by Beleaguered
“Ahhh. Geoffrey.” She closed her eyes and ground her hips, but he held her fast, caressing her slowly. “Hurry, my love. I…I want you.”
“One moment, sweet.” He moved lower still and touched his tongue to her pleasure bud.
“Ohhhh.” The low, guttural moan seemed to vibrate up from her very soul. And by God, the louder she moaned, the quicker he plied the little pearl with his tongue, working in rhythm with his fingers. ’Twas coming now, just as she wanted.
“Geoffrey. Oh, sweet Jesu.” Her body rocked back and forth, gripped in the throes of passion. Below, where he still worked her, she throbbed again and again, waves of pleasure gripping and releasing his fingers until she shuddered one last time, and darkness overwhelmed her.
* * * *
Geoffrey slowly ceased his attentions then rose to lie beside her, enfolding her limp body in his arms, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her ear.
“Alyse?” he whispered. “Are you well, love?” He would have wagered so, with the shrieks of her pleasure still sounding in his ears.
She stared at him with glazed eyes and nodded. A small smile touched her lips. She gave a breathless little sigh, and closed her eyes.
He nestled his face against her neck. “Sleep, my sweet. Rest. Savor each moment. There will be more to come ere long, I give you my word.”
Her smile broadened.
“Shall I hold you the while, little wife?”
Again, she nodded and curled her spent body into the curve of his. He sighed, more than content that he had brought her this ultimate bliss. His need could cool while she rested. They had the whole night before them in which to take delight in one other.
He cradled her, his mind drifting back to all the dark nights he had lain awake, dreaming of this night, of his beloved once again in his arms. He had made love to her in his imagination a thousand times, in a thousand different ways, each one created lovingly to serve her pleasure. His own gratification had hinged on his ability to give her the joy they had been denied. He had envisioned her response to his touch, although her actual response tonight, calling his name as she shattered, had been more satisfying than he had imagined. And had inflamed his desires all the more.
Aroused anew at the memory, he drew his wife’s—his wife’s—body closer to him. He would gather her into himself if ’twere possible. More precious than anything else in God’s universe.
A brush of his loins against hers brought a low moan from Alyse and an eager bobbing from his all too ready shaft. ’Twas time to make good on his promise.
Carefully, he untangled his arms from his sleeping wife and eased her onto her back. He grabbed an item from the remains of their wedding feast. Could something so innocent spark wanton play between them?
There is but one way to find out.
Some time later, as he nuzzled her breast, Alyse stirred. Her eyes still closed, she stretched lazily.
“Mmmm, that feels wonderful, my love.” She arched, pushing her breast toward him. Then opened her eyes and frowned. “Is it morning so soon, Geoffrey? Has the night truly flown?”
“Nay, love, ’tis scarce midnight.” He left her nipple in search of her mouth. “Our time together this night is yet a fledgling, our love play but begun.” He sealed that promise with a kiss. Lord, she was sweet enough without…
“Mmm, you taste good, my lord. What have you been eating?”
“You, my love.”
“Me?” She raised her head, frowning as she tried to discover the cause.
He grinned and made a big show of letting his gaze trail down to her bosom and the remains of the golden liquid he had smeared over her breasts. One, however, showed only traces left. He had become too eager once he had begun to lick her sweet skin.
She stared first at her bedaubed body then at him. “What is that?”
“Honey, my sweet.”
She tilted her head. “The honeyed pears from our feast?”
“The same.” He grinned, watching her closely. Would this suit her playful sense or no?
Dropping her head back on the pillow, she giggled, a delicious sound in his ears. “I suppose now I cannot even take my rest lest I awake to find a…a…pudding on my stomach.”
He chuckled. “You are much tastier than a pudding, love.”
She squealed as he dipped his head to lap at the other breast. He licked the golden swirls he had dribbled over her as she slept, savoring the sweetness of both honey and delicate flesh.
“That tickles, Geoffrey.” She laughed and wiggled. “I will still be a sticky mess no matter how well you work there.”
“Then I must be more diligent, sweetheart.” He applied his tongue vigorously to the honey.
“I say if one be a mess then ’twere best both were.” She stared at him, a new hunger in her eyes.
Visions arose of her tongue licking honey from his chest, his stomach, his… His cock leaped, insistent once more.
Oh, let it be done.
He grabbed Alyse by the arms and rolled them until he lay flat on the bed with her overtop of him.
“All right, madam.” He ran his finger down her breast, gathering some of the honey that still clung there then caught it with his tongue. “’Tis your turn.” He gestured to the opened jar of pears and stretched his arms wide. “I promise you, revenge will be sweet.”
She slipped her hand into the pot and grabbed one of the slices, dripping with the sticky honey. What would be her first point of attack? He held his breath, quivering.
Her gaze shifted from his face to his chest. His pulse quickened. Would she give him measure for measure and…
She leaned over and plopped the slice of pear onto his right nipple.
The cool, sticky pear and the touch of her slender fingers sent a shudder of desire hurtling toward his heated shaft. Ah, ’twas torture of the sweetest kind.
Alyse continued to rub the pear all around, teasing his small nipple until it stood straight up, a hard knot slathered with the golden sweet.
Leaning her head back, she shook out her black hair so it fanned around her shoulders, her breasts peeking through the dark locks. She scooped the slice of fruit from his chest. Spellbound, he gazed at his wanton wife, who slowly lowered the slice of pear into her mouth. She chewed briefly, swallowed, and licked her lips.
“Ahhhh, God take...” His oath trailed off into a groan as she sucked his nipple into her mouth. He twitched and shivered as she lapped and teased, circled and stroked, and finally nipped it with her teeth.
“God’s death, woman.” Geoffrey dragged her head up from his chest before he burst. “What are you doing to me?”
“Pleasuring you, my love. Do you not like such things?” The saucy gleam in her eyes belied her innocent question.
“I am tortured in my bed by my own wife.”
“And who else would you have a mind to do it?”
“Wench!”
She laughed, and reached into the honey pot again. This time her hand emerged merely dripping honey, and swiftly closed around his throbbing member.
“Alyse…oh, Christ.” Her hand would have been enough; the added spice of the thick honey forced him to mind his cock and hold his desires in check. ’Twould not do to spend himself anywhere but inside her hot sheath. If he could but control himself so long.
She stroked him lightly, playing her fingers over his pounding flesh. The honey made glistening trails down his shaft to pool at the base. Pleasure beyond his imaginings, but enough for now.
“Give leave a while, love.”
Her puzzled frown tugged at his heart. “You do not enjoy this, love?”
“Oh, aye, madam. Forever more will pears be the most erotic of fruits to me.” He chuckled as he sat up and slid off the bed. “Another time and we will discover the further delights honey may bring.” He padded to the basin, grabbed a cloth. “I have different things in mind for us tonight.”
“Hmmm, what?” She licked her fingers, and his groin ached anew.
Things
that will bring you more pleasure than ever before.” Swiftly, he wiped the sweetness from his engorged cock, keeping his gaze trained on her. “I will love you so well, sweetheart, you will pray that this night never ends.”
Her eyes widened, her fingers still in her mouth.
He grinned, took the cloth to the bed, and wiped her hand carefully. That was enough stickiness for now. Dropping the cloth to the floor with one hand, he pulled her to the edge of the bed with the other.
“Lie back, love.” He kissed her, the taste of honey filling his mouth. Slowly, he bent her back until she lay before him. “You are so beautiful, Alyse.” He trailed his lips down her neck, breasts, belly. “And I want to taste every exquisite inch of you.”
She moaned and shifted her bottom as he set his tongue to her navel then trembled when it dipped lower to her dark curls. He bent her knees and pushed her legs wide, revealing the hidden beauty of her.
“Oh, love.” The sight swelled his cock, urged him to drive it home. Not yet. Not without another taste. He pressed his tongue against her opening, stroking up and down.
“Geoffrey. Ah…ahhh.”
A sweeter sound he could not ask for, though it made his need grow greater. He moved higher, to the nub that would bring her to pleasure, and swirled his tongue around it.
“Ohhhh.” Alyse grabbed his arms, her body shaking. “Ohhh, sweet lord.”
He stood quickly and plunged his almost bursting shaft into her. Immediately, her sheath gripped him, as she writhed in the throes of her passion. Her release spurred him on to drive deeper, harder, urgency possessing him as never before.
Mine. Only mine. At last.
One more thrust….
“Geoffrey, oh, Geoffrey.”
Her cry triggered his release.
“Alyse.” He shuddered, glorying in the spill of his seed inside her. Groaning and sated, he lay atop her, panting, still buried deep within her warmth.
When he could move again, he pulled away from her, then clambered into the bed and gathered her to him.
With a soft sigh, she snuggled closer into his embrace, her head pillowed on his chest. Where she belonged until the end of time.
With a gasp, she sat up, her hand shooting toward her head. “The honey!”
Her hair stuck to itself in clumps or straight out from her head, a clingy mess that was both wretched and endearing.
Spent as he was, Geoffrey could not help but laugh at her woebegone expression, all frowns and puckered lips. “Do not fret, my love.” With a swift kiss, he rose, poured water from the ewer, and washed his chest. “I will fetch the princess’s tub that you may wash and then sleep in comfort.”
“Nay, ’twill have to do for now.” She sighed and ran her hand across her head, wincing. “I cannot wash my hair in the middle of the night. ’Twould never dry.”
“Here.” He retrieved the cloth and soaped it. “Allow me to make amends, love.” He ran the cloth over her hand then down her arm and across her breasts. They were still streaked with honey where he had lain on her after spending himself. He should have thought to wash his chest, but his thoughts in that moment had been of other things.
After rinsing the rag, he wiped away the soap then plied it to the other breast. He circled the nipple to make sure no trace of the stickiness remained.
“Hmmm. That feels wonderful, love.” She stretched, extending her arm to him. “You always make me feel wonderful.”
“My sacred duty, my lady.” He slid the cloth along her other arm and washed her hand again. “May I always be at your service.” After another quick swish in the basin, he wrung it out and rubbed it over her belly, down to the place where he had so recently played. ’Twas sticky there too. He made short work of it.
She smiled and gazed up at him. “I love you, Geoffrey.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.” He tossed the cloth into the basin. “Better?”
She nodded, so he blew out the candles, and settled back down in bed, her head once more pillowed on his chest. He would have to wash again in the morning. A trifling price to pay for the delight of holding her in his arms all night. Praise be, God had smiled upon them at last.
Chapter 12
“Do we leave today, Geoffrey?” Alyse stretched and bit into the last of the bread from their feast. The sun was high and breakfast late, for they had tarried in bed, a result of the fierce passion of the previous night. She was still tired, but relished that particular fatigue.
“Nay, my sweet, I have one or two days’ work yet to safeguard the king’s property.” Geoffrey rose from the table. “Today I ride to Bordeaux once again to finish securing the ships and their cargo. ’Twill be a long day, I fear. You may not see me again ere nightfall.” He bent to kiss her farewell, but her hand stayed him.
“May I not ride with you, Geoffrey? I like not the prospect of staying here all day alone, with only the silence.” She grabbed their plates and took them to the sideboard. “There is nothing to occupy my time, for there is no one to attend, no needlework to be done, no one…to talk to.”
He followed, took her hand, and kissed it. “My dear, you need to ready us for our journey. We must be packed and have food enough to carry with us for many days, for we know not what lies ahead on the way to your father’s estate.”
They had changed their plans and now were to travel by horseback rather than carriage in hopes of making better time and avoiding disaster on the road. Neither knew what was taking place in the world beyond Loremo—the pestilence might still rage. Or bands of raiders could be pillaging the unprotected countryside. Geoffrey had heard rumors of such the last time he had ventured to Bordeaux. This last menace filled Alyse with dread. An she stayed here alone, she would be virtually defenseless.
He searched her eyes and smoothed his thumb across her forehead. “I would not leave if I thought you would be in danger, my love. This manor is well away from the main roads. Likely no one will risk coming here.”
“And if they do?” Her stomach churned to think what would happen if she was found alone.
“If someone approaches, the best defense will be to remove to our chamber and bar the door. If they know not of your presence, you will be safe. ’Tis a large house, and you can hide easily.” He kissed her and grasped his sword, sheathing it as he headed for the door.
“Please let me come, Geoffrey.”
He turned, his face set in grim lines. “I fear the pestilence more than any band of vagabonds, Alyse. And the sickness rages in Bordeaux yet. I would not have you catch this scourge because you came with me.”
Yet the fool would put himself in danger. “What if you catch the disease, Geoffrey? What then?” She had voiced her greatest fear. A lump rose in her throat, and she blinked back tears. If he died….
He cupped her face and wiped her tears with his thumb. “Then you ride out yourself, my love. Take your chances on the road and never look back. Head for your father’s house near Calais as we planned. You will be safe under his protection.”
“No. I could not—”
“My love, if I am dead—”
She crossed herself with one hand and clamped her other hand over his mouth. “Do not say such a thing, Geoffrey Longford.”
He pulled her hand away. “You must admit the possibility, love, for you must have a plan if ours fails. Give me your oath that if I die, you will ride out.”
“And if I say nay?” She pulled herself up to her full height and stared him down. “If you die, what reason more have I to live? If I lay dead, would you ride out?”
A shiver passed through his body, so violent it shook the hand that clasped hers. He stilled it, and when he met her eyes, shook his head. “Nay, Alyse, I would not ride were that the case. But, love, ’tis different with you. Even now you may carry my babe within you. That hope is worth everything, is it not?”
’Twas true in its way, yet to contemplate life without him was to stare into the fiery pit of hell and pray to be consumed by it.
He
gathered her close again and kissed the top of her head. “Come, my love, send me off with a kiss to savor the day through that I might hurry home the quicker. I will finish the work today so that we may leave on the morrow.”
“Promise me?”
He touched her unruly hair, now a disheveled mess, and smiled. “Aye. I swear it. And ere I leave, I will keep my other promise and bring the princess’s tub for you, that you may begin the day refreshed. ’Twill give you something to do this morning and something else for me to look forward to tonight.” He kissed her once more and hurried for the western staircase.
* * * *
After Geoffrey had ridden off down the long avenue, the silence of the yard unnerved her. Not even a bird twittered in the heat that already baked the air. She marched toward the kitchen, determined to keep occupied during the lonely hours of his absence.
The first order of business was her bath. The honey had stuck her hair to her head in several places; in others it clumped together in strands that snaked out like Medusa. She hefted the final two buckets of water then headed back to their chamber. Together she and Geoffrey had lugged six full buckets up the steps, before she deemed the water deep enough for her needs. These last two she could heat to take the chill off the water and use for rinsing after her bath.
Staring up the long flight of steps, Alyse sighed. She had tried to persuade Geoffrey to bring the tub to the kitchen, where carrying water would have been a less arduous task. He would have none of that. He deemed their chamber the safer place and would hear nothing further on the subject.
Mounting the staircase once more, she sorely regretted the loss of the servants. Having grown up in households where menial tasks were considered beneath her, she had always taken the servants who performed them for granted, as much as she did the air she breathed. So many things she would now have to do herself. The heat from outside surged in through the open window, making their room uncomfortably hot. So much so that lighting a fire to warm the last two buckets no longer appealed. Certainly cool water would be more refreshing. She set the buckets down beside the wooden tub lined with linen cloths then doffed gown and chemise.
