted to press against it, and her hips hitched forward of their own volition, eliciting a pleased chuckle from the Ruler.

  “Your body wants mine. This will go well, my sweet, and you’ll soon bear my sons.”

  The reminder of their stark agreement might have put a damper on her need, except Lysett scooped her up and placed her with infinite care on the breeding pallet. He arranged her in the same manner as that of which Bast had instructed she present herself, but this was far more intimate and harkened to a revered ceremony.

  Her arms stretched wide, her palms up, Celeste noted Lysett’s fervent stare as her breasts lifted and the nipples pointed higher. When his head lowered and he closed his mouth around one, lashing it with his tongue, she was nearly transported. Shivers of pleasure flowed from the site, arrowing toward the apex of her thighs, and she squirmed.

  He lavished the same attention on her other straining bud, a big hand engulfing the now abandoned breast, and she moaned, a sound she’d never made before. A tiny nip made her want to thrash her head, but it remained firmly placed, and she was forced to endure the pleasurably painful suckling.

  Releasing her nipple at last, Lysett blew across it and she sucked in a draught of air, trying to collect herself as he traced her rib cage and then her hips with his fingertips. “You are not so tall, Celeste,” he murmured. “I should splay your legs wide and place them firmly. But I find I wish them set just so.”

  Bending each knee, lightly gripping her calves, he eased her thighs apart and she too could scent her tart aroma of her need. Her toes danced across the surface of the pallet and remained free of its hold. Willing herself to relax and trust him to arrange her body, she watched as he studied her sex.

  Those green eyes flared hotter, and glittered, causing her to dampen further while her heart rate increased and fluttered in the hollow of her throat. Everything felt sharper and incredibly intimate and she desperately held to the passion overwhelming her, refusing to acknowledge any softer emotions.

  “Are you all right?” His gaze shifted to engage her own.

  She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to categorize or label what was transpiring. This was about honoring the contract and nothing further. She wouldn’t misinterpret anything encompassed within that green stare, intuitively knowing better. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

  “I wish to taste you and ensure you are ready to take my seed.”

  Uncertain what one had to do with the other, she managed a shaky nod and sucked in another shuddering breath when that dark head descended between her legs and he pressed a kiss against her inner thigh. Somehow her feet became draped over his shoulders and she shamelessly accepted the teasing flicks of his tongue as they lanced between her nether lips.

  In fact, she offered herself willingly, arching into his expert ministrations, while her torso remained immobilized. The tingling sensation built in a wavering circle from her navel to her quivering thighs. He cupped her buttocks, lifting her higher still. When he worried the knot of nerves at the top of her apex, the tingling coalesced into one stunning burst of rippling sensation. Incoherent words and high-pitched cries echoed in the aftermath and she realized it was her making those sounds.

  Lysett lifted his head, the lower part of his face shiny and wet, and gifted her with a smile she couldn’t help but accept and tuck away to remember later. To recall and examine with a brain not mushy from such intense pleasure.

  Levering to his feet, he stripped off his clothes as efficiently as the previous night, but this time, she detected no anger or regret. She rested her feet lightly against the pallet, knees negligently spread and wondered at her lack of modesty. Was this what feminine power felt like? Certainly Lysett appeared enthralled, and while she’d be nothing more to him than a broodmare, she could clasp this moment—and any that might follow—as a talisman against future regrets. She knew there would be those dark times ahead, but she wasn’t thinking about that now.

  Not when there was a beautiful male specimen looming over her, one capable of bestowing physical pleasure and granting her a safe and prosperous position in his household as she raised precious children. The part of him that signified his utter maleness evoked a tremor of fear, but she trusted him not to hurt her past the breaching of her virginal barrier. His cock stood proudly to the tempting ‘V’ of his abdomen, reaching toward his navel, broad and wide at the head. She reminded herself once again that women accommodated men since the beginning of time and swallowed her worry.

  “I’ll take care with you, Celeste.” Had he read her concern? Regardless, his look was tender and she smiled, this time easily.

  “I believe you.”

  Making a place for himself between her thighs, she felt the hard, velvety length of him split her cleft, and she eased her knees wider around his hips to cradle him against her pelvis. She wished she could lift her arms to hold him closer, but intuited that attempt at closeness would be received in the same manner as her touch on his cheek. Instead of tightening her legs, she reminded herself to remain passive and accepting.

  He inserted a hand between them and guided his cock to her opening, a natural and unerring movement that spoke to his experience, and the head worked past the initial stricture a fraction. She tensed despite herself.

  “There’s no help for it the first time, my concubine.” The label felt like an endearment and she made a brave smile. A hard thrust followed and she bit her lip against the sharp pain and too-full sensation as he filled her.

  Stilling, he gave her time to adjust, watching her carefully, even as his face showed considerable strain. The skin stretched tightly over his cheekbones and his mouth set tightly as he waited. She drew in and released considerable amounts of air through her nostrils, trying not to second-guess her decision. It was too late, anyhow, and she cautiously squeezed around his girth.

  “Goddess, don’t do that.” Lysett audibly ground his teeth and that hint of feminine power returned. She might have accepted him into her body, but he clearly found it to be a pleasurable experience and one that she alone could give him if, as Ruler, he honored monogamy. She clenched harder,
and he responded by pulling away, then pushing forward until a certain rhythm developed.

  She rocked to meet him and in sync, their movements sped up. Lysett slammed his hands down on either side of her face and his own was a study of intense concentration and what had to be burgeoning pleasure. The green of his eyes intensified as the pupils dilated to absorb the grassy color, and she allowed herself to forget her role, just for the moment. Her discomfort abated and she could admit to a different kind of pressure, one similar to the tingling that had built into that exciting, earlier blossom of climax.

  With a groan, he shoved deep and held himself hard against her, a shudder overtaking his strong body as her channel tightened and loosened in a warm ease of tension. A different sensation but entirely satisfying, and one that made her glow.

  Lysett lowered his chest to brush her tender nipples and a guttural sound filled her ears as he shoved his face against her neck and his breathing slowed. A fine dew of sweat cooled between them and she knew she’d never forget this first time.

  Then the Ruler disengaged, and not just physically, although his cock slipped free and wet heat anointed her thighs. She focused on that wetness, hoping a child had been conceived, rather than acknowledge his emotional withdrawal. He had done his duty and was now removing himself from the equation. Stupid, but she was crushed.

  A novice, she still craved something … more. His proximity maybe, and a press of his skin. Perhaps another kiss.

  He stood, and hovered awkwardly beside the pallet. The look didn’t suit him.

  “I’ll fetch you a cleansing cloth, Celeste.”

  The sight of his perfect, naked form retreating from her was distraction enough. The thought of another such encounter with him before she rebuilt her defenses would sorely test her resolve to keep their connection superficial. Celeste had just learned an important fact about herself and she somehow held the accompanying tears at bay. Casual coitus wasn’t for her, so she had to hope she could limit that physical interaction with Lysett by early conception. Or risk a relationship that was one-sided and certain to cause her great pain.