by Georgia Fox
He drew a deep breath of rain and sweet blossom, scents mingling with herbs she’d used in her bathwater that morning—sage and rosemary, if he was not mistaken. By the time he’d reached her navel, she was parting her legs wider without his urging, evidently wanting more of what he’d just given her.
* * * *
Beyond the tapestry curtain the villagers still danced and feasted noisily, shouting to one another above the music. And Dominic enjoyed his own wedding feast, eating contentedly at her sex again while she purred and moved her hips wantonly. This was better than the stream. It was more concentrated, of course. Dominic Coeur-du-Loup was no novice.
She arched against the bed, squealing when he made her come a second time by sucking gently on her pearl. It was too much. She closed her eyes tight, breath oozing out of her as if she’d died.
There was no further delay. As soon as he heard that sound from her, the warrior hitched up and forward, covering her body, pressing his cock head at her trembling pussy.
He kissed her mouth again, letting her taste her own juice on his tongue and lips. “Like the finest honey,” he whispered. “I could eat you all night long.”
His eyes flamed and he pushed forward with his hips. Elsinora felt the thickness of his weighty prick breaching her entrance and once again thought it would never fit where he meant to put it. But he lowered his mouth to her breast and began to suckle her as if he was her babe. It was a steadier, more confident, more determined tugging and sucking than the sensation Stryker Bloodaxe gave to her when she let him taste her breast just once. Dominic circled her nipple with his wet tongue between each goodly suck, priming it, tending it as if it was a new shoot rising out of the earth and he needed it to grow big for his sustenance.
“I like that,” she moaned, moving under him. In truth she liked all of it so far.
“Hmmm.” He swung his hips again, settling his cock further inside her. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and then higher around his back, bolder by the second, losing her inhibitions and fears.
He switched his mouth to her other breast, treating it just the same, dedicated to his cause. Elsinora felt wet all over, moistened by his mouth and her own heady desires. He too was damp, she realized, running her hands over his back, then venturing to his buttocks. She closed her palms and fingers over the hard muscle of his tight arse, felt it squeezing as he thrust his cock the final inch inside her.
She cried out, filled now by his manhood, stretched, claimed. Branded.
Later she would repent with prayers. Later.
The minstrels must have been between songs, for her cry echoed around the hall and the ruckus of the feast suddenly snapped off. They were all listening, she thought. All listening to her being broken in by her husband.
After pausing a moment inside her, he began to move in and out. Slowly at first, then faster as his cock became slick with her liquid arousal. The old bed creaked and rattled. She thought she heard one of the dowels that linked the wooden planks snapping under the pressure, but neither of them were inclined to stop or proceed more timidly. Too late for that.
Dominic grunted with every hard thrust now and she knew the people in the hall would hear that too. The friction of his wide shaft passing in and out of her sex, rubbing on her labia and her hidden nub, made her peak again, screaming out his name. Distantly she heard someone cheer on the other side of the curtain. As she came back to earth and felt her cheeks flame, she fervently hoped her father had fallen asleep.
But her husband still was not done.
His sac slapping into her with every pounding beat further increased her temperature and her desire, until she was scraping her fingers over his buttocks, digging them into his flexing muscle and working her own hips in union with his. Faster. Ever faster. The man was remarkable, showed no signs of flagging.
A sudden jolt proved that they’d definitely undone all the carpenters hard work, but still he kept the pace, driving her remorselessly over yet another peak of ecstasy. Her moans were now louder than those of the broken bed.
The fucking continued, his breath rasping above her, his cock plunging with tireless skill.
To her shame, on the other side of the curtain applause broke out.
They were all, apparently, counting the creaks, thuds and groans, in awe of her husband’s ability to keep going.
At last he jerked to a halt and then let out a low, fevered growl. Elsinora felt the hot rush of his seed filling her, while the wedding guests cheered frantically and whistled.
Dear God, she thought, let my father be passed out drunk so he does not hear this. She’d never prayed for that before. Usually she prayed for him to remain sober.
* * * *
For the first time in his life, Dominic spilled inside pussy. He’d never wanted to risk a babe and he was skilled at taking himself to the brink without going over. Here, however, on his wedding night, there was no saving himself. No need to try. He let his seed flood into the woman who lay beneath him and at last he knew that pleasure—the permission to be careless.
He laughed; couldn’t help himself.
But no sooner had the last drop been spent, than he heard the sound of doors flung open. A draft pulled on the tapestry curtain that surrounded the bed. A shocked gasp circled the hall and permeated the fog of his pleasantly numbed brain, followed by drowsy, drunken shouts of distress and warning. His thoughts adrift, Dominic had no time to get off the bed and he was still balls deep in his new bride, when the curtain was flung open and a great, tall, sandy-haired man stood there looking in. Two of Gudderth’s men clung to his massive arms in a feeble attempt to restrain him.
Dominic knew who it must be, of course. He would have known it, even had he not heard his new wife’s astonished whimper, “Stryker! What are you doing here?”
“Get off her,” Bloodaxe roared, his face reddened, his shoulders straining against the men who held him back. “That wench is mine, you villain. Mine!”
Dominic looked up at his rival. “Too late,” he grunted, slightly breathless. “She’s mine now. Sorry.”
He couldn’t even sound apologetic about it and when he smiled it was more of a reflex action to the joy of having just spent inside a beautiful woman, than it was meant to show victory. But for Stryker Bloodaxe, that smile was apparently the final insult.
And thus all hell broke loose.
Chapter Eight
Elsinora had no time to cover her naked body. Only her husband’s body shielded her from the eyes that now peered in at the bed, and that comfort was removed when Stryker freed his arms from the men who tried to restrain him and rushed forward, swinging a punch that knocked the unprepared Dominic Coeur-du-Loup sideways, away from her. She scrambled for a fleece to hide under, but Stryker landed on her in the next instant. In all the chaos it seemed as if he thought he should simply take over where the Norman had been interrupted. His mouth was on her left nipple, his gloved hand slapped hard between her legs before she even understood his wild-eyed intent. He cursed in fury when he looked down and saw her husband’s seed soaking his glove. But this was not enough to turn the angry man away. His hips pumped at her, as if he could fuck her through his breeches. His breath was heavy with ale and she realized he must have returned to his manor, heard about the wedding and ridden directly across the moor to fight. As usual he acted on impulse. like a fool, and did not wait until his temper cooled.
She arched to buck him off, just as Dominic grabbed him around the waist. The two large men wrestled, one naked and one clothed. She was trapped under them, screaming at them both to stop acting like children, but they ignored her, naturally. Everybody always did.
Stryker tried to pin her on her back, spreading himself over her, his lips open again to find her nipple. Dominic shoved him aside, roaring at the other man to get out and leave him to enjoy his bride.
“You had your chance, Bloodaxe. From what I hear, she didn’t want you.”
“And you’ve forced yourself on her. Damn you
, Coeur-du-Loup!”
Fists flew and Elsinora ducked, holding a bolster over her head. Four hands, two gloved and two bare, grappled over her body. She was tugged onto her side, a hot, sticky cock pressed against her bottom.
“Get out, Bloodaxe. I’m busy mounting my wife. Unless you want to hold her still for me and watch an expert at work.”
She’d never heard Dominic speak this way. Already she knew it was not like him to boast, but afire with passion he was a new man. And a competitive one. Tiny hairs rose on the nape of her neck.
Dear God he was going to do it to her—swive her from behind like a dog with a bitch—in front of Stryker and in full view of several of her father’s fyrdsmen, who now seemed oddly reticent to intervene, falling silent where they stood looking in through the curtain at the foot of the great bed.
They would not take orders from her. They never did. And now they were a rapt audience.
She was oddly aroused by the thought of being watched. Good thing she hid her shameless face under a bolster. How many prayers would this cost her later?
Stryker was on her other side, trying to pull her away from her husband, grinding his groin against her mound so that she felt his engorged shaft through his breeches. Wanton heat devoured her, threatened to break her body in two, like a brilliant, breath-taking streak of lightening. Her husband’s hands closed over her breasts, pulling her back again. He was trying to push his rampant cock between her legs and she knew he would feel how wet she was. Stryker’s hands in their rough leather gloves, grabbed her hips, his mouth fighting Dominic’s fingers for her taut nipple. When she peeped from under her bolster, she saw several more faces peering in through the torn curtain, shocked, horrified, drunkenly confused.
Elsinora knew a few of the onlookers were thinking this was her fault. She was about to get her comeuppance. Would no one save her from these two ravenous beasts? In all honesty, she wasn’t certain she wanted to be rescued.
Dominic’s hardened cock curved up against her labia, rubbing back and forth as he worked his lower body, ready to slip his organ into her yet again. But Stryker growled fiercely, bit her husband’s fingers to get them off her nipple and then grabbed hold of that large, thrusting cockhead to stop it from penetrating her pussy. Now her husband’s fine phallus, with the knuckle of his rival’s thumb bent tight around it, moved back and forth over her wet slit, as they played this tug of war. She was trapped between them.
In the distance she heard her father’s steward shouting angrily, coming to her rescue, demanding to know what they all thought they were doing. At least someone cared, she thought.
Behind her, his mouth pressed into her hair, the Norman grunted, breathing too hard. He must be in pain with the other man pulling on him in that rough manner. Elsinora feared for the fate of Coeur-du-Loup’s splendid tool if she did not act.
With Stryker bruising her breast, sucking it greedily, his tongue flicking madly over her swollen nipple, both men still fighting over her aching quinny, she belatedly began to scream for her father.
* * * *
“You promised your daughter to me, Gudderth.” Stryker Bloodaxe would not sit, but paced before the old man, his stride long and forceful, his mantle slung over one shoulder. “You can’t deny it now. Go away a while, you said to me, she’ll come to miss you and I’ll talk her into it. So I go away, like a fool, and when I come back what happens? I hear you’ve wagered her off to this Norman bastard behind my back.”
“I couldn’t wait forever, Bloodaxe,” her father responded sleepily. “I tried to speak to her on your behalf, but she still would not consider it. And you were gone far longer than I expected. For all I knew you might never come back again. Times are hard, Bloodaxe, the world changes every day around us. A sick, old man must do what he can to make preparations for his end. I needed my daughter taken care of.”
“And I,” the big Dane exclaimed, thrusting a finger into his chest, “would have taken care of her.”
Dominic, still naked under a wolf-skin robe, shifted restlessly in his chair. “I did not know Gudderth had made any promise to you, Bloodaxe. I am sorry that you must be disappointed, but she is now my wife. It is done.”
Stryker glowered at him. “That’s what you think, Norman. I’ll take my case to Count Mortain and then we’ll see.”
There was a rawness in the other man’s expression. It told of his hurt. Knowing what it was to be betrayed, Dominic recognized that look. It brought back his own painful memories, of watching the woman he adored ride off with another lover.
He held his temper and answered carefully, “You have no case, Bloodaxe.” He hoped it was true, because he’d won the woman with crooked dice. His own case might too easily be challenged.
“I had Gudderth’s promise. I had his word that she would be mine if I waited patiently. Well I waited. Ten years I waited. And she will be mine.” Stryker stepped closer to Dominic and leaned over him to whisper. “Your residence between her thighs is temporary, just like your place here. Elsinora and Lyndower belong rightfully to me and soon I’ll have them both.”
* * * *
“I made him no promise,” she said, sitting up and hugging her knees when he returned to the bed later.
“He says you let him touch you. Is that true?”
She hesitated.
He felt sickened. She’d feigned such innocence with him, even running around the marriage bed, making him give chase. Now he began to wonder if that was indeed just because she found his scarred face so frightening—as he’d suspected before—nothing to do with her inexperience. He sat on the bed and looked at the ground. “The truth, woman. If you are capable of it. Did you let him touch you?”
Elsinora exhaled a small gasp. “Only once or twice. I was—”
He held up his hand. “No more.” And then he laid down, lowering a mental portcullis between them, while he wrestled with this painful discovery.
* * * *
She tried to explain. “I have known Stryker for years. Naturally I was curious. We explored.” When he remained silent, she lost her temper. “I fail to see why you are so upset, when you have known many women before me. I at least was a maid when you met me.”
Just when she thought he would never speak, he flung onto his back. “You find him handsome? You prefer him to me?”
She was silent, not sure what to answer.
He snapped, “Tell me!”
“Why? What does it matter what I think? It never does usually!”
“Because he means to challenge this marriage. Take the case to Robert Mortain. And he could win.”
“What do you mean?” Her hands tightened around her knees, the knuckles turning white.
“If your father truly made him a promise that Count Robert accepts as a binding vow, it will change everything.”
She knew it was likely her father had made a drunken promise to Stryker. He could do anything under the influence of too much ale and he would never think to tell her afterwards. He might even forget what he’d done.
“My claim to this land and to you,” Dominic explained, spitting out his words, “is tentative at best, Elzinora.”
She let that sink in. All this time he’d made her think she had no real choice. From the moment he got there, he assured her the wager would stand up under any form of questioning. “Then you lied,” she said.
He did not bother denying it now, something about Stryker Bloodaxe appeared to have drained the fight out of him. For now at least. “I cheated,” he admitted quietly. “The dice were weighted. I knew where they would fall. I never meant to keep your father to his wager. Until I came here. And saw you.”
She said nothing, appalled to think that her body and everything she cared about had been won and lost with crooked dice.
“If I am asked by Count Robert,” he added, “I must tell the truth now. I will not take from another man that which is rightfully his. I know what it is to be treated unjustly, wronged by the indecisive nature of a woman.”
>
So he would blame her for all this. She stared at the tapestry bed curtain. Her father had married her to a cheating, lying thief and a coward who would shirk the blame for what he’d done and turn her into the villain.
Dominic Coeur-du-Loup, flopped over on his front and feigned sleep. She was disgusted. He’d had what he wanted from her and now he had the perfect excuse to leave, while laying the fault at her feet.
Well, good. Because she didn’t want him there in the first place, did she?
She stared at his back. I know what it is to be treated unjustly, wronged by the indecisive nature of a woman. As if he was the only person ever wronged.
Perhaps he was tired of the place and of her already. Perhaps he longed to go back to fighting and he could use this issue with Stryker as his excuse. That was what he was, after all—a warrior without home or family. So she had better protect her heart and stop those little twinges that had begun to pulse within it. She should never have trusted him, but he’d tricked her into it with his cunning, quiet ways.
Now she knew he was a liar and a cheat. She very much doubted dice were the only things he cheated at.
It was good that she discovered this now, before she made a fool of herself and fell in love.
Part Two
AER
Chapter Nine
Dominic rode across the moor to Bloodaxe’s manor on his warhorse one morning early, not telling Elsinora where he went. Saying nothing to anyone.
He wore no armor, only his sword in its scabbard. Bloodaxe was waiting, having been warned, clearly, by his lookout. The big Dane sat on a thickly muscled plow horse, wearing a sleeveless tunic, hide breeches and boots with laces crisscrossed around his calves. His fair hair stood on end, his eyes full of fire, hand clasped around the hilt of his sword. At least he was a man of honor, thought Dominic, seeing that his rival approached alone and took no comfort hiding behind reinforcements.