Gift of the Nightflyer

by Sultry Summers

  GIFT OF THE NIGHTFLYER

  By

  Sultry Summers

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  GIFT OF THE NIGHTFLYER

  Copyright (c) 2005 by Sultry Summer

  Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Marianne LaCroix

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law.

  For information, you can find us on the web at,

  www.VenusPress.com

  Printed and bound in the United States of America.

  Chapter One

  1873–Deep in the Carpathian Mountains of Transylvania.

  Baffled by the mysterious disabled carriage Ignatio spied ahead, he ordered his driver to slow down. One wheel was broken and one horse gone, but it was the beautiful young woman who stood forlornly beside the carriage that drew his attention. Ignatio judged her to be of medium height. Her empress gown of pale blue seemed to float around her, beneath the heavier deep blue velvet cape she clutched around herself for warmth. His eyes glimpsed her small feet and he saw just a glance of the white hose that covered her ankles. She had thrown the hood of her cape back, which displayed her heavy blonde ringlets dressed high on her head. Ignatio wondered how long her hair truly was. Her crystalline blue eyes were large and round, hinting at the anxiety of the situation. Ignatio, taken with her beauty, was touched by her plight.

  “Ivan,” Ignatio called to his driver, “Pull over so we may aid the lady.” He knew she could not see him from the outside, but he could see her and he enjoyed the view of her helplessness.

  “Mademoiselle’, may I offer my assistance?” Ignatio asked from inside his darkened conveyance. His eyes greedily feasted on her fully displayed cleavage; her bodice barely covered the pink areoles of her nipples.

  “Thank you sir, I sent my driver back to town on the other horse; however, I fear he will not return tonight.” her voice betrayed her distress at being alone after dark. “I am Count Ignatio Magonoff, Master of these lands.” Pride rang in his voice. “That is my manor in the distance. May I offer the hospitality of my home, until your conveyance is repaired? I assure you, you need not be concerned about propriety, ah, Lady?”

  “My name is Lady Leslie Anastasia Romanoffski of Muskovich, the daughter of Sir Illya Ivanich Romanoffski.” Her voice was soft and melodic, with an arousing hint of innocence.

  Ignatio opened the door and offered his hand, and, though she could not see him, she accepted his assistance. Gently, he grasped her cold delicate hand and assisted her into the carriage.

  “Thank you milord Count,” Lady Leslie said, in a rustle of satin and lace as she settled herself on the opposite side of the carriage. At last, she could see her benefactor. His eyes greedily assessing her, his stare alone was arousing her. Ignatio’s charisma permeated the carriage. Leslie could feel her silk pantaloons grow wet and her appetites sharpen. The coach lurched into motion, her gaze met his amber heavily lidded eyes and she turned only a small amount of her hypnotic abilities on him. Leslie could not say he was handsome but his appearance was noble. Impeccably formal apparel covered a large muscular form that she hoped translated to his cock. It had been days since she had been properly sated. His complexion was ruddy but his smile wide and genuine and he looked as if he enjoyed the outdoors. Leslie smiled demurely. She enjoyed the outdoors too, especially at night under a full moon.

  “Lady Romanoffski it will be my pleasure to have you as my guest.” The Count’s smile held a hint of his desire. “I have instructed my coachman to leave a note for your driver as to your whereabouts.”

  “Thank you Count Magonoff.” She smiled demurely, enjoying the lightning bolt his voice sent through her, making her nipples tingle.

  “How did you come to be on this road?” he questioned. “This late, it can be dangerous. Wolves travel these forests.” His smile resembled that of a wolf.

  “I fear my driver, who is unfamiliar with this section of the country, took a wrong turn. I do hope he finds his way back to the village,” she sounded concerned.

  “I should think he will; however, I will send out several of my personal men to search for him, should wolves be on the prowl.”

  “Again, I thank you, Count.” She pulled her cape around herself with a shiver. Ignatio drew a hand-woven blanket from a cedar-lined drawer located beneath the seat, spread it over her, and took care to tuck it around her, his hands brushing against her intimately. She thanked him with a smile. “Is all of this,” she waved her hand delicately toward the windows, “yours?”

  Count Magonoff smiled, “Yes, I have been lord of this fief for ten years since the untimely death of my parents.” he said with a sad sigh. “I grew up in these mountains, running free in the forests. I learned how to hunt and fish and learned the ways of the animals.” his look became far away. “My father taught me well, how to govern, and my mother saw to it that I had the finest tutors of higher learning.”

  “From what I have observed as we passed through your fief, your people are fine herdsmen.” Lady Leslie remarked.

  “Yes, yes they are and our dairy products grace the Czar’s table. The timbers from our forests bring the highest prices at market and you can be sure we selectively log them.” Ignatio smiled. “But this must be boring for you, milady. I am proud of my people. It is their efforts that make this so, not mine.”

  “Milord Count is a compassionate lord,” Leslie remarked with a little blush. Their small talk made the trip seem short and Lord Magonoff’s carriage pulled to a halt before the doors of his family’s one hundred twenty-five year old manor house. The footman opened the door and the Count stepped out first, turning to assist his guest.

  “My lady you’re chilled!” He remarked, noticing how cool her body seemed. “Boris,” he called to his manor’s doorman. “See to it the fire is well stoked.”

  Leslie could see the fire in the Count was. His powerful hands on her slender bodice sent wonderful waves of sensual delight through her. Her original assessment of the Count, Leslie could see, had been correct, he was a powerful and wealthy lord, a fine choice to bestow her gift upon.

  “Yes milord.” the man replied and instantly ordered two houseboys to the task.

  “Tell Katrina we have a guest, have her ready the suite across from the master, and set another place at the table.” Ignatio ordered as he escorted Leslie inside. “Also send out six horsemen to the lady’s carriage and bring it to the manor. Escort her driver if he has returned. Be sure the men are well armed. I do not want to loose a man to a wolf.”

  “Yes milord.” Boris bowed and went to follow his master’s command.

  Lady Leslie was impressed how quickly the Count’s orders were obeyed. She smiled alluringly up into his eyes and thought she could control him with ease. Leslie could smell the heady scent of the Count’s warm blood as it coursed through his veins. The smell was strong enough that she could almost taste him, sharpening her appetite. Knowing she would have to wait until after his meal for her own, she steeled herself.

  “My lady,” his voice was a caress that compelled her toward the mammoth fireplace warming the main audience room, “A
llow me to take your cape.”

  Leslie gazed into his warm eyes and found this mortal too, had the power to compel. Her delicate pink tongue flicking over her naturally red lips as she allowed him to take her cape, letting it slide provocatively from her white shoulders. His hands lightly caressed her creamy pale skin, left bare by the empress blue gown she wore. When he took her cape, Leslie felt his eyes feast on her breasts, then he slipped his own heavy black cloak off and gave them both to Boris.

  “Are you warmer now mademoiselle?” Ignatio asked. His gaze had warmed her and produced a light blush on her cheeks, which gratified Ignatio.

  She lowered her eyes coyly, “Yes lord Count, much warmer.” She raised her eyes to look into his, and allowed a sensual promise to fill them.

  “Can I offer you a glass of wine?” the Count paused, “or perhaps something, ah, stronger?”

  “Just a little red wine, thank you,” she smiled modestly, trying not to seem too wanton.

  He gave her a glass of burgundy, a fine vintage from his own vineyard, he claimed and poured a brandy for himself. Ignatio escorted Leslie to the table when Boris announced dinner.

  “It is fortunate I came along when I did,” he said. “You would not enjoy a night alone in the forest.”

  “I am sure.” Leslie agreed, just a trace of fright slipping into her voice for the Count’s benefit. A night alone in the forest actually wouldn’t bother her at all, she had many friends there, she thought.

  Ignatio noticed she ate little, “I am sure you are exhausted. Katrina has prepared your room by now, and if I am not mistaken by the sounds, your coach has arrived. I will escort you to your room so you may bathe and rest,” he suggested, his eyes holding a promise that would make for a more lively night.

  “Thank you, your lordship,” Leslie said. Ignatio found himself lost in her eyes once again. He led her up the long, wide staircase, casually making comments on the portraits and paintings that hung on the walls. At the top of the grand staircase, he guided her down the wing where their chambers were located and stopped at her door.

  “My suite is across the hall,” he pointed to his door, “should you need anything.” His eyes held a clear invitation.

  “I will be fine, thank you,” Leslie said trying to appear like a proper lady. “However, knowing you are so close is comforting.” she returned, leaving some expectancy in her words and an alluring gleam in her blue eyes.

  “Goodnight.” He took her delicate hand, kissed her cool fingers but resisted the temptation to kiss her lips.

  Ignatio retreated toward his own room greatly disturbed by Lady Leslie’s presence. It had been a long time since his wife had died. He rested his head sadly against his bedchamber door. This had been their room until she had died giving birth to a stillborn son. He had held the world in the palm of his hand then, or thought he had. Ignatio drew a deep breath and opened the door to his lonely suite. His valet, Marko, had prepared his bath and the fire blazed in the hearth but it was not the same as when Alexia had been there.

  “Your jacket, milord?” Marko requested and took the fine garment when Ignatio slipped out of it. He helped Ignatio out of his knee high black leather boots.

  “Take them, Marko,” Ignatio told his servant. “I can finish here, go to bed.” He dismissed the valet. He knew Lady Leslie was across the hall, beautiful, highly feminine, and tempting. Perhaps he should have made his desire for her clearer.

  Ignatio cock grew stiff and hard, a familiar ache. Finally, he strolled outside to the stream that ran so close to the house wolves would not approach. He swam in the frigid waters and commanded his mighty cock to rest. After the ache that had grown in his loins for Leslie abated, Ignatio returned to his chambers. He heard the manor clock chime twelve and dozed.

  A knock at his door woke him. Ignatio rose and donned his robe to open the door. Leslie stood before him, her long blonde hair loose and flowing down to her hips, she was dressed in a thin cotton shift that revealed more than it covered. With her small bare feet peeking out beneath the gown and her delicate features, she reminded him of an angel. His breath caught in his throat and Ignatio knew to either draw her in or be destined for another night’s swim in the cold stream.

  “I am so sorry, milord.” Leslie was obviously distressed. “I’ve had a rather disturbing dream.” She looked up at him like an innocent scared child.

  “Come in, Leslie,” Ignatio said, instinctively placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. She leaned closer to the safety of his masculine physique, and molded her rose scented body to his. He could feel her full breasts press against him. Ignatio sat on the large leather chair near his fireplace, noting how the firelight illuminated her perfect form before he pulled her onto his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder and the neckline of her nightgown pulled open to display her breast provocatively. His blood heated, his cock rose, despite his steely control. “It was only a dream. Do you wish to tell me about it?” He offered to listen, trying to distract his lust that was quickly becoming out of control. Ignatio’s hands were around her slim waist and he slowly moved them up toward her breasts without realizing they strayed, and without resistance, he cupped each one gently with his hands. Leslie sighed and leaned back against him.

  “The images have gone,” she half sobbed. “Now I am just, alone.” Her voice was low, desperate, and childlike.

  What am I to do? Ignatio wrapped his arms gently around Leslie holding her as she sobbed. “It’s okay, Leslie, no harm will come to you.” Should I return her to her room? He certainly did not want to, her sweet body felt so right. Ignatio knew nothing about her, was she married? He didn’t know. She wore no ring. Would her father set upon him in a few days? Ignatio found he didn’t care. He had been alone too long and she was here.

  Sighing again, she sat up and looked at him through her tears. “Milord Count,” she whispered, passion in her voice. “You are wonderful.” She slid her long slender arms around his neck, her perfume surrounded him and she kissed him, her tongue brushed his. She felt Ignatio tightened his arms around her as he returned her embrace. His tongue entered her mouth to caress hers, then drew her little organ into his own mouth and sucked it tantalizingly, teasing. He had fallen under her spell so easily.

  “Lady Leslie,” he said breathlessly, “you should return to–”

  “No! I am afraid,” she pleaded and placed her lips to his. His hand ran smoothly over her back, slowly, she moved her hands over his chest beneath his robe, running her fingers through the dark chest curls and over the well-formed muscles, feeling the heat of his body as his temperature rose. He rose from the chair, lifting her light form as he did, and carried her to his huge bed and laid her there.

  “Will you be afraid here?” A smile played on his generous lips, a warm, piercing glow burned in Count Ignatio’s eyes. Those eyes narrowed, thinking of what he would do with her, after gaining her trust, his tongue moistened his lips.

  “No,” Leslie’s voice was low, her eyes held by Ignatio’s, who sat next to her.

  Count Ignatio had fallen under her charms and her control so easily. He proved to be a gentle lover, his hands took time to arouse her already heated body, his touch made her breasts feel like they were on fire, and her cunt became warmed honey, her pantaloons were soaked. Leslie had made love to many men. She always did before she took their life’s force from them, but this man was extraordinarily different.

  He fondled her breasts, one heavy globe in each of his large hands. His tongue teased her nipples. It had been a long time since a man had taken such care with her. Leslie felt his mouth come down hard on her breast and suck each one in turn. Leslie moved her hands over his hips, exploring his swollen cock and lightly tickling his balls with her cool fingers, holding his testicles in both her hands. He was as magnificent as she had hoped and Leslie knew he would fill her cunt to its fullest. Her nether lips swelled with anticipation of his cock inside her. Leslie felt Ignatio push up her nightgown by caressing her legs with his square
hands, from her feet, up her inner thighs. His thumbs gently and lightly caressed past her hot vulva, to massage her hooded clit. Leslie groaned, as he used his thumbs to spread her wetness. In slow torturous, repetitious motions over her swollen clit, his rough thumbs rubbed, until Leslie thought she might faint. With her hand wrapped around his engorged cock, she matched the rhythm he set with his thumbs even though she groaned each time he touched her clit and the light in the room seemed to dim.

  The tight blonde curls of the mound of her sex were drenched in her wetness and looking into Ignatio’s eyes, she saw a glimpse of a man she had not anticipated. A chill of fright passed through her and she began to climax. She opened her eyes when Ignatio laughed and withdrew from his efforts stopping her climax just as it started, to prolong her tension, and to further torture her, Ignatio blew on her swollen cunt lips. His breath, coming out cool from between his lips, caused Leslie to moan from the sensation and with her hand quickly covered herself to protect her heated sex from the torment of coolness. Ignatio laughed low in his throat and removed her hand to insert a finger deep inside her, teasing her, Leslie groaned.

  “Ignatio! Please!” Leslie sobbed.

  “Please what, milady?” He asked, and leaned over her as he moved his finger in and out, giving her just enough gratification to make her beg for more, his lips close to hers.

  “I want more!” Leslie begged. Ignatio inserted another finger, “Like this?”

  “No!” she howled quietly, “You know what I want.”

  “Ask me for it, my dear!” Ignatio told her. “Beg me for it!” his voice commanded gruffly.

  “I want your cock, inside me, please, I burn for it!” Leslie’s blue eyes dilated and round.

  Slowly, Ignatio entered her body, tortuously slow, with his throbbing cock. Too slowly, Leslie could not believe his control. She arched her pelvis toward him to hasten her pleasure. He pulled back.

  “No, no, Leslie, at my pace.” He teased her and pulled away a little.

  “Please, Ignatio, you are driving me mad,” Leslie pleaded, close to tears of frustration.