"You will be different now," he said.
She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Aye, right."
"You will," he said and could no longer fight the heaviness of his eyelids. He closed his eyes. "You'll see."
That said, he went to sleep, deep in the velvety arms of the drug.
Lauryl smiled at the innocent picture he presented with one hand tucked under his cheek and the fingers of his other hand buried in the wooly's thick coat.
"Quite a handsome man, eh?" She gave the wooly a quizzical look, and the animal blinked at her as though it agreed with the assessment.
She fell asleep looking at him.
Chapter Four
"There," she said. "Right there."
His finger probed the sensitive spot, circling it with the pad of his middle finger, pressing and releasing. "Like that?"
"Aye," she breathed, and her hips danced beneath him.
He gazed along her body across the firm peaks of her breasts and felt his cock leap against the satin of her thigh. Leaning over her, he captured one rose tip between his lips and laved it with his tongue. Her fingers were laced through his hair and they tightened against his scalp.
"Heavenly," she told him as he suckled her.
His fingers moved within her, sliding in and out, stroking that mysterious place that made her body quiver each time he touched it. She was hot and slick, and the scent of her sex rose up to tease his nostrils, to stiffen his shaft. He released her nipple and kissed his way up her neck to her ear.
"It's been so long," he told her in a hungry whisper. He swept the tip of his tongue along the inner folds of her ear, nibbled at her earlobe.
Her fingernails scratched lightly at his scalp, and she smoothed his hair back from his forehead, moving her head so she could look at him.
"I am here whenever you need me, my love," she declared.
He withdrew his fingers and slid them along her velvety pubic lips, used his thumb and middle finger to push back the clitoral hood so he could lightly tap his index finger against the sensitive bud that beckoned him. He stroked her clit, and she groaned, arched her hips toward him in pleading.
"Not yet," he growled. He released the hood and moved his hand so his palm covered the lower portion of her mound. He ground his hand against her, his fingers spiking through the wiry curls.
"You are a terrible man," she said, panting.
"Aye, that I am," he replied and slanted his mouth over hers, plunging his tongue into the sweet recess. His cock stabbed at her thigh, a tiny bead of pre-cum slick upon her flesh.
She kissed him back--her tongue dueling with his, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip. He moved over her to press his weight upon her and she sighed with contentment for she loved his body heavy upon hers. Their hands touched and fingers interlocked as he drew her arms up above her head. His cock slid between her thighs and he pressed his hips hard against hers as his kiss deepened. With his knee he pushed her legs far apart and settled himself where he wanted to be--framed within the silky smoothness of her lower body. Her breasts were flattened beneath his wide, muscular chest, the nipples being abraded by the curly hairs on his pectorals. Their bellies fit together navel to navel and their hearts were beating in rhythm.
His lips moved from hers to her cheek to her chin to her throat and he suckled at the hollow--that suprasternal notch that beat so frantically beneath his tongue as he lapped at it. Her fingers tensed around his for a moment then released him as he slid downward in the bed.
"By the gods I need to taste you, Lauryl," he said, and his mouth went lower to draw upon her breasts, kissing his way down her chest, delving into her navel before moving lower over her belly and across the spiky triangle to capture her clit.
She tasted of warm honey, and he suckled as though he were starving. His tongue spiraled over her and around her and along the slick folds. It stabbed into the slit of her and lapped at the juices that oozed from the core of her. He spread her wide with his hands and dragged it from her anus to her clit time and time again until she was writhing beneath him, her hands wrapped around the brass rungs of the headboard.
Her legs were splayed wide to grant him access to every inch of her, and when he bent her knees and pushed her wider still, pulled her legs over his shoulders and deepened his feast of her, she began to move her hips rhythmically, grinding her rump against the sheets as she sought the release that was building within her.
Glade stabbed his tongue deep with her and used his upper lip to tease her clit to a hard little pearl. He slid his hand beneath her, his middle finger into her ass, thumb into her slit and continued to lap at the honey that flowed from her spicy warmth.
"Glade!" she cried out and her hands went to his head, her fingers raking through his hair to hold him to her. She was but a breath away from coming and was bucking beneath him now, aching to know the fulfillment she knew only he could give her.
Sensing her climax rapidly approaching, he withdrew his fingers from her--ignoring her gasp of disappointment and frustration--and before she could protest further yanked her ass up, slid upward upon her, then slammed himself so hard into her she grunted, moving her upward in the bed with the force of his sweet assault.
Her legs tightened around his neck as he drove unmercifully into her slick heat. His ass was pumping vigorously, his shaft a steel rod upon which she was impaled. He stretched her, he rammed into her, he drove so deep it hurt, but at the same time it was the most glorious sensation she'd ever known.
"Aye!" she cried out as the itch began in her womb and spread like wildfire through her lower body. The ripples of her climax were so intense as they undulated through her she drove her fingernails into his upper arms and drew blood.
He slammed into her so hard the bed began to vibrate beneath them. His toes dug into the mattress, his hips shot forward and drew back so forcefully he began to sweat. The first white-hot throb of release shot over him, scalding him, and he bellowed as he came, spurting deep and copiously inside her clenching heat.
They came awake at the same moment--eyes riveted upon the other. Both had experienced the same dream. The moment the sun rose, the first bird raised its head in song to greet the new day they were torn from that dream to find themselves panting, hearts pounding. For the longest time they simply stared at one another, unable to move. At last it was Lauryl who broke the edgy silence.
"How do you feel?" she asked him, searching his face.
He didn't answer her but looked up through the tree branches. The day was gray and bleak. It was going to storm. The air was heavy with the threat.
"Talk to me," she insisted.
He shook his head. The dream had been so vivid for him, so real that he had been left shaken by it. Sweat peppered his palms and upper lip. The breath escaping his lungs was labored and quick. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he could hear hers beating out a similar rhythm. He knew without having to ask her that she had shared the same illicit images, the same exacting emotions that had gripped him for it was written upon her stunned face.
He sat up, thrusting his hand through his hair and realized three things simultaneously--his hair was a mess, he stank to the heavens, and he had an erection that was acutely painful.
"I need a bath," he stated and propelled himself from the blanket, turning his back on her so she could not see the stony evidence of his arousal. He headed for the sound of the bubbling water.
Lauryl was sure she'd heard him amend his words to a cold bath as he hurried through the trees and down to the river. She sat up as the wooly lumbered to its feet and padded behind him, baaing plaintively as though he were trying to leave it behind.
The thought of seeing him naked did strange things to Lauryl's body, and she stood quickly, her dream still fresh and vibrant in her mind as she, too, followed him in her bare feet, barely noticing the rocks upon which she stepped. All the way down to the river, she could feel the excitement running through her body and when she came to the water and found him w
ading into the center of the swift-flowing river, she had to grab a low-lying branch to keep from falling.
He was naked, all right, and the pale gleam of his bare buttocks as he dove into the water made the breath still in her throat. She watched his muscular arms swiftly plying the water as he swam with his face buried beneath the surface, legs thrashing. He was a strong swimmer, and his ability impressed her greatly as he dove beneath the water. But he stayed under much too long for her peace of mind, and she ran down to the water's edge. When he finally broke the surface she let out her breath with an audible sigh of relief.
Glade found his footing in the fast-moving water and braced against it, running both hands through his wet hair to comb it back from his face. He noticed her on the bank staring at him, but the frigid condition of the water had dampened the blazing erection that had seized him earlier.
"Is it very cold?" she asked, but already she was shrugging out of her coat.
"Icy," he replied. He knew he should order her not to come in, not to undress in front of him, but he wanted to see how close to reality his dream of her nude body had been. When her shirt came off and then her bra, his eyes widened for the lush fall of her breasts brought his erection back full force.
Lauryl had no compunction about stripping before him. She was proud of her carefully honed body and wanted him to see it. Her dream had been of him holding her naked body tightly to his own and thrusting long and hard and hotly between her legs. She wanted to know if his cock was as long and hard and hot as it had been in that dream.
Glade swallowed convulsively as she unbuttoned her pants and stepped out of them to reveal she had worn nothing between her and the denim. Her long legs were shapely and the soft looking triangle at the juncture of those long legs drew his gaze like a magnet, refusing to allow him to look away.
Overhead the sky was growing darker and more threatening, the wind picking up to send chill bumps over Lauryl's flesh as she waded into the river. He was right--the water was cold, but even had chunks of ice been floating upon it, it would not have deterred her from struggling against the strong pull of the current to reach his side.
"Burr," she said.
"Aye," he whispered, but not even the icy water was having any effect on his rigid shaft. He was grateful the treacherous thing was hidden beneath the lapping waves.
He held a hand out to her as she neared him and laced his fingers with hers, drawing her to him, wondering why she'd left on her leather gauntlets. Her body slid to his. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the heat of her flesh all the way to the tips of his feet.
"You had the dream, too, didn't you?" she asked.
"Aye."
"We were on an island. I don't know where," she said.
"Achasán," he provided. "Achasán Island."
"You've been there?"
He shook his head. "I only know of it."
"In a hut with a big brass bed," she marveled.
"That in itself is strange don't you think?" he questioned.
The wooly bleated mournfully from the water's edge, gazing at them with big brown eyes.
"Gow greim jeed hene, Keyrragh," he said softly. "Chan aggle dou."
Bending its front legs, the animal lowered itself to the ground and hunkered there watching them with a baleful look.
Lauryl looked up at him. "What did you say to her?"
"She's worried about me. I told her to calm herself," he replied. "That I'd be all right."
"You gave her a name," she said with a grin. "Keyrragh?" At his nod, she asked what it meant.
"It means sheep in the old language."
"And she understood the old words."
"She understands the impressions I send her with the words."
"We need to return her to her master before we leave," she said.
"She wouldn't stay," he said with a sigh. "Where we go, she'll go."
Lauryl laughed. "A pet wooly?"
"I'm afraid so."
She shook her head and snuggled against him. "Did you enjoy our lovemaking as much as I did."
He knew she could feel his erection rubbing against her thigh. He had swiveled his hips so that hard protrusion would not stab directly between her legs for the last thing he really wanted right then was to begin something he knew he shouldn't. But he was honest if nothing else and answered her.
"It's been a long time since I had a woman," he admitted. "I took great delight in your body, Lass."
"As I did in yours," she said then put a hand to his cheek. "Despite the way of it between you, you have never betrayed your wife have you?"
"In my heart I have betrayed her many times, but not with my body."
"Yet she has betrayed you with that milksop I saw her with," she accused.
"I am aware she has," he replied.
"Then she broke the covenant between you. It is your right to put her aside."
He looked away from her lovely face. "It isn't as easy as that," he told her.
Her hand left his cheek, trailed down his chest, and dipped lower still over his belly until it closed around his hard erection. At his quickly indrawn breath she worked her fingers over the rigidity of his staff.
"I want to relive that dream," she said in a throaty voice. "I want…."
Lightning flashed above them with a sharp crack that made them both flinch. The accompanying thunder shook the riverbed beneath their feet and a cold, fierce wind blasted against them.
He pulled away from her, twisting his lower body to break her hold on him. He moved back in the water, shaking his head. "No, we can't. It is forbidden."
Lauryl wanted him as she'd never wanted another man. She'd never denied herself pleasure, and she had no intention of starting now. She reached for him again, but he sidestepped her, began wading toward the shore.
"Are you afraid of how I make you feel?" she demanded. "Are you afraid of a woman who knows what she wants? Who takes matters--and cocks--in hand?"
He didn't answer her as he climbed the shallow bank and reached for his clothing. The wind was more brisk, and he began shivering as it plied over his naked body. Stepping into his pants, he had to clamp his teeth together to keep them from chattering.
"You're a coward," she said as she came ashore, snatching up her pants.
Her accusation hurt, but he made no reply as he shrugged into his shirt and buttoned it quickly. The storm was rapidly approaching, and the sky had become a boiling, dark gray wound.
Lauryl kept sending glares his way as she finished dressing, but he ignored her. By the time she had her own shirt on, he was out of sight, having gone back to the campsite.
"Coward," she called him again and flung her bra over her shoulder as she strode angrily after him.
He was saddling the horse but kept looking up at the sky as the rain threatened to erupt any moment. "Do you know where we are?" he asked.
"Of course I know where we are," she snarled at him. "We're about eight miles from Nonika. I was hoping to make it there yesterday, but you had other ideas."
"Then we should try to make it there," he said. "I don't like the looks of those clouds."
She glanced up, and what she saw sent a shard of fear through her. The clouds were swirling counterclockwise--not a good sign. To the southwest, the sky was pitch black, and that wasn't good, either.
"Come, Keyrragh," he said, and the skittish wooly waddled over to him. He bent down and picked her up in his arms.
"You're joking, right?" Lauryl hissed.
"Mount and I'll put her up before you," he said.
"No fucking way!" she stated.
"Then you can hold her while I mount, and then you can hand her to me," he snapped. "She won't be able to keep up with us."
"Then leave her furry ass behind!" Lauryl told him. "She's a wooly for the gods' sake!"
His green eyes flashed verdant fire. "Either get up or take her," he insisted. "She is going with us whether you like it or not!"
Snapping her mouth shut, narrowin
g her eyes, she held out her arms for the animal. There was no way she was going to ride with the beast draped in front of her. Let him be responsible for keeping the stinky creature atop the mount.
Glade handed Keyrragh off to her then vaulted into the saddle. He leaned over to take the animal from her.
"You are not only a coward but an insane one at that," she groused as she gave him the beast.
He helped her mount behind him and before the first drop of water plopped on his head had the horse running full-tilt across the open field with Lauryl's arms tight around him and the wooly grunting with each jolt of the horse's hooves on the rocky ground.
The streets of Nonika were deserted and the stable empty when they arrived. Though it was early morning, the sky had darkened to a deep gunmetal gray that was forbidding. Rain was coming sideways in heavy sheets, and the crack and boom of the lightning and thunder was deafening. The wind had increased and was howling fiercely around the eaves as Lauryl dismounted and opened the stable door for Glade to urge the horse into the dry comfort of the building.
"Do you hear that?" she asked, battling with the door to pull it closed behind them.
Glade heard what he knew was a tornado close by. The skirl of it made his flesh crawl. With Keyrragh scooped against his chest, he flung a leg over the horse's neck and slid to the ground. "Its east of us, thank the gods."
"You think?" she asked, latching the doors that were shuddering against their hinges.
"I believe so," he replied. He put the wooly down, and the animal scuttled into one of the stalls, burrowing against the wall, trembling.
Glade noticed that every stall was occupied, the stable full of horses. He began unsaddling Lauryl's mount.
"I fucking don't like bad weather," she said. She was drenched from head to toe and shivering with the cold that seemed to have invaded every inch of her body.
His mouth tightened at the profanity, but he did not berate her. He dusted his hand through his wet hair and looked about for any source of heat that might be handy. He found nothing. His headache was back with a vengeance and along with it the nausea and the debilitating pain that had wracked his body so keenly at Blaithmoor. He needed more Sustenance.
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