by K. E. Saxon
She stood and walked a bit away, crossing her arms over her chest and staring, unseeing, at the wall above the bed.
Robert watched her. It clearly distressed her to learn of her slumber-song. “I thought you would be pleased to learn that your voice was not ruined, that you might someday be able to speak again.”
Morgana ran her fingers along the length of her larynx. Was it possible? Could she speak? She’d not been able to utter a word for years now. She opened her mouth and tried to force a sound from her throat, but to no avail. ‘Twas no use, no matter how hard she tried, she could not utter so much as a squeak.
“You’re trying too hard. Relax your throat and then try again.”
She did as he suggested, but still no sound. She shrugged and shook her head.
“Finish your meal.” Robert took a long pull from his tankard. As he set it back down on the table, he smiled e’er so slightly. ‘Twas a strange twist, was this, him trying to get a lady to talk! Mayhap, ‘twas best to let her be silent, for who knew what silly, dull utterances would spew from those lips once she did gain her voice? Nay, he much preferred the silence. It allowed him to think, to plan, to try to figure out what the hell he was to do next to garner more wealth.
He studied her then. Besides, ‘twas a boon, this, having at his disposal the best part of a lady, her voluptuous sex, sans the worst, her bleating tongue.
* * *
Just as the sun was going down, Morgana, feeling a bit chilled even with the heat from the hearthfire and the woolen gown and linen chemise Robert had brought from a trunk for her to wear after she’d at last risen that morn, walked to the peg on the wall and took down the scarlet cloak Vika had given her a few days past.
As she grabbed hold of it, she became aware of a strange lump under the material. She opened up the cloak and made a quick search. ‘Twas sewn inside the hem. More curious than caring of ripping out threads, she opened the hem and took from it a small pouch. Once she’d loosened the string holding closed the top, she maneuvered her fingers inside and pulled out two items: A small square of seed wool and a vial. The pouch still seemed as if it had something in it. She felt inside, and discovered more seed cloth. Curious. She shrugged and opened the vial. There was a paste of some sort inside it. She sniffed. It had a definite scent of vinegar, along with ginger and possibly anise?
She sealed the vial and was just slipping it back into the pouch when Robert burst back through the door, his arms laden with more peat and kindling. His eyes dipped to her hands and widened.
“Where did you get that? Never mind, I care not.”
He took another step inside and kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot. After dumping his burden next to the hearth, he strode up to her and took all of it from her.
He lifted his gaze to hers. “Know you what these are?”
She shook her head, her brow furrowed.
“These, used together, will prevent a lady from conceiving.” Robert’s heart raced. He’d denied himself all day, afraid that if he even touched her, tasted her, as he’d sworn he’d do this morn, that he’d not be able to stop himself from fucking her as well. And now he could. Fuck her, taste her, play with her, do every lewd, carnal thing he’d imagined doing to her these past sennights.
“Take off your clothes and lie on the bed.”
Morgana’s jaw dropped open. Her breath hitched. Her heart tripped. He was going to take her again! Finally! Joy and desire warmed her, melted her, readied her. She’d wondered if he would, after he’d told her that there was little chance they’d be leaving within the sennight. Even tho’ he had sworn he wouldn’t until they returned to the abbey.
With trembling hands she unlaced her gown and walked over to stand by the bed.
* * *
Robert turned back to the hearth and placed some more peat on the flame. It took a moment for the peat to ignite, but when he was assured that ‘twould not go out, he rose to his feet and turned toward the bed. He bit back a loud guffaw. “Morgana. Take your legs from ‘round the posts and settle yourself further up on the bed.” After a split second of thought, he added, “Keep your thighs spread.”
They’d both bathed earlier in some snow water Morgana had heated and poured into the small tub he’d taken from the storeroom. There would be no herbal tinctures masking her natural scent and flavor from him this night.
He was rock hard, to the point it hurt, but he was damned if he would rush things the way he’d been obliged to do last night. He took up the seed wool and vial and strode over to her. Then he opened the vial and dipped the cloth in the paste. He placed it at her entrance and pushed it deep inside her. She flinched and bit her bottom lip. She was no doubt still sore from last night. He’d have to take it easy with her later. He pressed the seed wool up against the mouth of her womb.
Afterward, with his fingers still deep inside her, he leaned down and took one of her round pink nipples into his mouth and began a soft suckling as he gently stroked and manipulated her cushiony inner walls, teasing her clit with his thumb. ‘Twas not long before his fingers were saturated with her love juices.
He lifted his mouth from her slightly and rolled his tongue around the hardened tip of her breast. Her tight cleft squeezed and released, squeezed and released when he did that, so he knew she liked what he was doing. Her breath blew harsh now, and her hands fisted in the blanket at either side of her hips.
He trailed his tongue down the milky blue-veined mound, across the pearlescent valley between, then up the other, taking that turgid peak between his teeth and tugging it lightly. She gasped and lifted her hips high off the bed. He clamped his mouth around it then and sucked hard, moving his fingers in and out of her in a rapid motion.
She arched her back and he turned his gaze to her face. Her eyes were clamped tightly shut, but her mouth was opened wide. She thrust her head backward, the tendons in her neck strained, a flush traveled up the milky, smooth skin of her chest and o’er her face. And then the soft, fleshy muscles of her canal convulsed, and convulsed, and convulsed around his fingers. He groaned. She was beautiful when she came.
He trailed open-mouthed kisses down her torso and o’er her flat belly. He nibbled the skin there. It tasted of sunshine, had the scent of clean, womanly flesh. An image flashed in his mind of her succoring their babe, but he pushed it away, refused to acknowledge such an image as something he wanted from her.
The muscles of her tummy trembled beneath his lips and tongue. He raised up and repositioned himself on his knees between her thighs. He kept his fingers deep inside her moist, hot sheath as he settled onto his stomach and lowered his head.
He began to feast upon her then. Her sex scent, her flavor, was the most intoxicating combination he’d e’er encountered. Sweet and fertile. ‘Twas the scent of woman, and he couldn’t get enough of it.
* * *
When Robert’s tongue began the same erotic torment to that ultra-sensitive place where he’d concentrated his seduction the night before, but this time, with two long fingers inside her, stroking her, Morgana’s entire being went rigid with delighted rapture. Her thighs began to quake. She shuddered. He’d send her reeling again in no time.
A stray thought flitted through her mind: How e’er could Vika have grown bored with his lovemaking? But in the next second, her canal did its mad dance around his magic fingers once more and she was again straining and panting as waves of pleasure coursed through her.
Tho’ her canal was still sore, Robert’s skillful ministrations had brought forth such profound delight that it quickly o’ertook the stinging ache his long, thick digits had initially caused her.
* * *
Robert made her come one more time before he lifted his mouth from her clitoris. He took a moment to revel in the highly sensual image before him: His fingers deep inside the lush, red-lipped cunt of his naturally black-haired lover. He dipped his head and took one last long suck of her clit, gratified when her muscles tightened around his fingers and she jerked
a bit.
Then he slowly drew them out of her and raised up onto his knees once more. He tossed his tunic and shirt up and off o’er his head and then untied his braies and pushed them down.
Morgana watched as Robert’s linen undergarment snagged on his manhood and caused it to bob a bit, like a jack-in-the-box. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. No wonder it had hurt so bitterly! He was huge!
“We fit together fine, Morgana, calm yourself.”
He repositioned his knees on either side of her hips and walked forward, grabbing another pillow and placing it under her head and shoulders at the same time. “Take hold of me in both your hands and put me in your mouth.”
Morgana’s heart skipped a beat. She ran her tongue o’er her suddenly parched lips, but did as he demanded. The flesh was a deeper tone than the rest of his skin, slightly ruddy, in fact. And ‘twas warm—hot, really—to the touch. Hard. Like silk covered iron. No wonder it had felt as if she’d been torn asunder the night before.
She could hear the meter of his breathing begin to change, grow short and rapid. Did he enjoy feeling her hands on him then? She took a chance and looked up at his face. His cheeks were flushed, his head bent back, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes were closed. She smiled. A sense of womanly satisfaction filled her. Aye, he liked it well.
She lifted her head and took as much of him into her mouth as she could fit, continuing to hold him with both her hands fisted along the length. The blunt round head of the thing filled her mouth and she started exploring it with her tongue. She heard Robert gasp and he shuddered rather forcefully, so she continued along in that same vein. Some deep, primordial need rose up in her and she began to suckle. Lightly at first, but then with e’er more avid glee.
Robert’s head was spinning. He leaned forward and took hold of the bed posts for support. “Christ, Morgana. You have the mouth of a proficient.” Of their own volition, his hips began to rock, forcing a bit more of his cock into her mouth. Morgana took it, and then loosed her grip on him enough to allow his pulsing shaft to move through them and into the divine suction of her hot, wet, tongue-teasing mouth. His cods drew up higher still, his sack tensed and thickened.
Morgana felt Robert’s manhood grow thicker, more turgid, the muscles beneath the satin-smooth skin contracting against her palms, felt with her tongue a tickling rush under the skin of it and inside a large vein. Then she tasted something a bit salty. Was this his seed then?
Robert yanked out of her mouth, out of her grasp. “Nay, we’ll save that for another time.” His face was as scarlet as her cloak and damp with sweat. He pushed himself back and lay on top of her, tossing the extra pillow to the side once more. When he was fully atop her, he took her face in his hands, bent his head, and gave her the most sensual, gentle, sublime kiss she’d e’er dreamed of receiving from him. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him to her. He ran his tongue along the line of her bottom lip and nibbled at it with his teeth before softly sucking at it.
This, this was how she’d imagined the first time would be. She reveled in the tenderness of his assault.
When Morgana opened her mouth a bit wider, Robert took advantage, sending his tongue into its dark, sultry recesses. She tasted of heaven, of silvered moons and twinkling, starry nights. Of home.
He began to move his hips, pressing his erection against her mons and belly. “Open for me. Wrap your legs around my waist.” After she’d done as he demanded, he trailed a hand down to her breast, stopping briefly to tease and tweak the nipple, and then went lower still, o’er the rest of her torso. He raised his head and looked into her eyes as he lifted his hips and positioned himself at her portal. And this time, with slow, gentle pushes, he entered her.
They were both gasping for breath by the time he was fully seated inside her.
Morgana ran her tongue o’er her parched lips as she studied her lover. The black centers of his pale gray eyes had grown large, his lips open, his cheeks flushed scarlet once again. There was a look of ecstasy on his face that gave Morgana a deep satisfaction. So much so, that she felt a thrill run through her, straight into her canal. It clenched around him.
Robert jerked. “Christ!” He tossed his head back and gritted his teeth, feeling his seed rise up again. He’d ne’er had a lover like her, who could make him spend so quickly, so violently.
He dipped his head and kissed her again, this time showing her the explosive passion he was feeling for her. He was out of his head now. He rocked and strained, pushed and pounded away at her. He wanted to devour her. He fisted his hand in her hair and yanked her head back, ignoring her gasp as he forced her to take all of his tongue, just as her tight cleft was taking the full length of his tarse.
All at once, her frame grew rigid beneath him and her thighs widened. In the next moment, the strong fist of her cunt began to milk him, begging him to give up his seed.
He jerked up, straightening his arms as he plowed e’er harder into her clenching womb. With a shout, he let loose his seed at last, shuddered with the intensity of the release it afforded. And then he collapsed on top of her, his breath rasping and loud. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his shoulder. Joy tripped o’er the corners of his heart, but to the feeling, he shut tight his mind, shut tight his soul.
CHAPTER 3
ROBERT AWOKE LATE the next morn. He opened his eyes and realized Morgana wasn’t in bed with him. For a moment, a dark panic assailed him, but then he heard a rustling noise to his right and looked to find her preparing their meal for the morn.
He smiled. His wee vixen lover had wrung him dry, it seemed, but he’d clearly given her more vigor. They’d spent the better part of the night discovering each other, finding new positions that they both enjoyed. Learning just how many climaxes they could have in a row before they swooned. His smile turned into a sheepish grin. That was the last part of the night he remembered. Evidently, it had been he who had swooned first.
“Is—” His voice was a croak. He cleared his throat and started again. “Have you taken the seed wool from you yet? I can aid in that, if you wish.”
Morgana turned to him and nodded, indicating with her hands that she’d done the deed and then washed up when she arose this morn.
He rolled to his side and sat up, placing his feet firmly on the floor and grasping the edge of the mattress in his hands. “What smells so good? I confess, I’ve a grave hunger this morn after the trial of strength and endurance you put me through this night past.” And, surprisingly, he was hungry; he didn’t lie.
Morgana lifted the lid to the pot she had hooked to the spit o’er the hearth and took out a spoonful. She walked over to him and pushed it under his nose. His eyes crossed trying to look at it, but she didn’t give him time, instead simply shoveled it between his teeth.
“Mmm. ‘Tis tasty,” he said between chews. “Rabbit?”
Morgana nodded. She’d been assigned to the kitchens at the nunnery, a thing, it turned out, that pleased her well. For she loved to cook and she loved to feed those she cared for.
He took hold of her other hand and raised it to his lips, placing a kiss in its palm. “Lovely.”
Morgana trembled. Was he talking about her? Or the rabbit stew?
After the previous night she’d shared with him, her heart had grown e’er fonder, and she craved to know that he might be feeling a bit of the same hopeful joy that she was feeling now.
She leaned down and kissed him on the lips. ‘Twas a bold move, she knew, a romantic gesture. For, she knew, much deeper feelings could be relayed in a kiss than in the act of copulation of which so many at court partook.
Her heart warmed when he returned the kiss in like fashion. She smiled into it, then grinned when he did the same. He whacked her on the bottom, saying, “Finish cooking my meal, woman, else I’ll not have the energy to finish where we left off this night past.”
Morgana twirled away and happily continued her endeavor. She wanted to sing, so filled with elation was she. So she t
ried. But the effort was futile, as it always was. She shrugged and placed a bit more spice in the sauce.
Robert rose and quickly dressed. Then he grabbed the two iron pails from the corner with the intent of filling them with snow and then heating it on the hearth for a quick wash. When he opened the door, he nearly dropped the buckets. Morgana’s uncle, Donnach Cambel, an earl in King William’s court, and at least twenty of his soldiers were sitting astride their mounts just outside the cot. One of his clansmen was bound and sitting behind another of the men. ‘Twas clear he’d been beaten nearly to death. The man gave him an apologetic look and Robert gave him a short nod of understanding.
He stepped outside and closed the door behind him, then took the steps down and walked to within ten paces of her uncle.
“Have you my niece inside that cot?”
“Aye.”
“You’ll wed her then.” The earl lifted his arm in a signal to one of the horsemen in the back and that man made his way forward.
‘Twas a priest, Robert quickly saw. A feeling of doom filled his breast. He was well and truly stuck. There would be no way for him to e’er pay his father’s debts and he would lose it all. Everything he’d been fighting to keep these past three years was crumbling into dust right before his eyes. And all because of his desperate scheme to abduct and wed an heiress.
Vika. She was to blame for this as well. A ball of hatred formed in his gut. For if she had not arranged for the switch, had simply not arrived for their tryst, then he’d still have three moons in which to find another fortune. Or….
Robert ground his teeth, swallowing a roar of anger and betrayal. Mayhap, this had been the plan all along. Mayhap they’d thought to foist Morgana, the poor relation, the mute, hardly marriageable lady, off on him. And Morgana had willingly gone along with the plan, knowing ‘twould be her best chance of getting a husband. Aye, the scope of their vile plot was growing e’er more clear to him.