WinterofThorns

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  She turned to her back—lifting her leg from atop his—then slowly and with her face burning as bright as a brand, sat up with her arms shielding her bare breasts. Her gaze was directed across the room and seemed to be searching the tapestried wall for either a way out or for help. He said nothing as he waited. His arms were relaxed at his side though his cock was as hard as a two-by-four and thrust out from between his legs like an upright beam. As he looked at her profile, he could see the vein at the side of her neck pulsing wildly.

  She was terrified.

  “Jana,” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you. You have nothing to fear from me.”

  She surprised him when she spoke.

  “It will hurt,” she said and then a quiver ran through her upper body. “I know it will.”

  “Aye,” he acknowledged. “A little, but that hurt is a prelude.”

  She turned her head and looked down at him. “For what?”

  “For the greatest physical pleasure a woman can experience,” he replied. “The taking of her maidenhood ushers you into womanhood. Womanhood ushers you into motherhood.”

  A harsh breath dragged into her lungs and he realized he had said the wrong thing. She feared he would impregnate her.

  “I will not get you with child,” he was quick to tell her. “The healers give me a potion that prevents that. Until I Join with my bride, I take that potion religiously. I have no desire to populate our world with bastard children as my father and his fathers before him have done. That is irresponsible.” He put a hand to his heart. “On my mother’s soul, I will not get you with child. You have nothing to worry about on that account.”

  She searched his eyes for the truth, licked her lips once more—making his cock ache with furious need—then looked away. Her shoulders straightened and she leaned forward, coming to her knees as gracefully and sensually as a swan gliding upon the water.

  She straddled his left leg and when she did he moved his thighs apart to give her room to kneel between his legs. Though her arms were still crossed protectively across her chest, her attention was riveted on his cock and that was encouraging.

  “Lay your hands midway on my thighs and just stroke my legs, dearling,” he said in a soft, soothing voice. “Just my thighs.”

  Her body jerked but she lowered her arms and gently placed her palms on his thighs. He was a bit taken back by how cold her hands were on his flesh.

  “All I want you to do is rub my legs,” he instructed. “Along the top and on each side. Go slow and just get to know the feel. You’ll find my thighs aren’t like yours.”

  Hers will be silky soft, he thought. The skin would be cool to the touch and as satiny as the coverlet upon which he lay. There would be give to her flesh and not the muscular hardness that marked his own. The hair on her thighs would be like down instead of the thick wiriness of his.

  When she began to run her palms over his thighs, he closed his eyes to savor the feel. She was careful not to go anywhere near his straining rod but he knew she was staring at it. As the clock on the mantel quietly ticked away the minutes, he lay there enjoying the feel of her hands on him. Her touch deepened at times as though she wanted to know the texture and feel of his flesh as much as he wanted to know hers. He let the stroking continue for he what thought was five minutes or perhaps a little less then asked her to move to his shins. Without hesitation, she moved farther down the bed—her soft hands gliding over his knees to his shins.

  Then her hands stopped.

  He opened his eyes—knowing what she’d found.

  “Seyzon did that,” he said of the scar her fingers had encountered. The deep, wide wound that had required a short stay in a TAOS unit to seal had left an ugly scar. Not because it should have but because he had wanted it that way. To him, it was a badge of honor that marked him as a warrior. To Seyzon, it was a reminder of a moment of inattention that could have had a much worse outcome.

  “Why?” she asked, staring at the ugly reminded of his misspent boyhood. “How?”

  “A mishap with a pike when we were in training as teenagers. He didn’t mean to do it but it hurt like hell anyway.” He smiled. “It would have hurt more had he wounded me intentionally.”

  She traced the scar that ran from just inside his right knee, across the shin bone and to the outside of his ankle with her fingertips. “You did not want it erased?”

  “I rather like it. It certainly draws sympathy from the ladies and respect from the men.”

  She shook her head. “You men are such strange creatures.”

  He laughed and that brought her head up and a slight red stain to her cheeks.

  “We are,” he said, fearful that his laughter had made her think she’d insulted her Overlord. “You women make us that way.”

  He watched her left eyebrow lift.

  “How so, milord?” she inquired.

  “You drive us to distraction when we don’t have you and then once we do, you drive us crazy. How can we not be strange creatures, milady?”

  Her pretty mouth formed a saucy grin. “You tease me, milord.”

  “I do, aye,” he agreed. He stretched his arms over his head, laced his fingers together then slid them to the nape of his neck, closed his eyes and told her to continue with her ministrations.

  He hadn’t told her to do so but her hands drifted down over the tops of his feet as she stroked his lower leg.

  “You have hair on the tops of your feet.”

  “And on my ugly toes,” he said with a loud sigh.

  “Your toes are not ugly,” she declared, sliding the pad of her finger along his big toe.

  “Care to give me a foot rub, then?” he asked.

  “I can do that. A return of the favor is in order.”

  He didn’t say anything to that but smiled inwardly. She was relaxing in just the way he had hoped she would. She was talking to him and no longer staring fearfully at him—or the hard evidence of his arousal. Parting his eyelids just a little, he watched her as she set about massaging his feet. Her full attention was on them instead of the aching rod that was no longer fully erect but still just as needy.

  Her gentle, firm touch swept any tension he might have had from his body. It surprised him to find out that though he was as relaxed as he could ever remember being in the presence of a beautiful woman, he wanted her even more than he had at the moment he had seen her standing at Seyzon’s side.

  “I think that’s enough. If you keep it up, I’ll be snoring,” he told her.

  Her hands came away from his feet but she just knelt there at the foot of the bed, awaiting his next instructions.

  Like a harem girl, he thought, and for some reason that turned him on even more. He opened his eyes and gave her a look he knew must have concerned her for once more her arms were hugging her chest.

  “My turn,” he said and watched her eyes widen.

  Too late, he realized he had moved too quickly. Sitting up as though he were a marionette and the puppeteer had jerked his strings, he shot out his hands to cup her shoulders. She cried out even as he lifted her and swung her over his leg to place her on her back with him looking over her, his legs straddling her suddenly stiff body. Her legs were clamped tightly together and her lip had begun to quiver.

  He shook his head like a wet dog. “No, no, no, no, no,” he said firmly. “I am not about to rape, ravage and pillage you, woman. Just relax!”

  He mentally cursed himself for his recklessness. He had gained ground and with one stupid move had lost every hard-won inch.

  He needed to start over.

  Jana stared up into the half-hooded eyes of her Overlord and trembled. He looked massive as he leaned over her with his strong, hard hands gripping her shoulders. There was a wild look in his eyes that made her blood run cold. Where had the laughing, teasing man gone? Above her was a lust-driven warrior hell bent on taking her.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” he stated. “I am not about to rape, ravage and pillage you, woman. Just relax!�
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  How could she, she wondered when he was positioned over her, locking her shoulders to the bed, his hard thighs bracketing her own and his manhood poking urgently into her lower belly.

  “Relax, Jana!” he ordered.

  She couldn’t. There was deep-seated passion blazing at her from his blue eyes—eyes she realized too closely resembled Seyzon’s. It felt as though her husband’s eyes were staring down at her with accusation. She felt tears prick at the back of her eyes.

  Then the prince groaned.

  “The gods-be-damned it, this is not what I wanted!”

  Before she could react, he had stretched out atop her and his mouth was at her breast. She gasped as he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth then began stabbing the tip with his hot, wet tongue.

  He sucked. He nipped. He licked and lapped and drew harder. Not painfully so but hard enough to make her insides clench. He moved to the other nipple—kissing his way between her breasts—and when he latched on to it, he insinuated his knee between her legs. She could not think of anything save his mouth on her breast as he pushed her legs apart. She knew what he was doing but the pleasure from his attention at her breasts was sending chills down her sides.

  His hands slid from her shoulders to her breasts and he hefted them for what she knew was better purchase for him. He alternated his attention from one to the other with gentle tugs on her nipples with his teeth to swirling his tongue around and around until she wanted to cry out. The moment he scooted down her and put his lips to her navel, she bucked beneath him.

  That hot, knowing tongue was making spiral forays into her navel as his fingers plucked at her hardened nipples. His lower body—the hair on his chest seeming to have hands of its own—was pressed intimately to the core of her. His broad shoulders were braced against her hips to very effectively pin her to the bed. She snatched handfuls of the coverlet to keep her fingers from threading through his hair to hold his head steady. Why she longed to do that she had no idea but it seemed right somehow.

  He was turning her body into something she didn’t recognize. She ached brutally between her legs and her lower belly continuously clenched and unclenched with ripples that made her burn at her center. She could not prevent herself from writhing beneath him as he sustained the unrelenting stabbing of his tongue into her navel.

  “Milord,” she pleaded for the dual assault—on navel and nipples—was almost more than she could bear.

  But those sensations were nothing compared to the one that had her hips jacking from the bed when his chin slid over her nether curls and his mouth locked upon her most sensitive place.

  “Milord!” she cried out and her fingers left the coverlet to bury themselves in his hair.

  What he was doing with his tongue—thrusting rapidly and noisily at her clit then dragging it along her folds like a kitten lapping cream—set her entire body to humming. She barely felt him nudging her thighs apart as far as they would go. His big shoulders kept them apart as he ran his hands under her ass and lifted her hips to meet his mouth.

  He licked her.

  He drew upon her flesh.

  He flicked his tongue repeatedly over her clit then dragged it along the folds.

  He thrust that hot, slick muscle deep into her cunt and she bucked as though he had spurred her.

  “Please!” she begged, her hands pulling at his hair. “Stop!”

  He raised his head and the look in his eyes was demonic.

  “No,” he told her. “I’m only beginning.”

  She wasn’t sure she would survive anything more that he could do to her. Already her flesh was tingling. Her belly was tightening with spasms. Her legs felt weak as she dug her heels into the mattress. She drew her knees up instinctively but that only seemed to center the pleasure more deeply into her core.

  He lowered his head to slide his tongue ruthlessly into her cunt. His fingers dug into the flesh of her ass as he began to rotate his mouth over her.

  Prickles of intense energy spread along her thighs and traveled up into her belly. Something hot and aching settled there and then seemed to radiate outward. She whipped her head back and forth on the pillow, stabbed her heels into the mattress, and arched her hips, bouncing them against his greedy mouth. She snatched her hands from his hair for fear she’d pull out hunks of it and sank her nails into his shoulders instead. She felt him shiver then increase the suction that seemed to be drawing something from her body—something that made him alternately raise his head to lick his lips then swallow hard before commencing again.

  There was a need she couldn’t understand building within her. A need she couldn’t explain. A need she felt herself speeding toward, unable to brake. It was a precipice to which she was being hurled without the ability to stop. She knew once she reached the edge of that precipice, she’d tumble over into…

  Only the gods knew what.

  “Come for me,” he said in a low, husky voice that vibrated through her sensitive core. “Come for me, Jana.”

  “Come where?” she beseeched.

  That need was spiraling out of control. It was now an itch she could not scratch for it was deep inside her. Not even his savage, wild tongue could reach that place. When he pulled one hand free from her ass then insinuated it between her legs—first one finger then two pressing inside her—the itch became unbearable. There was a momentarily sharp pinch then he twisted his fingers until they were hooked inside her cunt and then he touched something that set off an explosion that made her scream.

  Absolute, total, complete, unqualified, all-encompassing, unadulterated pleasure ripped through her body like a summer lightning storm. It spiked out from her core to spread along every nerve ending in her lower body. Multiple spasms rocketed through her with such intensity she felt herself shattering.

  The pleasure went on and on in waves that gripped her body like a velvet vise.

  Vindan sucked her clit as he moved his fingers in and out of her. She was having a strong orgasm, her inner muscles clamping down hard on his fingers in tight little quivers. Her juices made his fingers slick. He wanted to withdraw them and suck the hot cream from them but wouldn’t until the last ripple of pleasure had been wrung from her.

  He knew she had barely felt the breaching of her maidenhead. For a brief moment, he regretted it had not been his cock to claim that treasure but he reasoned this might be best. For now, she would not feel anything but his stretching once he slid his cock into her tight pussy.

  He slowed his thrusting until she gave one last hard shudder then lay still with her limbs loose, her hands falling away from his shoulders.

  “That’s what my woman needed.” He withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth.

  She was staring down at him with a look that bordered on wonder. Her chest was heaving and those precious, lush breasts rose and fell so beautifully he wanted to suckle them some more.

  “That was the entrée, baby,” he said. “Now for the main course.”

  “Milord?” she questioned, her brows drawn together.

  “I’m going to show you what true pleasure is, sweeting,” he told her. He lifted himself from the bed, the muscles in his upper arms going taut.

  Jana tensed as he glided his hard body over hers until he was braced above her, staring down with eyes that were hot and filled with desire. She felt the blood begin to pound in her ears as his right hand lowered between them and he took hold of his shaft.

  “Lift your knees, baby,” he said in that throaty tone that allowed no resistance.

  She did as he ordered and tensed as she felt the tip of that broad head touch her core.

  “There will be no pain,” he said. “Only tightness. I’ll ease into you with care, so relax. I promise I will give you twice the pleasure you just experienced.”

  She wasn’t sure she could survive any more pleasure than what he’d already bestowed upon her.

  He gently pushed the tip of his cock between her slick folds. He was acutely aware that she had stopp
ed breathing, was holding her breath in anticipation of the pain he was sure she thought was coming.

  “No pain,” he said again and went a bit deeper.

  A quiver ran through her and she twisted the coverlet viciously in her hands.

  “Jana,” he said as though about to give a stern lecture. “Release your hold on the coverlet. I am not going to hurt you. You’ve already given your maidenhead to me.”

  A stunned look spread over her face. “I did?” she queried, the blood leaving her face.

  “Aye. When I put my fingers inside you, I broke the membrane.”

  “I didn’t feel it.”

  “I didn’t mean for you to,” he said and it wasn’t exactly a lie. “I told you I would take care with your entry into womanhood.”

  Her face lost some of its pallor as a light blush tinged her cheeks. She pressed her lips together but he caught just a hint of gratitude in her lovely eyes.

  “Now, let me love you as you were meant to be loved.”

  He pushed deeper—giving her time to adjust to his thickness—and held until he felt her muscles loosening around him.

  He went a bit deeper, easing into her with care until he was in as far as her channel would allow him. Once more he held himself still although it took every ounce of restraint to do so. He ached to piston into her hot sheath with deep, sure strokes but he knew better. Instinct warned him to go slowly, to be gentle, though it was costing him. Sweat had popped out on his upper lip and his forehead.

  Slowly, he began to withdraw.

  She tensed around him as though her body did not want his to leave it.

  He smiled and pushed in slowly then pulled back, although not all the way out of her cunt.

  Her breath was coming in little gasps and that vein in her neck was pulsing rapidly. He lowered his lips and kissed it then planted more light kisses along the sweep of her shoulder and up her neck.