Heart of a Peacekeeper

by Angela Verdenius

  My Daamen trader.

  Even as the thought crossed her mind, she tried to pull him down to her.

  Laughing softly, tauntingly, he disentangled her fingers from his hair and pressed her hands down either side of her head. “Stay right there."

  Wanting the feel of him against her, Des started to push up on her elbows. “Simon—"

  He pressed her hands back down again to the mattress. “Why, wicked little wench, I didn't know you wanted me to restrain you."

  "What? I don't—"

  "Then stay still unless I tell you otherwise.” He winked. “Or do otherwise ... to you."

  The determined lover of earlier, the one meeting her challenge was gone. Now he was more playful, almost mischievous, in a carnal fashion. It made her insides quiver, the familiar spiral of desire crawl through her belly to lodge heavily in her womanhood.

  "Relax,” he said huskily, trailing his hand down her stomach and running his fingertip around and into her belly button, laughing when she jumped. “Lass, you're coiled tighter than a spring. Now why is that, I wonder?"

  "I have no idea.” Was that slightly breathless voice coming from her?

  Leisurely, he looked at her body as he moved back a little. His gaze seemed to stay on the curls covering her womanhood for a long time, and she could almost imagine she felt the heat of that gaze.

  When he glanced up at her again, his eyes burned with an inner fire, his smile once again a flash of white teeth. “You tasted so good."

  She smiled and quirked a brow.

  "Another challenge, wench?"

  "Just wondering what you have in mind, trader."

  "I just bet you are.” Lifting one leg, he slid it between her thighs and nudged her legs apart. “Spread them."

  The earthiness of the words made her swallow, especially when accompanied by his hand spreading flat on her lower abdomen and rubbing slowly. She obeyed.

  Simon shifted so that now both of his legs were between her thighs. He moved back a bit so he was level with her knees when he sat back on his heels. His gaze slid down to her womanhood, now partly exposed to him.

  "Nice view.” Trailing his hand down her abdomen, he scraped his fingers through the protective curls before feathering one finger over the folds still partially protecting her femininity. Lifting his head, he looked at her. “But partly hidden. Can't have that. Bend your knees."

  Drawing out the moment, wanting to shake his assuredness, Des daringly did as bidden ... but slowly. So very slowly.

  Pale fire lit his eyes, his nostrils flared slightly, and his tone, though still amused, was darker. “You can't help yourself, can you, wench?"

  "I don't know what you mean,” she replied innocently, even as her heart picked up pace and anticipation filled her.

  "Oh, I think you do. Always pushing the boundaries, testing the limits.” Resting his hands on her knees, Simon exerted gentle pressure and pushed her thighs back against her stomach, not too tightly, but enough to roll her hips up.

  Calves on each side of his waist, her eyes widening in surprise, Des licked her lips. What did he have planned? She was completely open to him, vulnerable.

  Reaching forward, he gripped her hips and pulled her straight towards him until the backs of her thighs, high up, rested against the inside of his, and she felt the strength in the powerful thighs each side of her.

  She could also feel the heat from his loins against her exposed genitalia.

  Going still, Simon simply looked down into her face before slowly skimming that hot look down her body until he stopped right where their bodies almost touched. Reaching down, he slid one long finger into her, making her gasp.

  "Already so wet,” he murmured. And slid in a second finger, twisting them gently once they were buried inside her. And thumbed the little bud higher up that was now so unprotected by her position

  A jolt of red-hot desire tore through her, and she would have squirmed, except the position he'd pulled her into made it impossible. She was literally at his mercy.

  "Damn!” she panted, reaching out to grab fistfuls of the bed covers.

  The sound of Simon's low, throaty laugh resonated around the room. He was still grinning when he released one of her knees to take hold of his staff and place the tip at the entrance to her vagina. Returning his hand to her knee, he used her knees as a brace as he thrust into her.

  Being so open to him, Des felt every inch of his staff spear into her. He filled her so completely, that even in her deliciously stunned mind, she wondered that he didn't hit her cervix. Then she felt it, the tip of him right at the entrance to her womb. At the unusual sensation, she sucked in a breath.

  Immediately Simon went still, his hot eyes on her face, gauging her reaction. Watching intently.

  She could almost swear she felt every throbbing vein in his phallus, the silken head so engorged, the tip just nudging her womb.

  It was ... erotic.

  "Des?” Simon's voice might have been strained, hoarse and full of need, but his eyes held a hint of concern.

  "I'm ... fine."

  "Are you sure?” Pulling back the tiniest bit, Simon gently pushed forward again.

  The sensations rippling through her made her swallow. “Oh ... yes."

  He started moving against her, more gently, watching for any signs of discomfort.

  Heat spiraled through her, but Des didn't know from where it could possibly come. Every bit of her channel was full, the thick staff rubbing against the muscles, the tip bumping her cervix, causing her an almost pleasure-pain.

  She felt impaled. Deliciously impaled. Hedonistically impaled.

  Lifting her eyes, she locked her gaze with Simon's. “Faster."

  "Des, are you sure—"

  "Harder.” She tried to arch up but couldn't because of her thighs against her stomach, her position not allowing for it. Twisting her hands in the cover, staring up at the dangerously handsome face of her lover, she moaned, “For the love of God, Simon, take me!"

  The tight reign he was keeping on his own sexual desires showed in the tightness of his jaw line, the clenching of his teeth. Keeping his movements slow and careful at first, he watched her intently. Only when she started to moan his name, her fingers clawing into the covers, did he increase his pace and strengthen the thrusts.

  But gradually. Each thrust a little harder, each push a little faster. Still being careful, gauging her reaction each time.

  Des felt as though she was going to lose control. Sensations tore through her, filling her until not only her channel was full of male potency, but her whole body buzzed with sexual tension. It built up in her, and with no way to relieve it, not able to even writhe or arch or pull Simon to her, all she could do was push her head back onto the mattress and moan.

  Each pump of his hips brought not only his phallus deep into her, but the power of the muscles in his thighs could be clearly felt as he moved and thrust.

  Opening her eyes a little, she looked down her own body to see his big hands curled around her knees, the flex of hard muscles in his stomach, as he pumped into her, the bunching of the powerful muscles in his chest and arms.

  A trickle of sweat slid down the ribbed muscles of his stomach.

  Looking up further, she saw that Simon had his head back, his teeth clenched. With every movement, she caught glimpses of the thick, shaggy fair hair rippling down his powerful back.

  He was pure male in full rut.

  Her name escaped his lips in a guttural hiss, then as he pumped again into her, he growled her name louder.

  Abruptly he tipped his head forward, and his eyes locked onto hers. “Mine.” That one word came in a low growl, full of passion and promise and total ownership.

  It should have annoyed her, but instead, she felt a primal answering of mate to mate, male to female, and as he pushed into her once more, she whispered back, “Mine."

  Rising up slightly, Simon thrust hard. Once, twice, his hips slamming against her, pushing her ruthlessly over the
edge, and she screamed his name as the rapture she felt, the intense feelings filling her, finally spilled out in a flaring climax.

  This time she didn't even feel his seed pour forth into her. Her heart pounded, and stars shattered behind her eyelids as she spun away into a climax that was almost violent in its extremity. She went with it willingly.

  Only when she finally floated down from the pinnacle did she become aware of Simon. Opening her eyes hazily, she found herself on her side and cradled in Simon's arms. Her head was under his chin, her breasts pressed against his chest.

  "Simon?” she whispered.

  Titling her head back by the simple process of lifting her chin with one finger, Simon looked down at her with the tenderest expression, gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and tucked her head back beneath his chin.

  "Go to sleep.” His voice was a deep rumble in his chest.

  A comforting rumble. Without a murmur, she nestled into his protective embrace and closed her eyes.

  The last thing she felt was the covers being tugged up to her waist.

  * * * *

  Fighting through the delicious layers of lethargy that wanted to pull him back into sleep, Simon opened his eyes. Des was still cuddled into him, her face in his neck, her warm body against his. Her long legs were entwined with his own.

  Love went through him in a big, slow roll. So this is what ‘tis like to wake up with the lass you love in your arms. No wonder his married friends were so content.

  Shifting his head back enough to glance down, Simon couldn't stop the smile when Des frowned, murmured a protest, and nuzzled her face into his neck again. Content once more, she slipped back into deep sleep, the frown smoothing from her forehead.

  Resting his chin on her head once again, he became aware of a heavy weight on his feet. Glancing down, he saw Chels sprawled out on the bottom of the bed, while Fuzz was fast asleep on her back on the thick carpet near the door.

  It really did feel like home.

  Closing his eyes, he whispered, “Lights off."

  The room went dark and he went back to sleep.

  The second time he woke up, the room was dimly lit by early dawn. Still cradled in his arms, Des had her back to him, and he was curled around her, his chin on her shoulder. Her bottom was snug against his groin, and when she moved in her sleep, the firm curves of her bottom nudged his staff.

  Lust pooled immediately, and he had to fight the temptation to caress her so that she awoke in a state of arousal. It would be so easy to do, so easy to roll her onto her back, or simply slip into her from behind. Slow, leisurely loving.

  Sighing, Simon firmly tamped down any thought of lovemaking. Her reactions of the night before had informed him that she'd been new to the position he'd put her in, the deep penetration. Mayhap not the penetration, he mentally corrected himself. More than likely the deep penetration combined with the length of him filling her to the very mouth of her womb.

  That had felt erotic, being so deep inside her that he touched the internal mystery of womankind.

  Oh suns, what if I've impregnated her? Suddenly alert, Simon glanced down at her. He could have done. He hadn't taken any of the sterility potion that made a man's seed sterile for twenty four hours. Hadn't taken it because he hadn't planned on making love to her.

  Good intentions until she'd pushed him over the edge.

  But still as much his fault. He should have thought before engaging his lust in full-steam mode.

  It wasn't too late for her, though. If she took a swallow of the potion when she awoke, she wouldn't get pregnant. It would be prevented.

  He felt a slight pang at the thought. How perverse. You worry if she is, and you feel sad if she isn't. Mentally shaking his head, he carefully disentangled himself from her warm body and slipped out of bed. Time enough to worry about that later, and whatever she decided, it wasn't too late.

  A murmur of discontent had him smiling when he looked down to see Des snuggle down under the covers. Reaching over, he tucked her in securely before walking into the bathroom.

  The bathroom was as everything in Des's home. Clean, soft pastel colors, restful. The shower glass was almost sparkling. The wench liked a clean house, he noted. An empty clothes basket stood in the corner.

  The soap had a flowery scent, reminding him of Des. The water was pleasantly warm, and he lathered up, washing away all traces of sweat and lovemaking, feeling almost sorry, but at the same time fresher for it.

  Ready for more. You horny hound.

  Grinning, he dried himself and went back into the bedroom to find his clothes. A little wrinkled, but still clean.

  He studied Des's sleeping form in the bed while he dressed.

  The lass was a contradiction. So tough on the outside, so hot and passionate on the inside. The courage she displayed on the job was replaced with daring when faced with a fully aroused Daamen lover. She thrived on challenges.

  And she was also a homebody, enjoying her time in her haven, away from everyone. Just the garden and her lycats.

  She swore without regard to who was around, and could verbally tear strips off man or woman, but her sense of humor reared its head often, and she dealt fairly with all. He didn't fool himself, though. The wench could be ruthless when she chose, but he knew her enough to know ‘twouldn't be without good cause.

  Aye, she was a delightful bundle of contradiction. Even better, she was his delightful bundle of contradiction.

  Bending over the bed, he dropped a kiss on her smooth cheek and went out into the living area and the kitchen. Chels and Fuzz were right behind him, and he fed them out in the enclosed garden, falling easily into the familiarity of it.

  Ravenous, he raided the well-stocked cooler and found a container of some kind of meat and vegetable dish. Scooping out a generous portion, he heated it in the warmer and took it over to the table to eat.

  He admitted to himself that he was reluctant to leave just yet. Didn't want to leave, actually. ‘Twould be bad taste to indulge in head-spinning sex, sleep with the lass, then be gone when she awoke.

  And he looked forward to her reaction to him today. Would she be shy? He doubted it. She was openly passionate. But still, ‘twas the light of day now. Who knew?

  He'd just finished eating when the lycats both ran in from the garden and down the little corridor to the bedroom. Des's voice sounded faintly, but when she didn't reappear, he figured she either had to be taking a shower, or gone back to sleep.

  By the time he'd washed the bowl and fork and put them away again, poured a mug of hot una and settled himself on the sofa to wait, Des emerged from the corridor, yawning.

  Sleepy-eyed still, she buttoned up her shirt. The scent of her soap drifted in the air, and her damp hair lay around her shoulders.

  "'Morning, lass,” he said cheerfully.

  "Uh.” With a grunt, she headed over to the kitchen.

  Nay, the lass ‘tisn't a morning person. With his mother of the same temperament, Simon settled back to wait until Des had woken properly and was more communicative.

  He heard the cooler open and shut, then the sound of something being poured.

  "You want something to eat?” Des mumbled.

  "Already eaten, lass."

  "Good.” Walking back to the sofa, she set a glass of juice on the little table and sat down with a large bowl of cut-up fruit. Dropping down into the sofa beside him, she propped her own feet beside his on the ottoman. “What did you have?"

  "Some sort of meat and veggie dish that was in the cooler."

  "Damn. That was the lycats dinner they half ate."

  "What?"

  "Kidding.” Laughing, she forked a piece of peach and chewed on it. “It was leftovers from me."

  With a sigh of relief, Simon relaxed back again. “I thought you weren't a morning person? You're surprisingly good-humored this morn."

  "I'm just sharpening my wits on you. Sort of a warm up before I start hassling the lowlifes on the streets."

  "Oh, I'm at
your service."

  "Thanks."

  They settled into a comfortable silence, but Simon knew that sooner or later he'd have to broach the troubling subject with her.

  Once she'd finished eating and was sipping her drink, he said quietly, “Des, about last night..."

  Immediately her eyes fixed on him. “Yes?"

  "I didn't use protection.” There was no way out of it. “You might be pregnant."

  "I'm not."

  "How do you know?"

  She grinned. “I took the sterility potion for the last couple of nights. Just in case I managed to seduce you."

  Relief went though him. “Thank God."

  "What, you don't want kids?"

  "Well, aye, but...” Caught by surprise, Simon floundered. “I just didn't think ... you know..."

  "No, I don't.” Gravely she watched him.

  "Des, I want babes with you, but I don't think right now is a good time.” Turning partly around, he started to settle in for a serious talk when he saw the faint curve in her lips. “Stars, you teasing little witch."

  Laughing again, she took a sip of juice. “You are so gullible, Simon."

  "And you're a tease."

  "I teased you good last night.” She winked. “But you rose to the challenge admirably."

  Nay, the wench wasn't shy. And Simon wasn't surprised. Grinning, he placed one hand on her knee and squeezed lightly. “I made you beg."

  "That you did."

  "I won the battle."

  "Such a man."

  "Are you all right this morning?"

  "I've worked up a hell of an appetite.” Leaning forward, she pressed a light kiss to his lips.

  He kissed her back, slipping his tongue between her already parted lips. She tasted of peaches, apricots, strawberries and apple. Sweet and fresh. Catching her chin within the curve of his hand, he angled her head to taste deeper.

  "We could go back to the bedroom,” she said when he lifted his head.

  "Aye,” he agreed huskily. “If you're not too sore."

  "A little twinge that is deliciously naughty.” She winked before swinging her feet off the ottoman. “But any ideas on going back to bed will have to wait until tonight. I have to go to work."