Smirking now at her own turn of phrase, she grasped his hot flesh firmly and rejoiced. When he had been twenty, his cock had been longer than her hand, her fingers unable to close round his girth. Her memory served her in a true way, for she saw now that he was quite simply huge. She licked her lips, circling him at his root with one hand and seeking out his two big balls with the other. God, he was enormous and she was so famished to devour him. He had made her so.
She sank over him, the taste of his musk, the humid fragrance of his sex a torrid treat she had yearned for—Christ, for years. She took all of him in her mouth, filling herself with him. He did not move, thank heaven. He might deny her his rod in her cunt, but this he gave without objection. As she swallowed all of him, he nudged his shaft at the back of her throat and she mewled in delight that she could take him. And lave him in avid wonder she did until he shuddered with her ministrations. She wanted his cum in her mouth, down her throat. And she would have him, as much for her enjoyment as to even the score of his desertion last night. Trembling, she worked his cock up and down, up and down. He jerked away, but she caught him. Not so easily dissuaded from her goal, she amused herself by tonguing his slit where drops of his seed dribbled out and proclaimed his ardent response to her loving.
Sinking a hand in her hair, he growled his conflicted approval of her quest.
She glanced up at him to note how his lust thinned his taut mouth. Encouraged, driven, she sucked on the end of his shaft. This she recalled was his most sensitive spot. How often he would ask her to draw deeply on his broad red head and moan, blind with her service. She shook with fervour that she could still please him so after years apart. After all, she wished him as ravenous as she. As lost as she. She teased him, licking up one side and down the other of his glorious rod. She toyed with him, nipping the side of his firm flesh, kissing his bulging veins and pulling away when he objected, only to take more of him.
She massaged his balls, rolling them in her hand and dipping to take one in her mouth. He groaned and she hummed her joy at her success.
Glancing up, she saw him fling back his head, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open.
She reached up and took one of his hands to place upon her breast. After last night, should she beg him? Or was that what would bend him to her will?
“Play with me,” she urged him, throwing remnants of her pride away. “I have waited so long for you.”
He looked at her so intently she thought he could read her mind. But then he bent and captured her aching flesh, thumbing her nipple and pinching her so hard that she squealed. One of his legs, he inserted between her thighs and pushed her knees wider. Bending over her, he ran his open palm down her spine and patted her asshole. There, with one finger, as she reclaimed his cock with her ravenous mouth, he sank inside her and worked her tight sphincter. As she sucked him, up and down with famished strokes of her tongue, he finger-fucked her until she whimpered.
Wanting more, she inched closer to him. This possession—new and debauched and still not quite what she needed—drove her to adore his cock with more furious love bites and tender kisses.
Suddenly, he withdrew his finger, grabbed her about the waist and lifted her from his shaft.
“No!” She squirmed. “You cannot leave me.”
He caught her mouth in a mad kiss, even as he drew her legs over his lap, positioned her above his rod and lowered her to sink over him.
Oh, God. She stilled, her chat stretched gloriously wide.
He bared his teeth, pushing her hips down so that she consumed his cock and he filled her—dear Lord—to the quick.
He drove up inside her with a delicious rhythm that invaded and retreated, claimed and withdrew. Bewitched, she followed his lead, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, caught in the undulating surge of his possession. Her eyes closed, her body aflame, she went with him as he rocked her to a furious, snarling need for release. Her nails dug into his back. Her jaw set. Her head lolled, her mind emptied while he fucked her with a precision that forged her body to his as mightily as he had forged her mind to his in the tub.
She bore down as she reached for completion and urged him on with a feral keen.
He cursed and withdrew his cock completely from her body.
“No!” She punched him in the chest. “You cannot go!”
Laughing, he stood with her writhing in his arms. “I do as I must. You will know me as your master.” Then he took two steps towards the bed.
“You bastard,” she seethed, as much a plea as a demand. “You need to fuck me as much as I do you!”
“Aye,” he growled, while he battled her flailing arms, then clamped them to her side.
She leant forward and bit his shoulder.
“You dare too much,” he said, chuckling, and bent to pick up his belt.
She spun from him, her intent to run, naked or not.
But he seized her by the arm and flung her over his shoulder. “You may wish to have your way with me, my pretty cat, but I say what goes here.”
She pummelled his well-muscled back as he stepped across the room. “Like hell, St Claire. If you do not let me have my own satisfaction, I will not let you touch me.”
He dumped her face up on the bed and grinned down with salacious joy. Climbing up, he crawled between her thighs.
She bucked against him. How could he accept her mouth upon him in the most intimate of relations and yet he would not allow her any full pleasure? “What kind of man are you to do—?”
“This?” He cupped her wet hot cunt. There, he thrust two fingers up her chat and lodged there to caress that sweet point he could so easily find inside her.
Words deserted her. She struggled to scoot backwards.
He seized her by the knees and hauled her towards him. “I want your legs wide, my cat.”
She tried to clamp them together. “Go away.”
He splayed her inner thighs open upon the linens. “I would see how your cunt flows white with cream and glows red with passion for me.”
“No. You never finish,” she said with a hauteur that made her sound properly indignant. “Leave. I will pleasure myself.”
“You would prefer that?” He arched an eyebrow.
“I do.”
He crossed his arms. “Let me see.”
She glared at him.
But he sat back on his heels. “Show me what you like.”
You. I like your hands and mouth and cock on me.
Scrambling off the bed, he snatched his belt from the floor. “I said,” he boomed as he wound it around one of her ankles, then tied it to the bedpost, “do it.”
Was he capable of hurting her? Had he become a sadist? “You would dare tie me down?”
With a lopsided grin, he undid a bed hanging cord and looped it around her other foot, then secured it also to the other post. “You test me?”
She yanked at the bonds.
He sank down between her spread legs, tilted up her hips and thumbed open her labia. There he planted tiny kisses to her cunny. Lost in his spell, she let him have her. Let him suckle her and toy with her.
“You are so pretty, my darling. How succulent you are. For me, you always were.” He toyed with her flesh, alternately driving one finger inside her cunt or another inside her asshole. She wiggled, urging him onward. “I adore all you have to offer me. And as your only lover, now or in the future, you will do as I say in this bed.” He bent down to rub his lips and jaw all over her chat. “I wear your scent. A stag hot to rut with only you.”
“Geoffrey,” she groaned at his claim.
“You, my little bitch, will drip for me, pound for me, when I say, how I say.”
She panted in fury and desire. What man licked and ate a woman like this? Only a lover. Only this lover. She arched up, as much to have him as to protest.
He parted her tender tissues and plucked at her nub. “This pearl grows big today for me. You know it is your woman’s equal to my cock? Hmm, yes,” he said as he kissed
it and played with it, circling and sucking, then beginning all again. Her body rippled with pleasure as her mind reeled with the fantasy that was his lovemaking. “I will make it bigger and bigger every day. Do you know in the East, some women put a ring through this?” He scratched her nub with the end of his nail and she arched in desire and shame. “They cultivate it, show it to their lover. Some women have such a large one, it protrudes beneath their lips. I will make yours very large, my pet. Then you can entice me with it. Would you like that?”
She mewled, trying to press her thighs together at the luscious idea of having him toy and torment her flesh every day, every night.
He tickled her pearl. “Your cunt drips to have me. Here,” he whispered and scooped some of her cream from her cunny, “taste your desire for me.”
She readily licked his finger, the sweet taste of her juices for him making her wiggle. Still, she had begged him enough and she dared not voice her invitation to him again. How much must she debase herself before he would well and truly fuck her?
“In the pasha’s harem, women amuse themselves because their master has so many wives to please. Some seek out each other with their fingers. One, two, three.” He pumped her core in imitation of his words. “Some women use instruments to aid them.”
Her eyes went round.
Chuckling, he clasped her to him and stroked her rosy hole. “In here, they tease each other with polished gems. I have two for you.”
She trembled at the very idea.
“Aye. You will like them. They will enlarge you, tantalise you deep inside where you will need me every day, every hour. You will beg for them. For me.”
A shred of indignity tore through her desire for him. “What I want, you do not give.”
“Ah, but I will. First, I ensure you come to me wholly. Without reservation.”
Scowling at him, she drew him close with hands to his shoulders. “You would have me as much a slave to you as John asks of me?”
“Never.” As if to prove it, he leveraged his massive body over hers and with a swipe of his long rigid cock along her open seam, he drove his rod to the hilt of her core. In quick strokes, he sank inside her, pulled out, sank once more, and left her. The brief rhythm of his gift and denial had her gasping with need. Until he pierced inside her and lodged there.
She cried out at the joining, caught, suspended in delight.
He drilled her then, fast and hard, pushing her across the bed, until her head banged the wooden frame. Just as she would reach the trembling precipice of her fulfilment, he tore his body from hers.
“Nooo!” she roared at him. Tears burst from her. “No.”
She clamped both hands over her cunt, her fingers taking the place of his warm and thrilling cock. They were not enough, not big enough or virile enough. Not hard enough to give her any joy, though she caught her pearl and played with it as he had, and felt but half the joy.
All the while, her eyes were on him. He watched her, moving one of his hands to his cock, caressing his rod.
Frustrated, knowing she needed only him to fuck her, she arched up and showed him her open cunny. “Please make me yours, Geoffrey. For me to pleasure myself is no good. You want me. You know how to love me. Chain me, if it pleases you. But bind me to you the way we were first bound. By passion, if not by love. I am yours. Do I not show you all my desire?” She massaged her nether lips, drew forth a liquid sound of her need for him and raised her fingers to show him her cream. She spread her knees wide and flat to the mattress so that she opened her cunny lips, felt the cool air upon them and spread her flesh wider for his perusal. “Oh, Geoffrey, come please yourself and me. Never has there been another who did. Never will there be. Never another,” she breathed to him the same last words he had once promised her.
He seized her hands, stilled them. His nostrils flared with raw need. “You must do as I command. Always.”
“In all things,” she promised, loosed his hold and opened her arms wide to him.
He crawled up over her then, caught her under her hips, cupped her ass, then yanked her thighs over his forearms. In one smooth glide, he slid his cock within her and at his possession she throbbed around him, convulsing from head to toe.
They cried out together at the joining. Quivering, she rejoiced, satisfied, replete. He emptied himself inside her, his hot seed spurting inside her with each of his shouts as he claimed her truly and finally. On a gruff sound, he curled her close as he rammed her with full might. His cock, high and hard inside her, was her prize and she used her core’s strength to hold him locked to her. This affection consoled her for his harshness.
If this was all she could gain from him, so be it. For now, she must be content. She had infrequent menses and thought herself too old to see children come of such intimacies. She thus did not worry about conceiving. She had borne one child who was a bastard of Geoffrey’s and had spent her life attempting to make that son safe and well reared, even if King John had torn the boy from her and given him to Geoffrey as a lowly servant. About her Matthew, she would ask Geoffrey. Not today. But soon. When Geoffrey trusted her more, and he enchanted her less.
Pray that happens.
She enveloped Geoff, accepting his warm weight, revelling in his claim, his dominance. He sighed, his lips to the hollow of her throat in soft blessing. She would take this benediction from him and call it enough. For now.
She desired him. She always had. She had once loved him as a headstrong virgin irrationally adored her first swain. Her naïve esteem was gone, supplanted by this sensual fire he had rekindled in her. She was bound to him by stronger ties than the two that bound her body to the bedpost. Today she was tied to Geoffrey St Claire by gratitude that he had saved her from starvation and appreciation that he awakened her senses to ripe fulfilment and to life.
Craving Geoffrey’s ardour as she surely did, she also questioned how long they had until John came to tear them apart. This time, he would come and seize her. He would employ no slow starvation. No oubliette. This time, John would kill her in one blow. Until then, she would take all Geoffrey’s love, physical though it might only be, and enjoy it.
* * * *
Geoffrey dozed, awakening to the feel of Kat’s soft steady breathing against his chest. His eyes flicked to the solar window. Hours had passed and the room had grown dim as the sun receded. Regretting his stern behaviour towards her, he inched away and dressed. Then he untied her from the posts and left her to regain her strength.
Shutting the heavy door to her chamber, he secured the latch then marched along the hallway towards the small ward he had claimed for his own the night they had arrived here at Chepstow. Inside, he sank against his own wooden door and scrubbed his face with both hands. Upon his skin, he smelt her musky desire for him. At once, he was aflame again to have her. As if he were a youth half his age, Geoff wished only to plunge inside his lover and erase the years without her. His cock twitched, lengthening and straining to be sheathed and drained by her searing cunt.
Suppressing the urge to wrap his own hand around his shaft and milk himself, he went to the wardrobe where he had hidden away his treasures. Removing a key from his pocket, he unlocked a Turkish lacquer box. He flipped open the top and held up the harem women’s gems with which he had teased Katherine. Two black opal plugs, delicately carved, carefully polished, he would use in her ass. Three balls tied with tiny ribbons, all from a caravaner who claimed they had come from the land of silk beyond the Babylonian desert, he would seat at the floor of her womb to tantalise her by the minute. The longer tool, shaped so much like himself, he would show her how to use. For he planned to encourage her to satiate herself any time she wished after he had fucked her and gone dry. She had always had a fishwife’s appetite for sex. He had reawakened it. Now, he planned to give her her fill, by his own body or any other means invented by man.
He choked on laughter. She would have anything in that pretty chat of hers she wanted. Mostly his cock. As often as he was capable, he w
ould claim her with it. But when he flagged—and he would from so much fucking—he would teach her how to use this fine replica of his own manhood.
All so she would never want any other man. Only me. Only me to encourage her and prod her. Only me to fuck her. Only me.
Not John. That little prick. Preening and posing, getting his way with women by intimidation.
He had fought hard to take her from that tyrant and, by God, he would ensure that she remained free. Even if he turned her against himself to accomplish it. Her life was worth the effort. All his sacrifices.
No matter. He would win her back. Even from his own brutality.
He stared at his sex implements, all meant to coax a woman to give all of herself to a man or, barring that, to pleasure.
And Kat had certainly done that this morning.
He had taken much from her in that room. Her independence. Her pride. Neither had been his true goal, but needs must. And his first was to ensure that no matter what happened hereafter, she took his advice, heeded his cautions.
After all, he knew her best. Had known her since she was ten, a young laughing girl in her father’s household. Irrepressible in her mirth, Katherine had shown her nature to be kind and thoughtful of others, serf or noble. That kindness from an only child destined to be a wealthy heiress and countess in her own right had been a unique characteristic that had drawn Geoffrey to her. Whatever it had been in his own nature that had endeared her to him, the young, impoverished fostered knight among her father’s retainers, he knew that this morning he had shown her only one characteristic. His ruthlessness.
Chapter Five
At the sound of his footsteps in her chamber, Kat came awake.
Pushing shut the door, he bore a tray laden with all manner of items, plus wine and goblets, fish and bread and turnips. He paused at her perusal. His attention, alert and lurid, was on her alone.
As he put his offerings down on a nearby table, she rose upon an elbow. She let the covers drift down her naked breasts and tossed him a saucy look. No coyness, no pride remained in her. She wanted him to fuck her soon and often. She smiled at him, languid in her need. “From the glint in your eye, I would say, my lord, you have more for me than food.”
With Her Kiss (Swords of Passion) Page 6