by Leslie Chase
He was unmoved though, his cat-like grin showing how much he was enjoying her desire. A little more pressure from his finger and she lost her words, moaning and shuddering in his hands.
Then he stopped, pulling his hands back, leaving her whimpering in desperate need, looking up at him wordlessly.
“Undress,” he told her. “Let me look at you.”
Lenore didn’t need to be told twice. She wriggled out of her skirt and panties, reaching behind her to unhook her bra and cast it aside. The cold air of the room raised goosebumps on her body where the heat of the fire didn’t warm her, but she didn’t care. She needed to be bare for Maxwell, needed to feel his lust and need and desire for her. And she could feel all that in his hungry gaze, raking over her naked body.
“Up,” he urged, guiding her to her knees before him. She reached out to stroke him through his pants, feeling the iron-hardness of him under the fabric and making him gasp in turn. Lenore bit her lip hard at the sound of his sharp breath, the sound of his lust.
He pulled off his shirt, casting it aside and struggling out of his pants, stripping naked as he stood, pulling away from her touch to stand naked before her. The ruddy glow of the fire illuminated him, casting his muscles into relief, his body so perfect before her that Lenore could only stare in awe at the beauty of her lover.
For a moment, they stared at each other, need and desire building between them. Then Maxwell moved, a quick step aside to grab the full-length mirror and position it before Lenore. “You need to see yourself as I see you, darling,” he said, stepping behind her and kneeling, sliding his hands around her.
In the mirror, their eyes met, and she saw his lust in the reflected gaze. His need for her, his lust. Behind her, his body pressed to her, the warmth of his skin on her. And between them, the hardness of his cock, so magnificent and solid, enough to make her gasp.
“Look at yourself, Lenore,” Maxwell breathed into her ear, his hands closing on her breasts, squeezing gently. He kissed her neck again, his lips firm on her skin, and she dragged in a ragged breath as she looked at her reflection.
For once, she liked what she saw. She looked attractive, sexy, desirable in a way that she found difficult to credit - but in his hands, she couldn’t doubt it. Watching him caress her, seeing the firelight shining on her skin, she couldn’t deny that her curves looked good. And so did he, behind her.
“Touch yourself,” he told her, his fingers rolling her nipples between them, sending a shiver through her. “I want you to see just how sexy you are, how wonderful you look. Show me, and watch.”
She hesitated, but only for a second. There was no denying him, she knew, and she wanted to see herself as she did. To see the woman Maxwell saw when he looked at her, the one who inspired such need from so wonderful a man.
Spreading her legs, she stroked her fingers across herself, feeling the wetness of her pussy and gasping, pressing her breasts into his hands. She kept her touch as light as his had been with an effort of will, teasing herself, each brushing touch sending a shudder running through her. Behind her, she felt Maxwell harden further, and in the mirror, she saw the intensity of his gaze as she watched her.
She couldn’t take it any longer, and pressed her fingers to herself firmly. That made her arch, throwing her head back and crying out at the long-awaited touch. Maxwell pulled her back to him, his fingers teasing her nipples as she slid her fingers into herself. Both of them watched her in the reflection, eyes locked on her movements.
Lenore’s heart beat faster, feeling his attention on her and trying to see herself with his eyes. “Oh god,” she moaned.
“You see,” he growled, keeping his eyes fixed on the reflection as he lowered his mouth to kiss her shoulder. “Aren’t you the most gorgeous, sexy girl in the whole world?”
Watching her fingers in and out of her pussy, she couldn’t argue. Not when she could feel how much she aroused him, how much he liked the sight and feel and sound of her. The sensation of him behind her was driving her wild, his body so close, his hands on her breasts, his eyes hungrily devouring her in the reflection. The soft, flickering light of the fire lit the scene wonderfully.
Maxwell growled, deeper and more animal than before - his passions were rising too, and she could feel even his self-control stretch to breaking point as he watched her. His teeth bit into her shoulder, and he reached down to take her hands, lifting them from between her legs. Pushing her forwards, he guided her to all fours, still looking into the mirror, their eyes on each other’s while he positioned himself.
Lenore felt him press against her, his cock rubbing over her sex, and pressed herself back against him. Her body ached to be full of him, and she felt his need for her, their souls crying out for each other as much as their bodies did. For a moment they were both still, the only movement their ragged breathing as they both struggled for control.
Then he snarled and thrust, one smooth hard motion impaling her, filling her with his hard rod. She cried out, joy filling her heart as his manhood filled her pussy, and pressed herself back against him, moving in the rhythm he set. Each stroke took him deeper, and each stroke made Lenore cry out, her body flooded with sensation, her soul filled with the rightness of it. She couldn’t look away from the mirror, from the sight of him taking her, her body rocking, her breasts bouncing. Maxwell watched too, drinking in the sight of her before him while he pounded her.
It took no time at all for the sensations to overwhelm her, and her cries rose in pitch as he pushed her to the edge. She felt him tense inside her, but he kept his control as she lost hers, her body arching in a great convulsion, her consciousness washed away in an explosion of ecstasy. She would have collapsed face-down on the rug if he hadn’t held her, supported her, lowering her gently.
“Oh, my god,” Lenore heard her own voice as though it was far away, dreamlike and full of emotion. “Oh Maxwell!”
“You see?” He chuckled, his own voice hoarse and full of need. “You’re the sexiest woman alive, and that’s what you do to me.”
She squirmed around to kiss him, and he gently withdrew to let her roll over. Their kiss sent sparks flying through her nervous system, her fingers and toes twitching from them. Her fingers dug into his back, pulling him close, and he groaned, his hard rod pressing to her again. This time he entered her slowly, letting her savor the sensation. His face, hanging over her, gleamed in the firelight, and his expression was hard to describe. Worshipful was the best she could do. She wondered what she looked like, now that she couldn’t see the mirror, but the look on his face was all she needed to know she looked good.
Slowly, they moved together, rocking with one rhythm, clinging together. Lenore felt the heavy, solid mass of Maxwell above her, pressing down on her, and she buried her face in his neck, kissing him and tasting him. His slow powerful thrusts pushed her into the deep warm rug under them.
Their bodies seemed to melt into one another, moving together as though they were one. Lenore felt his heart beating against her chest, his deep breaths. She felt him swell inside her, and her muscles tightening around him. His strong muscles flexed against her with every thrust.
Each movement was a little faster than the last, each thrust a little less controlled. Each a little harder, a little deeper. Her breathing turned to moans, then gasps of passion, and his was fast and ragged. Together, they pulled each other closer, and soon they were panting passionately. A deep, purring growl filled the room, Maxwell’s head coming up, teeth bared and amber eyes alight. Lenore looked up at him, and felt herself light up with need for him. This was where she belonged, she knew. She felt it deep down inside her - nothing mattered but this, his cock in her, her pussy around him.
The two of them shuddered as one, and he looked down into her eyes, his face lit by the fire. “Mine,” he growled, teeth gritted. “You are mine, Lenore. Mine!”
That sent her pussy into a spasm again, pushed over the brink, and Lenore screamed for joy, feeling Maxwell thrust deep into her one
last time. He roared a deep, ferocious sound, and let go. Holding her tight to him, he filled her with his seed. Lenore clung to him, feeling him pumping her full, needing to fill herself with every drop of him.
He arched over her, trembling, pushing deep as he could into her. Lenore’s gasps subsided and she came back to herself as he slumped across her, catching his weight on his elbows. Aftershocks of their orgasm shuddered through them, making each twitch and moan, but not separate. Lenore never wanted to have to move from this position. It felt perfect to her, too perfect to spoil.
Maxwell’s hand stroked her hair, and she hugged him tight. He rumbled a tired happy noise, pulling at the rug until he managed to wrap them in it. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her deep and slow, as though he was savoring his favorite taste. They melted into each other, and Lenore couldn’t be sure where she ended and he began. Everything faded into the darkness of the night, but they held each other, and she knew that, as long as they were together, everything would be alright.
7
Meeting the Masters
The next morning, the sun was high in the sky and bright light streamed into the bedroom when they woke. To Lenore’s surprise and delight, despite its age, the room had turned out to have a modern bathroom attached to it, and they took their time getting cleaned up and dressed before enjoying a hearty breakfast the Castle’s staff had brought in for them while they showered.
When Lenore asked how the staff knew what to bring them and when, Maxwell just laughed and told her “magic”; she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but it didn’t matter. The food was good, and that was the important thing. As morning drew to a close, she felt much better about everything, and taking Maxwell’s hand, she had a spring in her step on the climb down the cold stairwell to meet the Masters.
The Council Chamber was vast, with a high vaulted roof and a great fireplace to heat the huge space. The room itself was dominated by a long oak table around which serious looking men and a few women sat, all watching Lenore as she nervously stepped inside. A dozen people in all, taking up less than half the seats in the room, but each of them surrounded by an aura of confidence and power.
Seeing them, Lenore began to have more confidence that they could solve the problem Sir Daniel presented.
Maxwell guided her to a chair, pulling it out for her and then seating himself beside her. “Lenore, let me present the Council of Masters, and the current chairman, Master Jamieson. Masters, this is Lenore Kimble, my fated mate.”
“Welcome, Lenore,” Master Jamieson, a severe looking older man, said from his seat at the head of the table. “We have heard a great deal about you, all of it good.”
His voice matched his face, cold and hard, but at least his words were welcoming.
“We have considered your situation, and Master Walters’, based on the information Miss Walters has provided, and the Council has come to a conclusion. The danger Sir Daniel poses to the community is real, very real, and must be opposed. Fortunately, this august assembly contains the premier magicians of Britain, and very little is beyond us. “
Warming to his theme, he rubbed his hands together animatedly. Lenore got the impression that the exercise of his magic was far more interesting to him than she was. Possibly more than any human was. Maxwell took her hand under the table and squeezed it gently, reassuringly, and she drew strength from that.
“Now, the greatest difficulty in magic is undoing a fate bond,” Master Jamieson continued, seeming glad of the chance to lecture. “Disconnecting you from the Sword will be hard to do, almost impossible in fact, but we have found a way, and it will address all the issues we face.”
That made Lenore’s heart leap for joy.
“Really? You can stop all of this?”
“Oh yes, child.” He smiled condescendingly as he said it. “There is little that magic cannot do, with so many skilled practitioners to assist. This is a particular challenge, but hardly beyond our capabilities.”
Lenore looked around the room nervously. Several of the other Masters looked uncomfortable, exchanging glances with each other and avoiding eye contact with her. Beside her, Maxwell tensed, perhaps noticing the same signs she had.
“There is something you’re not telling us,” he said, ignoring the cold look his interruption earned him from Jamieson. “If it were that easy, then you’d be doing it already.”
“My dear boy, it’s not easy at all. We rarely work cooperative magics here, as you well know, and this will take a great deal out of all of us. However, you have convinced us of the need. This Sir Daniel cannot be allowed to steal an entire lineage of magic power for himself. That would be disastrous even if he succeeded, and the dark forces he’d unleash in a failed attempt, well, that doesn’t bare thinking about.
“Fortunately, you have brought us the solution as well as the problem. We shall work the Great Unbinding on Lenore, here, and sever her connections to fate – and through her link to the Silver Sword of Kolkatta, break its link to you also. Thus you and your kin will be safe, and Sir Daniel himself can be hunted down at leisure.”
Lenore looked about the room, confused. The plan sounded fine, but several of the Council were giving her pitying looks and Maxwell’s hand was like a steel vice on hers.
“Wait, what am I missing?” She looked up at Jamieson, whose smile was thin and cold and pitiless. “What’s wrong with this plan?”
“He’s talking about severing all the fates connected to you,” Maxwell ground out the words, voice hard and cold. His eyes never left Jamieson. “That will cut the ties between us, too.”
A cold pain struck Lenore in the chest, as though someone had stabbed her with a dagger made of ice. She stared at the mage. “You can’t be serious!”
“It is regrettable,” Jamieson allowed. “But what is one relationship against the security of our whole community? A community, may I remind you, that the Walters family is sworn to protect.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking!” Maxwell’s voice was full of pain, but Lenore couldn’t help noticing he wasn’t saying no. She looked up at him, hurt and afraid.
“I know precisely what I am saying, I assure you. Once the rite is done, you will never see her again. But a month ago, you had never seen her before; do not tell me that you cannot live without her.”
Maxwell was silent, to Lenore’s surprise and shock. For a long moment, no one spoke, and the only sound was the crackling of wood on the fire. Lenore felt a scream welling deep inside her, and tore her gaze away from Maxwell, looking pleadingly around the room.
No one met her eyes.
“The matter is decided, Maxwell,” one of the others said, a strikingly attractive lady in a black dress. She sounded unhappy but determined. “We have voted, and the Council has made its choice. You have to abide by it.”
“Alice, not you, too?”
“It’s settled, Maxwell. Make your peace with the decision.” She shook her head sadly. “You came to us for help, and this is the help we have to give you. It is for all of our sakes.”
Lenore wanted him to slap her, to shout, to roar his defiance. She willed him to, squeezing his hand. But he simply shook his head, a tear running down his cheek.
“I… don’t suppose I have a choice,” he said, voice quiet, almost defeated.
“Maxwell!” Lenore gasped his name, feeling as though she had been slapped. “Maxwell, no!”
“This goes beyond your understanding, my dear Lenore,” Master Jamieson said, a note of smugness in his voice. “Maxwell understands the reality of the situation; let his wisdom guide you.”
If Lenore had been close enough, she’d have slapped him herself. As it was, she yanked her hand out of Maxwell’s and stood up, the heavy oak chair falling behind her at the sudden motion. Maxwell stood too, looking at her, his eyes full of pain and regret.
“Lenore, please understand-”
“NO!” It came out shriller than she’d intended it to, but she couldn’t keep back her emot
ions or her pain. “No, Maxwell, you understand! You can’t just throw this away, not after you’ve… after we’ve…”
Her words trailed off into sobs, tears flowing freely, blinding her. She could only see him as a blur, stepping forwards, saying something she couldn’t make out over the sound of her heart breaking.
Turning, she fled for the door. Behind her, she heard Maxwell call her name, and she couldn’t bare the pain of it. The door was heavy, a struggle to swing open, but satisfying to slam behind her as she stormed away up the stairs and away from the room she’d been betrayed in. Away from her betrayer.
She wasn’t sure whether to be glad or hurt that he didn’t chase her.
It was only after making a couple of blind turns in her flight that she realized she didn’t have anywhere to run to. She’d been too focused on running away to give that any thought.
Sinking down against the wall, she covered her face in her hands and let herself cry. One place was as good as another for that, she supposed. She didn’t have the strength to do much more than sob, anyway.
You’re being silly, she tried to tell herself. I’ve only known him a few days!
It didn’t matter. The idea of being cut off from him now, separated forever by magic, when she’d finally met the perfect man, that was a horror she’d never contemplated. And the fact that he was willing to go along with it was a knife in the back that she felt she’d never recover from.
“Miss Kimble?”
She sniffed, wiping her eyes, and looked up into the concerned face of the man who’d greeted them on their arrival. His thin face looked concerned, and he held out a handkerchief to her. Gratefully, she took it and dabbed at her eyes until she could see again.
“I’m, I’m sorry,” she told him.
“No need, Miss,” he said, a gentle Scots accent giving his voice a quiet calm that soothed her a little. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room, and we’ll see if there’s anything I can be doing to help you.”