The Golden Key Chronicles

by AJ Nuest

  Working together, they lifted the shirt over her head. The soft cotton danced along her arms and she shivered in the cool air as the garment tumbled to the floor. Caedmon dipped his head, sweeping his cheek along the underside of her breast to her nipple. The rasp of his beard tickled the tight peak, the perfect contrast to his supple lips as he suckled her breast and drew her deep. She forked her fingers into his hair, clutching his head as the flat of his tongue laved her skin.

  Fingers skimming the base of her ass, he groaned and the husky sound vibrated into her chest. Every nerve-ending sang with a thrill as he dotted kisses down her ribs, over the curve of her hip, along the outside of her thigh. Bending at the knees, he tugged the boxers down her legs and knelt to the floor.

  He grasped her ankle, lifting her foot from the elastic. After repeating his motions with her other foot, he tossed the underwear aside. His focused followed his hands as he slowly ran them up her calves, past the thin skin behind her knees, until he reached the backs of her thighs. His fingers tightened and, with a slight tug, he widened her stance.

  The earth pitched and she seized his shoulders to steady herself. Oh God. If he was planning to follow through with where this was headed, her legs were never going to hold out.

  “Do you know what convictions haunt a man who makes love to a goddess?” Thick lust graveled his voice. He skimmed his hand up her inner thigh, dotted soft kisses along the crease of her slit. A glide of his index finger through her damp folds and she gasped, digging her fingers into the corded muscle on either side of his neck. Shit, she was already so wet, ready and aching for him. If his tongue took that same path, she would shatter into a million pieces.

  “No.” Her chest steadily tightened. Each breath she drew into her lungs more grew labored, and she bit down on her bottom lip to suppress a groan.

  “It is both ecstasy and agony. Pleasure and pain.” He parted her with his thumbs and she panted. Her knees jittered and her heel repeatedly hit the floor. The tip of his tongue flicked from between his lips, rubbed back and forth over her sensitive bud, and electricity jolted through her body. She tossed her head back, squeezing her eyes tight. Warm tendrils of light sparked up her legs, her thighs, coalescing to a spiraling vortex in her belly.

  “The scent of you alone is enough to propel me beyond the limits of reason.” The smooth plane of his tongue swept her folds, and her hips instinctively thrust against the sweet invasion. She fisted his hair, tugging on the silky strands. “Your sweetness makes all flavors bland.”

  A second lick of her pulsing clit, a clever swirl with the tip of his tongue, and he pursed his lips. His hot breath coated her skin. A tremor built in the arches of her feet. Her jaw dropped and she sharply inhaled as exhilaration unfurled and a demanding throb shuddered her core.

  Caedmon’s low chuckle wafted across her inner thighs. His fingertips swept the crease of her ass as he palmed her, keeping her near. “You are an addiction, my love. I am both humbled and vain beyond measure that you respond to me with such abandon.”

  Past the fluttering fringe of her lashes, he withdrew and locked his gaze onto hers. Time stopped, and she stood rapt as something dangerous and feral glinted in his eyes. “And now I am going to quench my thirst in the way I’ve desired since our first joining.”

  Sweet Jesus, give me strength.

  He lowered his head and she braced for the rapture to come.

  All sane thought fled under the fiery licks of his tongue, the suck of his lips and gentle nips of his teeth. A radiant glow filled her body, swarming into her fingers and toes, shooting from the top of her head. Ecstasy hummed through her veins, transforming her body and soul. She became the goddess he’d always envisioned, a being of light and desire, love and surrender.

  The tip of his finger circled her entrance, inciting the perfect rhythm, strumming her toward bliss. She swiveled her hips and increased the pace. His lips latched onto her aching bud and tingling pressure built in her thighs. Her knees gave. A steady drone beat in her ears.

  He clasped her hip with one hand, urging her faster. The deft swirl of his finger, the fast tap of his tongue up and down her clit, and she was pitched headfirst into a chasm of glittering stars. Her spine bowed and she aimed her face at the ceiling as an undulating spasm rocked through her body.

  A moment later, she lowered her head and blinked to bring her surroundings back into focus. Caedmon stood before her, a satisfied smirk in place. One of his eyebrows lifted. “If that moment does not stay firmly ensconced in your memory, I have nary an inkling what will.”

  She grinned, and then tossed her head back with a laugh. But she wasn’t done with him yet. Not by a long shot. Greedy as it seemed, she still longed to have him filling her, pulsing inside her. She wanted to ride him until their heartbeats united and their bodies were languid with lust.

  A glance down at his straining erection and she ran her fingers along the stretched skin, swept her thumb over the bulbous head. Caedmon closed his eyes and moaned. It seemed he was in full agreement with her plan.

  Grasping both of his hands in hers, she stepped backward toward the bed. A quick spin to turn them around, and she shoved his shoulders. A husky chuckle caressed her throat as he stumbled back, bounced onto the mattress and collapsed atop the patchwork quilt.

  His shaft lay thick and veined along his stomach, begging for her touch. Her folds quivered and her breath thinned. One plunge and the long length of him would complete her to the brim. Every hard ridge would stroke her inner walls, until the two of them teetered on the brink of bliss.

  She crawled up the length of his body, the feathery ends of her hair skimming his knees, thighs, the firm ridge of muscle on either side of his hips. His body tensed and he hissed. Pushing up from the bed, she straddled his waist on her knees. The key hung heavy and cool along the valley of her chest—a symbol of her memories, their love, the magic that had brought them together. She cupped the full weight of her breasts, her palms gliding back and forth as she tweaked her nipples.

  The guttural moan that broke from Caedmon’s throat set her head spinning. He floated his palms up the sides of her legs, over her hips, across her stomach, massaging her over and again until her body vibrated with need and a warm douse of arousal pooled between her legs.

  His fingers clenched the backs of her knees and he urged them wider. A skim of his palms along her ass and he gripped her hips, easing her down until their bodies met. She sighed, swiveling her hips, enjoying the full length of him fully pressed against her folds. The head of his cock jutted from between her thighs and she wrapped it in her hand, stroking and pressing the fleshy ridge just where she needed it most.

  A low groan eked from between his lips and Caedmon dragged her forward along his shaft until she was perfectly seated. He stopped, poised on the brink of plunging deep, lifted his hands to her cheeks and raked his fingers through the tousled length of her hair. The ends tumbled around his face and shoulders, shrouding them in a curtain of white.

  He held her gaze—heart to heart, soul to soul—raised his hips and joined them in one earth-shattering thrust.

  Fireworks detonated down her spine as she arched against him. Full. So full. He’d left not one part of her untouched. She placed her trembling hands on his stomach, eased back and brought them together a second time. A gasp rushed her throat when the wide tip of him nudged a place high inside. A tremor skittered through her thighs, echoed in the clamp of her inner walls.

  Caedmon squeezed his eyes tight, moaning. A slow gyration of her hips and the sound morphed into a growl. He sat up, seized her hips and flipped her to the bed. The ball of his thumb tapped a steady rhythm against her clit as he sank into her again and again, angling his thrusts, holding firm and prone when she writhed and pitched against him.

  Without warning, her orgasm struck like a clap of thunder. She was hurled body and soul into a bottomless abyss. She clung to Caedmon’s shoulders, convulsing beneath him as he drove into her with increasing speed. Two deep
thrusts and he shuddered and pulsed, flooding her body with joy and her heart with love.

  He collapsed on top of her, the rapid thump of his heartbeat echoing in her chest. As his breathing slowed, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her lips, her eyelids, the tender skin beneath her ear. “I love you, Rowena” he whispered. “Do not ever forget.”

  Her heart wrenched and she gently combed her fingers down the back of his head. Come hell or high water, she would never put him through such torture again. “I love you too, Caedmon.” Nothing of either world compared to her warrior prince. “Now and forever. My heart is yours.”

  Chapter Three

  Caedmon ran his tongue over his teeth, grimaced and smacked his lips. A foul metallic tang coated the inside of his mouth; one that bespoke the seasons he’d spent languishing amid the cruel devices employed within the torture chambers of Seviere’s dungeons. Fires stoked by the rushing breath of the bellows had melted iron manipulated into manacles, pinchers and spikes. The thick plumes of steam whence filled the dank room as red-hot metal was submerged into water carried the same acidic bite which contaminated the air of Rowena’s realm.

  Perchance this grotesque similarity was due the cause behind his fitful dreams.

  He slid his hand across the cool sheets, blinked to bring her vacant side of the sleeping pallet into focus. The sweetness of her kiss would have dissolved the bitter memories from his tongue like no other diversion. Regrettably, she was not with him to chase those phantoms back where they belonged—into the part of his mind he’d chained behind his own lock and key. One sweep of her ruby lips, one taste of her breath and all worries outside the pleasures of their bodies would flee.

  A visual of her—creamy thighs straddling his hips, full breasts rhythmically swaying, her mouth parted as she gasped and rode him toward completion—stole into his mind. The blankets tented near his groin and he slipped his hand under the covers to stroke and squeeze his morning erection. Goddesses wept, the woman tested his restraint in a way that far exceeded his rationale. The mere thought of her, alone, made him want to plunge into her warm depths until all his previous hardships became but dim shadows razed within the light of her love.

  A parting tug to lessen the persistent ache of his throbbing cock and he tossed the blankets off his legs, swinging his feet to the floor. The seat of a nearby chair was occupied by a pile of folded garments, the small sheet of parchment perched on top creased in the center and penned with a cursive “C.”

  Caedmon lifted the note and held it in a ray of sunlight which streamed through the parted drapery.

  Good morning, Sire,

  I took the liberty of stealing these from Oliver’s closet so you wouldn’t have to spend the day in loungewear. I’m a bit worried the jeans are cut too small in the crotch but, unfortunately, Ollie’s leathers are still at the dry cleaners. Timing is everything, isn’t it?

  Hugs and kisses,

  Jon

  Caedmon re-read the note, frowning. A good portion of its meaning was completely lost to him, but the most disconcerting part rang loud and clear. Not only had Jon estimated the size of Caedmon’s manhood, he’d deliberated the matter and then deemed it appropriate to sign his missive in an affectionate manner. Sweet tits, the man didn’t just hedge the proper boundaries, he sashayed through them as if they didn’t exist.

  Tossing the note aside, Caedmon reached for the first item and held it at arm’s length. The thin white shirt appeared much the same as the one his lady had worn the previous night. The breeches folded beneath were constructed of a durable light-blue canvas, with metal buttons at the groin and frayed slashed pockets on either side of the hips.

  He stood to dress, and though the shirt pulled taut across his shoulders and chest, the sleeves banded his biceps and the sides fit snug against his ribs, the material was soft and stretched to accommodate his size. The breeches, however, were another matter. While they were certainly longer than the mid-calf pants he was used to wearing beneath his boots, and dropped past his ankles to the floor, Jon’s approximation regarding the fit in the upper thighs and waist rang true. It seemed even though Oliver held Caedmon’s height, his carriage was much more slight. No matter how Caedmon wrestled with the fit, the top two buttons refused to be secured.

  He finally ceased fighting the damnable contraptions and left them undone, crossed the room to the closed door and strode into the hall.

  Light music came from his right, subtly masked by the mingled conversations of cheery voices, and he turned in that direction to follow the noise toward the kitchen. Evidently the celebration was already underway, and Oliver had retained the talents of several musicians to celebrate Rowena’s return. Caedmon frowned. Unfortunately, their talents were somewhat lacking, and the persistent thump accompanying the squalling lyrics echoed the penetrating ache climbing up the back of his head.

  He pushed through the swinging door and entered. Bright sunlight winked off several metallic surfaces about the room and he winced and lifted a hand, shielding his eyes from the blinding flashpoints. An unwelcome shudder clenched his gut and he gritted his teeth. How often had that same bright glare emanated from a heated blade right before the pain had commenced? For all his restless slumber, he possessed neither the fortitude nor strength of will to recall.

  Enough food to satisfy the entire rank of the royal guard cluttered the kitchen table, the counters and stove. Much of the dishes were unfamiliar, yet the teetering stack of sliced toasted bread, the fried eggs and crisp rashers of salted pork were customary. A pinpoint of eerie green light emanated from a slender bar affixed to the underside of the cabinetry, and it was from this device the music emanated.

  Caedmon scowled and shook his head. This realm was a complete contradiction. At once both miraculous and yet rife with the stench of gluttony and debris.

  A tinny clang ricocheted past his ears and he flinched, muscles tense, poised to brace against an assault. The sound was so like the metallic jingle of a heavy chain, he believed at first it indicated more than the mere slip of Jon’s careless fingers releasing a silver spoon to the floor.

  The young man slapped that same lithe hand to his chest, his eyes wide, and blinked twice at Caedmon, though the action did nothing to clear the avid appreciation from his gaze. “Good morning, Sire.” He ran his admiring perusal down Caedmon’s chest to the open buttons at his waist. “My God, does he always look so sexy when he wakes up?”

  Rowena turned away from slicing various fruits on the counter. She tipped her head to the side, joining in Jon’s enthusiastic appraisal, yet her smile wavered as she locked onto his gaze.

  Mayhap she’d detected the unease pervading his disposition.

  A glimmer of anxiety sparked in her eyes as she lifted a steaming cup from the counter and brought it to her lips. “Yes, but not just in the morning. Sex appeal simmers off of him pretty much twenty-four seven.”

  And yet she’d set her concerns aside. Or mayhap she was respecting his privacy, and would broach the subject whence they were alone. The tension in his shoulders relaxed a degree. That she would instinctively grant him such a reprieve was most welcome, and he offered her a small nod of thanks in return.

  “Well, it’s a wonder you ever get out of bed.” Jon stooped to retrieve his lost utensil and tossed it into the sink. The reverberating clank smarted straight down to the marrow of Caedmon’s bones.

  “Hey,” Oliver snapped, aiming an accusing finger at his lover from across the room. Though his gray jacket was crisply appointed, his pants creased and falling at a perfect slant over his polished black shoes, the slender strip of silver fabric around his neck reminded Caedmon of a noose. “No wondering about being in bed with anyone but me.”

  Rowena set her cup aside, her steps slow and measured as she approached. The bizarre, baggy pantaloons hanging from straps atop her shoulders appeared constructed of the same material as his breeches, but the myriad pockets along the aproned front seemed more appropriate for a blacksmith than a sorcere
ss. He did, however, appreciate the deep slashes on either side that afforded his hands easy access to her lower back as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  She pulled him down for a gentle kiss before bringing her lips to his ear. “Are you all right?”

  He released a grateful sigh at the presence of her voluptuous curves pressed against his body, and nodded against her supple cheek.

  “I had fun last night,” she whispered. A spark sizzled along his nerve-endings as she nipped the skin of his neck. “Maybe once these two leave on their errands, I can return the favor.”

  His blood heated at the concept of her, on her knees before him, administering the same pleasures he’d delighted in gifting her the previous evening. He smoothed his hands lower to cup and knead her pert bottom. The head of his cock twitched, prodding her soft belly, and as she returned her lips to his, their tongues tangling amid a fiery kiss, all his troubles ceased and he became lost in the calming tide of her sweet perfume.

  If only they could stay locked like this forever, he would be the most contented man alive.

  The recoil of a mechanical device broke through his reverie and, a moment later, Oliver cleared this throat. “Your Pop Tarts are ready.”

  Rowena broke from their kiss and grinned, bouncing on her toes. “Pop Tarts!” She applied a slight shake to Caedmon’s shoulders. “Blueberry Pop Tarts are the best. Wait ‘til you taste these.”

  She spun away and returned to the counter, plucking two thin iced pastries from a metal box. “Oh, and peanut butter! You haven’t lived until you’ve tried crunchy peanut butter on buttered toast.” Retrieving a jar filled with a tan substance, she carried her treasures to the table, pulled out a chair and sat, spreading the items before her. “Sit, sit. I want you to try some of everything.”

  Caedmon tugged a chair from the table to join her, though his stomach rebelled at the thought of consuming food. His lack of appetite reignited the unease that had badgered him since he awoke, and he bristled at its return. What he truly desired was a draught of wine. Or perchance a stout swig of Fandorn’s dragon’s breath brew. Whichever would most quickly temper the strain to his over-wrought nerves.