Timely Defense

by Nathalie Gray

  A single torch had been lit down the hall. The trembling glow did nothing to dissipate the various threatening shadows crawling along the corridor, dogging her steps, spilling into crevasses and irregularities between the stonework. Hems of both robe and chemise in a hand, she padded toward the largest guest chamber, thanked her good fortune she met no one on the way and rapped her knuckles twice on the thick panel. Had she waited to think about her actions, she would’ve lost her nerve. Better to act and not think at all. Lady Marion meant to seduce a man tonight and nothing short of a catastrophe would stop her. Not modesty and surely not the embarrassment gnawing at her.

  Sir Ayjay didn’t respond.

  Looking both ways, Marion knocked again, louder this time.

  Please, open the door.

  After a while, she lifted the lever and found the door unlocked. Not bothering to wait for consent, she pushed it in, rushed inside then noiselessly closed it behind her. When the bolt was slid, she turned and leaned back against the door, expecting to find Sir Ayjay fast asleep in bed. Instead, she spotted him with his eyes closed in front of the fire, sprawled in a copper tub, his back propped against a chair he’d dragged there. Both arms and one foot dangled over the edge. The soft snoring indicated he was asleep. He was so tall, he barely fit in the tub. The comical position forced a smile on her face. He looked much younger this way with his hair tousled and coming down over his forehead instead of raked back in a shiny wave. For a moment, she tried to guess his age and was horrified he might be younger than she.

  What now?

  She was by no means a virgin and had deeply enjoyed making love to her husband, but seducing a man sleeping in his bathtub was a novel enterprise for her. Well…

  Marion removed her robe, let it slide to the floor. Shoes followed suit. Silently, she crossed the room to stand a few paces from the bathtub. Water reached just below his rib cage and afforded her a fine view of his sculpted body. Long, lean thighs that tapered at the knees before swelling out in muscled calves, a flat and hard belly, a wide chest where a fine growth of dark hair partitioned his front in perfectly symmetrical halves, wide shoulders where shadows played over his smooth skin… Marion enjoyed the sight of him more with each passing moment.

  “I know this is just a dream,” Sir Ayjay said suddenly, his eyes opening and focusing on her face.

  A gasp escaped her. She clutched her hands together in front and waited to see how much trouble she’d just put herself in. Again.

  But he didn’t seem shocked or angered, only slightly befuddled. “Nothing will be here when I wake. Not the stitches in my head, not the lack of proper plumbing and unfortunately, not the gorgeous blonde in the blue dress.”

  Resisting the urge to turn tail and escape, Marion held his gaze. The thin fabric of her chemise left precious little to the imagination and allowed him a clear view of her breasts as they rose and fell with each tight breath. Though she didn’t look down at herself, she could tell her nipples poked sharply against the linen. Remnants of her carnal interlude tightened her sex. Marion recognized the burning intensity of her desire for the man and it scared her, left her wondering to what lengths she would go to satiate it.

  “Are you here for real?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you going to disappear if I touch you?”

  She shook her head.

  Sir Ayjay smiled as he patted the edge of the bathtub, indicating he’d enjoy her to come closer. She did, knelt near the tub and placed her hands on her lap. “You are beautiful.”

  He closed his eyes and smiled benignly. “Hey. You stole my line.”

  They shared a grin.

  “I’m drunk, you know,” he remarked with more lucidity than his words implied. She’d dealt with drunken men often enough and Sir Ayjay didn’t look the part. “I might fumble with the bra straps for a while.”

  “Bra straps?”

  His dark gaze slid down to her chest. “Oh but you’re not wearing any. Part of the whole medieval theme, right? You’re all taking this very seriously.”

  Marion remained immobile when he raised his hand and gently ran the back of his fingers along her cheek and neck. “You have nice hair. Women don’t wear it long like that anymore. I love it.”

  Down her neck his fingers went, eliciting wave upon wave of shivers that tightened her nipples until they began to ache with desire. A single drop of water fell in the parted opening and coursed down between her breasts before ending its teasing journey in her navel. He must have sensed her excitement as well. Featherlight, the tips of his fingers brushed against her breast. A sigh escaped her.

  Grinning knowingly, he sank his hand in the water, brought it out and angled it so his palm would face her. Fingers splayed, he pressed his large hand over her breast, not trying to squeeze or feel it, just let the water seep into the fabric so when he removed it, a wet handprint made the linen look almost see-through. His eyes narrowing, Sir Ayjay examined his handiwork.

  “You have gorgeous breasts. Perfect breasts actually.”

  Marion swore she would faint in a dead heap on the floor. Carnal hunger threatened to make a frenzied madwoman of her. The heat of his hand still pressed against her wet breast, the contrast of cooling fabric creating the most erotic sensation. A pressing hunger pulsated between her legs, hunger she was growing desperate to appease. God, she wanted him. She scooted closer to the bathtub. His member proudly poked out of the water as though it too wanted to come up and watch. It glistened invitingly.

  “I think I’ve developed a crush on you,” he said, repeating the process with her other breast. He stayed longer this time and gave a little squeeze.

  “I do not understand.” Marion bit her cheek to keep from moaning. His hands were just as gentle as she’d imagined they would be. She wondered what he could do with his mouth.

  “A crush. It means I like you.”

  “Then I have a crush on you as well.” Growing bolder under his hot touch, she dipped her hand in the bathtub and let water trickle down from his knee to his thigh.

  A twitch at his jaw rewarded her. He licked his decadent lips. “Can I kiss your breasts?”

  You certainly can, sir!

  But for him to ask first—when he knew so well she’d grant his request—meant a lot to Marion, made her feel she had a choice, that he respected her and wouldn’t take unless it was freely given. Such an unusual, surprising man.

  Panting hard, Marion raised herself on her knees and grabbed the opposite edge of the tub so her neck and chest would hover just in front of him. She could barely think for the pangs of hunger assailing her senses. She wanted him to touch her with his hands, his mouth. She wanted him inside and all round.

  With deliberate fingers, he unlaced the first few rows of her chemise, parted the fabric until the dawn of her breasts appeared in the opening. But he didn’t try to denude them completely. Instead, he caressed her feverish skin with a single finger, traced the contour of her breasts, circled the nipples, brushed the sensitive skin of her neck but never once looked as though he wanted to part the garment wider and satisfy his obvious lust.

  Marion meant to tug the opening wider for him but he pulled her hand away. “Nothing this good should come quickly. Let me work for it.”

  She had to close her eyes for the sheer exhilaration choking her. Her arms shook from the strain of keeping her upper body suspended over his while he toyed with and tormented her breasts. Adding more water, he pressed handprints all over her front, around her waist, patting the fabric taut so it’d stick to her skin. She’d never felt so coveted in her life.

  Unable to resist any longer, she curled her spine so she could taste his mouth. A faint trace of honey remained from the mead. Sir Ayjay suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in with him amid a splash of cooling water and a stifled gasp. His mouth proved much more demanding than his hands as he greedily kissed her lips, her chin, her neck. Unable to move, she let him devour her throat and when he finally managed to pa
rt her chemise enough to denude a breast, his lips closed over her nipple and trapped it with enough force to make her groan shamelessly.

  Sucking hard and with much noise, Sir Ayjay kept his mouth clamped over her while he scooted higher in the bathtub and even managed to kneel with her over his lap. She stood, stepped out when he pushed her at arm’s length and waited while he followed suit, kneeling in front of her.

  “Don’t move, okay, just stand there.”

  Water dripped everywhere on the floor. After a quick flash of teeth—that smile could set fires she was sure—he reached behind her back and fisted her chemise, plastered it against her front with his other hand, which molded her belly and breasts in quite a revealing way. His mouth covered every parcel of her as he licked, bit and sucked. Hair as shiny as black silk glistened between her fingers when she raked them back over his head, unable to stop, wanting to fill her hands and face with it.

  His fingers soon joined his mouth and trapped her rock-hard points, rolling them mercilessly, forcing a sharp little cry, which instantly mortified her. No one was supposed to know she was there. But when he pressed her chemise tight between her thighs, molded her sex with the wet garment and gave it a vigorous lick, all thoughts of propriety left Marion. Lord, what was he doing?

  “Sir Ayjay,” she began, bit the inside of her bottom lip when he rubbed a thumb over her sex before giving it another brisk swipe of his tongue. “What is…ohh.”

  “Shh,” he replied as he urged her thighs wider so he could fit his palm in between and tent the fabric even tighter against her cleft.

  When she looked down at herself, she saw through the wet linen how her dark blonde patch showed particularly well, especially considering Sir Ayjay was shaping it with his fingers, outlining even the slit. He kissed her there again. A massive shiver rocked her. She melted between the legs.

  Pushing on her sternum, he forced her to backpedal until her thighs met the bed then he stood, kissed her deeply before giving her an extra push that sent her flopping back on the mattress.

  With a wicked grin, he knelt between her legs and slowly, by measured increments, he raised her chemise over her knees. Her first reaction was to clamp them together. Sir Ayjay froze.

  “You don’t like that?”

  “I am not sure what you are doing,” she replied, hating the way her voice squeaked.

  His eyes flared wide. “You’ve never had a man make love to you with his mouth?”

  The thought triggered an assortment of vivid images in her mind. She shook her head but released the tension in her legs so he could part her knees.

  “We don’t have to,” he murmured before giving her knee a quick kiss.

  “I want to.”

  “I may be drunk but not completely stupid. All a lady has to do is ask.”

  While he raised her chemise over her hips, he leaned in and kissed her on the belly slowly, languorously, as though nothing else in the world mattered more. Gradually, his mouth traveled lower. After a while, he’d managed to squeeze a shoulder between her knees then another.

  Marion closed her eyes. She’d never been so exposed in her life. To have a man kneel between her legs felt so odd and exciting and scary. When she felt something hot and wet graze her nether lips, Marion couldn’t suppress a long moan. Her back arched. Inside her womb, spasms tightened her flesh. Her need flared.

  “I promise you this is going to be good.”

  And it was.

  Parting her even wider—this she couldn’t watch and remained on her back with her eyes closed—with his fingers, he gave a long and gentle lick right over her engorged flesh. Pleasure spilled out of her. She wanted to squirm away but froze when he did it again then again. A wave of ecstasy swelled low in her belly. When he concentrated on her sensitive bud, flicking his tongue over and over before drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently, Marion knew the single most satisfying moment in her life. With a long sigh, she climaxed, spent her honey right into Sir Ayjay’s greedy mouth. Harder, quicker, he brought her there again with his mouth alone until she was arching back and clawing at the bedclothes over her head.

  Unable to take it any longer, she opened her eyes and caught him staring at her, a knowing grin on his glistening, wicked mouth. “Take me,” she murmured.

  “Not yet. I told you, something that good can’t come quickly. And I like to play games in bed…”

  Marion knew her face must have matched the shock she felt for Sir Ayjay beamed in a way that made her want to hide her face but watch through her fingers. That smile was so decadent and uninhibited. So wicked.

  She forced her gaze to meet his. “What sort of games?”

  Chapter Four

  “The sort that brings a nice, healthy glow to a lady’s cheeks,” A.J. replied, trying not to look like a hyena zeroing in on a gazelle. Lady Marion was no one’s little gazelle. But, hot damn, was she ever a cute, plump little goddess!

  She smiled valiantly although he could tell she was nervous.

  “Fun games. Nothing gross or rough, okay?”

  After a small nod, she seemed to gather her nerve and lifted her chin. “Teach me these games from your homeland. I shall learn them eagerly.”

  “Attagirl.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Never mind,” A.J. replied, giving her thigh a nice, long lick that closed her eyes.

  A.J. couldn’t believe no lover had ever eaten this gorgeous woman out. He couldn’t decide if it was the “Lady Marion” persona talking or if the woman had truly never had a man make love to her with his mouth. Were men fools around these parts? Must have been something in the water.

  All the better for him.

  And damn if she wasn’t the hairiest woman he’d ever been with! Compared to his last girlfriend, who’d had the Brazilian wax job down to a science, Lady Marion’s cute pussy was covered with the most luxuriant golden fleece he’d ever been lucky enough to feast on. Although the thought of denuding all that precious, rosy flesh made him salivate. She’d look singularly appetizing with a shaven pussy.

  Man, he was so drunk! Not pass-out-and-piss-in-the-closet drunk but tipsy enough to have fun. At least, he’d thought so until he’d gotten up from the dinner table and nearly tripped on his own feet. A pair of smiling maids had escorted him to his room, stripped him and sat him in the bathtub. The entire time, he’d just grinned like a loon.

  That mead thing was great. And sneaky too because he couldn’t taste the wine under the apple juice and honey flavor.

  What would be a nice, easy game for “Lady Marion”? Something fun but not too wild. Judging by her reaction to his mouth on her pussy, she hadn’t had the most varied sex.

  “What about truth or dare?” he asked, knowing his smirk was giving him away. “Have you ever played that one?”

  “Truth or dare…?”

  He let her roll that one around in her mind for a while, enjoying the look of deliberation and resolve playing with her expression. Beauty such as hers, nature didn’t often make.

  “It works like this, you must choose a challenge—tell a personal truth or accept a wildly outrageous dare. Do you think it’s something you’d like to try?”

  A solemn nod made him want to laugh but he didn’t. Climbing up on the bed, he lay by her side and caressed her belly.

  “Okay, I’ll start so it gives you an example of questions. Let me see… Truth or dare, have you ever had a lover kiss you there before?” He rested his hand over her mons and felt her honey seep onto his fingers.

  “No, I told you already,” Marion replied, blushing beet red.

  “I know, I’m starting nice and slow here.”

  Lady Marion’s chin came up again. “Do not start ‘nice and slow’ for my sake, Sir Ayjay. I am a grown woman.”

  Was she ever!

  “No more Mister Nice Guy then.”

  Now lying side by side, A.J. rolled toward her and propped his head on his hand while his other rubbed her thigh slowly. “Truth or dare—you hav
e to say which one you choose, right—have you ever had erotic dreams that woke you up and forced you to pleasure yourself?”

  Despite the poor light, he saw her face go from beet red to a nice rosy pink. So cute.

  “Truth. I have,” she murmured, cleared her throat. “I have had such dreams, yes.”

  A.J. grinned. “You’re always going to choose truth, aren’t you?”

  “It makes life much easier.”

  “But it’s bo-ring. This is a game, it’s supposed to be fun, not easy. Your turn. Make it a good, exciting dare.” A.J. rolled onto his back and crossed his hands under his head.

  “You always choose dare, do you not?”

  “It makes life much more exciting.”

  Lady Marion sighed and shook her head as she thought about her question. Just to keep her on edge, he twirled his index finger in her hair, trapped a long lock and coiled it around and around.

  “I think I have one,” she announced. Her eyes sparkled in a way he hadn’t seen so far. She looked so much younger this way. “Have you ever been surprised in a compromising position with a lover?”

  “Hey, good one. What’s the dare?”

  She threw him a slanted look. “You must give me pleasure with your mouth.”

  Like a guy needed to think about this one!

  “Hot damn, dare!”

  Rolling on top of her, he kissed Lady Marion’s breasts, belly then tried not to look too desperate for a taste of her pussy as he snaked a hand between her thighs and parted her slick lips. Already so wet for him. Sliding off the bed so he could kneel in his former location, A.J. positioned his shoulders so she’d have to hook her knees on them, making her nice and wide for his mouth. He was drooling already.

  “That’s one excellent dare, Lady Marion, keep them coming and I’ll do the same for you.”

  “Sir Ayjay!”

  But she didn’t seem to mind when he gave her glistening pussy a sharp lick that pulled her inner lips upward. She closed her eyes, lolled her head side to side. His hands shaking with excitement—she was one deliciously wet goddess—A.J. ate her as though his life depended on it.