His expression was far more captivating than Harold’s as well, with the crooked grin and the awful gleam in his dark eyes. Head tipping into her touch his weight dropped onto her a little more, pinning her and grinding in the slightest despite that he was still clothed. Far too clothed. He needed to be as vulnerable as she was.
Her fingers curled tight in his hair, and her eyes narrowed up at him, “undress yourself. Slowly, I’d like to watch.”
Surprise flitted through his eyes, and then he was sitting back, eying her up and down. “I suppose that’s only fair, isn’t it?” A laugh escaped him even as he went about undoing the buttons of his shirt and pulling the drab cloth off of himself. He was as muscular as she’d suspected, abs defined but not grotesquely oversized, chest hair curled and the same shade as his hair. It had her breath catching up, had her grinning just a little herself.
“Do not forget your pants, those too.”
One of his eyebrows raised and he stood to unlace his breeches, painfully slowly, and then dark cloth fell free of his waist, and he was just as bare as she was. She took her time to enjoy the sight. She had never enjoyed the sight of her husband, and she had been spared the sight of Jeffrey. But with him… she could have been content to look upon his body every day. It wasn’t soft and paunchy from wealth, it was rugged, and sun touched. Every scar and callous holding a story, the shadowed hint of muscle-pleasing to the eye. She sat up, she couldn’t not, her hands gathered up underneath her. She wanted to touch.
“Come here.”
“As you wish, my Queen,” He seemed utterly amused with her commanding tone of voice, but he moved closer and sank to his knees again. Her hands moved towards him almost of their own accord, fingertips glancing against his chest and splaying out eagerly. Over muscle they traced, following the inclines of his body and enjoying the shape of him. The solidity, the firm way his breath pushed at her palms and the hair on his chest tickled at her fingertips. Her fingers curled a little and her nails dragged against him, down his stomach lightly, drawing a shudder up out of him. “Will we ever fuck or are you content to memorize every part of my body?” The attitude in his tone was wholly teasing, playful, but she couldn’t help the way she nailed him with a look.
“You are the only man I could stand to look at for longer than five minutes without feeling disgust? Or that I’ve ever touched. Do you think my husband has felt my hands on his body? He has not… I will not. I refuse. Besides which, perhaps I should take as long as you to make a move? How long have you been here committing mine to memory instead of acting on it?”
Even as she spoke, she moved, reaching out to catch at his shoulders and then climb into his lap. Her legs wrapped around his waist as her body brushed up close to his, her breasts up against him so that every breath could be felt in rise and fall of their chests. Her hands went to his head again, delving into his hair as she rocked forward and kissed him full on the lips before he could respond to her.
“At least I want to remember you…” The mutter escaped her in a miffed tone of voice and then her legs were squeezing lightly at his sides, her weight shifting as she rubbed her body against his. Friction caused a thrill to play through her, his body heat was soaking into her pleasantly. She didn’t stop to see if he was amused or not, she didn’t care, didn’t want to know. Shoving at his chest, she pushed him back, her hair tickling past her shoulders as her eyes flashed. As his weight rocked back a little her body caught at his, her legs tensing even as her hips pushed into the firm feel of him. He was solid, a warm heat resting up against her core. Her body wept at the feel of it. It wasn’t anything she’d ever felt before.
Neither of the men she’d been with had been big enough to be felt with such clarity, big enough to make her ache pleasantly. She didn’t even have to reach down to adjust him. Instead each rub against him had him pushing into her. A delicious slide in and out that went a little deeper each time until he was filling her up. Until her body was flush against his, tight against his, and her inner muscles squeezed tight around the feel of him. It had her fingers curling, her stomach clenching a little and then she lifted her hips up even as a groan escaped him. Triumph filled her as she rode him, each time her body dragged over him she felt him weaken a little more until he was on his back and her hands were clutched at his shoulder, and her body was rising and dropping of its own accord.
Her eyes were blue fire; she’d never been on top. She’d always been covered by the weight of the one taking her or pinned up against some unyielding surface. But here her hair sifted lightly around her, tickling down against his body with every move she made. Her own body felt free and light, the pleasurable drag of him giving her a primal sort of strength she’d never felt. It was something that kept her moving until the way she let her weight fall into him had her breath shaky and her body hot, muscles quivering. It was addictive, the way he felt, and she never thought she would tire of it.
Then she found herself on her back, the ground cold and hard against her and causing her to gasp. Or perhaps it was the way he moved within her that had made her gasp. She felt him push deep inside her and it had her lips parting, a strangled, inelegant noise escaping her lips. It had little stars of light dancing in her vision, her fingers curling and grasping against his skin as he thrust into her again. His body curved over hers, fair protecting her from the rest of the world as she fell apart beneath him. Her heels scraped against the stone floor and her back arched, pressing her body up into his as she cried out in the most breathless of ways. “Xavier… I…”
Her mouth found itself covered with his. His lips brushing at hers as he thrust a little harder and she found her body tightening up all over again. Sobbed breaths escaping her as he moved. There it was again, that heavenly feeling that had her squirming beneath him, shaking, and then he was simply resting inside her. Her body weak beneath his, even if her muscles were twitching around him still. Had she tried to merely lift a hand, she felt it would be impossible.
“Just as wonderful as I thought you’d be Emeline…” Xavier fair purred it into an ear and she made a soft noise in response, but couldn’t have defined what exactly it was.
Chapter Five
She woke in her bed, bundled in the soft fabric of her blankets and entirely naked. For a moment she was confused as to how she’d gotten there, why she hadn’t put on a nightgown… but when she remembered a flush crept up across her cheeks, and she curled around a pillow with a smile on her face. There was a soft clink of metal against metal that drew her eyes open and had her blinking to focus, but when she did a giggle escaped her, and she reached to scoop up the stack of four, gleaming coins.
He had left her four coins, not two or three like the whore. Maybe that meant she was worth more? She clutched them to her chest like a favorite toy. The hundreds of gold coins she had at her disposal were meager in comparison to those four. Who knew four coins could carry so much meaning.
The sound of horns blaring had her sitting up abruptly, gathering up a blanket around herself as she leaped from the bed to peer out the window. Wind caught in her hair, fair slapped her in the face, but she couldn’t mistake the banners that were flying high and proud as they moved into the courtyard. Nor could she mistake the booming tone of her dear husband’s voice. It dulled some of her euphoria, but didn’t kill all of it. He would be gone soon. There was no reason to have her good mood ruined by that man.
That thought only elated her more.
Moving over to the wall she rang the bell for her handmaiden, who was there within a moment and helping her into her underclothes and her dress. It was a lovely red color, dark flowers sewn into the material of it. There were bruises on her body, but the girl knew her place and didn’t ask where they had come from. Nor did she ask where the coins had come from.
“Thank you, you may leave now…” She watched the mousy girl leave the room and then followed herself, after she had tucked her coins into a hidden pocket in her gown. Her steps were light on the stairs as she ma
de her way to their entrance hall and stood there, waiting.
When Harold walked in he was regaling some poor knight with a tale of a massive boar he had slain on his trip, and how the wind had howled and the storm had raged. The man did have a flair for the dramatic.
“Welcome home, my love. What are we to eat for supper this evening?” Her voice jumped into the air, strong and confident. The past couple of days had done that much for her. Or perhaps it had been last night that gave that to her.
“Two of the largest bucks you have ever seen, and a boar the size of our breakfast table. You will not believe the stories I have to tell you and Jeffrey. We must have the hall prepared for guests at once, it will take them all evening to get it ready. I brought a few of our lordly friends with me to celebrate, it will be marvelous. Performers from nearby cities will be here all for our amusement. Marvelous, marvelous!” He was speaking even as he moved past her, more than likely to take a bath of his own.
That was fine, “I am certain that I cannot wait to hear those tales…” She had begun to walk off towards the courtyard as she said so, to waste the day.
By the time people had begun arriving for the celebration the sun was setting, and she was chatting with the wife of some Lord or other. She really couldn’t have cared less who it was, at least she was somewhat entertaining. She had to have been somewhat important to be sitting up at her table.
A group of masked jesters had taken the center of the room, were performing all sorts of tricks to amuse their gathered mass. Contortionists that made her own body ache and jugglers that handled several torches at once. When the King walked in, her gaze skipped towards him. He was looking so very happy and delighted with himself, she could only imagine what sort of a shock it would come as when he found himself dying.
She wondered where Xavier was, what he planned to do. How he was going to kill Harold. Perhaps it would be poison. Perhaps a dagger like he’d used the night before. It fascinated her, how he could orchestrate an assassination in the midst of such company. Perhaps if she saw him again, she could ask him how he had decided on what to do.
It seemed as though the moment he sat down, the entertainers swarmed their table. Bowing and twirling and doing all sorts of things. One of them stepped forwards, tipping his hat. His mask was that of a rabbit, its ears perked as though waiting for something to happen. He introduced them as A Company of Strange Men, a rather dull name in her opinion… but perhaps there was some sort of story behind it. She rested her chin on her palm as she watched the performers and nudged at the food on her plate. The deer meat was uninteresting to her, but then she couldn’t really help her impatience.
Harold seemed to find them amusing at the least. Their bright colors dancing before his eyes, smoke escaping from somewhere and muddying up the air to make their actions seem a little more mischievous. One of the masked figures caught her eye, something about the way he moved. She watched him juggle knives, their twinkling blades flicking up into the air and dropping perilously back to his hands. It had her eyes widening in a way that the fire juggler hadn’t been able to do.
“Oh my, that cannot be safe… not at all…” The murmur escaped her, but before she could say much more, one of those twinkling blades flew from the mass of bodies that were dancing around each other and she heard a sickening thunk nearby. The masked man that had caught her eye nowhere in sight.
Could it have been Xavier?
That would have been mighty clever of him…
Her gaze turned, and she looked at her husband with an expression of utter and complete horror. It wasn’t all faked either, she’d never seen a man die before, and the blade had buried to the hilt in her husband’s chest. Rising from her seat, she moved over to where Harold was gasping for breath and bleeding out. Arms wrapping around his shoulders she leaned into him, sobbing something like ‘Harold no!’ for all the spectators she had.
His eyes were wild, panicked, but there was only delight in her own eyes. She made sure he saw it, too, before she leaned in near his ear. “Die, you bastard… I am free.” Then she let the tears roll down her face as she felt fingers close around her arm and pull her away. “No, but I cannot. Harold. I must make sure he is okay? Will he be okay?” By the time her gaze reached the knight’s, it was panicked and sad.
“Your highness… we will do what we can… but you should return to your chambers at once. I will take you there, and you will be safe. Do not fear, my Queen.”
So noble of you sir knight, yes take me to my chambers so I may dance with joy…
She found herself guided down darkened hallways, through doors until she had reached her own. The room was dark, it seemed foreign as though the events of the day had painted it unfamiliar despite the fact that she had lived in it for what felt like her entire life. “You may leave, sir knight… I shall be safe in my chambers…”
The armor clad man gave little protest, it was clear he wanted to be down in the hall finding justice for his king’s death. If he only knew that the cause of death was standing right in front of him, protected by the sword, he would wield against whoever had done it.
The irony didn’t escape her.
Closing the door, she turned to move deeper into the darkness of the room. Spinning a circle, her dress flared out around her like the petals of a flower. Her fingers lifted to her hair to pull the pins from it that kept it all bound up, letting the loose curls fall down around her shoulders. A smile tugged at her lips even as she found the laces of her dress and undid them, letting one layer after the other fall from her body as though she was shedding her old self.
She didn’t see the body stretched so lazily across her bed until she had spun once more and made her way closer to it. The shadowed form of him startled her, made her jump and smother a yelped noise. The moonlight filtering in through her window was enough to make out his face after a moment, the look of pure enjoyment on it. “Xavier?”
“Again, little bird, don’t stop on my account. You looked like you were enjoyin’ yourself.” His tone was gruff, gave her chills as it reminded her of the night before.
“Perhaps,” She perched on the edge of the bed, the smile having returned to her face. “He bled so much… did you know a man could bleed so much? I feel so… so…”
“Free?” He supplied for her, reaching to tug her closer to him, “and yes… I did know that men bleed a lot. Especially fat men. Fat, rich men bleed the most, in fact.”
A giggle escaped her and she tumbled against his side, a hand splaying on his chest, “do they? Would you bleed as much as he did?”
“Do I look like a fat, rich man? Besides, we don’t ask that question Emeline. D’rather not bleed at all.”
“I like asking questions I should not ask,” She rolled atop him and caught up his hands to pin them down against the bed. “Perhaps I want to see how much you would bleed?”
His eyes widened up at her, “You do, don’t you. Aye m’lady, you could if you wanted. Though, don’t suspect you will. I suspect you’ve far more entertaining things to do with me in light of the death of your husband.”
“Well… I suppose it is true I can think of a one and a thousand more pleasing things that I could do with you.” She leaned down, her hair falling past her to create a curtain around them, and kissed him.
His hands skimmed down to her ass, catching up flesh and fair holding her against himself. It was wild, but she loved it, her inhibitions had been lost somewhere along the hallways back to her room. She rested her weight back into his grasp enjoying the support of his hands even as her kisses trailed down from his jawline to his throat and lower. His fingers moved, sliding against her skin in a way that had her shivering, his touches driving her crazy, making her feel wanton and exposed with how they lingered possessively even with how distracted he was with what she was doing.
“Five coins…”
“What?”
“You’d be worth five coins…”
Her voice was amused, sultry with desire.
Her head lifted, her back arching as her hands planted on either side of him and her fingers curled into the covers tightly. Her hair falling heavier on one side as she peered at him. He seemed taken aback for a moment and then there was that crooked sort of smile coming into evidence. She sat back on her knees and to her surprise he moved, muscle defining a little as he sat up, his hands running up her sides, fingers curling to play into the hollow of her spine as it arched and trace out the curve of it slowly. The tantalizing caress drew a pleased noise into her throat and then his face buried against her shoulder.
The soft scruff of his face itched at her skin, had her arms moving around his shoulders even as he followed a trail of kisses up her collarbone lazily. The touch of his tongue got surprise to tickle at her senses heatedly. It burned at her, fair scalding at her skin in a way that made no logical sense and was chased by the soft press of his lips. Arousal pooled low between her legs even as his head moved, his hair tickling against her skin as he chased kisses up the arch of her throat. Each one unhurried, slow. It was sublime, it had her eyes fluttering closed as her head tipped back and her hair hung out behind her and tickled against her back enticingly.
“Just five?” The rough sort of hoarseness of his voice tickled at her ears, had her shivering again just at hearing it.
It had her pulse pounding enticingly as her breath hitched up and her teeth caught at her own lip to curtail a smile. Up his hands went, one skimming up over the nape of her neck into her hair and then her head was pulled back, her body arching backward as he caught at her hair firmly and dragged her towards the mattress. Even as she curved backward, his lips skimmed over the swell of a breast, and then a shocked noise keened out of her as they closed over a nipple. She arched into him more, her legs drawing close as she tried to sink her chest away from the intensity of the sensation.
The Campus Jock: A College Bad Boy Romance Page 95