The Warrior's Reward (13 page)

The girdle fell to the floor and he eased her close once more. Both hands to her face, he skimmed his lips over hers, then across her cheeks, her forehead, her chin and jaw. She closed her eyes and relished the feather-light touch. She felt worshipped, adored, treasured. But not in a false way. Not for something she appeared to be, but for whom she really was.

Ieuan pushed her gown from her shoulders and together they removed it, flinging it aside and leaving her in her chemise. Rosamunde fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself as his eyes gleamed in the candlelight. His gaze roved over her. He bunched the fabric at the waist and drew her back into him with it. Now she was better able to appreciate the strength of him against the suppleness of her body. Their bodies seemed to mould perfectly together.

He rubbed his hands over her back and cupped her rear through the linen. His fingers pressed into her flesh and he rocked against her. An ache gathered between her thighs and low in her belly. She rocked back, the need to ease that ache forcing her movements. He released a hiss of breath through his teeth.

“Hell’s teeth, Rosamunde, touch me.”

She wasn’t sure what to do but her fingers itched to trace those muscles she’d seen just this morning. Retreating to give her just enough room for movement, she began an exploratory journey with her hands, starting at the nape of his shirt and moving down to trace the hard ridges of his stomach through his clothing. When she reached the bottom of his tunic, he released a grunt and shifted back to tear it over his head. His shirt came next, leaving him golden and beautiful in the candlelight.

With her heart in her throat, she swayed forward once more and took up where she left off, tracing, stroking, touching. A thin line of hair trailed down into his chausses. Muscles were etched into his body like carved stone. She touched his flat nipples, surprised to see how they tightened just slightly. And he let her explore. There was no rush. They had their entire lives.

When her fingers reached his collarbone, she sketched a path along it and over the cords in his neck. She saw his pulse thump steadily there and she leaned forward to press a kiss to it. He tasted slightly salty and more divine than she thought possible.

“God almighty.”

Rosamunde snapped back. Had she done something wrong? But his fingers threaded into her hair and urged her close.

“I want to feel your lips on me again,” he told her softly.

Powerless to respond in any other way, she lowered her mouth to his neck and skimmed her lips over his bristled skin and down to the smoother skin of his chest. She copied his gentle movements from earlier, brushing her lips this way and that until she found one of his nipples. Unable to resist, she darted her tongue out to lick, and a heavy groan came from him.

He let her explore him for several more moments before easing her chin up with a finger. He kissed her and began to bunch up her shift. Cool air swirled about her calves, then her thighs, then hips. Her heart beat rapidly, making her vision slightly hazy when he pulled the linen all the way up and over, leaving her bare to him.

“Are you cold?” The words were coarse and thick, as though he was struggling to say them.

She shook her head, hands clasped at her sides. She should be but the way he looked at her sent fire licking along her body.

“Come here.”

Rosamunde almost fell forward, such was her eagerness to feel his flesh against hers. They both sucked in breaths when her body collided with his. Soft flesh, hard muscle, they connected beautifully. Her nipples pressed taut against his warm skin. She clasped her hands around his neck and stared up at him, waiting for his next move. The twinkle in his eye reminded her of when she had first seen him and how breathtakingly handsome he had been. This night, he had transported her back there. There was no dowry or arrangement with her father or talk of her being this treasure or thoughts of being taken away from her home. This night they were man and woman, knight and lady.

The connecting of their flesh seemed to unleash something in him. Ieuan didn’t rush her but his kisses grew deeper, hungrier. Rough palms touched her everywhere apart from where she needed it most. When his hands came to her rear, he lifted her.

“Put your legs around me.”

She did as he commanded and found herself cradled against him. She rocked, rubbing against the coarse fabric of his chausses. Pleasure singed through her blood. She released a delighted gasp.

“Oh, Ieuan.”

“Aye, there’s more, never fear.” He carried her over to the bed and laid her down. “Are you sure you are not cold?”

“Aye.”

Rosamunde pressed herself up onto her elbows to watch him as he removed his boots and untied his chausses. The way his muscles flexed and rippled with the movements fascinated her and almost made her forget her nakedness.

Mouth dry, she watched as he undid his braies and drew them off. She licked her bottom lip. “Goodness.”

An eyebrow rose and his lips tilted. “I hope I have not disappointed, my lady.”

She shook her head. She hadn’t really known what to expect. Of course she had seen animals but that was it. He came to the bed and stalked over her, like a beast approaching prey. She couldn’t see his manhood anymore which disappointed her as she found herself eager to view it. Instead she reached down and touched it. He remained propped on his arms just above her and his expression contorted into what she hoped was pleasure. He didn’t move away at least.

Like steel encased in hot flesh, his arousal was hot and heavy in her hand. She brushed gently then circled it with her fingers. “It’s so hard,” she whispered, aware her words might sound foolish but unable to stop them.

“For you,” he said, lowering his lips to her bare chest. “All for you,” he murmured against her breast.

It thrilled her. More so than having suitors knocking at her door or men regarding her with some kind of strange awe. Having this effect on him imbued her with more power than she had ever felt before. She was strong, capable, seductive, commanding. She could do anything.

Unable to feel him anymore with their bodies crushed so tightly together, she contented herself with tracing the muscles in his back and running her fingers through his hair while the rough bristle of his beard scuffed her skin. She arched into him while he laid kisses to the mounds of her breasts and finally her nipples. He took one into his mouth and she gripped his hair tight. Who knew so much pleasure could be derived from her breasts?

“Taste like honey.” He kissed the underside of one breast. “Like berries.” He kissed her stomach. “Like nectar.”

She released a surprised squeak when he dropped a kiss to the inside of her thigh, right by her sex. Placing a gentle hand on her stomach to keep her from wriggling away, he kissed her sex—a light, fluttery kiss that had her internal muscles bunching.

“Ieuan, you cannot—”

“Shhh,” he said against the juncture of her thighs.

The whisper of his breath over her delicate flesh sent a ribbon of pleasure through her. He followed it up with another kiss—harder this time—and she moaned. Clamping a hand across her mouth, she tried to move away but he gripped her hips and held her still.

Then he ran his tongue over her folds and found a secret spot that had her writhing in pleasure. Around and around, he swirled his tongue, licking, sucking. Shards of bliss speared through her, holding her captive to the sensations. She had never known anything like it. Part of her wanted to fight it, to push him away and ignore the beautiful feelings, but the other part longed to surrender to the unknown pleasure and see where it took her.

Ieuan made the decision for her. He kept her pinned and drew the aching spot into his mouth. He sucked hard and her whole body tightened. She gripped the bedding, straining for something, but she knew not what. Then a tingling wash of ecstasy overcame her. Eyes clenched tightly shut, she felt it roll through her, from her head to her toes. When it ebbed, she let out a long heavy breath and opened her eyes to find Ieuan hovering over her with a wicked grin on his face. She reached up to trace his mouth but darted her fingers back when she remembered where his mouth had been.

“’Tis well enough, Rosamunde,” he assured her. He leaned down to kiss her and she shied away but he persisted, pressing a small kiss to her lips. He tasted musky but not disgusting at all. In truth, she wanted to kiss him fully but shame heated her cheeks.

“’Tis a natural thing.” He stroked her cheek. “There is naught about your body of which you should be ashamed.”

“But... you kissed me
there
.”

“Aye, and I’ll do it again soon. And again. And again. Trust me, Rosamunde, I intend to do that to you for years to come.”

“But—”

“It felt good, did it not?”

“Aye...”

“I can make it even better.”

Rosamunde stared into his blue gaze and had no doubt he would. And while it seemed shameful and base, she could not deny she wanted him to kiss her there again.

“Pleasure between a man and a woman is the most natural thing in the world.”

He must have sensed her continued doubt. She smiled and gave herself up to him. There was no fighting this, no fighting the charming knight and his beautiful words. “Show me then. Show me more.”

Ieuan manoeuvred her legs about him, settling himself into the cradle of her thighs. She held her breath when his arousal touched her but his hands worked to soothe away her fears as he cradled her face and kissed her lips.

“This may be uncomfortable,” he warned her, “but it will get better. Just trust me.”

Trust him? How was she to trust him? Here was a man who went from charming knight to heartless warrior within a night, but for the moment she did. She at least trusted the man she had in her bed right now. Whether that would change on the morrow, she knew not.

His hips eased forward, pressing down on her sex. She was wet and he gained entrance easily. He continued to push, breaching her not even an inch at a time. His features strained with control, a deep line appeared between his brows. He gazed down at her and she stared back. The idea that they were connected so deeply, in such a primitive way, sent a surge of wonder through her.

And for a while, she thought it wasn’t too bad. She was stretched but not uncomfortably so. Indeed, it felt more like she had been missing something and that he was fulfilling that empty ache rather than invading. But then he forged forward again and she winced when her body burned and ached. He couldn’t possibly go deeper but he did.

Rosamunde longed to close her eyes but couldn’t. Mayhap if she shut her eyes, she could will away the pain but he would not allow it. His gaze held hers captive as though he had to see in her eyes the moment they were fully joined.

His arms trembled a little on the next push. “Rosamunde,” he said softly, “’twill be over soon. I swear it.”

She was not so sure. The stretching sensation brought tears to her eyes. He cursed softly and bent to kiss them away. And as he eased into her once more and withdrew, she realised he had been rocking ever so gently, backward and forward these last few moments. This time, the pain had lessened. The burning had gone. She held her breath, fearful it might return but when he moved again, a more pleasant ache began to overtake the uncomfortable one.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“Aye, I am well.”

He nodded and allowed his weight to press onto her. She wrapped her arms about him, able to appreciate the strength of him on top of her now. A sensation of being protected burgeoned in her chest and she nuzzled against his slightly damp skin. She longed to remain cocooned against him forever.

Ieuan thrust again, gently at first and then with increasing speed. Spiralling pleasure began to blossom through her body but it was different this time. It began deep, deep inside her where their bodies met at the same time as flourishing outside where he had kissed her. Sweet Mary, no one had ever spoken of the pleasure women could gain from bedding. Why had no one ever told her?

Likely because they feared she’d want to go and find out for herself, she thought, smiling against his shoulder.

He thrust his hands behind her hair, cradling her head against him while she lifted her thighs to latch onto him. This seemed to bring him deeper and he groaned against her hair. Instinctively, she lifted her hips and found that the friction inside her increased.

Cries of pleasure left her lips before she could call them back. He answered them with harsh words of encouragement
. Aye, my sweets
and
That’s it
and
Come for me
, and numerous other endearments. It was on the final words that her world shattered.

“You are mine, my love. Come for me.”

Gripping his shoulders, she buried her head against him and let the tension break over her in sweet, blissful waves. She drew in several deep breaths while the warmth flooded her body and eased away, leaving her feeling boneless and content.

When she flopped down against the pillow, he gave her a tender smile and began to move with vigour. She had not even realised he hadn’t taken his pleasure. He would not think her selfish, would he? However, before she could worry on this point, he gripped her face, pressed a fierce kiss to her lips and released a guttural groan. Warmth spilled into her and he rocked, once, twice and a third time before collapsing slightly to one side.