“Aye,” he growled, capturing her attention as a snare, “it is your will that intrigues me. Cease your movement this instant or you will regret it!”
Alex clamped her mouth shut and wiggled again for pure spite. She wouldn’t have dared if she’d known what his response would be. With a ragged groan, he pulled recklessly hard on the reigns, making the horse rear. Bronson lifted his leg to the rear and dropped down on the ground, pulling her unceremoniously from the saddle.
Before she could think to scream, he brought her tumbling to the ground, rolling on top of her, crushing the wind from her lungs. “You tempt me more than words can say. I should spank you for the trouble you cause,” he bit out as he covered her lips with his own and drove his hard body between her legs.
Alex cried out into his mouth at the forceful grind against her cleft, low, toward her buttocks. She pushed at his shoulders, trying to fight him off, horrified at his sensual intent. They were in the open, for any and all to see. He fought her hands off him, struggled to capture her wrists and pin them above her head as he dragged his mouth along the line of her jaw.
He hadn’t shaved. He must have come directly from waking. A thrill arched through her at the thought of him tearing from bed to come for her. Her skin felt afire with the rough abrasion of his shadowy whiskers, the brand of his lips trailing along to her ear.
“You left before my serpent supped, sweet Alex,” he murmured hot against her ear, dragging her lobe between his teeth. He thrust his hips against her as if to prove his point.
Alex shuddered, her arms tense as she strove to break his hold. “The dining hall is closed, my lord,” she grit out, clamping her legs against his hips, planting her feet on the ground. She arched her back, trying to buck him off.
Laughter rumbled from his chest. His breath fanned the heat swarming her veins. “I believe there is a bite to be had.”
He released her briefly, only to grasp her hose and drag it from under her, rounding the curve of her buttocks until they lay bare on the grass. Alex gasped in shock, reaching for her hose even as she stopped in disbelief as he untied the cod piece and revealed his manroot to her. It stood from the white hose in stark contrast, flesh red and angry, blue hewn veins engorged with blood. His cock looked every inch the ravaging beast, intent on its dinner. She was horrified and fascinated all at once.
He reached on either side of him, locking his hands around her ankles, hauling them around before his chest. Alex tried to kick him, but his grip was unbreakable. He looked down at her, his hair wild around his shoulders and forehead, his eyes feverish and dark. He looked at her beneath hooded lids, heavy with lust.
Alex dug into the dirt, jerking as he pushed forward and down, trapping her legs between their bodies. The position stretched her uncomfortably as her knees touched her chest, and she felt cool fingers of air slip across her buttocks just before the blistering prod of his cock head nudged her anus.
Her muscles clenched, refusing to give entrance. Holding her eyes, he took his palm and swathed it with his tongue. Alex shuddered as his hand moved down, out of sight, to his groin, and then she felt him push, felt the delicate muscles of her anus stretch to accommodate his rigid flesh. His saliva felt cool, little lubrication for so tight a place.
He pushed past the inner muscles, to the hollow core of her waiting for his possession. He closed his eyes, arching his head back as he sank inside. He stopped as the bulb of his shaft entered, then pulled back until he’d nearly receded, and thrust in again. His moves were short, allowing only the thick head to enter her.
Alex panted for breath, moaning as his pubic bone brushed against her trapped cleft. She longed to feel him inside that other place. Her nub ached, pulsing with the beat of her heart. Alex cried out as he pumped carefully inside her, never giving the release her body screamed for.
Fire seared her back entrance as he stroked, building her lust to a frightening crescendo. Desperate pleas tore from her throat, she was mad with the desire fogging her brain. She dug her hands into the ground, trying to thrust back against him. A deep, ragged groan escaped him as she rocked.
“You are so tight,” he groaned, sinking deeper inside her, burning her alive. White hot heat scorched her flesh, singeing her nerves. She was so desperate for completion, she thought she would die from it.
His cock jerked inside her, responding to the agonizing clench of her rear muscles. Her womb convulsed, seizing as he sank to the hilt inside her and hoarse cries erupted from deep inside him. His seed burst into her, leaving her trembling, achy muscles shuddering as he pulled from her depths.
He fell onto the ground beside her, breathing heavily. He lay there long moments, quiet as she absorbed what happened.
“I begin to enjoy your pleasures, Alex. I fear what want of you does to my immortal soul,” he finally whispered. Before she had a chance to respond, he got to his knees and stood, dragging her up with him.
Saying nothing more, he got onto his horse and helped her up, seating her before him. Alex resisted the impulse to cry out as her bottom connected with the hard saddle. Her cleft felt raw with need, her rear hole bruised from his loving. She’d enjoyed the feel of him inside her, but it couldn’t mask the hurts. Were she on foot, it would not bother her, but the horse’s bouncing as he trotted was agony on her sore bottom. She wiggled, trying to get comfortable. Just as she’d nearly succeeded, he scowled. “We will never make it home if you do not cease your squirming against my groin.”
She moved again, eliciting another groan from him. “I am sorry, but I cannot help it. My … buttocks ache,” she said, trying to hold still.
He sighed heavily and pulled to a stop. She felt him move behind her, and then he said, “Stand in the stirrups while I slip this beneath you.”
Bronson moved his feet, and she managed to stand enough that he slipped a cloth beneath her cheeks. When she sat down again, she was comforted by the feel of a cushion softening the harshness of the ride. Turning slightly, she saw that he’d removed his doublet.
Gooseflesh dimpled his flesh where it was exposed by his shirt and the slit of his tunic. His face was impassive, not showing a hint of softness. That he would suffer for her comfort infinitely warmed her. She faced ahead, smiling.
“My thanks,” she murmured, snuggling back against his chest. He was warm despite his chill. Alex wanted to soak him into herself.
“You are welcome,” he said gruffly, wrapping an arm around her midriff.
Her moment of peace lasted until they reached Derwin Hall, and then she realized how wrong she was to feel it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Have you received a response?” Hugh McPherson asked his runner.
“Nay, my lord, I’ve not.”
“Damn,” Hugh roared, slamming his fist on the table. The gathering of his kin looked at him in alarm.
“What is it, father?” Kiara asked with concern.
“That devil Blackmore refuses my missives and refuses to give the girl back to us.”
“Do you wish to take her by force? Storm the castle?”
Hugh stroked the braids of his beard, eyeing his daughter shrewdly. “Nay, I don’ wish it ta come ta that. Ne’er has there been bloodshed between us, I would not be the first to begin it.”
“Then what?” Wren asked, perching atop a trestle as he took a sip of ale.
“I thought mayhap a few day’s passing would make him see reason, but I know now he will not. The gel has laid an enchantment on him, to be sure.”
Kiara gave him a confused look. “I don’t understand.”
“If she ensnares him as I predict she will, he will do anything for her. She will ask to go to the market one day, or for a ride. When that time comes, we will spring upon him and take her back.”
Murmurs of agreement rumbled through the room. “’Tis a good plan, indeed, father.”
“Aye, I like it meself. Methinks she will not be long in wishing to free herself of that loathsome brood. After all, what McPherson coul
d stand Blackmore company for any length of time, or vice versa.” He chuckled at the thought, and sat back down, shooing the messenger away.
* * * *
Lord Derwin blustered down the front entranceway, scowling as Bronson and Alex rode up. “A fine son you are, Bronson. You set the house in an uproar when you tore out of here on that beast you call a horse. Constance has near worried me into an apoplexy with her concern over Lord Montague. What is all this commotion?” he asked, his face blooming with splotchy red patches.
Bronson dropped to the ground, helping Alex to her feet. “Alex esc—”
“I went for a stroll, your lordship,” she interrupted Bronson, smiling at his father. “My apologies. I knew not how it would upset your household to find me gone.”
Lord Derwin looked as though he might not believe her, but his complexion lightened and he smiled, clapping her on the back. “I’m glad you are returned. Mayhap we can go on a hunt today. Long has it been since I wandered these woods. Aye, I believe we will.” He looked at the stablehand leading Ebony away. “You there, prepare mine and my sons horses, and young Alex’s as well. We go for a hunt.”
“It sounds a good adventure,” Alex said weakly. Her knees shook, and she clutched Bronson for support.
“Father, I do not think Alex is ready to go off just now. His walk was overlong.”
Lord Derwin glanced from Bronson’s supportive hand to his face and back to Alex. He laughed suddenly. “Whyever not? Did you punish the boy for running off as he did?”
“Of a sorts,” Bronson said quietly, shifting on his feet with discomfort.
Alex couldn’t look at him. She was too afraid her guilt would show to Lord Derwin if she dared look up at Bronson’s face.
Lord Derwin stroked his chin. “You go inside and break your fast. You’ll see, it will improve the health of your flesh, and the hunt shall improve your spirits. You think I do not notice such things, but I’ve noticed a lagging in your energy these past few days, young Alex.”
“Aye, my lord, it is so. I will join you in but a little,” she said as she pulled free from Bronson and hobbled inside.
“I look forward to it!” he called after her, walking away to talk with Bronson.
Alex didn’t care if they were even talking of her—all she wanted was to creep inside and collapse in her own bed. And she would, too.
No one disturbed her as she mounted the stairs and found her room. She locked the door behind her and dropped into bed, falling instantly asleep.
She awoke sometime later from a heated dream, unaware of how much time had passed. Regardless of her disorientation, she felt rested, but also disturbed by the dreams she’d been having. Bronson invaded even her sleeping thoughts. She could get no rest from him, nor did she know how much longer she could resist his sensual invasions, even in slumber. Her resistance seemed worn down to but a nub—nothing with which to shield herself from his potency.
Her womb ached, and as she shifted in bed, she realized she was wet with arousal, and still sticky from Bronson’s earlier loving. Staggering from the bed, she poked her head out of the door and caught a passing servant, summoning them to prepare a bath. She stumbled back to bed as she waited a goodly while until they began filing in, hauling in the large basin for bathing as well as linens and buckets of steaming water.
Their movement reminded her nothing so much as ants, and she dozed between their trips, nearly falling back into a deep sleep as images of soft, masculine lips teased the fringes of her mind. The shutting of the door roused her into full consciousness, and she stumbled out of bed, locking it firmly. Alex stripped her dusty clothing off, removing her grass stained hose, tunic, and doublet, until all that remained was her shirt and the binding beneath it. The tub awaited her, but steam roiled off the hot water, and dragging a hand through the calm surface near burned her fingers and turned them red with the heat.
Feeling inexplicably lazy, she opted to doze a little while longer rather than risk scorching her hide, and she crawled back into bed. The moment she closed her eyes, fantasies of Bronson assaulted her, as if her mind was reluctant to give up the dream that tormented her.
He stood with his back to the fire, facing the bed, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Naked and wet, his skin glistened in the flickering light of the fire. His eyes were drowsy with lust, brazenly raking up and down her naked flesh, settling on the pink lips between her thighs with a look of possession.
She longed to wrap her arms around him, feel the play of muscles in his back, stroke her legs down his own.
As if she’d called him, he was suddenly on the bed, moving between her parted knees, watching her face contort with ecstasy as he rubbed a hand on her intimate parts. Some sound pierced her dream—her own consciousness seeking to destroy the rapture—dissipating the sweet feel of his fingers toying with her folds.
Alex moaned with frustration, stretching a hand to her apex, cupping herself as the dream ebbed. She was wet with longing, her cleft quivering with unfulfilled desire. Her fingers slipped in the thick cream surrounding the hard bud. It seemed to jump as she rubbed across it, and she gasped at the exquisite pleasure that mounted. Her drowsiness waning, she sat higher in bed, spreading her thighs wide as she stroked the bud. Blood swelled it, heightening sensation until she panted for breath.
The feeling Bronson had closed in on her before neared, that same building of sensation that was so evocative with mystery. Her core clenched with longing and emptiness. What would happen if she had something inside her?
Alex sat higher, at an angle, parting her thighs as wide as they would go as she moved her other hand down and pushed through her folds and edged the entrance to her vagina.
Just slipping near the spot had her back arching, it felt so wondrous. She increased the rubbing slide on her bud, pushing a forefinger inside her passage. Pleasure bloomed on her nerves, heat uncurling deep in her belly, sliding excitingly through her being.
She withdrew her finger, mimicking the motion of Bronson’s shaft in her rear hole, imaging his cock filling her sheath. She gasped as the bliss soared and came crashing through her. She cried out, rubbing her bud frantically, pushing inside herself harder, as deep as she could reach but not nearly deep enough. He would be larger than her finger, agony and ecstasy that she would welcome. The bed shook with her movement, mattresses groaning as she fought for release. Sweat blossomed on her flesh as she moaned, following the path of ultimate pleasure. Tremulous waves erupted suddenly, quivering through her sex.
She collapsed, dropping her hands to her sides weakly, her insides twitching with receding pleasure.
* * * *
Bronson was worried when Alex didn’t come down for the hunt. He thought of going to her door, but knew if she slept, he would disturb her. It was also possible if she was awake, she would likely ignore him, and he would be no better off with knowing if she was well or not.
The weakness she’d displayed upon their arrival disturbed him. He was in agony, thinking he’d hurt her somehow, but thinking back on their joining, he could not remember signs that she’d suffered a hurt. He hadn’t had adequate lubrication, of course, and the saliva he’d rubbed on his shaft was minimal. It was possible she’d sustained injury. With that thought, he felt like tearing off and storming upstairs to check on her, but he dared not until he’d occupied his father with other matters.
Once he’d gotten father to delay the hunt until after luncheon, he went inside and ducked into the elaborate servant’s passages that traveled the length of the castle. Nearly every room had alternate access to it, as well as hidden spy holes known only to members of the family. He hadn’t mentioned it to Alex when she’d appropriated the key to her room from him—he’d always known he had other ways of going inside should it be necessary. And, of course, the spy holes could prevent her from ever knowing he could see her. They’d been used in times past for various intrigues, and with King Henry, and under his father’s rule, the Blackmore generations ha
d had to use every means at their disposal to survive the volatile times.
He was glad he’d thought to put it to use now, so that he could see about her. He felt certain she slept, but he could not contain the concern that bid him see for himself.
Bronson raced up the dangerously narrow stairs, taking no heed to his safety. The passages were shallow, strung with dusty cobwebs that clung to his shoulders as he passed through them. He brushed them off, forging ahead until he was certain he neared her room. Heat suffused him, radiating from the wall, soaking through the stonework from the fireplace inside, and he knew he’d come upon the entrance that led into Alex’s chamber. He unplugged the small eye holes, freezing in place at the sound that drifted to his ears. Moans of pain sent alarm shafting through his gut, making his heart clench painfully.
He peered through the eye holes, his alarm instantly changing to pure lust. Alex sat on the bed, her legs splayed wide, her fingers buried in her folds.
His cock roared to life, straining against his cod piece, demanding freedom. Bronson clenched his jaw on the pain, knowing he should look away from her, but unable to stop. The image of her, her mouth open on a moan, her eyes closed with desire, tortured him abominably. Her arm moved in a tremulous motion, slowly gaining in confidence as she found the right stroke to bring her ultimate pleasure.
His blood pumped furiously, pounding hard in his groin, feeling as though it would beat him to death. Stifling a groan, Bronson unleashed it. His engorged length sprang into his palm, and he wrapped his hand about it, stroking himself as he watched her, imagining the feel of her silken glove wrapped about him. He bit his lip, pressing his face against the wall as if it would get him closer to her.
He pumped his cock, his curled hand slipping up the rim surrounding its head, increasing the acute pain drawing through his veins. He watched as she thrust a finger inside herself, arching against it, widening her thighs, her fingers moving frantically now. He felt her frenetic need even at the distance, a mirror to his own longing.
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