by Witch Fire
“And how I remain ignorant of the words you choose,” Celestine protested. Her education had been sparse, concentrating on the duties a lady of a castle performed such as making herb poultices, ensuring all had warm clothes for the winter, among many other tasks.
“A phallus is another word for a representation of a man’s cock. You know that part of his body he pleasures a woman with? That hard, throbbing part?”
She couldn’t help herself. Celestine’s nipples hardened at the notion a man would not only touch them but do other things.
“My dear lady,” Angelet said, her eyebrows knitting together. “I set up a date for you and now you’ve got one.”
“With a phallus?” No matter how Celestine searched her memory, she had no idea what a phallus was. And now she’d been set up with one and all this time she had thought, Angelet had meant she would have the opportunity to sleep with a man made of flesh and blood. Disappointment seared through her like a sharp knife.
The maid gave her a blank look before she bent over, burst into laughter, and slapped her thighs. Between gales of laughter, she managed, “I didn’t mean I set up a date with a real man. Right now you’re stuck with the Maypole.”
Her words only confirmed Celestine’s thoughts. Dancing with a Maypole wasn’t much fun when what she wanted was to hold a man’s thickening cock in her small hand. She ground her heel into the dirt and whirled around, intent on finding her way back to the castle. She’d been set up. How could she trust another woman to set up a tryst? Celestine trudged off toward the castle.
Angelet ran up behind her and grabbed her hand. “You’re such a silly goose. The one you desire will be at the Maypole searching for you. There’s no need to get upset with me for not keeping my word.”
Celestine suddenly felt foolish. She should have known her maid wouldn’t pull a trick on her. Angelet was the sweetest and most honest woman she had ever met. She turned back and followed her toward the beribboned Maypole where men and women were taking hold of the ribbons in their fists. Angelet paused, apparently calculating and then hurried forward, stopping to rest a sapphire blue ribbon on Celestine’s upturned palm. “Hang onto this and the rest will take care of itself.” Just as the girl with the wreaths had earlier, she disappeared into the rapidly gathering crowd. Everyone seemed to be talking and laughing at once. There was no shortage of merriment today.
Celestine stood near the wooden maypole and took in the sights and sounds contrasting them to the life of the castle where the inhabitants were normally sullen and quiet. Music from lyres, tambourines, and the sound of ribald singing caught her up in the joyful event.
“Here I lie between your thighs,” a bald man sang slightly off key. “Going high.”
He’d made the song up but his spirit lacked nothing in the rendering. Celestine found herself giggling and enjoyed the release the sound gave her.
Soon the immediate circle around the maypole thinned out leaving only the men and women who held ribbons. Two circles, an inner and an outer one, had formed. Celestine felt the press of bodies and quickened breathing around her.
“Are you all ready?” a woman cried out as she raised her hand into the air and waved.
Everyone turned in her direction and shouted, “Yea!”
“You all know what you must do. Weave your ribbon as you walk in and out of the folks coming at you. When the ribbon is wound as tight as it will go around the maypole, you’ll each be paired with your chosen counterpart for the day. The goddess decrees you begin!” She clapped her hands together.
The silence ended and the cacophony began. Everyone started laughing, clapping, and catcalling at the same time. Barking and howling, the dogs joined in. Children screamed at the top of their lungs and the maypole dancers started to move in the loosely defined circle, their bodies passing within inches of each other. The ribbon Celestine held became shorter and shorter and soon she was forced to reach up above her head to keep twining the ribbon she held. When it would go no further, she came face to face with a virile, golden-haired man whose massive shoulders strained against the fabric of his tunic. All she could do was stare into the man’s dark gray eyes, noting the green flecks sparkling in them, like small jewels.
“So you’re the lady.”
His voice with its underlying sensuality captivated her. She swallowed hard. Her tongue tied up in thick knots and her thoughts didn’t fare much better. Why couldn’t she speak, at least acknowledge him?
“Who are you?” she asked softly, asking more from curiosity. Angelet was a huge proponent that the goddess favored those who believed in her.
His sexy lips turned up slightly at the corners. “I‘m your servant for the day, and the night, if you wish it, milady. Your pleasure is my sole aim today.” He stepped forward, gallantly took her hand and scattered a trail of small kisses along her knuckles. His breath warmed her skin and made the pit of her stomach tingle with a giddy wonder.
A pulse skittered in her throat as he lifted velvet eyebrows upward. “It’s my pleasure to serve you however you see fit. The life of this poor knave is in your hands.” The heat behind his words was unmistakable. This time Celestine found her voice. “It is my pleasure.”
As soon as the words were out, she reprimanded herself for coming up with the stupidest thing she could think to say. The radiance of his smile and the sure touch of his hand on hers awakened the sweet agony within her.
His sexy lips quirked upward at the corners. “Only for you, milady.”
From somewhere in her hazy mind, she heard the word ‘milady’ again. Did he know who she was, despite Angelet’s protests to the contrary?
He straightened to his full height, several inches above her five foot five inches. She tilted her head upwards and sucked in a quick breath. Was it possible to fall in love at first sight? What would Leuric think of that?
She found herself leaning into the man, as she stretched on tiptoe to plant a soft kiss on his mouth. He smelled of scented oils and crushed pine. He groaned. Their lips lingered, tasting, gently at first, then crushing together. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. Her hips grazed his pulsing cock and she wanted more, much more of him.
He drew away from her, causing her to stumble, but he caught her quickly. “Not here,” he said his voice hoarse.
She slammed her heels into the ground. How could she have forgotten she was in public? She huffed a breath as the man took her hand and drew her away from the village center. Celestine scanned the area but she didn’t think anyone had noticed – they were too busy enjoying their own public tryst.
The man paused. “May I get you something to eat? There is all manner of food in the village today, even red wine if your heart so desires.”
“No.” She had forgotten about her hunger. The only food she wanted was this man’s body. She insinuated her hips against his, feeling his pulsing cock against her mound. He pushed her away, but grabbed her hand in a big, square one.
A shock of awareness licked through her at his touch. Her small hand fit perfectly in his, much like a glove. He made her want to melt against his hard chest. Her nipples budded against her shift. She had hardly met him and she couldn’t believe the strong physical effect he had on her. Her mind wandered back to all the times Angelet and she had discussed how long a man’s cock could get. Her unbidden thought made a blush creep into her cheeks.
Lightheaded, she trailed along at his side as he passed through the crowd, which seemed to open up before his magnificent presence. He didn’t push, shove or use angry words as she had seen Leuric’s guards do when they made passage for their master. The crowd simply opened up in front of him.
As they hastened to cross the narrow road, a commotion stirred through the people standing nearby.
“Make way for the lord! Make way for the lord,” a shrill male voice shouted.
Celestine’s escort pulled her roughly out of the way just as one of an army of horses and riders cantered by. Celestine drew as far ba
ck as she could when she saw the blue and yellow livery Leuric used. She turned her face away in case any of the guards deemed her presence noteworthy.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a horse swing too close to the outskirts of the crowd, where a woman heavy with child stood. The woman gave a cry of alarm before she lost her balance and fell to the hard-packed ground. No one seemed to notice her as the horses galloped by.
Celestine’s escort grumbled something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, “Those dirty rats”. He dropped her hand and rushed forward to the woman who lay curled in a fetal position. Every movement was swift and virile – a man who obviously meted out justice without a qualm. He helped her to her feet and seemed to speak to her in a soothing tone but Celestine couldn’t be sure, even from this short distance. Moments later, another man, his face shielded from the sun by a large-brimmed hat, hurried to the woman and helped her as she gained her feet. Neither the man, who Celestine assumed to be the woman’s mate, nor the woman, gave her escort a word or nod of thanks.
“Is she hurt?” Celestine queried, concerned the fall might have injured the unborn baby. The woman’s stomach was well-rounded, meaning the baby could come at any time.
“Nay. The guardsmen gave her a scare.”
Nothing could hide the tense bitterness he had spoken with. Celestine glanced into his tight-jawed face and was shocked to see overwhelming hatred in his gray-green eyes. He veiled it so quickly she couldn’t be sure if the hostility had really been there or if she imagined it. She decided there was no need to explore that possibility. She found herself drawn to this man who rendered aid without thought for himself. Who was he? Why did he have such a noble bearing? Where had he come from? Why hadn’t she seen him before? Would this one night with such a robust stranger be enough? She sighed. Probably not.
Celestine’s escort brushed stray strands of hay from his chest and arms. “The woman will be fine so there’s no need to worry about her.”
Celestine nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. She noted he hadn’t called the woman ‘lady’. “What do people call you?”
His eyes clouded for a brief second before they cleared and a grim smile appeared on his lips. His voice was so low she barely heard him. “Kerrich. You didn’t tell me yours.”
Her breath hitched as he leaned in close to her and coaxed his lips over hers. He tasted of honey and salt. Her body craved for more of him than she could have with strangers observing them. The noise from the crowd talking and laughing and the dogs barking and the children playing loudly, dimmed away. More than anything, she wanted this man inside her.
Chapter Seven
Kerrich gazed into her intense blue eyes and felt himself hardening at the hunger evident in her eyes. He wanted to take this delicate flower right here but knew that even if the Beltane revelers didn’t notice, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself come morning. He had expected to wait until nightfall to take this delectable woman up into the hayloft and make ardent love to her. Before, in the past, he would have offered her more than a poor man’s bed of straw in a hayloft but he refused to think about that now. And how the goddess/witch had enticed him into the mad lust for a woman he didn’t know. He would have his pleasure all night long as he hopefully offered her pleasure, then he would be on his way in the morning.
“You haven’t told me your name,” he prompted, wondering what difference a name made. He had been successful during the last year in hiding his identity. How had the goddess/witch known who he was? He extended his hand and caught a wispy curl resting against her lightly-blushed cheeks.
She seemed to consider her answer before she answered, “Celestine.” The name meant little to him although he remembered hearing about a Celestine but couldn’t recall where.
“Your name sounds like a pretty flower but you’re much more beautiful.” She had a dainty femininity about her with her long black hair hanging loose to the back of her knees. She could tie him up with its length and have her way with him if she so desired. As long as she drove her pussy over his cock and rode him hard, he would remain content.
Hell’s damnation, but if he didn’t stop thinking with his cock, he might lose his chance at freedom. It was foolhardy to dream he could have a life with any woman. But wouldn’t that change in the next two days, he asked himself. He should draw back, pack up his cart with its few worldly goods and leave the village. If he capitulated to this madness, he might see his dream evaporate before his eyes, just like the early morning mist did.
He pressed a calloused palm against her face as she gazed into his eyes. Never again would he spend time in a impenetrably dark dungeon eating moldy bread and being nipped at by rats larger than his feet. He grasped her exquisitely small fingers, so dainty against the large span of his own.
He watched as she swallowed hard, a tiny momentary knot in the slender white column of her neck. Her tunic was cut tauntingly low to reveal the swell of her high-perched breasts. He couldn’t help thinking that he would have ravished her right on the spot if he had been other than who he was.
She nodded, her blue eyes sparkling. “Please.”
He trailed a finger along her throat, down her soft skin to the swell of her left breast. She moaned and her eyelashes feathered her cheeks as she closed her eyes. She would drive a man insane with her pleading eyes, with a narrow waist he could easily span his hands around and that daisy-like delicacy about her.
He said nothing as he tugged her forward through a group of villagers eating roast pork and drinking mead. Uneasiness, the sensation of being watched, pricked at his back. Warily, he looked around but saw nothing suspicious. No one watched them. He doubted anyone had cause to. He tried to relax his tense shoulders. Beltane was a time for a quick roll in the hay with no commitment. By the time Celestine and he were sated, there would be no reason to form a bond.
The prickling sensation persisted though as he led her some distance from the feasting, through a short field and into a neglected barn. He helped her climb the ladder in to the hayloft, watching her ass jiggle under her gown. What would she look like when she was naked to his eyes? Like a gallant knight, he removed his tawny cloak and set it down on the hay, unwilling to hurry the process of making love, and more than willing to savor every moment. Who knew but that it might be his last time, he thought grimly.
He ran a finger around her lips, watching how the pupils in her eyes narrowed to slits. Her lips parted with urgent desire under the light pressure and he heard her give a small sigh. Gently, he pulled her down with him onto the cloak. Did she yearn for his body as much as he did for hers? Hell’s damnation, but he wanted to pin her body under his and indulge his hardened cock in her sheath. There would be time enough for that.
Panting, Celestine lay on her back and propped his hand on his elbow to look into her face. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed in and out. He sensed she wanted to ask him questions but he stilled the turmoil by placing an index finger over her lips before he gently began to rub the skin around her lips. Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her tunic. She moaned. His lips traced a line of lazy fire and she tilted her head back to expose the slender column of her neck. Slipping a hand behind his neck, he felt her toy with the fine hairs of his nape. Celestine would drive him wild before this encounter was over. She bent her knees and turned slightly towards him, cupping her hand around his engorged cock. A tortured sigh broke from his lips. “You would have driven me insane,” he whispered, “if I had to spend the day watching you and not be able to touch you.”
He untied the pink ribbons holding the tunic in place around her waist. She smelled of meadow flowers and roses and female arousal. Hell’s damnation but he wanted to bury his head between her legs and taste her. For the moment, he forgot about his trek to freedom and the past six years of toil and drudgery and the hopeless feeling that he would ever be a free man again. He focused on making love to this woman whom he knew little about. He wanted to keep it that way. Tomorro
w would see him on the run again.
“I want to strip you naked and feast my eyes on you,” he murmured.
“In broad daylight?” she queried breathlessly, blushing prettily.
Nothing more than a croak came from his throat as he tried to answer. He ended up nodding.
She laughed low. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Made love?” he asked in a husky voice.
She inclined her head.
Kerrich didn’t want to know more. For the moment, he wanted to remain oblivious to the facts of her life, to concentrate on his hands roaming her body. He tasted her lips as she pressed her hand around his shaft, drawing a low moan from him. Agonizing awareness spiraled through his blood. He wouldn’t hurry this, he told himself. He would make it last and last. She tasted as good as she smelled. His mouth tingled and his cock swelled against her palm. He pressed his lips against her forehead and began to trail burning heat down her face.
She nibbled on the crest of his ear and straightened her knees, drawing her body closer to his. The gown’s material rustled against the loft’s hay-strewn floor.
“Please,” he heard her beg. “Touch me. I can’t wait any more.”
He sucked in his breath, amazed at the warm, fragrant body next to his. When was the last time he had felt so good and so wanted? It was so easy to forget he was on the run. If he explored the heaven between her thighs, surely he would lose control of himself.
Languidly, he caressed her skin. “I’m at your service,” he said, urging himself to slow down for her sake. She looked so fragile, so small compared to his muscled bulk. He saw her nipples peak under the pale blue of her gown.
Her glistening eyes, pools of liquid water, met his. He brushed her thigh against hers. She raised her head to meet his kiss; her lips, tasting of mint, parted under his tongue. He relished the sense of urgency radiating from her. For the first time since he had been thrown in prison, he felt a master of his own destiny.