My Lady's Pleasure (8 page)

“Ah, my lady,” he murmured as he held her fast. Under her ear, his heart thumped wildly in his chest.

“I feel so….” She took a shuddering breath. “How is this possible?”

“’Tis not only possible but natural,” he said. “Though, ‘tis stronger between us than I could have hoped.”

“You’ve drugged me again,” she said.

“Nay. I swear it. Only the magic we work on each other. Let me show you.”

She nodded, but he couldn’t have had time to see as he dipped below her jaw and forged a trail of hot kisses over her neck to her collarbone. He didn’t stop there, though, but bent to run his tongue over the top of her breast. She held her breath and waited for what would come next. The gentle friction all around her nipple made the sensitive flesh ache, but then he took it into his mouth to suck, and tiny explosions of pleasure went off in her brain.

Her eyelids grew too heavy to hold up, and she clutched at his head for balance as he continued the suction. Warmth pooled low in her belly, and the space between her thighs grew moist.

She should have felt shame as lust coiled in her queynt and released more of her inner dampness. She should have prayed for mercy that he touch her there so she wouldn’t have to beg–or worse, touch herself. He’d made her a carnal creature, beyond embarrassment, beyond rational thought, beyond caring about sin. She could forbid him nothing.

He switched to the other breast as his hands went exploring. Over her ribs, to her rear to cup her buttocks, and then past her hips to her outer thighs. He massaged as he went, kneading her muscles under his palms. Her sex waited for him to ease the ache and fill her emptiness.

He kept moving lower, and she urged him with pressure on his head. His tongue trailed along the center of her torso and dabbed at her navel before he fell to his knees.

“Spread your legs,” he said. “I want to taste you.”

“You can’t mean to kiss me. Not there.”

“Of course, there.” He slipped a hand between her thighs to urge them apart. “Already soaked. Your nubbin’s fairly begging for my tongue.”

“Sweet saint, no.”

“The poor mite is peeking out between your lips.” He took her hand and placed it on her sex. Her finger settled on something hard and small. Just that touch sent a stab of pleasure through her so powerful that she let out a gasp.

“Let me. You’ll like it better.” He moved her hand away, and this time she let him part her legs. His tongue moved over her nether lips, forward and back. His arms went around her and held her upward toward her rear, or surely, she would have fallen. He teased and sucked, pushing her near the end of her endurance and then pulling back to leave her wanting.

One more pass, and his tongue stroked her bud. A fury of lust claimed her, squeezing a cry out of her chest as her knees buckled. He helped her to the floor, into the straw. No sort of bed at all, but it would have to do. So wild now, so close, she’d have to climax here.

He spread her legs and placed his face at her sex again. “You smell of flowers and taste of honey.”

“My lord, my husband,” she whispered. “Please.”

“As you wish, my lady.” His mouth closed over her queynt again, his tongue going immediately to the stiff nub, the seat of her passion. Long, sure strokes that pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Still, he didn’t finish her but left her floating in a sea of lust.

The feel of the straw beneath her back disappeared, as did the soft sounds the birds made on their perches and even the pressure of his fingers into her thighs. Her body readied itself, the climax coiling inside her.

“Ulric,” she shouted. “Don’t stop.”

His tongue flicked against her, hard and fast, and she snapped. Her hips jerked upward as her chamber shuddered in a driving rhythm.

He continued his caresses until he’d drawn out every fiber of response from her. Now finished, she lay back and sighed. She’d have to puzzle out this power he had over her. She’d have to understand how he knew exactly where to touch her and how. For now, her mind basked in the glow of spent passion. In her life, she’d never felt so weak nor so alive.

After long moments, she opened her eyes again and found her husband, sitting naked and cross-legged beside her. He ran his palm over her ribs and let it settle on her belly. With his long fingers, his hand nearly spanned her body from one side to the other.

“Satisfied, wife?”

“Yes.” The word came out without thought. Yes, he’d sent her to ecstasy, but he could do more. Odd, she’d only shared that one night with him, and he’d created a hunger with potions and elixirs. Now, even sober, her body craved more.

“No,” she said. “I’m not satisfied.”

“Not satisfied?” His brow went up. “I’ve seldom seen a woman come with such force.”

“’Twas splendid, I’ll admit, but I want more.”

“And what could this
more
be?”

“I want you.”

“Me?” He put his hand over his chest. “What could a huge brute like me have that such a highborn lady as you could want?”

He knew exactly what she’d asked for. He needed no explanation. He only toyed with her for some reason. Well enough. She’d turn his own language on him. “Sir Viking, I command the use of your sword.”

“I came unarmed, lady.”

“But, you haven’t come,” she said. “And you’re very well armed, as I can see for myself.”

He laughed so heartily, some of the birds took alarm, unfurling their wings and causing the bells on their jesses to jangle.

“Well done,” he said. “I’ll make a bawd of you yet.”

“Then you have work still undone, wouldn’t you say?”

“If you would command my sword, I pray you, lady, do it.”

He had worked some magic on her because she’d suddenly become bewitched by his cock. It jutted out from his body, a reminder of how large he became when aroused. When she wrapped her hand around it, his eyes half closed, and a small grunt of approval escaped from his chest.

She moved her hand along it from the base to the tip. The head felt like velvet, and as she squeezed it and then ran a finger around its ridge, a pearlish droplet of liquid appeared at the tip. Smoothing that into his flesh, she stroked him downward with more firmness until his flesh jerked upward, coming alive in her hand.

“You have a magnificent weapon, my knight,” she said. “I’m honored to have it in my service.”

He removed her hand from his rod and brought it to his lips. “Then, I beg you, allow me to fulfill my quest.”

“Your quest? What is that?”

“What it always is,” he answered. “My lady’s pleasure.”

With that, he spread her legs farther apart and took his place between them. He paused there. “Bring me to you.”

Though he’d never admit it, he’d asked for her consent, even after she’d asked him to swyve her. Warmth settled around her heart as she reached down, wrapped her fingers around his shaft, and guided him to her entrance.

He groaned and pushed forward. “You’re wet for me.”

The heat rose in her cheeks. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Don’t apologize. I love it.” He eased an inch inside her and stayed there, propping himself up on his hands. “The feel of you. ‘Tis better even than your scent.”

“More, Ulric. I’m ready.”

“Don’t close your eyes. Look into mine.”

“Aye.” Easily said, but as he sank into her–deep, so deep–a knowledge passed between them. Terrible and wonderful at once, and powerful enough to burn it into her heart. He watched her, the same awe in his eyes as she felt in her soul. This joining might seem base or crude in jest and song, but between them, it felt more like a sacrament.

She reached up to stroke his face, and he turned his head to kiss her palm. “My lady, you own me.”

“Ulric,” she gasped. “I never dreamed of this.”

He moved. One slow thrust into her, back nearly out, and forward again. A heavenly connection. Divine congress. She wrapped her legs around him to hold him close, and now she could lift herself to meet him. Still gazing down at her, he increased the pace. She placed her hands on his shoulders to anchor herself more firmly.

She would have closed her eyes by now and retreated into her own pleasure. But now, she shared this, watching the play of emotion on his face–every tightening of his jaw, every harsh breath as he worked to give them both joy.

His thrusts stoked her inner fire, which hadn’t died but only banked itself, waiting for the moment it would flare even brighter than before. Now, she moved frantically, urging him to go faster, harder, deeper.

He obliged, finally surrendering and closing his eyes in pleasure so profound it looked like pain. He strained with each movement, pinning her beneath him. His muscles bunched with his effort, cording in his powerful neck.

The beast rode her now, the way she’d ridden him the night before. The great, golden animal was at the mercy of his mate. Her palms moved over his shoulders and down his arms, soothing and loving and begging at the same time.

My lord, my love. Take me. Own me.

“Come, Josalyn,” he gritted. “I need to feel you.”

“I will. Soon.”

“Now, love. Now.”

“Yes!” The climax rushed through her, a whirlwind that caught her in its grip and tossed her upward. She clung to Ulric as he joined her, her sex sending powerful spasms along his as he emptied his seed inside her. He bellowed, throwing his head back in a roar of victory. The sound frightened the birds into a flapping of wings and jostling of bells.

As they settled down, Ulric fell onto his side and pulled her against him. “Ah, Josalyn.”

“My lord.”

He groaned, a happy, satisfied sound. “I’ll bring you a falcon every day if this is how you thank me.”

“The whole castle would be filled by birds,” she said. “Besides, I didn’t thank you. You seduced me.”

“Did I, now?” he said. “Then I’ll thank you for allowing it.”

Allowing it? She’d fairly begged for it. Best she keep that to herself, though, lest he realize his true power over her.

“And I thank you for the falcon,” she said.

He pulled a piece of straw from her hair and laughed. “My wife deserves a better bed.”

“Did you think about that when you came in here?” she said.

“Truly, lady, I only thought to give you the falcon. Your beauty overcame my good sense.”

“Flowery language, husband,” she said. “Did you learn it from Trey?”

He rolled off her and sat up, giving her his back. Only a moment ago, he’d seemed softer, even happy.

By the saints, that was it. Behind the stony exterior, the fierce warrior’s mask, hid a man who had no happiness. He might seize anything he wanted, but he took no joy from his conquests.

She sat up, too, and put her hand on his shoulder. “I meant nothing by mentioning Trey.”

He turned his head toward her. “I have no reason to fault you. I let him in our bed, not you.”

She gazed into his ice eyes. She’d thought them deep before, but that had been an illusion that served to keep the real man hidden. The powerful intimacy she’d just shared had cracked the wall of ice around him and had given her a glimpse of the man inside.

She touched his cheek. “What would make you happy, Ulric?”

He stared at her with frank astonishment. “God’s blood. What would make you ask such a thing?”

“Did you give me the falcon as a bribe?” she asked. “Or did you hope to make me happy?”

“I don’t need to bribe you. I can command you.”

“You gave me Trey as a gift, too, didn’t you?”

“You think too much,” he said. “Take what I grant you and enjoy it.”

“I will.” She held his face so he couldn’t turn away and kissed him. His sensuous lips answered hers, this time full of gentleness rather than hunger. She savored him for a moment and then pulled away. “I’ll enjoy you, too, my lord.”

He looked away, but not before letting her see a smile. That, and a definite softness to his eyes, exactly what Anne had told her to expect.

***

Ulric peered through the thick ferns into the clearing Trey had selected for his seduction of Ulric’s own wife. Hidden among tall trees, it offered privacy as well as a bed of moss to make the eventual swyving comfortable. A beautiful spot. He would have discovered it himself if his duties hadn’t kept him too busy to explore the land around the castle.

“When will she get here?” he asked.

“Eager, my lord?” the minstrel said.

“Eager to have it over.”

The minstrel laughed. “Why did you come along?”

Ulric’s stomach roiled. “Why did you tell me you’d play courtly lover to my lady this afternoon?”

“I promised you that you could watch everything she and I do together.”

“Was that a promise or a curse?”

Trey grinned broadly and clapped Ulric on the shoulder. “Afraid you’ll lose her to me?”

Curse the man. He was everything a woman wanted–comely, romantic, and skilled at acting out female fantasies. No woman had ever complained about Ulric's abilities in foutre, and some had even called him handsome. But he'd never had a lady like Josalyn before, and worse, she meant more to him than a simple conquest any longer.

“Do your best, poet,” he said. “Josalyn’s too smart to surrender to empty words, no matter how sweetly composed.”

Trey grinned. “You’re sure of that, are you?”

“I’ll give you this one encounter, and then we’ll see who she prefers.”

“Aye, that we will.”

God’s blood, had he fared no better than his father? Cursed ambition. He’d wanted to best the old man by taking his English virgin and keeping her. He’d never thought to fall into the same silken trap of sighs and soft lips under his. He’d even surrendered some of his sovereignty over her to the minstrel in order to win her. Now, he’d have to watch them together.

Before he could ponder that thought, she appeared. She wore a tunic of embroidered linen, and her hair flowed around her shoulders and down her back. It caught the sun’s light and scattered it into golds and browns. When she stepped into the shade of a large tree, it returned to its normal lustrous brown.

“Now, watch my lord,” Trey whispered.

Trey stepped into the clearing and immediately bent into a deep bow. “Pray, stop, fair image.”