Wed By Proxy (Brides of Karadok Book 1)

by Alice Coldbreath

  “Guy,” she whispered. “Please.”

  “Anything,” he found himself answering shakily.

  “Please don’t stop.”

  He swore filthily, and she didn’t even murmur a reproof. Just stared at his lips in unspoken invitation.

  “I don’t know how long I can do this,” he confessed, his voice raw. Already without conscious thought, his hands were sliding down around her sweet little rounded backside. He wasn’t good at sweet. He squeezed her buttocks through the silky scarlet fabric, wondering what her bare skin would feel like there. He already knew it would be soft and plump, a pleasing contrast to her slightness elsewhere.

  “Just a while longer,” she pleaded, and unable to resist, he crushed his lips to hers. Already, gentle is going out of the window, he thought with a regretful pang. She moaned against his mouth, but didn’t part her lips. Gods, he wished she would. He had thought only moments ago he would pass out from the sweetness of her lips alone, but now he wanted a taste of that mouth. Like the filthy beast he was, he drew his tongue along the seam of her lips and felt her gasp right the way through his body. Her open-mouthed surprise was too good an opportunity to miss. His tongue sought out hers, and when he found it, the kiss exploded. Gods, this was all that mattered.

  This was his. He reveled in the sensation, his body reeling at the pleasure that flooded him. Her arms tightened about his neck, and for a moment, he paused, to check there was no hesitation, no alarm on her part. Then he felt one hand slide up the nape of his neck and tangle in his hair there, gripping him tight. No, she wasn’t asking to be let loose. Thank the gods. He ravished her mouth, the kiss turned carnal. He stroked his tongue against hers, no longer coaxing, but demanding. She shuddered, and angled her head the other way.

  With a jolt of shock, he realized she was now squirming in his lap in such a way that was exciting him beyond all reason. Would she move like that on his cock? Gods! He could scarcely imagine the pleasure that would give him. He felt almost wild at the notion.

  Seizing her hips, he dragged her across his lap, to where such movements would maximize his pleasure. She stilled a moment, and drew back her head, her eyes very wide. They regarded each other, panting hard.

  “Is that—?” she ventured. Words seemed to fail her.

  He cleared his throat. “Should we stop?”

  Her answer was a swift cry, “No!”

  “Mathilde—” But she forestalled his words by grabbing one of his hands between hers and lifting it with great daring to her bosom. He sat very still as she placed his large paw over the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. Now he lost the ability of speech, as he closed his hard, callused hand upon the soft swell of flesh there. “My gods,” he whispered.

  She stared into his face, breathlessly, as if unsure what happened next. He bit back a pained smile, and slid his fingers beneath the scrap of silk defending her modesty there. Her little nipples were hard as beads. He dragged the fabric down to her waist, exposing the pink tips to his greedy gaze.

  “Gods!” he whispered again, and adding his second hand, cupped her perfect little breasts, trapping her nipples between his fingers and squeezing them gently there. Mathilde arched her back and closed her eyes with a breathy moan. As soon as her questioning gaze was extinguished, Guy bent his head and traced her nipples with a swirling tongue. Mathilde cried out again, and he drew them into his mouth, one after the other, sucking greedily. She shivered at that, and started to move again in his lap. He drew a shaky breath. Did she realize how much she was stimulating him?

  Unable to resist, he dropped his hands down to her thighs, clasping her there and pulling her roughly where he needed the friction. After only the tiniest hesitation, she started to grind against the hard swell of his cock, and Guy gritted his teeth to withstand the fierce pleasure it gave him. If we were naked, I could be inside her right now, he thought with a shudder. Imagining the tight clasp of her body, had him almost spending in his breeches.

  XVII

  Something clicked into place inside Mathilde’s brain. Now this position was almost like the one where the lusty widow sat astride Sir Pelemon! So when Guy pulled her flush against his… her mind paused, unsure of the vocabulary. The evidence of his arousal, she supplied in lieu of anything else, and urged her to move against it… It was almost as if they were mimicking the act, but with their clothes on! She flushed at her deductive reasoning, and bit her lip. If only she wasn’t wearing the remnants of the scarlet dress, she thought ruefully glancing down at where it puddled at her waist. The tops of her arms and breasts were entirely bare. Wickedly, she had removed her shift earlier and was completely naked underneath it. How could she make this work?

  Guy’s hot mouth was at her breasts again, tormenting and teasing her. She didn’t know how to move to the next stage, and after the thrilling baring of her breasts, he did not seem to be in a hurry to bare anything else. She trembled violently.

  Oh, how she longed to unlace his tunic at the strong column of his neck and slide her hands against his naked chest. But her stupid tight sleeves were shoved down to her elbows, trapping her upper arms to her sides. She could almost weep with frustration. Earlier, she thought, when she had wound her fingers into Guy’s hair and pulled at its roots, she had been able to guide him to deepen their kiss. She flushed hot at the memory of the giddy rush of power she had felt. But with her arms trapped she couldn’t maneuver him at all, and he seemed entirely riveted to her exposed bosom.

  Her nipples were so sensitive now, she could hardly bear it. With a gasp, she remembered that morning, when she had felt his crisp chest hair against them. It had felt so good.

  “Guy, please,” she moaned. “Remove your tunic.”

  No response. With a gasp, she felt the graze of his teeth. If she did not hurry things along, she thought, biting her lip, she would be engulfed in flames and burnt to a crisp! She felt instinctively that some crisis was approaching, and she had not managed to move things along to their logical conclusion, as she should have. The lusty widow had simply fallen out of her shift, but sadly it was not proving as easy for Mathilde. She could not remember precisely how the widow had managed to get Pelomon out of his clothing. As for Guy, he still had all his clothes on!

  Then suddenly, she remembered the lusty landlady at the hostelry. Her seduction method had been a lot more direct than the widow’s, Mathilde remembered. She had simply slipped her hand between Pelomon’s legs and fondled him there. Mathilde could still move her lower arms. Did she have the nerve, though?

  Abruptly she stopped wriggling in Guy’s lap and, ignoring his grunt of displeasure, dropped her hands to tentatively trace the hardness at the juncture of his thighs. The shape was bewildering. Where is the end? At that, he lifted his head from the valley between her breasts, and tipped it back to look at her with glinting eyes.

  “Don’t!” he said thickly. “I won’t be answerable—”

  When she squeezed him there, he sucked in his breath, and she thought for an instant she had hurt him. Then he spoke, and she barely recognized his voice it was so deep and gravelly. “Gods, take it out. Take it out,” he practically begged her.

  Mathilde fumbled at the lacings. It didn’t help that she couldn’t see what she was doing. “Lean back,” she appealed. Suddenly, he released her breasts, and shoved her hands away. She was about to protest, but then she realized, he was deftly unlacing himself.

  “Sit astride me,” he rumbled, as he shoved braies down over his hips. Mathilde gasped, staring down at the angry looking, hard flesh that curved away from his thighs toward her. Finding her too slow, he started shoving up her skirts, and Mathilde felt her first pang of trepidation.

  “Um, Guy,” she panted. His hand seized her roughly behind one knee, urging it up and over his lap so she sat astride and facing him. “Guy!” His gaze snapped up at the panic in her voice. “I don’t know about this. You’re too big!” she blurted.

  He followed the direction of her panicked gaze. “Was I not t
he same size last night?” he asked, not unreasonably

  Belatedly, Mathilde remembered her lie that morning. “Um, about that—” she started, but he cut her off.

  “Still sore?” He looked pained, Mathilde thought.

  “Guy—“”

  Hearing his sharply indrawn breath, she looked up to find him gazing intently between her legs.

  “Oh gods,” he shuddered. “Let me — let me just touch you then.”

  Mathilde nodded, cursing herself for a coward. Her thoughts raced. Why had she lost her nerve now? Doubtless she was built the same as other grown women. This balking at the eleventh hour was pitiful. Underneath her brave new character, was it possible she was still a shrinking, timid creature after all? It was only rather hard to believe that they would … well, fit, she thought with trepidation, eyeing his unwieldy appendage. Fondling it, and telling its master how well built he was for pleasing a woman was the very last thing she felt like doing! Still, this was the new fearless Mathilde who shied away from nothing.

  Taking a deep breath, she said “But only if I can touch you, too.”

  Guy’s gaze returned to hers, and he blinked a few times, and then swallowed. “Aye,” he said hoarsely. “But you’ll have to mind me, though, and do as I say.”

  Nothing could suit Mathilde better, since she scarcely knew how to do it in a way that would please him. The book had not been terribly specific. Greatly emboldened, she stretched out her hand to him and ran her hand tentatively down his length, from the tip to the root. He hissed between his teeth, and held himself very still. She felt his rigid flesh jump beneath her fingers. It almost seemed to vibrate with its own life. Curving her fingers around its girth, she gently squeezed its pulsing breadth.

  “Lightly,” he gritted out. “Not so … firm,” he rasped.

  “Does it pain you?”

  “Gods, yes.”

  She loosed her grip immediately, but the look on his face was far from relieved. If anything, he looked wildly disappointed.

  “Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly. “Only…”

  “I’m too close.”

  “I’ll be gentle then,” Mathilde insisted. “I can be gentle.”

  She set her hand down very tenderly on the broad, swollen head, and fluttered her fingers over the warm skin there. He cursed. She wasn’t deceived though. His involuntary impulse was to strain toward her touch.

  “It’s very sensitive here,” she whispered. And why was it wet? She dropped her gaze to stare in fascination at the bead of moisture at the tip. She felt wet between her legs as well. Was this their bodies readying themselves for their union? To ensure they would fit? She felt a flicker of optimism return. Perhaps their bodies knew better than she did.

  He groaned raggedly. “You should probably stop.”

  “I like touching you, Guy,” she said truthfully, and watched the play of emotions across his face. He did not speak, only squeezed his eyes shut as she ran her moistened fingers around the velvety crown. “You’re…” she hesitated. “Very well formed. Here as well as everywhere else,” her tone was admiring. Maybe the landlady had been right after all. His coloring was different here too, a deeper pink. She found it fascinating. “What do I call it?” she asked him suddenly curious. “I don’t think anyone ever ...” Manroot was what Nurse had called it, but she didn’t want to say something hopelessly outdated.

  “I’m not sure what you should call it,” he admitted, his color hectic and flushed.

  “What do you call it?”

  He hesitated again. “My cock,” he rasped. “But …”

  “Cock,” mused Mathilde. Like a male hen?

  His deep blue eyes snapped open at that, his breathing ragged. “Gods,” he licked his lips. “I’ll spill in your hand, if you don’t stop right now.” His voice was husky, the look in his eye slightly panicked.

  “Would that be bad?” she asked, genuinely unsure. She didn’t want to stop.

  “Move your hand down,” he rapped out. An order this time. “I’m too sensitive.”

  With a sigh, she ran her hand caressingly down his hard length, reveling in the breathy groan he gave, the way his hips bucked, jolting her on his lap. At the base, was crisp dark hair and nestled in them, something Nurse had never referred to. She stroked them tenderly

  “And these?” Mathilde asked.

  “My ballocks,” his voice was strained.

  That was an odd name, Mathilde mused. No wonder Nurse had not uttered it. She fancied she had once heard Piers threaten to kick Will in his ballocks. Now she knew what he had meant. Considering how very sensitive Guy was, she thought, listening to his shallow breathing, that would hurt a lot. She cupped them carefully in her palm and he gave a harsh groan. She no longer thought she was hurting him, though. Without thinking, she slid her hand back up his length, and touched a tentative finger to the fluid bead at the tip.

  “Mathilde!” He jerked upright, batting her hand away, and took himself in hand, wrapping his fingers around and squeezing the head of his angry cock, swearing furiously.

  She winced. That had to hurt. “Why are you doing that?”

  “I can’t take any more torment,” he panted unevenly. “It’s my turn now. Open your legs wider.”

  “Torment?” Mathide repeated blankly. “Did I not treat you very nicely?”

  “Aye, too nicely,” he growled. “And now I get to return the favor.”

  In truth, Mathilde could scarcely hold her legs open any wider, as she was fully astride him. Instead, she leaned back, resting her hands against his knees. He bunched the skirts farther up from around her thighs to her waist.

  “Gods,” he said throatily. “You’re as perfect here as everywhere else. Exquisite.” The last word was breathed, as he dragged his thumb down through the light curls covering her mound.

  Really? Wondered Mathilde, biting her lip. She hadn’t realized it was anything special. Then his thumb dipped lower, robbing her of all breath.

  His eyes snapped up to meet hers, and he breathed out raggedly. “Sweeting,” he said, and his voice broke over the word. “Gods, help me, you’re so wet.” His words were uttered reverently, so Mathilde did not have a chance to be embarrassed at the fact.

  His thumb passed through her folds and seemed to settle on a spot that zinged through her entire core.

  “Oh! Guy!” Her trembling cry, made him sit up. A look kindling in his eye that she scarcely recognized, his nostrils flaring. Had she inspired that look? For a moment, he looked torn, irresolute about something.

  “I could almost swear,” he said thickly. “That you’re as close as me.”

  Mathilde stared back at him. She could barely think with his fingers playing between her legs. Her eyes drifted shut, as she concentrated on the fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. The feel of his fingers, swirling around that spot that seemed connected to every impulse and sensation in her body.

  “I want to — to put my mouth on you,” he said unevenly. “Can I?”

  “You m-mean to kiss?” Mathilde stammered, opening her eyes. Or did he mean to lick and suck her breasts again? She felt a frisson of alarm, even as her pulse raced at the idea. How was she supposed to withstand both?

  “Sort of,” he said oddly, and releasing her waist, he swept his arm along the table surface behind her, pushing all the plates and dishes to the edges.

  Mathilde thought she heard something hit the floor, but it sounded muffled and from a good distance away. Then he was lifting her, placing her on the edge of the table and laying her back onto its surface. Mathilde blinked up at him in confusion. What is happening now? Instinctively, she went to close her legs, but he prevented her, hooking his arms around her thighs and holding them firmly in place.

  “Guy?”

  This hadn’t happened in The Seduction of a Virtuous Knight, so she wasn’t prepared for any of this. Maybe she should have read on further? She glanced down and found her exposed breasts heaving, her dress hanging around her waist in ta
tters. Oh my gods! In trepidation, she sought to meet Guy’s gaze, but he was sat back in his chair, devouring her splayed figure with his eyes, his expression ablaze.

  “I’m going to consume you, utterly,” he rumbled with intent.

  Mathilde just had time to utter falter, “Pardon?” when he surged forward, his head dipping between her legs. She drew in a shocked breath, then felt his hot breath upon her in the most disquieting place. Her eyes widened in foggy comprehension. Surely he did not mean to…?

  “Guy!”

  She gave a strangled cry, but his mouth was on her, lascivious and devastating. She bucked and struggled, but his arms were like steel bands around her thighs, holding her open to him. His tongue coaxed and dipped into her, exactly like he had when he kissed her mouth, and sent her mind reeling. All the breath squeezed out of her body and she shuddered, as he alternated between gently tracing her with his tongue, and then sucking and lapping at her as if she were the most delicious piece of fruit he had ever savored. Choked sounds fell from her lips, tears started from her eyes as she lost herself in a maelstrom sensation and — yes, pleasure. Wicked, wicked pleasure that licked along her veins like wildfire from every place his tongue stroked and plundered.

  Torment. That was what he had called her touch, and she understood now, as her back arched, and her fingers twisted in his dark hair, pulling and clasping, but never deterring him from his purpose. But it seemed her own torment was not to be withstood. It built and built and suddenly she went hurtling right over the edge with a startled yell. The next thing she knew, she was being dragged off the table, back into Guy’s lap. More specifically, onto his — what had he called it? His cock.

  She winced as she felt its broad head nudging into the heart of her, and then gave a gave another yell as she felt a sharp pinching sting deep within her, which was more than being simply stretched by its huge size. Her maidenhead had been breached, she realized, as Guy groaned and surged right into her. Mathilde sucked in a painful breath, feeling his large hands shift fitfully over her hips, urging her to sink right down onto him, feeling his hard flesh forging up into her until their crisp nether hair met and tangled together.