WinterofThorns (9 page)

“Touch my nipples, sweeting,” he said. “I
promise you they will neither sting nor bite you.”

She giggled at his words then seemed
mortified that she had. Her head came up and she shot him a quick look before
pressing her lips together and lowering her gaze to her hand. She seemed to be
holding her breath as she slid the tip of her middle finger to one of his paps.
Her finger skidded away then returned.

“My cock isn’t the only thing that hardens
when I’m aroused,” he said softly.

She ran her fingertip over him again as
though she was entranced by the hardness and texture—no doubt so different from
her own. She circled the darker skin around his nipple.

“He likes that,” he said.

She glanced up at him and there was a trace
of a smile on her face.

“Pluck it,” he said and hardly recognized
the deepness of his voice. “Between your thumb and middle fingers.” When she
did, he commanded her to repeat the action. “Harder this time and twist it
slightly as you pull.”

Her head shot up, shock registering in her
stare. “Milord?” she questioned in a voice an octave higher than her normal
voice.

“You’ll not hurt me, lass. And trust me.
Men like it. We truly do.” He winked. “Very much.”

Tentatively, she closed her fingers around
his nipple and tugged lightly.

“Harder, sweeting,” he ordered.

She took a deep breath and pinched his
nipple. When he groaned, he thought she would remove her hand but she didn’t.
Instead, she tweaked him a little harder and as his engorged nipple became a
tight pebble between her fingers, she rolled it.

“Oh, baby. You have no idea how good that
feels,” he told her.

Without him bidding her do so, she moved
her hand to his other nipple and repeated the process. His deep breaths as she
worked his paps seemed to interest her. Her natural curiosity got the better of
her and she ran her fingers through his chest hair, tugging gently.

“Aye,” he whispered.

He saw her eyes dip to the thickening
evidence of his erection and expected that gaze to leap away but it didn’t. She
surprised him again by staring avidly at it. Her fingers went to his nipple and
when she plucked, his cock leapt. She did it again and when his body reacted in
the same way, a secretive smile stretched her full lips. She was beginning to
understand the power she could wield over him.

“Run your hand over me, sweeting,” he
commanded. “All over me. Touch me wherever you like.”

Her gaze went to his cock. She tucked her
bottom lip between her teeth. Her hand moved from his chest to hover above his
navel, the fingers flexing.

She laid her palm over the slight mound of
his belly, her fingernails grazing the tiger line of hair that flowed down to
his groin. He held his breath as she spiked her fingers through the V-shaped
nest of curls.

“Touch me,” he whispered. “Touch me, Jana.”

Apparently she was fully engaged in seeing
what her ministrations could do to him and he wanted her to do anything that
came to her inquisitive mind. He didn’t care what she did as long as she
continued to touch him. He wanted her to know his body. He wanted her to be
comfortable with his naked body. He had her attention and meant to keep it. She
was a virgin, unaccustomed to being with a man, seeing one naked, touching one
intimately, and unsure of what to do, fearful of what was to come. She wanted
to explore what was before her but was uncertain of how to proceed. At that
moment he would have bet his entire future kingdom that she had forgotten all
about Seyzon Montyne and their Joining.

“Here. Let me show you,” he said, his voice
husky.

He took her wrist and lowered her hand to
his aching shaft. She whimpered as he thrust his cock into her palm then closed
her trembling fingers around it. He held his hand over hers, his attention
riveted to her suddenly pale face. He tightened his grip on her hand then began
to work it slowly up and down his cock.

“See?” he said. “I’m no ogre ready to rut
like a wild animal. I am a man.” He smiled. “One that wants the most beautiful
woman he’s ever seen to be at ease with him.” He tightened her fingers around
his shaft. “Can you feel him throbbing?”

She nodded, her shy eyes lifting to his
then skidding away.

“I’m going to let go of your hand and I
want you to sit up and then move between my legs.”

Her eyes flared and her lips parted as she
jerked her hand from his hold. The one wedged between them clamped down on his
almost painfully and it took some doing to slip his fingers from her taut grip.

“Don’t be afraid, sweeting,” he was quick
to tell her. “Just kneel between my legs. I’m not going to ask you to do
anything that would disgust you, Jana.”

Not tonight, he thought as his gaze fell to
her lush lips. He eased away from her so she could draw her right arm from
between them. She shivered, pressing her arms over her chest.

“All I want you to do is run your hands
along my legs,” he said. “Nothing more.”

For a moment she stared at him as though he
had threatened to maim her in some way. When her tongue swept out to curl over
her bottom lip, he thought he might unman himself in front of her. Her
indecision was shining from her eyes.

“Trust me, Jana. I’ll never do anything to
shame or repel you.”

He let her take her time—didn’t press
again—so the choice would be hers. Over the years he had learned patience in
dealing with the virginal maidens whom he brought to his bed. He found the
forbearance and the wait was well worth the extra time he took to fully seduce
them.

She turned to her back—lifting her leg from
atop his—then slowly and with her face burning as bright as a brand, sat up
with her arms shielding her bare breasts. Her gaze was directed across the room
and seemed to be searching the tapestried wall for either a way out or for
help. He said nothing as he waited. His arms were relaxed at his side though
his cock was as hard as a two-by-four and thrust out from between his legs like
an upright beam. As he looked at her profile, he could see the vein at the side
of her neck pulsing wildly.

She was terrified.

“Jana,” he said softly. “I’m not going to
hurt you. You have nothing to fear from me.”

She surprised him when she spoke.

“It will hurt,” she said and then a quiver
ran through her upper body. “I know it will.”

“Aye,” he acknowledged. “A little, but that
hurt is a prelude.”

She turned her head and looked down at him.
“For what?”

“For the greatest physical pleasure a woman
can experience,” he replied. “The taking of her maidenhood ushers you into
womanhood. Womanhood ushers you into motherhood.”

A harsh breath dragged into her lungs and
he realized he had said the wrong thing. She feared he would impregnate her.

“I will not get you with child,” he was
quick to tell her. “The healers give me a potion that prevents that. Until I
Join with my bride, I take that potion religiously. I have no desire to
populate our world with bastard children as my father and his fathers before
him have done. That is irresponsible.” He put a hand to his heart. “On my
mother’s soul, I will not get you with child. You have nothing to worry about
on that account.”

She searched his eyes for the truth, licked
her lips once more—making his cock ache with furious need—then looked away. Her
shoulders straightened and she leaned forward, coming to her knees as
gracefully and sensually as a swan gliding upon the water.

She straddled his left leg and when she did
he moved his thighs apart to give her room to kneel between his legs. Though
her arms were still crossed protectively across her chest, her attention was
riveted on his cock and that was encouraging.

“Lay your hands midway on my thighs and
just stroke my legs, dearling,” he said in a soft, soothing voice. “Just my
thighs.”

Her body jerked but she lowered her arms
and gently placed her palms on his thighs. He was a bit taken back by how cold
her hands were on his flesh.

“All I want you to do is rub my legs,” he
instructed. “Along the top and on each side. Go slow and just get to know the feel.
You’ll find my thighs aren’t like yours.”

Hers will be silky soft,
he thought. The skin would be cool to the touch and as satiny as
the coverlet upon which he lay. There would be give to her flesh and not the
muscular hardness that marked his own. The hair on her thighs would be like
down instead of the thick wiriness of his.

When she began to run her palms over his
thighs, he closed his eyes to savor the feel. She was careful not to go
anywhere near his straining rod but he knew she was staring at it. As the clock
on the mantel quietly ticked away the minutes, he lay there enjoying the feel
of her hands on him. Her touch deepened at times as though she wanted to know
the texture and feel of his flesh as much as he wanted to know hers. He let the
stroking continue for he what thought was five minutes or perhaps a little less
then asked her to move to his shins. Without hesitation, she moved farther down
the bed—her soft hands gliding over his knees to his shins.

Then her hands stopped.

He opened his eyes—knowing what she’d
found.

“Seyzon did that,” he said of the scar her
fingers had encountered. The deep, wide wound that had required a short stay in
a TAOS unit to seal had left an ugly scar. Not because it should have but
because he had wanted it that way. To him, it was a badge of honor that marked
him as a warrior. To Seyzon, it was a reminder of a moment of inattention that
could have had a much worse outcome.

“Why?” she asked, staring at the ugly
reminded of his misspent boyhood. “How?”

“A mishap with a pike when we were in
training as teenagers. He didn’t mean to do it but it hurt like hell anyway.”
He smiled. “It would have hurt more had he wounded me intentionally.”

She traced the scar that ran from just
inside his right knee, across the shin bone and to the outside of his ankle
with her fingertips. “You did not want it erased?”

“I rather like it. It certainly draws
sympathy from the ladies and respect from the men.”

She shook her head. “You men are such
strange creatures.”

He laughed and that brought her head up and
a slight red stain to her cheeks.

“We are,” he said, fearful that his
laughter had made her think she’d insulted her Overlord. “You women make us
that way.”

He watched her left eyebrow lift.

“How so, milord?” she inquired.

“You drive us to distraction when we don’t
have you and then once we do, you drive us crazy. How can we not be strange
creatures, milady?”

Her pretty mouth formed a saucy grin. “You
tease me, milord.”

“I do, aye,” he agreed. He stretched his
arms over his head, laced his fingers together then slid them to the nape of
his neck, closed his eyes and told her to continue with her ministrations.

He hadn’t told her to do so but her hands
drifted down over the tops of his feet as she stroked his lower leg.

“You have hair on the tops of your feet.”

“And on my ugly toes,” he said with a loud
sigh.

“Your toes are not ugly,” she declared,
sliding the pad of her finger along his big toe.

“Care to give me a foot rub, then?” he
asked.

“I can do that. A return of the favor is in
order.”

He didn’t say anything to that but smiled
inwardly. She was relaxing in just the way he had hoped she would. She was
talking to him and no longer staring fearfully at him—or the hard evidence of
his arousal. Parting his eyelids just a little, he watched her as she set about
massaging his feet. Her full attention was on them instead of the aching rod
that was no longer fully erect but still just as needy.

Her gentle, firm touch swept any tension he
might have had from his body. It surprised him to find out that though he was
as relaxed as he could ever remember being in the presence of a beautiful
woman, he wanted her even more than he had at the moment he had seen her
standing at Seyzon’s side.

“I think that’s enough. If you keep it up,
I’ll be snoring,” he told her.

Her hands came away from his feet but she
just knelt there at the foot of the bed, awaiting his next instructions.

Like a harem girl,
he thought, and for some reason that turned him on even more. He
opened his eyes and gave her a look he knew must have concerned her for once
more her arms were hugging her chest.

“My turn,” he said and watched her eyes
widen.

Too late, he realized he had moved too
quickly. Sitting up as though he were a marionette and the puppeteer had jerked
his strings, he shot out his hands to cup her shoulders. She cried out even as
he lifted her and swung her over his leg to place her on her back with him
looking over her, his legs straddling her suddenly stiff body. Her legs were
clamped tightly together and her lip had begun to quiver.

He shook his head like a wet dog. “No, no,
no, no, no,” he said firmly. “I am not about to rape, ravage and pillage you,
woman. Just relax!”

He mentally cursed himself for his
recklessness. He had gained ground and with one stupid move had lost every
hard-won inch.

He needed to start over.

Jana stared up into the half-hooded eyes of
her Overlord and trembled. He looked massive as he leaned over her with his
strong, hard hands gripping her shoulders. There was a wild look in his eyes that
made her blood run cold. Where had the laughing, teasing man gone? Above her
was a lust-driven warrior hell bent on taking her.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he stated. “I am not
about to rape, ravage and pillage you, woman. Just relax!”

How could she, she wondered when he was
positioned over her, locking her shoulders to the bed, his hard thighs
bracketing her own and his manhood poking urgently into her lower belly.