Never taking his eyes from Sophi, Eric began the difficult task of getting out of his skin-tight breeches without leaving himself unable to perform. Wearing a mysterious smile, Sophi crawled onto the bed. She lay on her back, spread-eagled, and ran a finger delicately between her legs, stroking slowly. Another hand gently rolled a nipple between her fingers. Her moan of gratification filled the room
“I’ll tear them off you. Be warned,” he snarled. But Sophi just lay there, teasing him with the sight of her pleasuring herself.
“Hell’s breath.” Stripping the last resisting bit off his leg, Eric threw his breeches over his shoulder and advanced on his bride. “Last warning. Take them off.”
She watched him approach, her eyes half-lidded and sultry. “I can’t.”
He stopped, immediately suspicious. “Why?”
“More glue.”
A few vulgar oaths more appropriate for a battlefield than a bridal bower left his mouth. “You are going to be very, very sorry, madam.”
Sophi pushed up to a sitting position against the headboard and spread her legs even wider. Tossing her head back, she beckoning to him with a ‘come-hither’ finger. “Prove it.”
A delicious frisson of fear lanced through Sophi at the look on Eric’s face. He slowly crawled onto the bed and knelt between her outstretched legs. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that. He looks positively dangerous. How delightful. The small scrap of cloth concealing the flesh between her legs was sodden with her excitement. Its constant rubbing against her swelling folds had done nothing but torture her to greater arousal. The insides of her thighs glistened with her slick moisture.
“So,” he said tightly, running gentle probing fingers along the inside of her thighs and buttocks, then across her belly where the gossamer cloth stuck to her flesh, “where shall I start?”
She ached to have the stretching slide of Eric’s cock filling her. But the damnable panties have to come off first. For the first time, Sophi considered that, perhaps, this hadn’t been such a good idea. Mother Lyre had said this tradition was better for the woman, the incollare ensured more foreplay. But what if the woman didn’t want more foreplay? What if she wanted to go straight to the fucking! I should have thought this through.
“Umm, across my belly would . . .” she began.
“No. You mistake me, sweetling.” His smile was almost unfriendly. “Rhetorical question. You don’t have a say.”
He ran his hands up her legs to her knees. He spread her wide, pushing her knees upward until the limits of her body stopped him. “Put your hands where mine are and hold yourself open,” he snapped.
“What do you mean I don’t have a say?” She was slow to obey him.
“Afraid you’re not up to it, Flight Leader? Do it or I’ll tie you open.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Her eyes narrowed at his arrogant threat. “I’m up to anything you can hand out, Commander.” She slapped his hands away and pulled her legs open. “Happy?”
His eyes held hers with a dangerous glint. “Not yet, but I will be.”
Eric flattened himself on the bed, his shoulders helping to support her outstretched legs, his long arms stretched forward, sending a blaze of stimulation direct to her clit with his constant plucking and rolling of her nipples. Stacked on top of that sensation, her most sensitive skin bathed in warm wetness while he sucked and lathed her inner thighs, swiping his tongue under until the material floated free of her skin.
The Great Mother as her witness, she tried to be stoic, but the task she had set herself was impossible. How was she to know that her clit was wired to her nipples? How was she to know the diabolical man would leave the waistband glued securely then root the loosened crotch into the center of her folds to press maddeningly on either side of her clit? When Eric used his thumbs to hold open the slick petals of her channel and then tickled the insides of them with his tongue, she moaned in desperation, dropped her legs and gripped his hair, holding him to the task. He stopped and raised his head, pinning her with a steely glare.
“Please, Eric…”
“Put your hands back on your knees and hold yourself open.” With a small sob, she obeyed, and he went back to finding creative ways to torture her.
As time progressed, her wanton moans became keening cries of abject begging. Finally, finally, he moved his attentions to the small amount of incollare still adhering the waistband to her belly.
“Drop your legs and lift your hips.” Now that was a command she obeyed with alacrity. The slide of material down her limbs had never been more welcome. Kneeling upright between her legs, he dropped the now-loathed apparel on her stomach like a conqueror planting a flag. Her fist closed around them and she threw them across the room. This was a terrible idea.
Eric kneed her legs open. “Now, my lady. I am going to fuck you.”
“Yes, please, yes,” she begged.
Her eyes flew to the blood-engorged staff rising erect from between his legs. A large, clear drop of fluid crowned the broad head. As she watched, it slid down, leaving a glistening trail, merely to be replaced with another. She wanted to feel him, that unique satin over steel experience. Nothing else in the universe felt like an aroused male. She reached toward him.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled. She pulled back, trying to hide her hurt at his rebuff.
A warm hand turned her face toward him. “My love. I’m too aroused. I’d like to be inside you when I come. It’s a matter of male pride.” A rueful smile crossed his face and his voice softened to a verbal caress. “So...don’t touch me. Don’t breathe on me. Okay?”
Love for this man flooded her heart. “Okay,” she whispered as he leaned forward and kissed her.
“Alright, sweetling, scoot down.” Grinning, she wiggled down until she was flat on the bed. With a sighing groan, Eric lay between her legs, supporting himself on his elbows. Catching her gaze, he ordered, “Don’t move a muscle. Don’t breathe. Don’t blink.”
She rolled her eyes in amusement. “Male pride thing?”
Eric nodded, grinning. “Yeah. Male pride thing.”
The hard length of him probed at her slick folds, centered on her and pressed in slowly. Don’t move? Great Mother, it’s impossible! She tried her best to ignore the welcome stretch of the outrageously sensitive tissue lining her channel as it gloved Eric’s hard shaft. She tried her best to ignore the intensely gratifying pressure as his pubic bone pressed firmly against her clit. He hit a place deep inside her that was, almost, her undoing. A choked sob escaped her.
“Okay?”
His voice was of a stranger being tortured.
She exhaled slowly through her mouth. “I left okay behind several hours ago. You feel incredible. I’m so close. It won’t take much.”
“Hmm.”
His forehead dropped on her chest. She supposed he concentrated on controlling the long, glorious, outward slide of his cock. He pulled out almost all the way then pulsed in small bumps, his cockhead never entering more than an inch. Rolling his hips, he entered her fully, sliding across that insanely sensitive spot again. Continuing as he started, Sophi counted ten, eleven maybe, deep thrusts before she gasped aloud. “I can’t hold it. I’m coming, I’m coming.” And her world shattered.
Eric straightened on his arms, threw one of her knees over his shoulder and pumped into her three times before shouting his release. Straining into her, he held them locked impossibly tight. She could feel the throb of his cock and the flooding warmth of his cum. It was almost enough to send her over again. Once isn’t nearly enough. He remained like that for long moments.
Finally, Eric dropped his shoulder and her leg slipped down. Collapsing next to her, his warm arms gathered her to him and he murmured, “Once won’t be nearly enough.”
Smiling, Sophi answered. “My thoughts, exactly.” She looked forward eagerly to the remainder of the night.
“So...what sadist thought up the incollare?” Eric’s low rumble roused Sophi from the dazed relaxation her min
d had wandered into. “I could definitely make use of it to repair some broken harness.”
Laughter bubbled up and Sophi snuggled further into Eric’s warmth. “I know. Colossally bad idea. But you got your revenge.”
She felt his chuckle under her cheek. “No. Not necessarily a bad idea. Just bad for us, tonight. I can definitely see some, ah, creative uses for such a torturous substance.”
A thrill streaked up her spine at his suggestive tone. “Speaking of creative uses.” Sophi pushed up and examined his face. “We will save quite a bit on candles.”
“Hmm, how’s that?” Eric’s eyes had closed and he lay relaxed.
Sophi fought to keep her voice nonchalant. “Well, if you glow this brightly every time we make love, I won’t bother with candles.”
He cracked one, baleful eyeball open and regarded her. “You know it bothers…”
“Yes.” She solemnly nodded. Well, she attempted solemn. Hiding her hilarity resulted in some unusual facial distortions. “I know.”
“And you can’t just ignore…”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head, interrupting him again. Her eyes twinkled but her voice remained deadly serious. “It is very mystical. I am in complete awe.”
With an outraged roar, he grabbed her and rolled over on top of her. The devilish look in his eyes scared her a little. Ooh. How...fun. He winked at her, then laughed. “So, you incorrigible tease, ready for round two?”
* * *
The warm morning sun filled the villa’s bathing room and Sophi climbed awkwardly into the large tub. A hot soak would do her tenderized feminine places good. Her dear husband, responsible for that tenderness, sprawled face down in the pillows, dead to the world. It had been quite a night.
She gently passed a soapy sponge over her shoulders and neck as her thoughts turned to the days ahead. Later that day, she and Eric would accompany the queen to Sylvan Mintoth. There they would plan a route of villages, cities and towns throughout Verdantia. She and Eric, with a traveling guard, would spend time at each place and renew the spent diamantorre. By doing so, they would restore conveniences and necessities the decimated population had struggled without since the end of the Haarb war. The ability to use her birthright in service to her people satisfied Sophi on an elemental level.
Forced to have sex with Eric. What a hardship. A low, throaty chuckle accompanied her thought.
“Well, that is a laugh that bodes no good.” Eric stood naked in the doorway, a slight smile tipping his lips. “You don’t happen to know where my clothes are?”
Smiling inwardly, she assumed a prim demeanor. “Yes, your tunic lay in the hall five steps from the entry door and your shirt was five steps beyond that. Your right boot leaned against a chair in the main room and one sock hung from the fireplace grate. Your left boot was on the bed in the east bedroom along with your other sock. Your breeches were on the floor of our bedroom.”
He shook his head, amused at her detailed recital. “I looked. They aren’t there anymore.”
“No. They are neatly hanging in our closet—where clothes belong.” She held her left leg up to soap it, struggling to keep a straight face.
He snorted. “Goddess help me. You are one of those.” He scrubbed his face, gave a long suffering sigh and made to leave.
“Wait!” She couldn’t stop her soft laugh. “I could care less where you put your clothes. It’s just,” she looked at him with an impish grin, “you are such fun to tease.”
Eric grunted, turned and disappeared down the hall. Sophi leaned over the rim of the tub and watched for as long as she could. He has such a very fine ass.
* * *
The day was a bittersweet time of saying goodbyes. Sophi semi-reclined on the low banquette in the G’hed’s small, cool breakfast room, nestled in Eric’s arms. Her tummy complained of overindulgence in the fresh fruits, nuts and breads that Mother Lyre had conjured out of thin air. But in her husband’s arms, her body satiated by outrageously good sex and the Haarb threat vanished, the only shadow on her resounding joy was the aching pain of parting from Mother Lyre and Primus G’hed.
Her surrogate mother cleared some of the food away and turned to look at them. Lyre smiled through the tears that welled and trickled down her cheeks. With a sniff, she swiped them away. “Tallen and I are so proud of you. Proud of who you are, of what you and Eric have committed to do for our people. You have stepped into some very large slippers, daughter, and you will fill them admirably.”
Primus G’hed moved to his wife and took her in his arms with a kiss, then turned to Sophi. His warm brown eyes contained deep joy. “Yes. The great Mother smiled on us when Segundo DeLorion brought you here. It has been deeply satisfying to watch the timorous, fledgling chick become a falcon, a warrior secure in her place, an asset to her mate and her world. There will be a large hole in our hearts with you gone.”
“Oh!” Sophi untangled herself from Eric and flew to them, wrapping her arms around the couple. “You made it possible. Without your love, your encouragement, I could never have done any of this. I love you both, so very, very much. If it were possible, I would never leave Sh’r Un Kree.”
Mother Lyre kissed Sophi’s forehead then pulled away. “This is what we hoped for you, child—for you to find your birthright. Yes, we will miss you but we leave you in very capable hands.” She raised her eyes to Eric. “And you will come back from time to time.”
Eric nodded. “It would be a great pleasure.”
“You have been such a joy, daughter.” Mother Lyre gave her a firm hug then stepped back. “Now, there is someone who wants to speak with you before you leave. I told her to come after you had eaten and she is here now.” Motioning to the Primus to come with her, Lyre turned to leave.
Eric rose also. “Your friends will speak more freely if I’m not present. I’ll give you some privacy.”
Mother Lyre stopped him with a motion of her hand. “No. Stay. You are one of the people she most wants to speak with.”
Sophi shrugged her shoulders at Eric’s questioning look. “I don’t know.”
Her parents left and then Adonia appeared in the entrance to the small room, running her robe back and forth through her fingers—an outward sign of inward agitation. “I’m so sorry,” she blurted, her gaze fixed on her feet.
Sophi shook her head and smiled. “I don’t understand. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
Adonia’s eyes flew up. “Yes, yes, no, I do, but...argggh!” The woman growled in frustration. “I’m making such a mess of this. I want to apologize to both of you. For the way I acted. There.” With a definitive nod of her head, she stood, arms crossed, in the open doorway.
Sophi frowned and shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”
Adonia closed her eyes. “Flight Leader. I screamed words of outrageous accusation at you when we were on the Eye and then you saved us all. I was insolent to Commander DeStroia on many occasions. I made no attempt to hide my dislike of him but he was always civil to me.”
She turned to Eric. “I treated you with a lack of respect, Commander, and you did not deserve it. Captain Biron told me that I didn’t understand but I was certain he lied.” She shook her head. “I didn’t understand and was all too willing to believe the falsehoods spread about aristocrats. I am deeply, profoundly sorry.”
Sophi looked at Eric with a question. Do you want to speak? He nodded slightly.
“Adonia, I accept your apology. Over and forgotten. And I’m sure I express Sophi’s feelings, too.”
“Yes, he does,” Sophi added to ensure no mistake.
“Thank you.” The woman gave a heartfelt sigh. She bit her lip. “I hope you will not think me forward but I have a request. High Lord DeTano has announced a standing guard will travel with you. I would deeply appreciate the opportunity to be part of it. I am a good medica but I desperately desire to become a better one. You will have contact with skilled practitioners and . . .” Adonia looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Perh
aps I can learn to use diaman crystals to assist my healing. May I please ride with you?” Her eyes swung between Sophi and Eric.
“Of course. I would value your companionship and your knowledge,” Sophi said. “But what about your lover? We may not return to Sh’r Un Kree for years. Will he wait?”
Again Adonia looked uncomfortable. “That is another favor I wish to ask.”
Sophi smiled. “You want him to come too.”
“Yes. Klaran is a good fighter and tracker. He would be an asset.”
“Eric?” Sophi swung her gaze to her husband.
“I have no objections.”
“All right, Adonia,” Sophi said. “We will meet with you at the village center this evening. Since there is no pressing urgency, High Lord DeTano wishes to travel by night. Pack your essentials, nothing else.”
A smile stretched Adonia’s face from cheek to cheek. “Thank you. You will not be sorry.” As the woman turned to leave she halted and faced them again. “Umm. Umm.”
“Yes?” Sophi asked, eyebrows lifted.
“I was supposed to ask if Maeve and Layna can come, too.” Adonia shrugged.
Eric and Sophi both threw their heads back, laughing.
“And is Maeve’s lover going to join us as well?” Eric asked when their amusement had died.
“Ah...no. Derrick didn’t think you would welcome his presence, Commander.”
“Derrick? Derrick! Humpf. He’s right. The man tried to kill me. He damn well beat me unconscious, twice.”
Adonia’s eyes turned sly. “Besides, I think Maeve is half-sweet on Lieutenant Crawford.”
Sophi straightened in surprise. “Crawford and Maeve? When did that happen? Ah, tell me later.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Eric said. “Tell them to come, too.” He crossed his arms over his chest, one eyebrow in a high arch. “Is that it? Is that all of it?”
Nodding her head sheepishly, Adonia walked backward toward the entry door. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
Hers To Choose (Verdantia Book 2) Page 23