The Heat of the Knight

by Scottie Barrett

  Cold fingers grabbed Christiana’s arm. Blanche made a point of pressing her long nails into Christiana’s skin. “You! Aren’t you supposed to be waiting on us? Remove yourself from this table at once.”

  “Gently there, sister, the master looks ready to jump the table.”

  Blanche released her grip as if she’d only just realized she held a hot poker.

  Christiana glanced up toward the dais as she slipped off the bench. His feigned concern was more than she could bear. A man who cared for a woman did not kick her out of his bed and shut her out of his life. She hurried away from the bickering Pikhorns and Lord Dareford’s unnerving stare.

  Roger followed her out into the corridor. He had the quick agility of the cunning beast he resembled. He mirrored her movements. She made the mistake of pressing closer against the wall to avoid him. That was when he struck, placing his fisted hands on either side of her head, effectively trapping her. The heavy perfume he wore did little to mask the sweat of unnatural excitement. A shudder of recognition snaked up her back. Hadn’t the man who kidnapped her had a similar bestial scent? She turned her face and noticed for the first time the signet ring with the boar’s head.

  “Awfully high and mighty for the master’s slut.” His beard tickled her face. His breath was sour as he leaned over. Roughly, he pinched her chin and turned her face. When she struggled, he ground his mouth into hers, knocking her head against the wall.

  He was suddenly whipped off of her. Beckett, his face ferocious, lifted the man by his throat. Pikhorn dangled like a rag doll, his feet occasionally taking an ineffective kick at his captor.

  “I can’t decide whether to snap your scrawny neck in two or watch the breath choke out of you,” Beckett said.

  Colin was suddenly standing at Beckett’s shoulder. “I would opt for the second idea. It’s much slower and sounds vastly more entertaining.”

  “You are only allowed to make that decision if you are the one who actually caught the vermin, but since you were late as usual, I had to perform the task.”

  Pikhorn grunted out several choice curses then coughed. He tugged feebly at Beckett’s big hand as he struggled for air.

  “Oh, yes, I see what a magnificent job you are doing taking care of Christiana,” Colin snapped. “I, for one, intend to take her out of this misery once and for all. Tomorrow at daybreak, she and I ride out to her mother’s people.”

  “You two are arguing about my fate as if I am not present!” She smacked Beckett across the arm. Her hand stung from the impact, but Beckett only glanced down at her with curiosity, as if a butterfly had landed on him.

  “Drop the beast,” she demanded.

  Now she turned to Colin. “I will do anything to get away from this place. Anything!” Her words cracked out of her throat as though she had been the one suspended from Beckett’s hand.

  Beckett let go reluctantly, and the man slid to the ground. With his shoulders squared into a tense line, he stalked out of the room without another word.

  Chapter Ten

  A chill ran up Christiana’s spine as the eerie jangling noise rang out in the hallway again. She threw off the scratchy blanket and quickly clothed herself. She held her breath as she opened the door. If Lady Pikhorn were to wake, no doubt she would think of something for Christiana to do for her. It would be more pleasant to meet with a ghost than confront her mistress.

  The hallway was as black and cold as a tomb. All the rush lights had recently been doused. She could smell the oily smoke. She took one step and then gasped. Her bare toes had trod on what she was certain was a boot.

  “Quiet. ’Tis me. Christ, do not rouse the witch.” Though said in a gruff whisper, the voice was instantly recognizable, but the misery that resonated in it was new.

  “I thought it was a phantom pacing outside the door. What do you here, my lord?” she asked.

  Her eyes could not even pick out shadows. But she felt his presence, the size of him, and the heat that radiated from him.

  “You are finally getting your wish.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Leaving me.”

  ’Twas you who left me, when you brought that woman home, she thought.

  “I want—I need one last night with you.”

  Dumbstruck, she stood staring into the darkness. She was only now beginning to make out his hulking form.

  “Be warned, I shall drop to my knees and beg if need be. I’ve no shame when it comes to you.”

  The desperation in his voice was real. She was not martyr enough to torment herself any longer with denial. She reached for him. Her fingers clutched at his tunic, and she yanked him forward. Their mouths clashed in a fierce kiss. He scooped her up, cradling her bottom in his hands. She instantly wrapped her legs around him and jolted as something ice-cold pressed against her skin.

  “Keys,” he said, which explained the jangling metallic sound. “I was this close to bursting through the door.”

  Once inside his chamber, he did not set her down. As he pressed her against the wall, he dropped his breeches and entered her, hard and swift. His mouth devoured hers as he drove into her. She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled, forcing his head up. “Slower, Beckett. I want to feel you deep inside of me all night.”

  He was panting. His warm, sweet breath mingled with hers. “Take pity, I’m a starving man.”

  She could feel the muscles in his arms tense as he tried to control his movements. But the driving thrusts did not slow much. Moans escaped her lips as she was lifted with each thick stroke. Her fingers bit into the muscles of his shoulder. She could feel the rough stone through her garment. She had a difficult time determining which was harder, the man or the wall.

  She peered up. The glow from the hearth gilded the squared line of his jaw. His beautiful black eyes stared at her unblinking. Though she was giving him all he’d pleaded for in the hallway, clearly their physical joining was not enough. He searched her face for a reaction. She shut her eyes against the intensity of his stare. The punishing speed of his thrusts eased and his body vibrated beneath her hands as though leashing his desire took Herculean effort. He withdrew his shaft then plunged shallowly with such deliberation that she imagined her sensitive cunt could define the thick knob and the ridge of the shaft’s underside. Now that he was restraining his movements, she yearned to be impaled completely. She dug her heels into his buttocks and attempted to bring him closer, but he resisted.

  “I love...” she whispered. He stilled. So that was what he was waiting for, a declaration of love. That he wouldn’t get. He had a wife in his future. It was unfair to expect her to expose her heart to him.

  “You were saying?” He prompted her with a couple of provokingly weak thrusts that made her moan in frustration.

  She reached between their bodies and stroked her fingers along the length of shaft that remained outside her body before shifting her hand back to his shoulder. “I love being fucked...” Because she was stubborn she allowed a teasing pause before finishing. “...by you.” She opened her eyes.

  A rueful smile tilted his lips. “Tiana, you are forever torturing me.”

  She tightened the muscles of her cunt. “Harder. Deeper. Please!”

  She was rewarded with an animalistic growl that rumbled deep in his throat and a rhythm that left her gasping.

  He pulled out of her and came to a shuddering climax. “See what an obedient lad I can be? I’ve spilled my bastards.” He’d attempted to be amusing, but his annoyance was evident.

  Christiana wriggled out of his hold and fussed with her garments. She teetered on the verge of her first tantrum. She wanted to shout at him that having children would soon be his wife’s duty. The next instant she feared she might sob. Hugging herself against the pain, she made her way to the door.

  “You are not outside my castle gates yet.”

  Was he threatening to revoke his decision to let her leave? With her hand poised on the latch, her volatile emotions shifted again. She turned to confr
ont him. He’d shed his tunic and breeches and stood unabashedly naked. Lord, he was beautiful. It took her a moment to recall what she’d meant to say. “Must you always be so ironhanded? Can’t you simply request that I stay?” she asked and instantly felt sheepish. Beckett had been emphatic about wanting a final night with her.

  His brows drew together. “Aye, I can behave the tyrant, but you make me bargain for every scrap of tenderness.”

  He was not far from wrong. Aloofness was her shield and she refused to cast it off. “I pamper you in bed,” Christiana reminded him.

  “True. When I can lure you into it. While a masked stranger need only snap his fingers to be rewarded.”

  Beckett was not a man to forgive and forget. “When you assume monkish habits then you can judge me.”

  “After we parted, the only sin I committed was lusting like a demon for you.” He tilted his head, the silken black hair sliding delectably over the gleaming skin of his shoulder. It was a gesture that made him look almost docile, but she wasn’t fooled. He reached out and grasped her hand urging her forward. “Pamper me.”

  Wrapping her arms around his powerful naked body while clothed felt erotic. Starting at her temple, he combed his fingers through to the ends of her hair. It struck her that he would not be around to see it when it reached waist length again. Her eyes pricked with tears at the frivolous notion, and she hugged him tighter. Pressing her face against his chest, she willed herself not to cry

  “You’re so deliciously warm,” she said to explain why she clutched him so desperately, lest he discover how fragile her heart was.

  She noticed his hands trembled as he stripped her of her clothing. They crawled into bed and drew the bed hangings shut, closing themselves into their snug little world. Beckett reached through the slit and grabbed the pitcher of red wine that sat on the night table. Christiana pushed herself to a sitting position and took a loud gulp from the pitcher. A trickle of wine ran from the corner of her lip, and she flicked her tongue to catch it. The wine sloshed as she handed the pitcher to Beckett. The wide mouthed vessel caused Beckett to dribble the red liquid as well. He plunked the pitcher back on the table. With a mischievous smile, Christiana leaned forward and licked the wine from the coarse, black stubble of his jaw line.

  Beckett took the opportunity to cup her naked, dangling breasts. Settling on her knees, she tugged the fur off him. He watched her, his dark eyes glittering in the faint moonlight. She smoothed her hand over the strong muscles of his thigh then lifted and weighed his heavy sacs in her hands. She proceeded to lavish kisses and licks on each one. His cock rubbed against her cheek, and soon she was lapping at the dot of cream that clung to its silken head. Her tongue swirled around the fleshy tip.

  As her bottom rose high into the air, Beckett’s hand trailed up the back of her leg to the heat between her thighs. His big fingers stroked her pussy until she was damp. Shocked, she stopped kissing him as his hand moved to her tight bud. She attempted to brush his fingers away from her bottom.

  He gave her buttock cheek a sharp smack. “I’ll have all of you tonight. Every beautiful inch of you is mine to enjoy.” His fingers dug into her hair, and he forced her head back down. “If you need to keep your hands busy, wrap them around my cock.”

  She complied by curling one hand around the base of his shaft while bracing herself on his thigh with the other. Opening her mouth wide, as though she wished to swallow the full length of him, she proceeded to suck him.

  His finger resumed its invasion. He rubbed insistently over the puckered hole and, after moistening his finger in the cream of her pussy, he placed it at the tight bud and pressed inside. She shut her eyes against the pain and the pleasure as her bottom was impaled. Her mouth slid downward, urged on by the movement of his finger, which lifted her bottom and forced her mouth to the base of his shaft.

  Once he was slick with her kisses, she straddled him, facing his feet. It gave her complete control. Placing her hands between his parted calves and her knees on either side of his thighs, she lifted her bottom high and then plunged down. It was so deep an entry, her pussy instantly clenched. It took her breath away. His hands stroked the length of her back.

  “Tiana, you have learned new tricks,” he said, his voice raw.

  “Tricks I’ve invented in my mind. Do they please you?” Putting her weight on her hands, she rode him hard and was rewarded with groans of pleasure. His stiff cock felt enormous. Overwhelmed by the sensation, she began to lose her rhythm, and his hands gripped her hips and pumped, keeping up the pounding pace.

  A light as bright as the noon sun penetrated Christiana’s lids as Beckett roused her from a luxuriant sleep. Her body was pressed into service again to meet his unquenchable needs. The room was astonishingly bright, as if he’d used every candle in the castle. The bed curtains had been drawn wide so that the bed swam in a pool of light. She soon found herself on all fours, her legs spread wide.

  She jolted as he blew gently on her sensitive pink folds and his tongue teased them. His satiny hair tickled the inside of her thighs. He parted her nether lips wide, then plunged his rigid tongue into her pussy. He kissed her there as he did her mouth, with deftly bold strokes that made her whole body shiver with delight. A cry of surprise escaped her as his tongue trailed higher until it found her tight puckered bud. The rough stubble of his jaw contrasted with the moist insistence of his mouth plundering her. His tongue swirled roughly over the rim of her anus and then wickedly dipped inside her.

  “Stay as you are,” he ordered.

  From the floor he retrieved a bowl he’d obviously placed there while she’d been dozing.

  She watched with trepidation as he dunked his entire hand into the almond oil he used to rub away the tension from his overworked firing arm. He rubbed the oil over her taut hole.

  One finger and then another breached her anus, penetrating deeply. Her entire body tingled from the sensation. She became more eager, lifting her bottom up proudly to take the invasion. At times the pain outweighed the pleasure, but the sensations were so tangled together as to be inseparable. And then she felt the unthinkable happen. He was shifting his big body, settling himself between her legs, and the tip of his cock was now pressing at the opening where his fingers had been.

  Instinctively her hand moved to protect herself. He pushed her hand away and smacked her buttocks with more emphasis than a mere teasing slap. “Will you deny me?”

  “And if I do?”

  “Then I shall stop.”

  Of course, he would insist on claiming the right she’d denied the Blacksmith. “I wish to please you.” She bit her lip anticipating the coming pain, but she lowered her upper body so that her buttocks tilted higher in invitation. He leaned over her, his heated body coming in contact with her back, and took hold of her hand. She lowered her head into the pillows and balanced herself on one forearm. She gasped as he placed her hand under her, directly on her pussy. He worked her fingers so that she stroked the pink, moist folds. Then he straightened and, taking her hips in his hands, he entered her. Her cries were absorbed by the pillow.

  “Breathe, sweeting,” he commanded. And when she relaxed some, he pushed in deeper. Just when she thought that she could not take any more of him, she found, of course, that she could. Her hand had stilled. She waited, instead, until her shocked body adjusted to the size of him. His hand reached under and manipulated her fingers so she was petting herself again. And then he began thrusting. Slow, delicious movements that threatened to overwhelm her senses. Soon climaxes cascaded through her, one after another, as her now willing bottom met his forceful strokes.

  Beckett watched her delectable arse eagerly taking all of him and thought he’d die of pleasure. The candlelight allowed him to relish the sight of her submission: her fingers stroking her pussy on his insistence, the smooth skin of her buttocks pinkened by spanking.

  With his cock still thrust deep inside her, he leaned over her back, her soft skin coming in contact with his chest. He fille
d his hand with one of her breasts. Insatiable, he fondled her sensitive, erect nipple until she shivered to another climax.

  He straightened, gripping her hips again, taking full command of her body with his own. “Higher, Tiana,” he demanded, and she immediately obeyed, pressing her face into the pillow and tilting up her buttocks. She was as greedy for him as he was for her. A whimper of pleasure escaped her as he dragged out his shaft, then a cry of ecstasy, her fingers clutching the bedding, as he plunged into her tight hole again, driving so deep his balls slapped her pussy. Her entire body trembled under his mastery.

  “Say something. My name...anything,” he demanded.

  “Yes, my Lord Blacksmith.”

  Within moments he collapsed, shuddering atop her back, for once spending his seed inside of her. Had she, in her delirium, actually addressed him as the Blacksmith?

  Beckett sprawled beside her, his hand resting atop his heaving chest. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Tiana’s dove-gray eyes were heavy lidded and glazed with passion. She’d bitten her bottom lip. A tiny bead of blood had formed on her lush mouth, already swollen from his kisses. She curled up beside him, her head atop his shoulder, her silver-white hair startling against his dark skin. She was tracing the crusader’s mark on his neck. He took her hand and trapped it beneath his own, above his heart. It was crucial that she felt how it thundered.

  “God, please tell me you knew what you were saying.”

  “I’ve known your secret for awhile.” She lifted his arm and traced the birthmark on his inner wrist before pressing a kiss to it. “I’d been suspicious when you’d return looking battle bruised. In the forest, when the Blacksmith stroked my hair, my body reacted. No touch but yours excites me. Spying your birthmark only confirmed what I already knew.”

  It was laughable, if not completely pitiable. “I’ve been insanely jealous of myself. Could you not have said something sooner?”

  She fiddled with his family ring, an attempt, he was sure, to distract him. “Do you realize you’ve saved me from two boars?”