by Susan Grant
He nodded once. Then, with a very male, considering smile, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed his mouth to the inside of her wrist. “But, I also admire your Kurel blood,” he said, kissing her pulse then the heel of her thumb, his whiskers prickling her tender skin. “In fact, I like just about everything about you.”
He sat down on the blanket and pulled her with him, onto his lap. “How you smell and how you taste…” He kissed her as he spoke, working his way along her jaw to her ear. “And how every time you lift your dress and oh-so-innocently give me a peek at your legs. I like that…” His hand swept along the length of her body and slipped under the hem of her skirt. “These gorgeous, long legs.” His hot hand dipped under her knee, lifting her leg as he bent to playfully kiss her kneecap, then that traveling hand continued on, up under her thigh and higher, his thumb swiping over her hipbone.
He lowered her to her back, replacing that clever hand with his lips. Her head spun, her body throbbing. She’d thought the Rider’s spirits had been disorienting, but it wasn’t even close compared with Tao’s mouth on her skin. He moved dangerously close to her privates, and she startled, but he was already in retreat, maybe remembering she wasn’t like his dancers. All this was new to her. Exhilarating, but still new.
He came up on his knees and grabbed her hands, pulling her upright to sit. She buried her face in the warm hollow of his neck, her arms wrapped over his shoulders. “I want you naked,” he murmured in her ear.
She trembled. Smiled. “Only if you’re naked, too.”
“Oh, I intend to be. After waiting so long for this—for you—you’d better believe I won’t miss lying with you, skin against skin.”
Skin to skin.
Finally.
He unbuttoned his shirt as she sat there, watching, her legs splayed on each side of his knees. Awkward in her nervousness, she helped him slide the shirt off his shoulders. Hers was not the practiced, erotic disrobing of a concubine. But if the heat in his eyes was to be believed, her tentative moves had aroused him all the same. Maybe even more so, she wanted to believe. She wanted to be more to him than those girls. She wanted him to remember this as she certainly would.
With his hands busy unbuckling his belt, she reached up and touched her finger to the very center of his chest, the hollow between his pectorals, and slid her finger downward, tracing a scar here and there until she’d reached his hands, now frozen in the act of unfastening his belt. Her touch seemed to have had the most amazing effect. Goose bumps had appeared on his body despite the warmth of the fire, his nipples contracting as if he’d dipped into a cold pond. Fascinating. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered. A beautiful man.
He chuckled, shaking his head but appearing mightily pleased. “That’s the first time anyone’s called me that.”
She smiled back. “I’m glad I can be your first time for something.”
Emotion played over his face, honest and raw. “You’ll be a first for me in more ways than that, sweetheart. I have the feeling you’ll continue to be.” He yanked open his belt, shoving down his trousers and undershorts in one sweep. His manhood sprang free, capturing her entire focus even as he discarded his clothes without a care, a man clearly not shy about being naked.
Down he came, lowering his body to lie next to her. Propping his head on his hand, he smiled. “You’re wearing a lot of clothes, Elsabeth.”
“I hope that’s a complaint.”
Two fingers walked to her blouse until they found the topmost of the still-fastened buttons. The delicate pearl would have no chance against that determined hand. Yet, he didn’t do as she’d expected.
He began to move his flattened hand over her blouse, finding the swell of her breasts. With the fabric between his skin and hers, he caressed her, molding one breast until it ached for more. More what? The sharp feel of his skin, his mouth. She was suddenly aching to be suckled, a craving that had never filled her mind before.
As if he’d guessed, or he’d interpreted her arching back or little mewling cries as encouragement, he coaxed one hardened nipple into his mouth, suckling her through the fabric of her blouse and the camisole underneath, leaving a chill behind with dampness when he moved to her other breast to pay it equal attention. She didn’t remember digging into his bare back with one hand, or practically tugging on his hair with her other, but he almost had to untangle himself to lift up over her on all fours.
On his hands and knees, he smiled down at her. “You still have too many clothes on.”
She laughed. “All right then. I’ll help remove them.” She reached for the buttons, but he stopped her.
“I need no help.” His green eyes glittered with desire and mischief. “Do you think I need help?”
“I’ll withhold judgment until I see how much longer you stay naked and I remain completely dressed.”
“Elsabeth, Elsabeth.” He shook his head. “I thought you were a woman of patience.” He uttered the teasing words as his hand found its way under her skirt again, traveling under her petticoat until it stopped, cupping her mound, where she’d grown damp and throbbing. This time, she didn’t jolt at his touch.
His gaze turned knowing. “You must know your patience will be rewarded.” His thumb, the very tip of the pad, found and circled over her exquisitely sensitive nub.
It left her breathless; there was no more air. His touch conjured a deep, delicious ache that swiftly built, her pulse drumming deep inside her, an urgent sensation that needed to be satisfied.
Soon.
Now. She arched into his hand and moaned.
Then his hand was gone, and he was sitting up over her, magnificent in the moonlight, a silvered warrior with an eager, boyish smile. She protested, trying to draw him back to her. “But I liked that. What you were doing.”
“I know you did.” He took each of her hands and placed them back on the blanket above her head. “I told you. Your patience will be rewarded.”
What now? Preparing to make love had so far been a lovely, delicious surprise, nothing like what she’d thought. She’d read her share of romantic books, spoken openly with other, more experienced women, and had come to the expectation that her first experience would be sweet and over quickly. Enjoyable, yes, but gone too fast, like a slice of fruit pie in summer, devoured. But this…it was a long, sensual, feast, every moment drawn out and savored.
“This is getting in the way,” Tao said and reached for the buttons of her blouse. As she smiled up at him, he undid the next button and slowly made his way down the row to the hem, as she lay there helpless to do anything but watch. When she did try, he’d shake his head with mock exasperation and place her hands back by her head.
With the utmost of care, he opened her blouse, then unlaced her camisole, her breath hitching as he exposed her to the cool air. He admired her with hungry eyes and leaned down to tug at the lacy strap of her undergarment with his teeth. “I do like Kurel unmentionables. Dainty. Far better looking on you than hanging in that shop.”
“Is my patience to be rewarded?” she whispered.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He laughed quietly. “Like you won’t believe.” He leaned down closer. “Mine, too,” he promised and captured her mouth, the kiss hungry, their hands searching, stroking, her legs coming up to hold him close.
“Wait,” he said after a long while, sounding as if he’d run a mile. “There’s more work to be done.”
“What? This is like work? I suppose, if you’re making a deliberate effort.”
He answered with a darkly amused glance. She’d not let him forget his ridiculous views on love and marriage. “If you’re not going to be patient, Elsabeth…”
“I will.” She went still, every inch of her straining for his touch, craving him. Despite the night air, perspiration had dampened her skin. And his, as well. He was engorged, fully erect, yet he was so…in control. How did he manage it? Then she remembered this was the same man who’d pulled himself out of a moat in the throes of agony. Self-control, sel
f-discipline, was something he possessed in spades.
Acting as if he were enjoying every new inch of skin bared, he unfastened her skirt, throwing it off and away. Together they stripped off the remaining under-garments. Her reward, another kiss, his hands angling her head to kiss her long and well. Warm skin, his scent, the scrape of his whispers, the bulge of muscle moving under smooth skin—she savored him, every taste, every touch. Then he was caressing her again, between her legs, a purposeful but gentle circling.
The luscious pressure built, a quickening, and she knew this time he wouldn’t stop. He prolonged the pleasure, ignoring her pleas for completion, for consummation, her moans and arching hips all the cues he seemed to need, until he gently thrust his fingers inside her and the building tension finally shattered, her body squeezing, pulsing.
He caught her soft cry with his mouth, soothing her, praising her. “I want you so badly, Elsabeth,” he murmured in her ear, releasing more quivers inside her. “More than you can know.”
She whispered back, “Then let me know.”
He laughed as he lifted up over her, his shoulders bunched, his back tight and hard and moist with sweat. With his knee he coaxed her thighs apart. “We will go very, very slow.”
“Not too slow…”
“Patience,” he said, “will be rewarded.”
His hard body trembled, muscles shifting as he bore his weight on his arms to enter her body, one exhilarating inch at a time, until he was fully inside her. A luscious, complete, indescribable fullness. She was shaking, inside and out.
“Mercy,” she whispered.
“Are you all right?” His voice sounded strained. Thicker.
“By the arks, yes. I had no idea it was this good…”
“It gets better,” he promised.
And it did. Her breath hitched as he began to move his hips, a deep, slow, rolling motion. He made love to her with banked passion, and the more he moved, the more she wanted him; with each measured stroke, her body responded.
“Ah, Beth,” he said, tightly. “You were worth the wait.”
He kissed her, long and hard, seeming to lose himself in her for a moment, becoming more passionate, fevered. Then his body shook as he tried to rein himself in, his muscles bunching in his effort to hold back.
But she didn’t want him acting as if she was fragile. He was the epitome of self-control in all things. Please, not with me, Tao. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.
“You’ll be sore.”
She protested, but he kissed her into silence. “No,” he said. “Next time, or the time after that.”
Tao was determined to hold fast to that promise. Fists clenched atop the blanket, he fought to hold off the explosion he knew was coming. He didn’t want to make her sore. Already his loins had begun to clench with the heavy, potent pleasure-pain he knew preceded release. He locked his jaw, wanting to give her what he’d never given any other, his whole self, not just his body and experience. Only with her did he crave such a bond that seemed to rise above the joy of physical sex somehow, turning it into something far more.
With each stroke, her body responded, clutching him, her inner muscles convulsing wetly. Then she cried out, a throaty plea. That he could give this sweet girl such satisfaction magnified his own, and what was left of his discipline went up in a blaze of pleasure.
He pushed up on rigid arms, his back arching, a low groan of pleasure slipping from his throat. One, two jerks of his hips and he pulled out, barely in time, and rolled away, onto his side.
He hauled her against him, his thigh resting heavily across hers. They lay quietly, no words to express the pleasure they’d discovered in each other’s arms, and could only kiss and stroke and nuzzle, holding each other close until their spent bodies had stopped trembling.
After a while, Tao lifted up on an elbow, drawing the blanket over them. The fire had burned way down, but he wasn’t of the mind to add more logs just yet. Elsabeth felt too damn good lying next to him, and looked too good, too, lush and naked, and satisfied. His. He was her first. She’d chosen him to be. No elders had required them to wed. No families had arranged a formal wedding night between man and virgin bride. No, Elsabeth had wanted him, simply him. His chest tightened, and an odd feeling of lightness swept through him.
Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her lips were puffy. Damp curls framed her face. He drew a finger down along her temple, coiling the tendrils of damp hair and letting them spring back to their corkscrew shape.
“What’s that smile for?” she murmured. “It looks sweet, and silly.”
“Silly?” He gave his head a shake. “Maybe so. I was remembering the day you cooked breakfast for me, that first morning in your house. I imagined you’d look just like this—naked, with your hair spread out, all your curls—after I made love to you.”
Her eyes turned a soft, summer-day blue, the kind of afternoon where you could lose yourself in the expanse of the sky.
The kind of day he’d experienced too few times in his life, and usually at times when he couldn’t afford to turn his attention to anything else but war.
Even now, knowing they were fairly protected up on the ridge, in the trees, he couldn’t forget they were at risk. While there were no Gorr to worry about, other dangers existed.
But his bow was within reach, and so was his blade. He could savor this a little longer.
“It was good, Tao.”
Her frankness touched him as well as amused him, but at least he would always know where he stood with her. “It was indeed good, sweet Kurel girl.” He leaned over her to whisper in her ear. “I’ll look forward to the next time. It will get better and better for you.”
Her gaze turned questioning. “And for you, right?”
“It’s already good.”
A funny look came over her face, and she flipped onto her stomach, resting her head on her folded arm. “You’ve been with so many women.”
He choked out a laugh then saw she was serious. “Not that many. I mean, I’ve had my share, but others have partaken of far more bed partners than I.”
She was drawing circles in the dirt with her fingertip. “Were they skillful? Did they know what to do to drive you crazy?”
“Drive me crazy? Elsabeth, what are you talking about?” He rolled her over, pinning her hands by the wrists. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m inexperienced.”
“You are fantastic,” he argued. “I’d change nothing about tonight.”
“But those women…”
“Those women were nothing to me. Wait—yes, they were. All of them.”
She strained up against his hold. “What?”
“Because of them, I learned how to give pleasure as a lover. Without a past, I wouldn’t have had the skills I accumulated to share with you. To make it better for you.”
She smiled up at him. “A very good answer, Tassagon.”
He grinned, dropping down to kiss her on the forehead. “And it’s the truth.” He got up, padding around the campsite to stoke the fire, taking another look around for threats and adding Elsabeth’s blanket to his. “You’re sleeping with me.”
“I’m so tired,” she mumbled sleepily, cuddling close in the shelter of his arms as he lay on his back under the covers. She let out a shuddering yawn. “I never knew lovemaking was so utterly exhausting.”
He drew her close. “See? Not everything can be learned from books.”
“You’re exactly right.”
He couldn’t believe it. She actually agreed with him. Or, more accurately, she was so tired the fight had gone out of her. He’d have to remember the technique for the future. Exhaust her in bed to ensure victory in a debate.
A few more moments went by, and he felt her fall asleep. He lay there, marveling at the moon and the stars, listening to the crackling fire and her quiet breaths. Up on that ridge overlooking the Plains with Elsabeth asleep in his arms, he was, without a doubt, the closest to heaven he’d ever been.
“IF TAO IS STILL ALIVE, I know how to find him.”
Xim’s hand was unsteady as he lowered his goblet of wine and tried to focus on Beck’s face. Hours of drinking had so far failed to mute his frustration at coming away from the ghetto empty-handed.
At this late hour, his study was hollow, silent. Smoky torches had formed a roiling haze near the ceiling. Markam was off somewhere, making his rounds of the palace sentries as usual. The man had no idea how to do anything other than military routines. But Beck had showed up despite the late hour to sit vigil with him, understanding his anger at the failed search. “How, Beck? Everything else we’ve tried has failed. Maybe the priest was wrong.” Xim made the sign of Uhrth over his chest to counteract the blasphemous statement. “We’ve been wasting our time and Uhr-Tao is dead.”
“Do you take that chance when he could be out there, plotting against you, building his power base? Sending spies to turn the army against you? His officers show no signs of mutiny, but they’d turn on you in a second if their general returned and took charge.”
“Enough!” Xim slammed his hand down on the table. His goblet bounded. Wine splashed onto the wood like spilled blood. “If you know how to find Tao, tell me.”
Beck tossed back the last of his goblet’s contents and dragged an arm across his mouth. “My Liege, I actually have to show you.” His eye shifted side to side. “I don’t know who may be listening. Markam has no stomach for my harsh measures, but we both know that desperate times often call for such methods.”
Xim waved a hand at the colonel. “Show me then.”
Beck nodded. “In the morning.”
“No. Now.” He pushed upright. It set his brains to spinning. He winced, growling. “If this turns out to be frivolous, Beck, some silly half-baked scheme, I swear I’ll demote you and put you out to pasture for good. You and Markam both. My two top officers—useless fools!”
Beck’s smile was slow. “I don’t think you’ll agree after you see what I’ve procured for you, My Liege.”