His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. "You're mighty confident in your new boyfriend, aren't you?"
I grinned at him, with a faux gloat. "I sure as hell am. Now get out of my way."
Instead, he stepped forward, blocking me fully. "Someone needs to warn that poor bastard about you--how you play with men and use them for your own purposes, then dump them when you don't need them anymore. I'm sure you're just fucking him to get him to fight for your little princess crown."
I held out my hand, middle finger pointed straight up. "Bite me, asshole."
Doug laughed. "Wow, such a lady."
"If a man can say those words, then so can I. Especially when it's deserved. Got a problem with that?"
He smirked, and I honestly wanted to smack that smirk off his face. I didn't get violent feelings often, but I had to prevent the sudden urge to charge him knee him right in his inadequately sized junk. I contented myself with the thought that William would be doing plenty of smacking him around on my behalf in the morning. It would be sword against sword--and preferably William's sword on Doug's helmet a few hundred times.
"And here I was going to be all magnanimous and offer you your little tiara back, no duel required."
Sudden tightness formed in my throat, but suspicion laced any hope that rose in my chest. "And the catch?"
He shrugged and looked away. "I'll hand over the tiara right now if Sir William forfeits the tournament tomorrow."
I hesitated, picturing the tiara. Then I was assailed with a vision of my sister's face when I showed up at her doorstep without the tiara and had to tell her she wouldn't be walking down the aisle with Papa and Baba's blessings on her wedding day. The disappointment in her eyes as she fought back tears. My gut tightened.
I was tempted...so tempted. That tiara could easily be mine if I talked William into forfeiting. And I knew I probably could.
I cleared my throat and spoke in a tiny voice. "If he forfeits, that counts as a loss for him. And--and your conditions would still apply?"
He shrugged again. "Yup. He forfeits, he goes. Full exile."
I shook my head, folding my arms across my chest. "I can't ask him to do that."
"He's scared of people anyway. You saw that freak show just now. You'd be doing him a favor to give him an excuse to go. Just give him a really good blow job tonight as a reward."
My arms stiffened and I was awash with true disgust. "You really are gross, Doug. Truly disgusting. And William has more courage, manliness and honor in his thumbnail than you do in your entire body and one hundred clones of yourself, if, goddess forbid, they existed. You're a shameful, spiteful man. William is a true knight."
Doug's face flushed during my speech, but he offered a slight shrug. Nevertheless, I could tell that I'd gotten to him. "We'll see how it all shakes out in the morning, then."
"I already know how it's going to go. William's going to beat you down like the bitch that you are. And deep down, you know that too, because you never would have offered this 'out' if you thought you could win. Now get out of my way."
He stepped aside, and as I passed him, he turned and said, "Go enjoy your retard while he can still associate with the clan."
I raised a fist and spun toward him, getting right in his face. "Call him that again, you fucker. I dare you."
In the low light, he actually looked afraid. Not so brave without his armor, to be frightened by a woman roughly half his size. I really wanted to box his ears or stub his nose. Or something else really painful. My palms were almost aching to slap the shit out of him.
He flipped me off and then disappeared behind the nearest tent.
Making rude gestures at his back didn't help my frustration. With a weary sigh, I continued my search for William, that deep worry settling over me again.
He probably wasn't in his tent. I would have seen the glow from his propane lantern. Lifting the flap anyway, I peeked in, but couldn't see a thing. I was about to go search elsewhere when I heard a movement from the bed.
William had been lying down, but his strong silhouette in the dim light was easily detectable as he stood up.
"Jenna," he said in a hoarse voice.
"Wil!" I breathed, awash with relief. I pushed into the tent. "I was so worried about you. I didn't see where you ran off to."
He took another step toward me without saying anything.
Worried, I kept talking. "You didn't, uh, you didn't hear all that shit Doug said..."
He took another step and nodded, hands rubbing up and down his pant legs. I bit my lip. Shit. Was he angry with me? I had responded to Doug's offer without consulting William, not giving him a chance to choose whether or not to forfeit. Maybe that annoyed him.
He moved forward again until he was standing right in front of me. My eyes latched onto the strong column of his neck and the bare part of his chest where his doublet was unlaced.
He smelled of sweat and soap and William. My breath caught.
"You turned down his offer." He sounded incredulous. "But you need that tiara. I would have done that for you. I would--"
Without giving him a warning, I reached up and pressed two fingers to his lips to shush him. "I believe in you, Wil."
His eyes flew to mine and his hand reached up to smooth my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed, and in seconds his hand slid around to the back of my neck. With a firm tug, he pulled me to him and our mouths met with enough force to shock me.
I was stunned at the power in this kiss, like a physical electric shock. And after that brief moment of surprise, my body fell against his, soft and pliant against his male hardness.
His free arm slid around my waist, holding me tight to him, and his kiss intensified, stealing my breath. I opened for him and he readily pushed his tongue into my mouth with enthusiastic vigor that I happily matched.
Eventually, our heads separated--just barely, though. And when I looked up at him, he was breathing hard, his dark eyes cloudy with desire, like a storm just about to break over the mountains. He was moving in for another kiss when I spoke.
"Wil, I--" But I never finished, because he pulled me to him again and kissed me so ferociously that I forgot my own name. I couldn't think, but I could feel those warm, firm, delicious lips on mine. Those hands, which tightened and became more insistent with each passing minute. That solid chest under my questing hands. That body, which hardened against mine, leaving me fully aware of his arousal.
I began to unlace the rest of his doublet while he was feasting on my neck, caressing it in all the right places with hot, demanding, sandpapery kisses. He seemed determined to cover every inch of the sensitive skin there, and I certainly wasn't going to argue with his need to be thorough.
When his chest was fully exposed, I started to kiss him there, and at that point his mouth moved away from my neck. I could feel his hurried, steamy breath in my hair as my lips skated over his rough, whiskered neck, sliding down the solid neck to caress his collarbone. One of his hands threaded through my hair, massaging my scalp, while the other went to the neckline of my dress, tugging at it as if trying to figure out how to get the dress off.
"Wil..."
"What?" he answered tersely, apparently consumed by his current goal of figuring out the puzzle of my dress.
"I need help getting this off..." I said.
"I really want it off."
I laughed a little. "I, um, figured that out. I really want it off, too. As beautiful as it is--"
"It's not as beautiful as you are," he said, and then he continued to kiss me, taking an earlobe between his lips, caressing it with his tongue. My eyes rolled back in my head as a sizzle of pleasure zapped down my nerve endings straight to my core, heating everything in its path. Everything ached for him now.
I'd been aching for him for a while, in fact. And hopefully what was about to happen would satisfy that ache.
Slowly, I pulled away from him. It wasn't easy. It was like walking against a windstorm, with resistance every inch of the way. But th
e moment he saw that I was turning around, he let me go.
"It's laces, just like your doublet. Only they're in the back," I said, trying to catch my breath, knowing there was no way I could calm my racing heart.
Without a word, he tugged at the laces with abrupt, sharp movements. At first his movements were hurried, but gradually he slowed. Each time he pulled a lace from an eyelet, his hand touched my bare back and I shivered. He caught on quickly, making sure he touched me as he removed the laces.
My eyes drifted closed again and my awareness centered around his breath on my neck. He ran a rough index finger along the exposed part of my spine, seeming to enjoy the shivery reaction his touches evoked from me.
When the lacings were done, and before I could turn back around to face him, he tore off his doublet and pressed his hard chest to my back. "I like making you shiver."
"It means I really want you."
He was kissing me at my temple, my ear, my jaw. "I know what it means, Jenna."
I laughed. Of course he did. "Wil, I want to have sex with you."
"I know that, too."
"I hope you want it."
"You already know that I do."
"Then why are we still talking?"
He angled his head to capture my mouth with his and I tilted my head back as his kiss deepened. His hands were suddenly inside my dress, sliding around to cup my breasts. When he rubbed his hard, calloused palms across them, I almost shrieked with pleasure right then and there. My sensitive nipples were now taut peaks and he stroked them with his thumbs, as if plucking strings causing vibrations down to my deepest depths. I fell back against him.
This was happening. Finally. And I hadn't even had a chance to tell him about my feelings. Slowly, I pulled away and turned back to him.
"Can we--?"
But he shook his head and pulled the front of my dress down to my waist. "No more talking," he said roughly before ducking his head to suck one of my nipples into his mouth. The contact was like fireworks--the good kind, not the kind that made me scream in terror. No, these fireworks were brilliant, scorching, overwhelming.
His mouth and tongue were doing wicked things. I let out a small grunt of surprise when his teeth ever so lightly grazed that sensitive point. I thought it was an accident until, seconds later, he did it again. My back arched, pushing more of my breast into his mouth.
He responded by gently taking my shoulder and gently lowering me to his plush mattress without ever stopping what he was doing. Soon he was lying beside me, still covering my chest with hot, wet kisses. When he shifted, his thigh pinned mine to the bed and my hands gravitated to his hard chest.
And then I knew--just as I'd been suspecting for months--this was going to be so good.
Chapter 30
William
Jenna is making sounds--small sighs and gasps and a few louder moans that increase in volume the more I caress and taste her. And the more she does, the harder I get, until it hurts almost everywhere. I'm so tense, I feel like I'm going to explode.
I want to explode. Inside her. Right now it's what I want more than anything. Almost more than breathing. It's like...being hungry and then eating, but never feeling full. The more I taste her, the hungrier I get.
I reach down to pull the rest of her dress from her body and she helps me by lifting her hips from the bed to let me remove it. Her hand is still stroking my chest in the way that I like, with firm, hard strokes instead of that tickling light touch that I can't stand.
Jenna is not wearing a bra under her corset bodice, but she has a pair of modern women's underwear on. I'm glad she didn't go with more period-appropriate underclothing, because these are small, lacy...sexy. They're low-cut and a pretty shade of lavender that looks gorgeous next to her skin under the silvery light from the moon above my tent. The next time I paint her, she'll be wearing that shade of lavender. Or nothing at all.
I'd prefer nothing at all. I'm so desperate to have her that when I grab the panties to pull them off her, I'm a little too forceful. She lets out a shocked breath and I mutter my apology.
She smiles and shakes her head. "No, it's good. It's sexy. Pull them off as hard as you want."
That's all I need to hear. As they come off with a vicious yank, she makes that sound again...almost like a sob. But she's not crying.
She's smiling and luminous.
She's naked.
And she's on my bed.
I'm fumbling with the lacings on my breeches, almost willing to cut through them to get them off as quickly as I can. Unlike Jenna, I opted for period-style underwear, which look weird by modern-day standards. They're, loose and falling almost to the knee with a drawstring at the top.
But I'm out of the breeches and the underwear in less than two-thirds of a minute. And, for the first time ever, we're both naked.
Just a few seconds after registering that fact, I cover her warm body with mine, skin against skin. My mouth finds hers again and then all rational thought becomes like a stick floating in the middle of a rushing river, being torn this way and that by vicious currents. This desire is the most powerful force in my head and my heart.
At last. I'm naked and Jenna's naked underneath me, touching me, kissing me. Her sighs and moans are like music to me. And they are like a blacksmith's bellowes to the desire burning inside, fanning it even hotter.
She's giving herself to me, and I'm taking what I've wanted for so long.
In the distance, there are people talking, laughing, throwing more wood onto the pile to feed the bonfire. And the drums. They are beating, pulsing, thumping, a primal, rhythmic beat.
It's Beltane--the mating season.
And like an ancient, powerful magic that I don't actually believe in, it's taking me over.
My hands move over her soft skin, insistent. In theory, I know what to do. I'm sure instinct will probably take over, but I want it to be good for her. I may have done extensive research, but that may not be enough.
I shift so that I'm lying on her, but I brace myself on my elbows so as not to crush her. Then I pull my mouth away from hers and she looks up at me. Slowly, she opens her legs...and I hesitate.
I swallow, feeling again like I'm unworthy. Like I might be unable to give her what she wants. She reaches up to touch my face. Her lids are heavy over her heavenly blue eyes. "Can I show you what I like?"
I don't move and she cups my shoulder with her hand. The touch burns and my eyes close. "I want to make you feel good, Jenna."
"You are, Wil. You are."
She pushes against my shoulder so that I'm now lying down beside her, and then she straddles me. Her firm, beaded nipples are against my chest, and the heat between us is expanding into a scorching furnace. Every surface of my skin that touches her softness is on fire.
She starts by kissing my chest, taking my nipples in her mouth as I have done to her. Her hands are roaming my thighs, slipping between my legs to explore me. My hands are smoothing down her back, cupping her butt, cinching her waist to mine.
We're burning like a molten star. We're generating a new type of heat, a fusion, that particular nuclear reaction found at the center of a star, that incomparable heat and light extending out for billions of years.
"Jenna, I need--"
"I know what you need."
"Then let me inside you."
She moans. "Yes." She pulls back and my eyes once again fixate on those perfect, radiant breasts. They look as if carved from marble by the master hand of Michelangelo. Every shape, every curve, every peak in perfect proportion. A masterwork of art.
She is art.
And then I can't think anymore because with a shift of her hips, she slides over my erection and I slip against her wetness. It's a shallow connection but one that has me singed with powerful pleasure. I haven't even gotten inside her and yet I'm about to collapse upon myself, like the star that eventually forms a black hole.
Jenna reaches down and grasps me at the base, slowly angling my erection so that I
can enter her. I hold my breath, unable to feel anything else as her impossible heat and wetness envelop me.
She lets out a long sigh, then pauses, but I'm not all of the way in yet. I can't wait another second. With a quick intake of breath, I grasp her hips and slide them forward, pushing myself into her.
She gasps, her eyes widening, and I hesitate. "Did I hurt you?"
She beams a smile as she opens her eyes. "No...not at all. You feel good, Wil. So good inside me."
I need to move, but there's a conundrum, because while I want to push forward toward that ultimate release, I also want it to last. Forever.
I want to lie here connected with Jenna, our heat multiplying, fusion adding to fusion, burning hotter and brighter for an eternity.
Slowly, Jenna rocks her hips against mine and a hiss slips out between my lips. The world moves in conjunction with those slim, round, feminine hips. She's got me in her grasp with every bit as much force as a star's gravity. And I'm sinking into her powerful, primal well.
Without realizing what I'm doing, my hands clasp around her hips, pushing her to move faster. I can't get enough. But she gently puts a hand over mine and stops all movement. "Not too fast, Wil. Or this is going to be underwhelming."
In my research, I'd read that often a man didn't perform well his first time and that often that was due to climaxing too quickly. I slowly release my hold of her hips and she bends to kiss me. Her mouth opens over mine and I slip my tongue inside without a moment's hesitation.
The thought of multiplying that connection to her consumes me. I wish there were other ways we could cleave to each other besides just these two. My hands travel around her back to reinforce that desire, holding her to me.
Her hips move again. I thread my fingers through her hair, holding her mouth to mine. She touches my chest, rubbing over my pectoral muscles, followed by my lateral muscles. Her hands are appreciative, reverential.
"You're so gorgeous, Wil," she breathes as she picks up the pace. I release her and she pulls away with a brilliant smile.
I can't tear my eyes from her breasts. I bend forward and catch one of those pale pink nipples in my mouth. She like that, a lot. Her pace falters, and her breath jerks with startled irregularity.
"You are precious. Beautiful," I murmur. My voice sounds strange. Heavier, thicker. I feel myself surge inside her along with that familiar climb to climax. Jenna feels it, too, responding with a long sigh.
For The One Page 28