Ram Thruster

by Georgia Fox

  "Gracious!" Ariana dare not read to the end of the page. Well, not without a great deal more wine inside her. This must be what Apollonia meant when she said books were her pastime, she realized. They were not only a hobby, but a passionate rebellion, it seemed.

  "I should have known more about your life," she murmured. "You have served me all these years and I never knew..."

  The other lady finished the sentence for her. "You thought of Lady D'Arbanville, the sailor's daughter, as a pleasant, harmless, jolly young woman, with bonny looks and a blithe, carefree manner. Amusing as a tumbling pup chasing a butterfly and no more serious than that. You never imagined me sitting here in a boarding house, quietly penning erotic, rebellious stories by candlelight."

  "No I did not."

  "I daresay there's just as much you don't know about Ram Thruster."

  It was true. What she had thought she knew about him was, it seemed, all quite wrong.

  * * * *

  The more he thought about her going off without him the angrier he became until a red mist had descended before his eyes.

  "The sharp-tongued blonde woman in the queen's service. What is her name?" he demanded of a terrified groom. "One of you saddled horses for her this evening, did you not boy?" Ram was sure they'd left the palace walls or he would have found them by now. Unlike Humboldt de Bonneville he was not a lazy searcher and he left no stone unturned. So they must have gone out through the gates while he was still checking her bed chamber.

  "Yes, sir. Two horses. Lady D'Arbanville is her name. But I didn't see the face of the other rider, sir."

  D'Arbanville - ah, yes. That gouty old rogue Lord D'Arbanville didn't keep a very close eye on his young wife because he was too busy with his stable of young men.

  "Where did they go, boy?"

  "I...I don't know, sir. She said they'd bring the horses back in the morning and paid me two silver francs."

  Damn the woman. Why could she not trust him to look after her? Had he not done so all these years? Suddenly she ran away from him and thought she knew how to take care of herself. It could only end in disaster if she was out with D'Arbanville's wayward, untended wife.

  He saddled his own horse and galloped through the palace gates at thundering speed.

  * * * *

  The last of the sun had sunk below the water and the air was much cooler. The seagulls had given up their vigil and many of the folk along the quayside had dispersed likewise. A few figures still tumbled along in the dying light, some voices raised to quarrel and others to hush them. The tavern at the end of the row had lit its lantern over the door, a beacon to welcome the thirsty and weary. A warm scent of baking rose up to Ariana's nose and reawakened her appetite.

  It was a very different scene to the one she saw every night from her bed chamber window high up in the palace, but she liked it. In fact, she preferred it.

  She turned to see Apollonia putting on her cloak. "I must go out to deliver my latest manuscript under the cover of darkness. Don't worry, I won't be long and you can lock the door behind me. I have another key to get in. I'll bring us back some ale and a pie. I saw you ate little at supper and from the noises your stomach is making you must be hungry now."

  No other lady would dare address Ariana in this casual way, but she found that she didn't mind it. "Thank you. Do you need coin?"

  Apollonia shook her head, pulled up her hood and tucked a bundle of papers under her cloak. A moment later she was gone.

  Ariana sat upon the narrow bed, which rested against the wall away from the window. It was quite hard— not as soft as her bed in the palace. She ought to feel tired, but she was in a lively mood, restless. Her mind circled and danced around the events of the day.

  All those things her friend had said about Ram Thruster...could it be true?

  Suddenly all his little glances and muttered comments took on a different meaning. Was it possible that she misread him completely for the past ten years and assumed he hated her, when the opposite was true? What did she know of love? Nothing. She wouldn't know it if it walked up to her and demanded that she kiss it. Then tried to put its cock in her arse.

  She fell back across the bed with a great, gusty sigh and stared up at the cracked, damp ceiling. What was he doing now, she wondered idly. A picture came to her of Ram Thruster storming about the palace, scaring the blood out of anyone who got in his way, his big hands ready to choke anyone he encountered in the halls.

  "Did he not have a falling out with King Septimus in his last weeks?" Humboldt had asked.

  "It was not a falling out. It was a slight disagreement on some matter."

  "I heard it was on the matter of some woman."

  "I did not hear that. But then people know better than to gossip in my presence."

  "Really? I had assumed that you were at the root of it."

  Now her mind churned over that conversation and her husband's quarrel with Ram. She had never bothered to ask her husband what caused it, for she knew he wouldn't tell her. Business between men, as he would say, had no place in a woman's thoughts. He would have gently patted her head and sent her off to pick flowers or go back to her embroidery. But suddenly she needed to know what that argument had been about. Was it caused by one of Ram's affairs with a lady at court, or was it her fault in some way?

  Ariana groaned softly in frustration, annoyed with herself for being so blind all these years. If only she could have been braver— like Lady D'Arbanville, who appeared to manage a life of her own and to have everything she wanted. The two women were the same age and yet Ariana felt like a child by comparison. Today's experience with Ram had shown her passion and lust for the first time in her twenty-seven years. It had shown her what she was capable of.

  And what she had been without for far too long.

  * * * *

  He dismounted outside the tavern and was about to go in when he heard a shout.

  There stood a figure in a hooded cloak, slightly hidden by a thick coat of ivy that grew up the wall. When her hood fell back he saw the pale hair of Lady D'Arbanville and then she gestured to him impatiently.

  Ram set his face in a scowl and strode over to her. "Where is she? How dare you take her off the palace grounds without me?"

  "Keep your hat on! I could hardly refuse to help the poor woman when she asked me."

  "I am in charge of guarding her. You will do nothing without consulting me first."

  She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for pity's sake. I kept her safe until you came. I didn't want to risk anything happening to her while she was with me, and I knew you'd be here eventually. This is your favorite tavern, is it not?"

  He glared, wondering how she knew that.

  Lady D'Arbanville reached inside her cloak and then passed him a key. "Top floor of the boarding house at the end of the row. The one with the blue shutters. She'll be angry with me for telling you where she is, so if you don't mind I'd rather pretend you forced me to tell. I don't want to lose my post. Or my head."

  Ram snatched the key from her gloved hand. "Bloody women."

  "I'll leave you to it then." She gave him an arch smile. "Do look after her. She pretends to be haughty and fearless, but she's a quaking faun inside and she's all alone now."

  He didn't need to be told that. "She's safe in my hands."

  "Yes. If I didn't think that, I'd never have waited here to give you the key."

  He closed it in his fist and nodded. "At least you have some sense then."

  "Don't sound so surprised. Some women do have brains and not only that but they use them."

  He smirked. "For good or evil?"

  Her answer was pert. "Whichever serves my needs in the moment. Just like men."

  Chapter Eleven

  When she heard a key turn in the lock, she thought it was Apollonia returning, naturally. Sitting up expectantly, she was shocked to see Ram instead.

  He closed the door behind him and locked it.

  "Why are you here?" she demanded. "Where is Lady D
'Arbanville? What have you done with her?"

  "I ate her with some fresh bread and strong ale." He went to the window, checked the view and closed the shutters.

  "Very amusing. You cannot come here and—"

  "I told you I would guard you, Ariana. Why did you run from me? Just to make my task harder?"

  She paused for a breath, fingers toying with the end of her braid. "I did not run from you. Lady D'Arbanville thought this would be a good place for me to stay a while, away from the palace and those who wish me harm."

  "And I told you to stay within those walls. At least there we know your enemies and the danger is contained. Here there are too many unknown, unpredictable factors."

  Abruptly she said, "Did you know Lady Marchand was my husband's mistress?"

  He kept his back to her for a minute.

  "Did you?" It had been preying on her mind, pecking at it like a little bird at a maggoty apple core. "Please tell me."

  Finally, Ram turned to face her. He bowed his head. "Perhaps I did."

  "Perhaps?" She flew at him with her fists, but he caught her by the arms. "Why did you never tell me? Did everybody know? People I trusted. You, Lady D'Arbanville—"

  "I thought you must know." His hands were tight around her arms, bruising. She didn't care.

  "It is humiliating," she exclaimed, her face hot. "How foolish you must all have thought me. And Lady Marchand, so smug..."

  "Ariana, I never thought you foolish."

  "You thought me a stupid, spoiled girl with an empty mind."

  "No. I thought you brave. I thought you composed and dutiful. I thought you the loveliest woman I ever looked upon." His voice had turned hoarse, but his grip on her arms did not soften. "I was jealous of my King. I coveted his wife. That was all I thought of. Every day. All these years."

  She looked up at him, her sight misty with unshed tears. "Why did you not tell me this?"

  "What would be the point of it? What good would it have done? I couldn't touch you while he was alive. I could only suffer in silence. Like a dumb, mute beast."

  As she blinked her tears loose, his handsome face became clear to her again. "Well, he is no longer alive."

  Ram's eyes flared; his jaw stiffened.

  She reached up and ran her fingertips across his tight lips. "You don't have to be mute now." Ariana rather liked it when he spoke, she realized. He'd never said as much to her as he had in these last few days and every word that came out seemed so important. Not like the constant chattering of other folk who liked the sound of their own voice.

  His words were rare and valuable. Besides, he'd just said she was lovely. That was something she needed to hear today.

  "Ariana," he murmured. "Don't run from me again."

  She pulled away and walked around the bed. "I didn't run—"

  "Yes, you did!" he grumbled.

  "Well, now you found me. Will you punish me like an errant child?"

  "I should spank you. Perhaps then you'd pay heed to me."

  She stuck out her tongue. Ram lunged across the bed, but she dodged aside, laughing. He scrambled up and gave chase. Around that small room it was only a short pursuit, over and around the furnishings, before he had her around the waist. Falling back to the bed, he kept her over his thighs and tossed up her skirt.

  "Don't you dare spank me," she exclaimed.

  "Keep your voice down, brat, unless you want the landlady to hear. You don't want your friend to lose her lease, do you?"

  So she bit down on the urge to curse at him, as his hand landed hard on her bottom. She'd never been spanked in her life. Who would dare touch a Princess this way, or a Queen?

  Ram Thruster, that's who. A man who let no one hold his reins.

  "Do not run from me when I'm trying to protect you, my lady," he whispered harshly, his hand coming down again with a hard slap. "Naughty Ariana."

  Her hips bounced with every contact of his palm against her soft flesh, but the stinging sensation vibrated through her body and tickled her sex, so that she soon forgot he meant to punish her. Each time her bared vulva came down against his firm, muscular thigh, she felt the urge to grind downward and spread her legs wide. Her breasts jiggled, her nipples peaked. Tension built inside her loins. She was moist already.

  Leaning down, he whispered hotly in her ear. "Now say you're sorry to have caused your bodyguard such trouble."

  "No."

  He spanked her again and this time slid a finger between her buttocks, pressing it against the tiny puckered opening he had penetrated earlier that day. "No," she gasped. "It's sore. Please."

  So he moved his hand lower and pinched her labia lightly together with two fingers. Then with his other hand he continued the spanking, alternating from one cheek to the other, and at the same time plucking at her nether lips, toying with her pussy almost casually. Ariana knew her bottom must be glowing rosy pink by then. It throbbed, and she felt the same rhythm between her legs. Her breasts ached, swollen and heavy inside her corset.

  "My lady's arse is the prettiest I've ever spanked," he muttered, pausing to place one hand over the smoldering curve. "Are you sure you're too sore to take me up between them again?"

  "Yes," she replied firmly, wriggling.

  "Then say you're sorry for running away from me, and causing me great worry."

  "Very well then," she gasped. "I'm sorry."

  Parting her spanked cheeks with his thumbs, he held them apart so that she felt warm air between them. "Such a beauty and all mine, eh? No man has had you here before me."

  "Of course not. The only man I ever knew was Septimus. He would never think of putting his cock there."

  "Then you were at least left part virgin for me."

  Suddenly she felt his wet lips on her bottom, placing a kiss to each cheek, then between, where his tongue darted out to push against her anus.

  "Oh." She shivered, pressing down against his bulging lap.

  He lapped at her in that strange place until she felt her pussy growing even damper. "This sweet arse is mine," he whispered. "Mine to play with. Mine to spank."

  Then Ram turned her over, laid her on the bed and focused his attention on the small area at the crest of her labia, circling the pads of two fingers around that spot until she could barely breathe.

  Her fingers curled in the bed cover and she pressed her heels down, her hips upward. "Are you coming already?" he chuckled. "You're such a lusty wench, eh?" Then he pressed the heel of his hand against her vulva and whistled as he felt the orgasm jolting through her.

  Through dazed eyes she watched him discarding his garments in haste. "Ariana, let me lay with you."

  "In a bed?" she teased gently. "You disdained the need for one this morning."

  "I changed my mind." He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her slowly, needfully, deeply.

  * * * *

  Tonight he would pretend she was his wife. He wanted to feel her laid beside him, to watch her sleep, to feel her sweet breath against his chest as she dreamed.

  But she wanted more. "Fuck me. Again."

  Who was he to argue with his queen? So with trembling fingers he untied the laces of her gown and slid it down over her shoulders. Her skin was soft and warm, slightly glowing as he brushed a hand over it.

  Seeing her away from the palace like this was strange and yet, although he should still be cross with her for disobeying him, a streak of gladness lifted his heart because she was free. She was out of her gilded cage at last.

  Tomorrow she would have to go back to her duties, of course, and he would take her, but for tonight the world was a new place for them both. Temporarily.

  "Blow out the candles," she whispered.

  "No. I want to see all of you." He needed the image burned into his mind so he would always have it there, engraved upon his memory.

  Ariana lay still while he undressed her, only lifting her hips to help as he slid her gown and shift all the way off. With hands and lips Ram explored her body, taking his time as he nev
er had before with any other woman. He kissed his way between her thighs and settled there a while to tend her pussy with devoted attention until she gasped and arched her back, her hands clawing at the bed cover.

  He lapped at her silken curls and gently suckled on her labia, then slipped his tongue inside, tickling and teasing her pearl, polishing it like a treasured possession. Which she was to him.

  It shocked him suddenly— this depth of feeling. He lifted his head to look at her. Ariana lay stretched out, with her arms over her head, her eyes half closed, cheeks flushed, lips damp and parted in ecstasy. She was beautiful, even more so when naked before him and writhing with abandon like this.

  She took his breath away. Emotion rolled through him, but it was a richer, warmer sensation than it had been in the past when the name "Ariana" had meant a clash of feelings too painful to be tolerated.

  When she felt him moving off the bed, her eyes opened wider, her lips moving, ready to protest. Then she saw he was ripping off his clothes and she smiled, sliding her hands down her body, over her breasts, her stomach and between her thighs, touching everything he had kissed and licked moments earlier.

  He paused to watch the woman on the bed, steadying his breaths as his excitement mounted. Apparently she enjoyed the private audience for he saw how wet she was as she rubbed her fingers over her slit. Her creamy thighs gleamed in the candlelight and she spread them wider to let him see every inch, her hips moving sensuously. Ram moaned gently and touched his cock. It was hard and arching in his hand, his pulse thumping through it, his balls full and heavy.

  "I am yours tonight, Ram," she said huskily. "And you are mine. Just a man and a woman, as you said."

  He snatched up her hand and brought the wet, sticky fingers to his lips. "I am here to guard you."

  "And so you shall. Inside and out."

  * * * *

  He covered her with his naked body and she felt the delicious weight of him pinning her down on the bed. It was never like this with Septimus. With her husband it was over quickly and there was no kissing, no fondling. He had always come to her bed ready and left it again the moment his seed was spent. Now she wondered whether Elinor Marchand had prepared him before he came to her bed, and whether he went back to that lady after performing his formal obligations.