Delectably Undone! (18 page)

She grew still, and his fingers once more traced down her stomach and between her legs. He slid a thumb slowly across her hidden point, the pressure light but unwavering, and she lost the ability—and desire—to fight the intense longing his touch ignited. With a breathless cry of surrender, she fell back to the nest of pillows, the silk cool beneath her heated flesh.

No longer waiting for her to recover from each shock of pleasure his touch brought, Takeshi began to caress her with a rhythmic stroke soon matched by quivering twitches of her hips. Though still gentle, his fingers moved faster and faster until she writhed in abandoned delight beneath him. All conscious thought left Miku’s mind as a pleasure more intense than she had ever imagined overwhelmed her. And mingled with that pleasure was an aching need, growing more insistent with each touch.

Whispering into the soft curve of her neck, Takeshi’s voice was thick with desire. “Obey me once more, my poetess, and give yourself over to this pleasure.”

Miku’s lips parted, but she could only moan in response as he lowered his head from the crook of her neck. With a deliberate slowness that caused the ache between her legs to throb, he took one breast into his mouth, his tongue teasing her hardened nipple as his fingertips continued to caress between her legs.

“Obey me,” he repeated, and she cried out, abandoning herself fully to the surging waves of pleasure that shattered up from between her legs and washed through her body in a rolling tide of bliss.

She clung to him, desperately afraid that the explosion of sensation would sweep her away. But as the fiery tingle slowly faded to a contented glow, she found herself held tightly as he gently rocked her in his arms. She buried her head against the hard muscles of his bare chest, and he kissed the loose hair that flowed down around her face.

Secure in the protective strength of his embrace, Miku finally stretched and smiled. But when she looked up into her samurai’s face, his gaze retained its restless hunger.

“You are not pleased?” she asked, her previously serene face shadowed with confusion and concern.

“A warrior understands the value of patience,” he said, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. “And I must wait a bit longer.”

“For what?” she asked, his tender caress causing a smile to blossom on her lips like a lotus opening for the sun.

Takeshi gazed at the poetess in his arms, her naive concern for his happiness piercing the hardened armor of his heart yet again. Was this innocent flower really to be his only for one night? Then it must be a night worth the cost he might be forced to pay. Yet he would take her only when she was truly ready, when she knew the full depths of her own desire. Anything before that would be an assault on the beautiful spirit he had already grown to cherish above all else.

He drew her closer, tipping her head toward the night sky shimmering just past the veranda and open-walled parlor. “A poet should not be concerned with the worries of a warrior. The things of purest beauty, like these stars, are your true focus.”

Miku’s heart trembled in response to Takeshi’s words and to the spangled expanse that enveloped them. How could the night be anything but so perfectly beautiful, she realized, after the moment she had just shared with this brooding yet tender soldier?

As the incandescent moon subdued the distant ocean and drew it inexorably to the waiting shore, Miku knew that she, body and spirit, was being pulled toward Takeshi. And yet, only hours before, he had been relatively unknown to her, merely another of her uncle’s sworn mercenaries. Was it something more than fate that had brought them together tonight?

“You have yet to explain why you, the most valued of my uncle’s samurai, would be sent to perform such a menial task as watching his insignificant niece?” whispered Miku, her fingertips woven through Takeshi’s tousled hair.

“Your significance is greater than you suspect.”

Miku’s gaze snapped back from the starlit sky to stare into his eyes, surprised. “Explain your meaning.”

He paused before answering, and when he spoke his words were measured, the clipped speech of a military officer.

“Your uncle went to meet a man from the capital,” he said, his eyes moving from her piercing gaze to the dark shadows beyond the veranda. “An important man. One with many political connections and great wealth. One to whom your uncle plans to give you in marriage. The ceremony will be upon their return in the morning. I am to guard you until that inevitability occurs.”

The words bleached Miku’s face with shock and disbelief. And then, in the silence that followed his revelation, an angry flush surged to her cheeks.

“Marriage? Tomorrow? When was I to be informed? When was I to meet this man?”

“The Master did not divulge those details to me. He only shared enough to impress upon me the importance of your safekeeping in his absence, and of preventing you from writing any more poetry that might upset your groom’s sensibilities. Your uncle’s plans for successful political advancement hinge on the felicitous celebration of this union.”

But in saying the words aloud, Takeshi realized he could no longer enforce such an edict. He was no longer Miku’s guard—for she now held his heart captive. Though tradition dictated he should one day marry a woman of the Master’s choosing, Takeshi’s heart now acknowledged that his unexpected—yet undeniable—feelings for this maiden might force a confrontation with the old man sooner than he had planned. Before he could speak again, however, his poet sat back, eyes flashing.

“Felicitous?” she said sharply. “There is nothing happy about an arranged marriage to a stranger. A forced alliance with a man I’ve never met, let alone decided I can love and respect? Never!
I
will decide which man I marry.
I
will decide the man I bed.”

She was breathing hard. Anger, shock and defiance surged through her body as she glared at Takeshi, daring him to contradict her.

But instead of demanding her compliance, Takeshi ran a gentle hand down her cheek. She held her breath as his fingertips caressed the edge of her jaw and paused at her throat.

“And who will that be?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper. “Who will you take to your bed as husband?”

Stunned by the directness of his question, she was more surprised to realize she already knew the answer.

Yet while her heart thudded with desire for Takeshi, she also found a growing anger pound within it as well. How could this samurai share such intimacies with her, knowing he must part with her in the morning? Was she nothing more than an evening’s diversion, a soldier’s plaything to be toyed with before being delivered to the bed of another? Pride filled Miku’s heart as she fought to regain control over herself—and Takeshi.

Takeshi watched as a storm of emotions surged through Miku’s large eyes before an unexpected detachment seemed to move across her gaze.

“I choose you, of course, my dear Takeshi,” she whispered, her words those of love but her voice strangely cool. “Allow me to perfume my body before I give it to you. I will be but a few moments in my bedchamber before I return to your embrace.”

She slipped gracefully from the parlor and into her private chamber, sliding the silken door closed after giving Takeshi one last tempting smile. But the smile fell away as Miku moved quickly toward the room’s outer door. Turning back once more to make sure that the samurai had not followed her into the bedroom, she silently slid open its exterior door and stepped out into the dew-wet night—and into Takeshi’s waiting arms. Having guessed his prisoner’s true intentions, he had stolen out across the veranda and around the side of her suite to recapture Miku.

For a moment Miku’s breath caught in her throat, then she fought in vain to escape his tight embrace. “Release me!” she cried, in anger and humiliation. “I will never obey my uncle, or you!”

“I will no longer obey your uncle, either,” growled Takeshi, “but neither will I release you.”

Lifting her over one broad shoulder, he carried Miku back into her bedchamber and, ignoring her protests, laid her on the sleeping couch. Keeping one arm pressed against her still-struggling form, he reached for several of the silken cords she used to wrap her scrolls of poetry.

“Let me go,” Miku cried, unable to pry herself from beneath his grasp. “I will not submit to my uncle’s matrimonial plans.”

“But you will submit to me,” said Takeshi, his voice low and full of authority.

With a deft motion, Takeshi wrapped one cord firmly around her arms, binding them above her head to the top of the couch. Though pulled tightly, the cord’s silken texture was soft against her bare skin. Miku gasped in shock, but Takeshi did not pause as he quickly wrapped another cord around her waist. Though her legs remained unfettered, she was in all other respects bound firmly to the bed.

Takeshi looked down at Miku’s soft body tied across the silk blankets, her breathlessly parted lips, and her eyes, glowing like fiery embers in the soft lamplight. And in those eyes Takeshi read a burning passion equal only to his own. Pressing one finger across her lips to silence any further protest, he knelt beside her.

“You will be mine as long as I live,” he whispered, knowing the words were not the promise she thought them to be, but the ardent declaration of a man who soon might die at the Master’s hands.

“I am mine alone to give, not yours to take,” she retorted, but the flush spreading across her bare flesh indicated a deeper desire threatened to submerge her anger in a flood of passion.

He pressed his lips to hers, and she fought to move away, but his hands held her face with a gentleness that nonetheless left no room for resistance. With a moan of tormented delight, she finally received his kiss with open mouth, her lips hungry for the taste of him. In her momentary surrender, all thought of the next morning—and the Master’s return—faded away from Takeshi’s conscious mind.

As their kiss deepened, he caressed her face and ran his fingertips through her dark hair. Miku realized that though he had bound her, she loved this man, and she would joyously now let him possess her completely.

As Takeshi’s hands slid across her bare flesh, he moaned with anticipation. He slid onto her, every inch hard and heavy against her soft body. Though part of her willed him never to leave, she still struggled against the cords around her arms and waist, her deep hunger battling with her willful spirit. Though every touch pleased her, she still strained against her bonds, not yet ready to surrender fully.

His tongue curled around hers, and the memory of his mouth on her breasts made her whimper with desire. An aching desire pulsed through her body, and she instinctively opened her legs, pressing herself against the hot skin of his thigh.

But he slipped away, kneeling again beside her low bed. His lips moved down her neck, delicately brushing the curve of her throat like a calligraphy brush. His tongue traced exquisite characters of his own design, marking her naked flesh as his own. Her skin trembled beneath his touch, and she arched to meet his lips. As he took the peak of her breast into his mouth again, a small cry of delight escaped her parted lips.

He answered her sigh with a teasing flick of his tongue, moving from breast to breast, and her hips tightened in response, the tingling ache she felt increasing with each movement of his mouth. She moaned with desire, her hands clutching at the silk blankets at the top of the bed as she pressed her breasts into his eager mouth. Never had she felt such a delightful anticipation of even greater pleasure. Never had she felt so loved.

His mouth moved lower, tracing the soft curve of her abdomen. She struggled to reach for him, not comprehending anything but her dizzying hunger for his tongue against her breasts, but her hands were stopped by the silken cords. She cried out in frustration, her wordless gasp a plea for his touch. Smiling at her surrender, the samurai pressed her legs open with hands that allowed no resistance.

When his tongue moved quickly across the soft flesh between her legs, she arched back onto the silken sheets, a breathless cry of ecstasy escaping her lips. His tongue flicked across her once more, seeking out her point of profoundest pleasure. She moaned again, this time with greater need. He responded hungrily, tasting and consuming her, his tongue laving across her relentlessly. She was overwhelmed with delight yet sought more, her body and heart his to command.

Sensing her growing need, Takeshi slowed his kisses, lingering so as to bring her to a higher plane of pleasure and desire. Her hips again seemed to move of their own accord, rolling slowly against his hungry lips. With each rotation of her hips and each titillating response from his tongue, a mounting urgency grew within her until she was consumed by its fire. She writhed against his mouth, moaning with pleasure and overcome by his devotion.

Miku’s whole world had been distilled down to only the love she felt for Takeshi and that one exquisite point beneath his tongue. And with the realization that his adoration equaled her own, she cried out as intense waves of pleasure shattered through her body.

Takeshi moved quickly onto the bed, embracing her shuddering form in the heat of his arms, pressing her body to him as she trembled and wept, unexpectedly overcome with emotion. As her sobbing subsided, he gently wiped a tear from her glistening cheek with a bow-hardened finger. She turned her face toward his, and he kissed her slowly, each savoring the other’s gentle touch.

With a slow sweep of his hand, the samurai ran his fingers up her body, releasing the cord that bound her arms before moving to untie the one about her waist. Then he slid his hand down her body, cupping her hip and pressing her body toward him. Miku deepened her kiss, a renewed hunger stirred by his touch, and he moaned with desire.

She responded by slipping her legs around his waist, pressing up against the erect shaft between his legs. She wanted him all, hardened warrior and tender lover. He moved rhythmically against her, gliding across her wet flesh, and she shuddered with excitement.

Overcome by her arousal, Takeshi groaned as he fought to control his own passion. His hand slid from her hip and moved between her legs. Her body stiffened as one finger slipped inside, slowly and gently. She had wanted to be close to him, as connected as possible, and yet this new feeling was more than she had anticipated. But surely her lover would not do anything but that which brought her pleasure. He had shown her more love than anyone ever had. She would trust him even now.