To The Princess Bound (50 page)

Knowing what he intended to do next, Victory whimpered and tried to crawl backwards, unable to paint a gentle picture of it in her mind.

A firm hand on her thigh held her in place.  “Trust me,” he whispered again.  He knelt in the water, between her legs, watching her face.

Trembling, Victory squeezed her eyes shut, knowing, as she always had, that she had no real choice.  She should have known he would take her at his will.  What was she thinking when she stepped out of her clothes and—

Her thoughts imploded as she felt his tongue touch her innermost flesh.  She gasped and started to sit up.  “What—?”

She moaned and flexed back to the ledge when she felt him take her nub between his lips and suckle it.  The full-body shudders that wracked her as he alternately suckled, then licked, then lapped at her sensitives left her clinging to the ledge, gasping for air as another, greater pressure built from within.

This time, when he took her over the edge, Victory’s back arced and she cried out, wrapping her fingers in his hair and clinging to his head with her thighs.  Then she collapsed, panting, staring at the stone ceiling in shock.

To her horror, she felt movement between her thighs as he started working his tongue against her clitoris once more.  His big hand slid upwards, tracing the curves of her body, stopping on a breast, kneading it in a tender caress.  Even as she was sure she could take no more, he brought her to climax again.  This time, she lost herself.  Her fears drained away, overpowered by the pleasure that was coursing within her.  She bucked and thrashed under his attentions, her sweaty body heaving, her fingers gripping the marble bathtub as he made her world narrow to the overwhelming tide of ecstasy rising within.

When he finally lifted his head and kissed her stomach gently, Victory was in a semi-stupor, still reeling in the washes of pleasure.  She groaned and lifted her head to watch as he moved away to let out some of the now-cold water from the tub, then replace it with fresh.  Then, as she watched, he lathered a soapy sponge and brought it back to her.

Gently, he eased her down into the water with him, pulling her small body to be enveloped in his own.  She felt his manhood, then, pinned between where their stomachs met.  He leaned back, so that she was using his stomach as her resting spot and his knees as her backrest, and as Victory looked on, dumbfounded, he began to lather her body with the sponge.

He’s not going to take me,
she realized, watching him.  That knowledge hit her like a concussive blast of relief, and she felt her heart open to him, finally.  He didn’t seem to notice.  She watched his arms work as he finished scrubbing her clean, then began working on himself, following the sponge with his eyes as it traced the chiseled lines of his muscular body.

Without uprooting her from her seat, he reached over with a long arm, grabbed a pitcher from the tub’s rim, and filled it.  Then, tenderly, he began pouring water over her, careful to keep it out of her eyes.  Her heart still pounding from his ministrations, Victory could only stare.  He seemed no more concerned about what he had just done to her than he was about the bits of grime and dirt that he was now rinsing away.

She looked down at the hardness she was resting on.  She had untold experience with such pillars of flesh, but never had they felt so…innocent…as his felt now, pressed into his stomach with her weight. 

Victory swallowed.  She had been assaulted a thousand times, by a hundred different men, but never before had she actually had the leisure to explore.  Aside from the brief glimpses that she had seen before they were driven inside of her, she had no real idea of what they looked like or even how they worked.  She had never been given—nor really wanted—the opportunity to investigate, to learn.  And now it was
there
.  Hers to examine.

Once he finished the first rinse, Dragomir re-lathered the sponge and started soaping her again.  She watched him, still befuddled by his gentleness, his lack of concern for what had just taken place, as he tenderly lifted each of her arms, washing, then gently ran his big hands up her back, rubbing away the grit there.  He had finished with her and started again on his own body when Victory’s curiosity finally got the better of her. 

She let her hands slide under the water to touch the hard flesh against his stomach.  Then she froze, biting her lip, wondering if she had gone too far.

Dragomir hesitated for a second, his body going still, before he continued scrubbing, not even looking up at her.

Somehow, his lack of response gave her the courage to continue.  Victory shifted, slightly, feeling her way down his length to his scrotum.  She touched him gently, there, knowing that it was a man’s most sensitive part, that too much pressure could damage, or even kill.  She took the tender flesh between her fingers, lifting, cupping the sack with her palm as she examined what it contained, curious. 

When he didn’t stop her, she slid off of his stomach, into the water, and, when he simply kept cleaning his hands and then forearms, she knelt beside him to get a better look.  She lowered her face as close as she dared to the surface, peering into the bath.  The water was cloudy from the soap, but she thought she could see lumps…

Clearing his throat, Dragomir pulled himself up onto the ledge she had just occupied, legs spread, dripping.  He lifted a knee and started scrubbing, still appearing utterly engrossed in his bath.

Victory bit her lip, watching his face.  When he didn’t scowl or otherwise warn her off, she slid forward to get a better look.  He kept washing, scrubbing the dirt and blood from his scabbed knee.

Heart hammering, now, Victory once again reached out and touched his sensitive flesh.  If he noticed, or even cared, he made no sign.

Swallowing hard, she once again pulled at the loose skin of his sack, watching the egg-shaped lumps move within.  She singled one out, took it into her hand, pulled it aside.

“Gently,” he whispered.

Victory froze.  He was looking at her, now, blue eyes kind, sponge still dripping soap from where it rested against his knee.  He gave her a sheepish grin and went back to his ablutions. 

She almost lost her nerve, then.  Her heart pounded in her ears like a faulty engine, hammering at her skull like it wanted to break free.  What was she
doing
?  He was
male
and males used these parts to hurt people.  She swallowed.  She looked down at where her hand held him, her curiosity fighting with the instinct telling her to snatch it away.

“Go on,” he whispered, still scrubbing.

Trembling, now, she moved her hand back up the shaft.  Heart doing tiny explosions in her chest, she moved it between her fingers.  She froze when the skin slid down the shaft, revealing an odd, heart-shaped bulb at the end.

She felt his sudden intake of breath, but he didn’t look at her.  He started scrubbing his calf, then spent extra time on his foot, working the sponge between each toe.

Victory eased closer, until she was between his knees, his manhood displayed for her on the ledge.  She looked up at him nervously, then, when he continued washing, pulled the shaft further from his stomach, so that she could see the individual folds of skin, the odd ridges, the veins, the tiny slit at the top.

She gasped and lurched backwards as he switched legs, dropping his soapy foot into the water beside her and lifting his other to the ledge.  Dragomir glanced at her, then began lathering that leg, too.

Heart thundering, she laughed nervously.

Dragomir didn’t seem to notice.

Victory narrowed her eyes.

“I know you’re paying attention.”

Dragomir hesitated in running the sponge across his thigh.  Trying not to let his fear show, he looked up at her.  He was so terrified that he would make a misstep, that he would return her to that dull-eyed state of shock, that he had almost cried out when he shifted legs and she lunged away from him.  He had thought that giving her the opportunity to explore him would help ease her fears.

Now, though, caught under her accusing green stare, he wondered if he had made a mistake.  He was just about to apologize when she said, “Lean back.”  It sounded half-command, half plea.

Dragomir froze, watching her bite her lip, her emerald eyes flickering from his manhood and back to him.  She looked like a frightened doe, and he instinctively knew that any stray movement on his part would send her bounding out of the bath.  Slowly, he lowered the sponge into the water and leaned his body back against the rim of the tub.

Once he was settled, she slid forward on her knees slowly, making the water ripple around her.  Her face was flushed, her breathing elevated.  Dragomir had his shields up, but he didn’t need to be an Emp to know that Victory was terrified.  She kept glancing up at him like she thought he was going to suddenly lunge forward and ravish her.

Deciding to give her all the time she wanted to explore, Dragomir rested his head against the rim of the tub, staring up at the ceiling.  He lowered his other foot into the water and spread his knees apart to give her better access.  Offering everything, hiding nothing.

He heard water dribble in the bath between his calves, and waited.  She settled her hot, wet hand around his width and his breath caught.  He remained absolutely still as she started her explorations anew, testing, tugging, teasing.  Then she began to stroke the shaft, slowly, and his heart started doing laps around his chest.  Realizing the slow, purposeful motions for what they were, his startled mind did a somersault. 
She can’t be…
  He began sitting up before he caught himself.

But her hands began to increase their tempo, sliding up and down his length, gripping it with exquisite firmness as she worked his member.  His manhood, already painfully sensitive from watching her body rock with pleasure and from the bounty of her delicate taste, was throbbing for release.  His balls, already aching from the pressure of the night’s arousal, began to grow heavy as the acute tightness built rapidly under her small, graceful fingers.  He felt himself squirm under her attentions, trying not to frighten her, but knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back for much longer.  He’d gone too long without release, the thought not even having crossed his mind in weeks.

He strained to hold back the automatic pelvic thrusts as Victory relentlessly massaged his manhood.  Sweat began to break out over his body as the pressure became intense, the need to release like a building explosion within him.  His heart, already hammering against his ribs, was taking flight, picking up speed with the increasing rhythm of her hands.  He felt a tiny moan escape his lips before he clamped his jaw tight, determined not to scare her.  He knew, though, that he had to say something, soon, or she would probably never speak to him again.

He opened his mouth to tell her to stop.

“Go on,” she whispered.  “Let go.”

Something about her soft, reassuring voice released all the triggers within him.  His spine and hips surged as the pressure in his balls surrendered.  His stomach tightened in an unsuppressable groan as wave after powerful wave worked its way up his manhood, spurting his seed onto his stomach in pulsing tides of pleasure.

When it was over, he stared at the ceiling, panting.  Between his knees, Victory giggled. 

Astonished, he lifted his head to look at her.

“Head back,” she growled, though there was a smile on her lips.

A little anxious, he obeyed, once again examining the ceiling as she explored his body.  He heard her fill the pitcher, then felt a hot flood of water across his chest as she rinsed his seed away.  Then he felt her hands start moving on his shaft again.

Oh gods,
he thought. 
I can’t possibly…

All thoughts ended when he felt her lips touch his head.  His entire world narrowed to the way her tongue slipped out, licked his shaft, the way she took his manhood in her warm, moist mouth and suckled.

“Oh,” he whimpered, gripping the rim of the tub to keep from sliding into the water.  It was all he could do to keep from moaning, and the strain of keeping his body still for her was akin to moving the Gorgarian Cliffs with his mind.  He whimpered as she traced her fingers down his shaft and cupped his balls.  He swallowed and tried to keep his hips in check as she pumped her hand down his shaft.  He gasped and felt the pressure surging within him again as she worked the head of his manhood with her tongue, suckling.