Maybe not my life, but my sanity does.
When Marion’s thighs began to cramp on either side of his face, he readied his tongue to receive her pleasure and groaned in male satisfaction when she spilled it for him. Accentuating the pressure of his mouth, really giving it to her, A.J. spread her with his thumbs and gave her his most enthusiastic performance to date. If the poor woman had never had it done before, he’d make damn sure she’d remember her first time.
He used his tongue like a cock and pumped it into her then his fingers spread her plentiful honey around to make her all glistening and ready for him. He was a fairly large fellow and always had to make sure his women were well lubricated so he wouldn’t hurt them. Judging by the tightness of Marion’s pussy, he’d have to be extra careful with her.
Leaving her panting and arching her back, he plopped down on the bed beside her and watched her ride the remains of the wave. She was so lovely this way, her cheeks flushed, her eyes closed, her lips glistening. He caressed her hardened nipple as he thought of his next question.
“Truth or dare,” he murmured in her ear. “Have you ever made love to a man with your mouth?”
Her eyes flared wide.
“What is the dare?” she asked breathlessly.
A.J. knew his grin must have taken his whole face. I blame the booze, Your Honor.
“Oh.”
Lady Marion looked down at his cock, seemed to consider it for a moment then came up on an elbow. “I accept the dare.”
“Argh, don’t make it sound so damn official. It’s a game, you don’t have—”
Lady Marion had just grabbed his dick as though she meant to choke it and knelt beside his thigh with a look on her face that told him if Lady Marion ever became pissed off with him, he’d run like hell.
“Just pretend it’s ice cream,” he offered half joking, half hoping. If she’d truly never sucked a man’s dick, he’d be lucky to get a few tentative licks. But, hey, he was already luckier than he deserved just by being allowed near such a sweet woman. He wasn’t about to complain!
Her chin set, Lady Marion leaned over, kissed the base of his cock, the sensitive skin of his lower belly and triggered a massive case of the “must fuck, must fucks”. It was all he could do not to pump his hips and dry-fuck her hand.
“Is this pleasurable?” she asked after flicking some of her gorgeous hair away from her shoulder.
After a quick nod that made her grin with a supremely feminine confidence, A.J. spread his legs so she could kneel in between. Keeping his cock in her fist still, she used her other hand to reduce his belly to a quivering mass of twitching muscles. Her nails were short but to the point, so to speak. Jesus.
A quick lick along his shaft made A.J. squeeze his eyes shut. She may be a novice in some things, but because he had this huge, juvenile crush on Lady Marion, whatever she chose to do to him felt like heaven. Even a simple little lick along the cock. And some of his girlfriends had been exotic dancers so he was used to all sorts of fun things done by all sorts of flexible, tanned and toned women. Surprisingly, none compared to the mix of freshness and determination Lady Marion displayed by choosing the dare when she could’ve wormed her way out with the truth.
“Jesus Christ!”
She’d just decided his dick was a nice, big sausage and she a starving lioness and shoved at least half of it down her throat. She coughed but went at it again, as if this were her personal challenge and she’d be damned if she was going to lose.
A.J. watched the top of her blonde head go down slowly, her hands working his skin downward in a rough but exhilarating way.
“You don’t have to…ahh, take the whole thing in. I’m a fairly large guy.”
Upward she went, his glans almost in pain when her mouth was no longer around it. “Shh.”
“Okay.” His voice had suddenly become squeaky.
Grinning, Lady Marion cupped his shaft between her palms, brought the skin down and kissed the length of him, from balls to glans, before wrapping her lips around and sliding downward. A.J. thought he was going to spontaneously combust. Or explode.
Trying to be as gentle as he could, he cupped her cheek and pushed up so she’d avoid triggering a considerable amount of embarrassment on his part. He’d never been so close to coming prematurely. And releasing inside this woman’s mouth was so out of the question.
She must have noticed the difference in him for she cocked her head. “No more games then?”
A.J. shook his head. “You’re… Whew…” He closed his eyes, swallowed hard. “Lady Marion, I’m just a man. I can’t be expected to be near a goddess and not fall apart. You know what I mean?”
She nodded.
“Come here, you little lioness you,” he growled as he encircled her waist and positioned her breasts above his hungry mouth. She hissed when he started to suck on her nipples. Hard.
He wanted to fuck Lady Marion with more urgency than ever before. What was wrong with him? Where was Mister Cool Lover?
A.J. stared up at her through the golden veil of her hair. “I want you.” The look on her face!
Shit.
Did they have condoms in medieval times? A.J. doubted it. Christ, talk about a mood killer.
“You wouldn’t happen to have protection lying around the room, huh?” He felt as dumb as he undoubtedly looked, a curvy blonde straddling him and he inanely asking for a condom.
Marion cocked her head. “Protection against what?”
‘Kay…
“Babies, you know, little things who cling to your pant legs?”
She grinned and A.J. forgot everything else for a good three seconds. How could a smile have such an effect on him? Women smiled at him all the time. Men so-inclined too, come to think of it.
“My time has not come yet.” She blushed and rolled off him so she could lie on her side.
Grinning like the moron he felt, A.J. nodded and ran his hands over her rounded hip. Those had never seen sunlight, he was sure of it. So pale.
He went back to his new favorite occupation…making love to this woman with his mouth. After climbing down off the bed so he could better savor her, A.J. kissed his way downward to her glistening curls. Stretching her wide and high, he anchored his shoulders between her thighs and licked her fine, rosy flesh until the muscles of his jaw burned then he licked her some more. She came again. When he was done with her, Marion was squirming and arching back on the mattress, her pink nipples calling him by name. He always answered his own calls.
Rolling and twisting a bud with one hand, he circled her clit with his other, the middle finger now used to the size and angle of her. A.J. added another finger and slowly, gently, penetrated her, went in deep to make sure there was enough room in her. Ahhing, Marion milked his fingers with surprising strength. He nearly came on the spot.
With one quick play bite on her breast, he leaned over her, angled his cock so it’d nudge her lips then using the utmost care, slid in. Her eyes flared wide and A.J. froze.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she whispered before clamping her legs around his waist and bucking hard.
Whoa!
His knees buckled and he collapsed on top of her, almost sinking all the way in. A.J. was about to pull himself up on his hands when she dug her nails in his back and biting her lip, rolled her pelvis to take him all in. The urge to shove himself deeper nearly shredded his resolve.
“Whoa, Marion, not so fast. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She didn’t seem to hear or care.
Throwing caution out the window—both tiny and barred—A.J. pulled out to the ridge and thrust back in. She let out a sharp little keen that did wonders to his ego. So he plunged in again. Harder each time, giving her tight little pussy the good pounding Marion seemed bent on getting, A.J. anchored his elbows over her shoulders and really went at it. Long and powerful shoves, fierce quick ones, leisurely and deep ones. He gave her his all. Every inch and every ounce. He thought he was going to e
xplode and reminded himself he wasn’t wearing a condom. After a push that arched her back and made her dig her nails in his skin, A.J. wrenched himself out of her clutches and fisted the base of his cock to keep the baby-making juice from switching hosts. He trembled violently as a climax of epic proportions ripped through him. Hot damn.
After a few moments of panting and trying to find saliva anywhere in his mouth—he was parched—A.J. gathered her close to him and rolled them both higher on the mattress so he came to rest on his back with her head nestled in the crook of his arm. Her plump, womanly form fit perfectly. A quick sniff-test in the armpit area confirmed he didn’t smell like a sweaty pig.
“That was delightful, ma’am.” His dick throbbed with unreleased need but he’d had worse.
“There is something I would like to ask you,” Lady Marion began, stopped then sighed.
“If it’s anything important, you might want to wait until you tell me. I’m still drunk and now I’m sleepy too. Sorry.”
He heard her chuckle softly. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew her smile was dimpled. How he’d ever lived without that sweet little dimpled smile escaped him.
Whoa, man. Settle down. You’ll be gone in a day or two, whenever someone figures out where the plane crashed. These things came with GPS transmitters, didn’t they? Some sort of “ping” would show on an air traffic controller’s screen somewhere and they’d come looking for survivors.
“Tomorrow, I want to go see that lake where you found me, okay?”
He felt her becoming heavier and guessed she’d fallen asleep. A.J. closed his eyes and followed suit.
* * * * *
A while later, he pretended to sleep as she gathered her clothes and left his room. He also pretended her departure didn’t hurt.
* * * * *
Marion watched Sir Ayjay struggling to mount his horse. He didn’t look his usual fit and firm self but instead scraped and clawed ungainly into the saddle. If he hadn’t been so tall, she doubted he would have made it at all. Marion was shocked to realize he had no idea how to ride a horse. The thought made her want to smile. Hugo, who’d already climbed onto his and veered it toward the road, didn’t notice Sir Ayjay’s less-than-graceful battle with the saddle.
“Do not say a word,” Sir Ayjay muttered before giving an unsure little tug on the reins.
She shook her head then focused on the man’s hands. Images from the night before, of his odd but thrilling attentions to her body, of his mouth against her sex and that decadent, lustful game of “truth or dare”, made Marion shift in her saddle. To her embarrassment, remnants of a very pleasant ache forced her to tighten her thighs even more. She felt honey seep out of her just at the idea of his head between her legs.
He must have sensed her chain of thoughts for he turned toward her, spent a moment studying her before offering a wicked little grin that made blood rush to her cheeks.
She still couldn’t believe she’d actually asked him to make love to her with his mouth. And that she’d done the same to him. Goodness!
After he seemed to finally manage a comfortable position, he fisted the reins, took a long breath, plastered on a very fake-looking smug smile then looked at her. Something in his dark gaze challenged her to comment. Underneath the smooth exterior, she recognized the steady, sharp glance of a predator. A mountain lion with its claws retracted was still a mountain lion. For the first time since she’d met him, she saw a darker facet of his personality, she saw the claws. Or more appropriately, she knew he had them.
“It is not very far,” she offered with pretend levity. “We shall return before midday.”
He nodded, shifted in his saddle and lifted his chin. “Lead the way, Lady Marion.”
Marion resisted the urge to shake her head. Men and their pride. To save his, she made sure she rode in second so no one would see his tightfisted posture. “With your leave, Sir Ayjay, I shall let you bring the rear in case we are attacked.”
“Attacked by what?”
“Highwaymen mostly. As you should know yourself, the roads are becoming less safe with each passing day.”
Sir Ayjay looked around before brushing his hose. He seemed displeased by his physical appearance and picked at something on his thigh, rubbed it then gave up with a grimace.
They rode single file, followed the narrow path over the gentle crest then down into the valley. Harebells, in full bloom until the week prior, had begun to fade as had the edelweiss. She filled her eyes and nose with all those sweet accents that would soon die away to make room for fall when her people and she would be working night and day to pile silage for the sheep to eat during winter and also to shear them all for the last time in the year. Some people enjoyed fall. She didn’t. Not with the amount of backbreaking work…work that generated less and less income under Matheus’ levies.
The lake came into view. Its quiet, sparkling water glistened like a carpet of gems. Marion chanced a quick peek behind her at their visitor and caught his pained look as he raised himself against the stirrups.
“This is where Thorins found you, sir,” Hugo commented as he pointed down to a spot on the embankment. A deep groove marked the dirt.
Marion kept her horse at a leisurely pace as she navigated the path down to the lakeside. She dismounted hurriedly, came to Sir Ayjay’s horse and pretended to cradle its face in her hands so it’d keep still while he swung a leg back over the beast’s rump, slid to the ground and stumbled a step. With a pronounced neigh of irritation, the horse shook its head and pawed the ground.
“I take it you do not ride often in your homeland.”
“No, we don’t,” Sir Ayjay replied, his black gaze settling on her and staying there for a long moment.
Hugo took them near the water’s edge. “Thorins said you were lying there, facedown, with your pack not very far over by the trees.”
Sir Ayjay barely looked at where Hugo was pointing and instead studied the ground, ran his foot along an unusual pace-wide groove in the dirt.
Bits of pale and twisted metal littered the place. Marion bent and picked up a piece. It resembled bits of twisted armor with strange little bumps at regular intervals. As though someone had sewn pieces of metal together then painted them white. Other debris she couldn’t identify were scattered along the water edge.
Sir Ayjay crouched and retrieved what she thought were blackened tubular ribbons of leather with tiny markings on them. He showed them to her and sighed. “Bits of skin and wires. That’s all?”
“What are these things?” she asked as she took the strange “wires” and looked at one end. Even thinner wires ran inside the larger one.
Sir Ayjay threw her a frustrated look. “Come on, Lady Marion. I think we can all stop pretending now. This is probably a gravesite.”
“I do not understand. Is there something missing?”
“A plane, for example. And two pilots.” Anger laced his tone. His eyes narrowed while he looked away.
She exchanged a quick glance with Hugo. Plain? Pie lots?
A look of confusion on his wide face, Hugo shrugged and planted his fists on his hips. “We are in the mountains, sir, too high for plains here.”
“Christ, not plains, planes,” their visitor snapped, obviously annoyed. “Two men probably died around here. Maybe you should stop playing games.”
He unbuttoned both his strange tunic and undertunic and turned toward Marion. “Could you hold these, please?”
She hooked both over her arm as he removed his short stockings and shoes and began to unfasten his hose. Lord!
“Sir Ayjay,” she began, faltered. She’d seen it all before but still. “What are you doing?”
“The plane looks as though it crashed right before it hit the water. I want to go have a look at the…”
She didn’t understand the last word. It sounded like “rek-age”. She’d never heard it before but French wasn’t her first language. Neither was it his, judging by his thick accent.
With fluid movemen
ts, he slid his hose around his ankles, shook them out and folded them in half before offering them for her to hold. She took them, threw an oblique glance at Hugo, who rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.
“The water is cold,” Hugo said to Sir Ayjay when it became obvious their guest was going to enter the lake.
“That’s all right, I swim every day at the gym and their water isn’t heated. Plus, I’m Canadian.” The sharp tone made Marion hold on to his clothes a bit tighter. As much as she was loath to admit it, Sir Ayjay was intimidating in his ire.
It was Hugo’s turn to look at her and shrug in confusion.
Sir Ayjay’s lean and supple muscles rippled when he walked determinedly into the lake, right up to his thighs before hissing something she couldn’t understand. She thought she heard the word “God” and that “fok” word again. He must have been praying.
Marion drank in the sight of him, his wide and square shoulders, his narrow waist and lean hips. Those peculiar black undergarments—so shockingly adjusted—left precious little to the imagination! Such a glorious backside. Carnal hunger tightened her sex and the image of his naked form pressed against hers forced Marion to close her eyes and take a deep breath. How he’d worked his agile tongue on her, in her, had left her more lustful than she’d ever been.
Lord, she was already contemplating coming to his chamber again tonight, even hungered for it in quite wicked ways.
With a roll of his shoulders, Sir Ayjay dove into the lake. She’d never seen someone swim with such strength and grace. He cleaved the water with his arms, which he brought around over his head one at a time, his feet beating the surface with powerful rhythm, water frothing in his wake. The bracelet gleamed like liquid silver.
“They must swim more than they must ride horses where he comes from,” Hugo commented.
Heat rose to her cheeks. So Hugo had noticed.
She caught herself rubbing her hand over the still-warm bundle in her arms and stopped. “I wonder what he is looking for?”
Timely Defense Page 6