In awe, Irisa pressed herself to the challenge, delving into the mysteries she had not discovered about him.
Then she bit him.
She couldn’t help herself. The very idea the knave thought he had control just galled her.
Sir Pembroke rolled off her with a loud shriek and she pondered her actions as a mistake. He wiped the blood from his lower lip and vengeance reflected from his cold, although attractive green eyes. She scrambled to get away, fearing the unknown retaliation. Crawling a few yards, she got to her feet and ran until the lake trapped her from escape.
The knight’s strides were cumbersome in his day armor. The heavy boots, the weighted tunic of finely meshed steel, all of it slowed, but did not stop him.
“I yield,” she squealed in defeat, and spun around at the edge of the cold water.
He didn’t stop his charge and plowed into her, plunging them both into the lake.
“Are you crazy?” She surfaced, coughing up water.
Irisa twisted to find the knight gagging. His sputtering sounds were far worse because in his struggle to keep his head above water, his heavy clothing dragged him under. She watched all his energy go into his fight against drowning.
She looked at the shore. Escape the rogue or save his hide? What would her father say about her unwise decisions?
Grabbing the gurgling Sir Pembroke’s arm, she dragged him the few feet needed to stand with his head above water. They waded to the bank and collapsed.
“Go on M’lady. You win. Take my dragon and be on your way.”
***
Ware followed the drenched woman up the muddy ground. He crawled from the muck and flopped onto his back in the emerald bed of clover. The lady’s sweet laughter filled his head with a beautiful sound, and a cruel one.
“I’m sure it amuses you to no end that I almost drowned, but please, have your bellyful of giggles at my expense.” He rolled to his side and coughed up more of the river.
“Oh, Sir Pembroke, I’m sorry, I’m only amused at how much my father was against my learning to defend myself.”
“And why is that?” He lay back and practiced breathing.
“Because if I had to rely on knights like you for my protection, all my virtues would be long gone.” She got to her knees and leaned over him.
“And who might your father be?” He stared at her angelic face.
If she said anyone other than their heavenly God, he’d believe something wrong with his eyes.
“Lord Wallace Mansfield.” She put a finger near his lip.
“Great,” he groaned. “Kill me now and make it quick.”
Her father was a powerful man and he saw his mistake in not recognizing the girl as his daughter. Who else, but a Mansfield, would allow a gorgeous noblewoman the reins to be as bold.
“‘Tis swollen.” She frowned examining his lip. “And purple, like a fat bloodworm. You should be thankful this is your only injury.”
“Until you father hears I have you, and then it’ll be my head.”
“Come now.” She grabbed his arm and pulled to get him up. “Escort me home and I’ll take the blame for everything.”
“I don’t know that I can trust you.” He put a hand to the stinging cut on his mouth.
She leaned slowly toward him. Her puckered lips were a man’s dream. The exquisite shape, the raspberry tint and the warmth he had shared of her breath was a delight in its own right.
He shook his head and seized her shoulders to keep her back.
“I’m sorry. I won’t bite you again.” She smiled, lifting a brow. “Unless you deserve it.”
“Yes, but who gets to decide that?” He pushed her back and sat up. “I don’t think I’ll take the chance.”
“Hold grudges, do you?”
“Yes.” He got to his feet and held his hand out.
Her cool fingers slid into his palm and coiled around his as he pulled her up from the ground.
“Very well.” She shrugged. “I’m freezing cold anyway. We should see to starting a fire.”
She batted those fans of lashes at him again and they drew him back into a trance. Her heart-shaped mouth begged to be kissed. Her eyes shimmered with a willing lust and he tugged her to him.
“Well… are we going to go or not?” She snapped her hand free from his.
He blinked, unable to believe he actually reconsidered kissing her.
Ware whistled for his dragon to fly down to them. As dragons went, he had this one well-trained. They were simple and obedient creatures. While he schooled his with kindness and trained it for the sport of dragon fighting, there were knights that raised the beasts for the sport of dragon killing. Those were the dragons to be watchful of—the inbred monsters that killed with or without someone’s command.
“Well, go on, get on.” She pushed him at the dragon.
He shook the fantasies of her from his thoughts and mounted. Putting a hand out, he watched her lovely fingers return to the perfect fit in his palm.
“I sit this time, correct?” She rubbed her middle. “That ride on my stomach hurt.”
He nodded, not wanting his voice to crack and give away how he’d been eyeing the dip to her cleavage. The wet garment clinging to the plump swell of her breasts outlined her shape with precision.
Ware towed her up with ease and she sat sideways in front of him. He held his arms circling her, fencing her into the confines and the closeness of his chest. When she shivered, he drew her closer. She felt good, all soft as a woman should be, and yet firm in areas that made him ache to explore her concealed regions. She seemed content to nestle comfortably against him. As they rode, he discreetly inventoried the details he had briefly skimmed.
Her long hair was by far the most decorative feature. The long coils shimmered when dry. Now they were glossy and sleek. Even in a wet mass, he inhaled the lingering scent of lavender. But of all characteristics, the beauty mixed with intelligence, made her a dangerous lady.
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 2
Across the lush pastures, Sir Pembroke steered his flying dragon. The wind cooled the heat in Irisa’s cheeks. With the current of air whipping her hair back, she enjoyed the way Sir Pembroke kept his face close alongside hers. He made her warm in his hold.
“It’ll be dark in another hour,” he said softly. “Do we stop for the night, M’lady or go on?”
“Go on.” Irisa piped, enjoying her place in his strong arms and reveling in the sound of his seductive voice in her ear.
She trailed her fingers over the rugged carve of his knuckles and slouched back into her cozy niche of his solid body. There was nothing soft about him and still, those muscles of granite were very comfortable.
“I don’t think so.” He lifted her up and dropped her to the ground.
Irisa stumbled with the sudden landing. The tingling to her numb legs left her unsteady. She tripped over the hem of her gown and staggered a few feet, before gaining balance.
His chuckle turned her toward him. It seemed the hour’s ride had mellowed his mood from sexually riveting to abrasive again.
“Has no one taught you any manners? I dare say the best you know is how to care for your dragon.”
“You would be surprised at what I know how to take care of, M’lady.” He took her elbow and steered her to a cluster of rocks. “Wait here and I’ll get wood to make a fire.”
“I’ll not wait. I can do for myself.” She strode away from him and picked up twigs for the kindling. “I’ll start the fire and you find bigger logs.”
His gaze raked the length of her and she gave him the view of her hind-end to inspection as she bent over to retrieve another branch. Her objective turned back in favor of him spanking her. She wouldn’t ask, but she could tease him with the idea. When Irisa looked back, she discovered Sir Pembroke had wandered off in another direction. One in which he’d not see the show she put on for his benefit.
With enough kindling, Irisa dropped the sticks and made a small fire. As Sir Pembroke
approached, she ignored him and continued rotating in front of the heat licking the air and drying her tresses.
“Your hair will go up in flames if you don’t stop spinning so close.” He laid the logs down.
“It’s too wet. Besides, my hair has always been a nuisance to me and if it were to burn off, I can’t say I’d mind.”
Startled by his grasp of her hair, she teetered toward him at his jerk. He eyed what he held and rubbed it between his fingers.
“I should not like to see it gone.”
“No?” She took the piece he held and gathered all the strands into a bundle she let drop against her back.
While her arms were still up, Sir Pembroke slung an arm around her waist and cinched her up against him. His gaze went deep into her.
“Your hair was spun from the looms of angels, M’lady. They gave up the silk of their gossamer wings so you would be graced with the softest tresses of any woman on earth.”
Irisa gulped and stared at his green eyes smoldering with hot lust.
“Ah, pretty words render you speechless.” He grinned. “Perhaps I’ll remember that remedy to silence a woman the next time I encounter a spitfire of one like you.”
“I… You…” Irisa put a hand to her enflamed cheek. He liked tormenting her and she’d fallen victim to his trap every time he touched her.
***
As the flames danced on the logs, Ware watched the lady twist her hair. The drier it got the more unmanageable it became, and the waterfall of ringlets, like little springs, leapt out from her head.
“Come here and let me fix that mane.” He sat on a rock and pointed to the space between his legs. “Come on, sit.”
She sat where he indicated and used his legs as if they were arms of a chair. Squirming back into the crotch of his britches, she positioned herself against the hardness of his cock impatiently throbbing.
“Ouch!” Her first complaint was real as he raked his fingers through her tangled hair to draw it all back. “Ouch! Can’t you show some gentleness? I’m not a dog.”
“No, you are right about that.” He gave an unnecessary tug and then split the cluster into three equal sections.
She hit his leg in protest with a fuming grunt with each pull he made as he plaited the silky gold into a long braid. From his tunic, he yanked a loose thread and tied the tip of her hair.
“There, finished.” He tossed the braid over her shoulder for her inspection.
She twisted her head, tilted it back and looked up at him with a warm smile. Her radiant gaze dropped and the fans of amber lashes touched her smooth cheeks. Ware gripped her chin and forced her face up further while lowering his head.
Their lips met in a gentle collision. Puffs of air passed his tongue entering her mouth. They twisted and turned their heads as the kiss deepened. Then she rose up on her knees, rotated in the vee of his legs and slid her hand across his ribs.
He was glad to have removed the chain mail and tunic. With the lightness of a butterfly, her fingers glided around to his back where she stroked up and down his spine.
Cupping her face, he pulled her mouth off his. He wanted her naked beneath the length of him. Searching her eyes, he saw a glimmer of permission and fought the real reason why he shouldn’t strip the brocade from her slender frame.
“Open your eyes,” he instructed.
Her lashes fluttered up and her velvet brown irises twinkled.
“What’s your name?” His heart hammered his chest.
“Irisa,” she breathed.
Ware drew her up, closer to his chest, tighter in his arms. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and devoured every hum of her delight. He kissed under her jaw and her pulse thumped fast against the flat of his tongue where he skated down her neck. Raking his hands over her back, down to where he clutched her bottom, he kissed lower. He wanted her without repercussions. Unfortunately, tasting her inch by inch would be the extent of his enjoyment. If he were to retain any honor, the nobleman’s daughter had to remain off limits.
Irisa drew her gown up on her own. The brazen move didn’t surprise him as much as it threatened his plans to withdraw. She lifted a leg over his and sunk until she straddled his thigh.
“Do you want me, Sir Pembroke?”
“You know I do.”
“You can’t without my father’s permission?” Her fingers weaved through his hair.
Her nipples pebbled beneath the cloth and he took one between his teeth and tugged. Her groans increased and her body undulated. She rolled her hips and rocked back and forth on his leg, taunting him toward not caring about ramifications. He came close to losing his willpower as her moves stroked his arousal, making his balls swell with pressure.
Ware tightened his fingers on the seams of her dress, ready to tear it away.
“Vixen,” he growled and attacked her mouth.
Her little whimpers vibrated through him and blood rushed swiftly in his veins. He took out his frustration on her neck, sucking the tender flesh until it darkened from his kiss. White pinpoints of lights burst behind his eyelids as his orgasm wet the inside of his britches. Beneath the plait of her hair, he pressed his face against her neck and groaned.
Irisa shuddered. A strange, almost painful whine slipped from her.
Neither of them moved as they individually experienced a climactic moment.
“Do that again and you’ll force me to—” Ware twisted her head and dragged her mouth over his. He devoured her gasping breath while the muscles in her legs tightened against his thigh with every convulsing twitch of her insides.
“Force me, Ware.”
He dropped his head to her shoulder. She didn’t know what she was saying, or she did and it was a cruel joke. As a knight, he’d abide by the code of chivalry. Even if she were a widow with babes, he could not have her and his honor.
Still, in her boldness, there was a sweet innocence begging him to make her his.
Ware lifted her before he completely lost his senses. He got up and went after more firewood to walk off the aftereffects of lust. When he came back to the fire, the calmness he sought tumbled back into a chaotic frenzy of yearning.
Irisa had shucked her gown and stood scantly clad in a thin sheath of muslin. The transparent garment showed off her exquisite shape.
Ware carelessly dropped the wood.
“You are underdressed.” He stepped toward her.
“The gown will dry faster if I’m not in it.”
“You are indecently attired.” His gaze ventured to her breasts rising and falling with every breath she took.
“You don’t have to look.” She slid a foot in his direction with a twinkle in her eye, shamelessly taunting him again. “A gallant knight would turn his back.”
“Maybe he would if the lady were embarrassed by his desire.”
Another step from both of them and they were within arms reach. Ware studied her expression. The wanton had a glow in her cheeks that should have backed him away. Trouble brewed with the oncoming danger and he didn’t move when she put a hand on his chest.
“Are you afraid of me?” She rubbed her fingers over the hardness of his nipple.
“No.”
“You’re trembling, Sir Pembroke.” Her head bowed and broke the incredible way her gaze mesmerized him.
Instead of staring down at the golden locks, he closed his eyes. The heat of her breath captured his nipple. Her hot, moist tongue pressed and licked, then her teeth scraped the rigid point and a pleasurable sensation blazed a path straight to his cock.
She had him off guard in thought and he seized the back of her head by taking a firm grip on her braid.
“You little tease.” He bent her away and glared at her. “You’re asking for trouble with your games.”
“Then resist my temptations, Sir Pembroke. That is if you think you’re strong enough.” Irisa went for his other nipple and he let her.
She gave it thorough attention. The agony of her kiss lessened his self-control over her
seduction and he soon thought if she wanted to give up, she’d be hard-pressed to get away from him. His cock was already hard and ready for what he’d make her do, if she weren’t willing.
Ware dragged her face downward. Her suckling lips caressed his abdomen and her fingers worked open his britches. His erection sprang—no it leapt from the confines in eagerness. Irisa got to her knees and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. With the brush of her thumb over the tip, she removed the droplet of moisture.
“Tell me, Sir Pembroke, do you waver in how you want to come into me.” Her lips pressed the rigged vein running the length of his erection.
He answered her by maneuvering her head and shoving his cock into the sheath of her accepting mouth. Mindlessly thrusting until he went deep into her throat, he worked fast toward his goal. Her fingers squeezing, fondling and kneading his heavy sac, helped churn the fires in his blood.
Irisa hummed with pleasure, yet he had no time to enjoy her tease to his skin. No, all too quickly, he ejaculated. Fevered by the passionate groans of her swallowing, he fought the urge to pull out of her constricting throat until he went dry.
Blood eventually returned to his numb brain and he hauled Irisa up the front of him. Her hard nipples tickled his ribs. “Any other woman,” he growled, forcing her away. “And I’d—”
She put a hand to her mouth, silencing an apparent giggle.
Ware sat down on a log and contemplated what he’d do with the vixen. To think of her as an innocent lady was rather a naive concept after she drank him in with her skillful mouth.
He unconsciously rubbed his hand over the damp hairs of his groin until his gaze locked to hers. She appeared to study him with her amused smile. He pushed his flaccid cock into his britches and tried not to dwell on the idea she had done this with other men.
It made his blood boil to think how well the damsel ensnared him into wanting her with a riotous hunger.
A Damsel In Distress • Dragon Fighter Romance Book 1 (Dragon Fighter Romance ~ Book 1) Page 2