by Sahara Kelly
Linnet paused, obeying his command. The soft stuff caressed her naked back and buttocks like the light touch of a butterfly. She squirmed her hips at the sensual brush of the hairs against her body.
“‘Tis no softer than your skin, my sweet,” said Gilles, lowering his head and flicking light licking kisses across her belly and upwards to her breasts.
Linnet’s head was spinning. This was…this was…extraordinary. Her whole body was melting beneath him, softening, quickening, and readying itself for his possession.
And yet he was still taking his time.
She could not say she was not enjoying it, for that would have been the wildest lie. It just puzzled her and caught her off guard. Never could she have imagined being loved like this.
Gilles was hotter, happier and more involved with his lovemaking than he could ever recall being in his entire life.
His world had narrowed down to the beautiful woman responding so willingly to his touch.
Every gentle stroke, light kiss or flick of his tongue brought a moan of pleasure from her throat, and her sounds inspired him to even greater heights.
And lengths.
If he got much bigger or harder, he’d push her teeth out with his cock when he finally claimed her.
But this loving was melting her beneath him, softening the edges of her concentration, and bringing the deeply passionate woman she was to the fore.
He found her breasts.
Firm, rounded, and hardened at the tips, they begged for his mouth, and he obliged, loving the sounds she made as he tugged her nipple gently into his wet warmth.
He rolled it around experimentally, finding out what made her moan and what made her shiver. Leaving a dampness behind, he leaned across her and treated the other breast to the same touch.
Her hands were gripping his shoulders now, nails digging into his muscles and kneading him. He doubted she was even aware of what she was doing, so involved was she in her newfound desire.
Her scent filled his nostrils, and he slid a hand across her soft belly, finding her tight curls and slipping past into the drenching moisture beneath.
Her back arched as he flicked her sensitive spots, and rubbed her juices over her mound and back down, finally, gently, slipping a finger inside her.
“Ahhh, God, Gilles…” she moaned.
Her hips were writhing, her cunny growing ever hotter around his hand and finger.
“You like that too, love?” He raised his head as he asked the question, the better to see her face.
She moaned, and Gilles smiled. This was how he’d imagined her. Flushed and passionate, needing naught but him, his fingers, his tongue and his cock. Nothing in her mind, no thoughts of anything but him.
And the pleasure he was giving her.
And of course, he was happy to oblige. Never mind that his own body was ready to burst into a shower of seed, his cock struggling to release its life-giving load. He held back, gritted his teeth against the need, and continued his sensual journey over Linnet, learning her sweetness, drinking her desire, and turning her into a puddle of hot ecstasy beneath him.
Finally, he could hold on no longer.
Practically insensate, Linnet made no demur when he parted her thighs wide and settled himself between them.
He paused, willing her to open her eyes and watch him as he finally claimed what he knew, with complete certainty, was his.
His stillness must have penetrated her haze, because her beautiful brown eyes opened.
Heavy lidded, she stared at him.
“I am going to take you, Linnet. I can wait no longer for the feel of your silken cunny caressing my cock. Like this…” He gently rubbed the head of his cock against her flesh, moistening it, and mixing his own drops of passion with the honey soaking her mound.
She bit her lip against a cry and gasped with the pleasure of his touch.
“Watch me, Linnet. Keep your eyes open and watch me. Watch me love you, Linnet…”
His voice cracked with the need he felt shivering up and down his spine.
Blue eyes met brown, and Gilles gently slid his ever-so-ready cock into Linnet’s waiting body.
Further and further he went, pushing easily into her hot cunny.
She took him all the way in.
He stopped as their bodies met in a tangle of curled hair, his balls brushing her buttocks and her thighs high and wide, grasping him now, tightly, in an embrace of need and passion.
He froze. God in heaven.
Her cunny was fire to his steel, a gauntlet designed just for his male hand. She fit like she’d been made just for this. For him.
He sighed, knowing this moment was unique in a lifetime.
And knowing that a lifetime would be too short to enjoy it.
He withdrew slightly and plunged back again. The feeling grew stronger, warmer. The knowledge that she was his mate, his other half. Her passion matched his, her body melded to his, and her heart…
Saints, he hoped this loving was touching her heart in the same way it was his own.
“More, Gilles, more…” she begged, writhing her hips against him in an effort to pull him back deep within her where he belonged.
He was more than ready to comply.
He quickened his pace, keeping his hips moving now, always moving, in and out of her fire, sometimes pressing hard against her as he plunged deep, other times just brushing her delicate flesh with his own.
He raised himself a little and grasped her hips, pulling her body up from the furs and positioning her just where he wanted her.
Where he could sink himself nigh to the womb that lay empty inside her. What he wouldn’t give to plant his seed there. To plant his future there.
The thought blindsided him with its intensity.
He shook a little under the force of it, the need of it, and found his shudders matched by the woman whose buttocks were clenching in his grasp.
She was nearing her release.
And so, to his surprise, was he.
No thoughts of withdrawing and spilling himself outside her body even entered his mind.
He was there to stay. To explode within her, to fill her with every ounce of himself. To claim what was most surely, completely, and unquestionably his.
He increased the thrusts now, barely moving back before thrusting again.
He released one buttock and slid a hand between them, finding that aroused button of flesh hard and ready for his touch.
He stroked it as he sank deep within her once more.
Linnet screamed and came.
Gilles damned near screamed, too.
His cock exploded as her cunny clamped aroundit, pulsing and shuddering as her body spasmed beneath him, milking him, pulling him ever deeper until he could swear he felt her womb as it drank everything he had to give.
His buttocks locked, his balls ached, and he let the fire sweep from his heels to his ears as he emptied himself into the woman of his heart.
It had never, ever, been like this for him.
His spasms seemed endless, and the slightest move brought Linnet to the peak once more, her gasps mirroring his own as she clamped her thighs to his body with a fierce passion.
Finally, breathless, their bodies surrendered and softened, weak from their loving, and sated after a release that left them both stunned and helpless.
Gilles slowly eased his cock from Linnet’s body, and with a gentle sigh rolled to her side, gathering her in his arms and holding her tight.
She still shivered with the aftershocks of the experience, and Gilles was astounded to realize that he had tears on his cheeks.
She’d touched him, somewhere new, somewhere vulnerable, somewhere he’d never been touched before.
Sighing, he admitted the truth. She hadn’t only claimed his cock, she’d claimed his heart.
The tournament was hers. He’d surrendered. Cried for mercy like the veriest squire out-manned in his first challenge.
He was in love with Linnet A
ylmer.
Chapter 9
The experience of being swept up once more into Guy’s arms made Mechele’s senses swim.
He strode rapidly along the dark path to the barn, in spite of the burden he bore, and she felt his heartbeat pounding against her body. It was thrilling, exciting, and arousing all at once.
Daringly she raised her face to his neck and pressed her lips to the slightly prickly skin she felt there.
Oh how she wanted this.
His arms clasped her tighter still, holding her high against him, as if to make her kisses easier for her. Obeying an impulse, she ran her tongue along his jaw, and a slight murmur burst from him.
“Damn it, Mechele, I shall come right here if you keep that up,” he muttered, moving even faster and entering the shadows of the barn.
Without a hitch in his stride, he carried her up the wooden steps to the loft where he and Gilles had slept. The upper doors were open to let in the moonlight and the cool night breezes.
Mechele shivered. Not with cold, but with heat.
He lowered her to her feet and his hands went to her breast, grasping the low neckline of her kirtle and with one savage tug ripping it from her body.
She found herself hurriedly pulling at his shirt, fumbling with his laces, desperate now for the sight and the touch and the feel of his body.
He helped her, tearing away his clothes until he was as naked as she.
His gray eyes glowed with fire, and he pulled her hard against him, letting her feel his body, his cock and his rapid pulse as his lips claimed hers.
Hard and demanding, his kiss sent her mind into a whirl of desire.
She clutched at him, digging her nails into his back, sliding her hands to his buttocks, and learning his body as thoroughly as he was learning hers.
He was all hard angles and muscles and his heat burned her palms as she discovered the joy of touching him.
“By the Saints, Mechele,” he whispered through their kiss. “I want you.”
His words urged her on.
She was astonished at the savage need that swept through her. The unleashing of some deep dark fire of desire that she’d never imagined she possessed.
He released her lips and she dropped her head to his chest, desperate to taste and touch and feel…
Her hands threaded through the whorls of black hair she found rubbing against her and brushed against a flat nipple.
His shiver was all the response she needed.
She lowered her lips and suckled on him, bringing more shivers and a moan of pleasure to his throat.
“You taste so…so…” she mumbled, finding the other nipple and treating it to the same loving.
“As do you, sweet,” he answered, his voice rough.
His huge cock was pressed to her belly and she felt shudders exploding within her at the thought of being possessed by him, by his length and his heat.
He swept her yet again into his arms, refusing to let her move her head from his chest, just holding it there until he tumbled them both onto the blankets spread across the hay.
Then his mouth claimed hers once again as his hands began to learn every inch of her softness.
The hay was covered, but still stuck through, pressing its sharp points into her back like thousands of tiny pinpricks. None hurt, but the effect on Mechele was astounding.
She gasped as his weight pushed her even further into the hay. It was as if every nerve, every little spot of skin she owned was being stimulated in a new and arousing way.
And of course, Guy’s hands and mouth were doing a fine job too.
His fingers dove between her thighs, pushing, feeling, plundering the treasures he found there.
His lips gravitated to her breasts and with one great gasp he suckled her in his turn.
His tongue clamped around her nipple, holding it tight, almost painfully so, to the roof of his mouth, as he sucked.
Combined with the devastation his hand was wreaking, Mechele sobbed in delirious pleasure.
She writhed and squirmed and opened her thighs wider, encouraging him, needing him, wanting him beyond anything she’d ever experienced.
This was no gentle lovemaking. This was true heartfelt desire and passion, and she couldn’t get enough of it.
“More, Guy, more,” she moaned.
It seemed he was happy to oblige.
He plunged two fingers deep inside her, pulling back and fixing her gaze with his as he moved within her.
“Mine, Mechele, mine,” he whispered savagely.
“Yes, oh yes,” she groaned, lifting her hips to encourage him.
He lowered his head to her belly and licked a path to her navel, pausing to drop little soft bites on the delicate skin.
His fingers never let up their teasing, stimulating movements, and he pressed his thumb hard into the flesh beneath her mound, finding her most sensitive spot and abrading it with a roughness that was like to drive her out of her mind.
His rough cheeks grazed her skin deliciously, the prickle of his beard stubble matching the prickle of the hay on her back.
He withdrew his fingers from her cunny and she groaned at the loss.
Then he replaced them with his mouth and she groaned again, but this time for the sheer thrill of his touch.
He devoured her with his tongue, thrusting deep into her, replacing his fingers with fierce flicks and nips that she had never realized she’d needed so badly.
She was soaked in her own juices and he sucked them greedily, slurping and eating her passion, then baring his teeth and grazing that little bud of flesh to send shivers of pleasure through her entire body.
His beard rubbed her thighs, abrading the soft skin to the point of pain, and she wouldn’t have stopped it if she could.
And she couldn’t.
Guy’s hands were like tempered steel on her hips, holding her tight, moving her this way and that, and leaving branded scars of passion on her soul.
He rose, towering over her in the moonlight, all heat and desire and man.
His eyes flared and his cock found her.
He thrust deep, never stopping until he was seated to the hilt in her willing body.
“Taste yourself, Mechele,” he muttered and crushed her lips beneath his.
Between the feel of his cock stretching her and the force of his kiss on hers, Mechele was lost.
His tongue dueled with hers, each parrying, back and forth, in an imitation of the act that was to follow.
She tasted the rough desire and man that was Guy, and also the sweetness of her own juices.
She wanted more.
Guy obliged.
He was beside himself with a rare blend of lust, need and passion. His ordered and logical brain was in a tangle, and he was driven purely by his basic desire to claim this woman as his own.
Her taste was beyond compare, her sexuality matched his in every way, and he wanted to lose himself in it and her for the rest of eternity.
The incredible feel of her hot silken cunny as he thrust himself inside her and filled her to both their limits, had shaken him more than he could have imagined.
Her nipples were hard points beneath his chest and her mouth seemed as eager to devour him as he was to return the favor.
He thrust hard against her.
She met each and every move with a parry of her own, challenging him, encouraging him, urging him on to greater and greater heights. Or depths. Or whatever.
He stifled a groan as his cock met her womb and trembled.
Lowering himself back to his elbows he grasped her and rolled them over in the hay, not caring that they’d rumpled the blankets beyond repair, just itching to get deeper into her body, her heart and her soul.
He stopped on his back, with his cock still buried deep in Mechele.
She paused, then straightened, a light in her hazel eyes betraying her curiosity and interest in this new position.
She settled herself, quickly adapting to her own ability to control thei
r movements.
She raised up and slid back down onto his cock with a gasp of pleasure.
“Ride me, Mechele,” he hissed. “Ride me.”
Her nails dug into his chest and she complied, moving rhythmically above him, stroking him, sucking him deep within her and then sliding away from him again.
She might have been born for this, was his random thought, as he watched her toss her fair hair back from her face and felt it cascade over his thighs behind her.
Her eyes were closed, her neck muscles taut, and her body—ahhh, her body. Luscious and ripe, her breasts swung as she moved, and he could not resist reaching for her nipples.
Obligingly she lowered herself, welcoming his touch with a moan.
He briefly glanced around and grabbed a small bale of hay, using it as a pillow and raising the upper half of his body a little. Now he could play.
Mechele continued to stroke him with her cunny, making his teeth ache in an effort to control the fire within him that threatened to erupt any second.
He slipped a hand around her buttocks and moistened his fingers in her honey which had bathed them both.
He caressed her buttocks, and found the crevice between them, tracing it with his hand until she gasped in surprise.
“You’ll like this, love, trust me,” he said, his voice catching as he pressed a finger against her arse.
“Oh yes, oh yes,” she cried, never breaking her pace yet eager for each new and astounding thing he could show her.
He pressed, and his finger penetrated her, making her shudder and cry out at the intrusion.
His cock felt as long as his broadsword now, and her body was doing all the claiming.
She welcomed his finger as she had his cock, with desire and heat and everything she possessed.
It was as if their loving had unleashed a wildness within her that could not be quenched by anything or anyone but him.
She was panting now, slowing a little as her legs bore the weight of her body in its unaccustomed movements.
Once again he pulled his hands from her softness and rolled them back, sliding over to the tumble of blankets, aware of the poke of the hay on his legs and shoulders.
“Are you uncomfortable?” he ground out, needing to ask, but finding it hard to hear her answer.