by Tina Donahue
She craved more, helpless against her desire.
He worked her well, alternately licking, suckling, and tonguing her nub, giving her no rest. An inner frenzy gathered strength, wanting to break free.
In order to prolong these moments, she fought the delicious tension building inside.
Tomás suckled harder, faster, stroking her other opening, remaining there, tempting and teasing her vulnerable flesh.
Beatriz lost control, the world spinning too fast for her to keep up. She gripped his shoulders needing an anchor against what was happening. Breathing proved hard, speech impossible, her limbs tensed, then trembled. A pulse ticked within her sheath.
She shuddered.
Surprising warmth filled her. Heat so comforting and needed she never wanted to feel anything else.
Tomás licked her nub one last time. She thrashed wildly.
He leaned up and smiled. “Will you live?”
She laughed, surprised she could, considering how spent she was. “I fear not.”
His brow furrowed. “Why?”
“I need this again and again.”
“Good. Wait. Have you forgotten me?” He gave her a withering look. “You have. And here I thought you were my friend.”
Poor man. “I shall tend to you before you dissolve into tears.”
“Before I what?”
She muffled her yawn with her hand. “Very well.” Fighting fatigue, she pushed up and let excitement rule. “Weep all you want.” She put her hands on his chest.
“What? Hold on. What are you doing?”
“This.” She shoved.
Taken off guard, Tomás toppled over, arms shooting out to catch himself. The hair in his pits was dark and silky, surely scented with his musk. Crazed with need, she crawled to his side. “Spread your legs.” She ran her fingertips up his hairy thigh.
He groaned.
She smiled. “Bend your knees.”
“Tell me why first.”
“Do you have so little faith in me?”
“An untried virgin?” He placed his hand over his shaft and sac. “I might pay dearly for any mistake you make.”
“Very well, I shall nap.” She yawned loudly and crawled away.
He grabbed her ankle. “Get back here.”
“Sí, my lord.” She returned to his side. “One day I may tell you a fantasy I have regarding you, with me as the conquered maiden.”
“Sounds as though you made me a warrior.”
“What else?”
He smiled. “Is this the way you treat a battle-weary soldier and friend, making him wait endlessly for pleasure?”
In answer, she cupped his sac, fascinated with the male power it represented, the ruddy skin lightly furred.
He groaned softly.
Lover’s music that thrilled, increasing her boundless joy, encouraging her to press her face to the pelt above his shaft. He smelled exactly as she’d hoped, clean, musky, and completely masculine, intensifying her desire.
After her first lick on his rigid column, she traced the veins with her tongue. He pushed toward her, murmuring Arabic words that sounded like praise.
She never wanted to do anything except give him pleasure. Until they’d met, she hadn’t believed a man like him existed. He was generous, kind, playful. She envied the woman who would capture his heart, and wished she could stop time so he could be hers for eternity.
A foolish and sad notion.
She had nothing more than these few moments and needed to make them count for the dark days ahead.
She lapped his crown, pausing frequently to gauge his reaction. He whispered something she couldn’t hear. She grew bolder, flicking her tongue over the entire head, at last reaching the back. He stiffened and made a passionate sound.
She’d found the spot that pleased him most, paying great attention to it, then brushed his sac lightly.
He shouted and a bird took wing.
Tomás would have no escape from her. She licked his shaft fully, liking its faint saltiness, the same as the moisture that escaped the small opening in the crown. He made pleasant rather than uncivilized noises. That wouldn’t do. She wanted him as wild and helpless as she’d been when he was between her legs.
With one hand fondling his sac, she lifted his member and took him in her mouth.
He bellowed heartily, pushing himself toward her.
Although Beatriz was untried with men, she sensed he wanted her to take his entire shaft inside her mouth, mirroring what her sheath would do. How could she not? He hadn’t forced her as most nobles would have done. He offered to protect her virginity, treating her with kindness and respect.
As a friend would.
Tomás was already far more to her. She had to give him her best.
She eased his shaft as deeply into her mouth as she could, then took still more, not content until she had nearly all his length inside.
New sounds poured from him, similar to when they’d kissed, only these were more spirited. Encouraged, she allowed his shaft to slip from her mouth except for the crown. Holding it between her lips, she licked his most sensitive area.
He cried out repeatedly, each louder than the last.
She took his sex within her mouth and ran her thumbnail over his sac.
Explosive noises burst from him.
She tempted and teased as he’d done with her, pacing herself so he wouldn’t reach the end for minutes, perhaps hours. Given her innocence in these matters, she had no idea how long a man could last.
Perspiration bathed his face, throat, and chest. His features had twisted into what looked like anguish…or pleasure so intense he found the feelings impossible to bear.
His shaft grew harder and thicker. Tirelessly, she glided her tongue over his member, increasing her pace, then pausing, not allowing him to know what her next move would be.
He tugged his hair, his growls sounding frantic, his roar pleased. His creamy seed spurted into her mouth. She didn’t recoil. Her feelings for him were too deep to reject anything he had to give.
With tender regard, she accepted his offering, swallowing every drop, licking him clean. Despite his ragged breaths, he looked drunk with joy.
“You can breathe easy.” She stroked his thigh. “I left you unharmed.”
Tomás laughed with little strength. “You honored me.”
As a friend. She had to be happy for that. “Did I give you great pleasure?”
“You were perfect.”
“Just perfect? No comparing me to the sun, wind, moon, and stars?”
“When I regain my strength.” He opened his arms. “Come to me.”
She nestled close, hand on his chest, face against his neck.
His heart drummed hard in time with hers.
Finished with his yawn, he nuzzled close. “We must do this again.”
For all time.
Chapter 5
Although Tomás objected, Beatriz dismounted far short of the stable. He did the same, even though she insisted on walking alone to the castle.
“No one should see us together.” She folded her hands primly. “The same as earlier. Wherever you sent the stable hands, they must have returned to their work by now. Discretion is best.”
She was right but he had a hard time letting her go. “They may wonder why I have two horses, both of them saddled, no?”
“Let them think what everyone else will. One of the señoritas returned, stormed the castle, and you had no choice except to coax her out here for a ride so you could toss her over the hill.”
Laughing, he led Beatriz to a copse of cork trees.
She pointed in the other direction. “The castle is that way.”
“And will still be there when we finish.”
Once hidden within the trees, he tethered the horses and trailed kisses over her silky cheek and throat.
She sagged into him, wearing his scent as he did hers.
&nb
sp; He inhaled deeply. “Tonight you come to my study to dust.”
She parted her lips to his, accepting his tongue. From the beginning, they’d fit so well. Now they molded to each other with even greater ease. He cupped her buttocks. She held him close and played with his hair.
When they finished their kiss, she rested her forehead on his shoulder, her hand over his hammering heart. “No.”
He stopped nibbling her ear. “You want me to kiss your neck instead? Very well, anything to please you.”
She eased back before he could enjoy any part of her. “I meant no to dusting tonight. If I leave the servant quarters to go to your study, the others may wonder why and talk. I should be enjoying my time away from work, not doing more.”
“You had a bad time today? What we did was mere work to you?”
She kissed him brazenly in answer. Breathless, he held on to her and she clung to him, both needing each other for support. On the hillside, she’d satisfied him to exhaustion, arousing him repeatedly until he could barely walk to their horses.
“What am I to do tonight with you so far away?” He eased a stray tress behind her ear and adjusted her cap to where the thing should be. “Do you want to see me buried in dust before you return to work?”
Her laughter filled the fragrant air. “No. However, you could use the time to speak to Señora Cisneros concerning Yolanda. You did promise.”
Indeed, he had. “Tomorrow evening you return to my study. No argument, hear?”
She returned his fiery kiss for only a moment before pulling free and racing up the path to the castle.
Tomás leaned against a rough trunk, giving her an opportunity to reach her destination before he followed.
The stable hands weren’t foolish enough to ask why he had a mare and a gelding without a second rider in sight. If they wondered, he didn’t care.
Once in the castle, he lifted his face to the ceiling, wishing he could see through wood and stone to her in the servant quarters. Too bad he couldn’t move her into his bedchamber. Even if she agreed to such a scheme, which she wouldn’t, the arrangement would have tongues wagging.
Pity everyone couldn’t mind their own business.
After a brief search, he found Señora Cisneros in the parlor, her back to him. She ran her fingers over the windowsill, inspected them, and nodded. At the next window, she did the same and made a displeased sound.
The smallest speck of dust had always disturbed her.
He cleared his throat. “I need a word.”
“Sí, Patrón.”
He gestured her to the far end of the room, so no one would overhear them, and warned himself to approach the subject delicately. “What would you say is the easiest household task? One even a grandmother could handle without causing any strain?”
She drew her bushy eyebrows together. “Is Beatriz now having difficulty with dusting and changing or washing linens?”
Heat crept up Tomás’s neck. He feigned indifference to her question. “This is about Yolanda, the young girl who works in the kitchen.”
“The best scullery maid I ever hired.” Señora Cisneros grinned broadly. “In no time, Yolanda will be gutting animals next to Leonor.”
Tomás tried not to stare at the hairs on the woman’s chin. “Given how young Yolanda is, it might be best if she has less tiring work until she grows older.”
“Has she complained to you?”
He had no idea what the girl looked like or that she’d even existed until Beatriz had mentioned her. “No. I, ah, saw her struggling with a bucket of water and thought she seemed too frail for kitchen work. There must be an easier task for her to do.”
“Would you like her to take Beatriz’s place?”
“Never. That is, no.”
Señora Cisneros tapped her hairy chin, her features pensive. At last, she lifted her forefinger. “I suppose she could help the chandler, unless you prefer Yolanda serves you at meals, washing your hands after you dine.”
He wasn’t certain if she was making light of him or not. Unlike many nobles who were helpless to the extreme, Tomás could wash himself, unless Beatriz wanted to do the job. “Candles it is for Yolanda, with the chandler. Make certain she begins the new work immediately.”
“At the same wage she earns now?”
He had no idea. “Certainly not less. Pay her whatever you would an apprentice.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “So much?”
“You decide what she should earn.” He patted her fleshy shoulder. “I have full faith in whatever you do.”
He left the parlor hoping Beatriz wouldn’t want to spare other servants their loathsome labor. He’d have to rearrange the entire household staff to keep her from toiling at their side. What a mess that would be…though in the end a minor matter if he made her happy.
He couldn’t imagine doing anything less. These last hours with her had given him a glimpse into what life should be like, not what protocol or the Church ordained. He wasn’t a devout man and had never cared for rigid custom, either. Not like those nobles who’d had everything handed to them, as Beatriz had said. They seemed the most devoted to keeping change at bay.
Perhaps because they had always been sheltered from horror, had no idea how the real world worked.
After Tomás had felled his first Moor, he hadn’t whooped with delight as the older nobles said he would, many having no experience in battle. The gore had appalled him, the blood never seeming to end. The young man’s family had surely waited for his return only to learn they’d lost him forever.
Killing did become easier, only because he wanted to survive, but he never looked at warfare the same. As a boy, he’d found the battles exciting. Upon becoming a man, he understood the enormity of loss.
His love for Spain, not the wealth he might earn, had kept him at the task. In many ways, Tomás agreed with what Beatriz had said about men coveting things more than they did people. A sorry way to live and a tradition he wanted no part of.
He retired to his study, finding the room too large and empty without her. In no time at all, he’d become completely besotted. Foolish that. When she had to move on to another friend, lover, husband, he wouldn’t be able to stop her.
She was young and unbelievably lovely. Other men wouldn’t wait to make their moves until Tomás had his fill, if he ever would. The male servants had already noticed her, especially Rufio. He, especially, seemed eager to make her his.
She’d shown no interest in the young man, but others would eventually come into service here. One might catch her eye and capture her heart.
Tomás muttered an oath, not wanting to consider his hopeless situation. Even though he ruled here and could do whatever he willed, even to take Beatriz as his bride, his actions would cost her dearly. He’d hold her up to ridicule to the servants she once worked with and the nobles who made up his world.
They’d never accept her no matter her beauty, intelligence, and wit. Although he hardly cared what they thought, she certainly would. He’d be a beast to subject her to their scorn at gatherings. Nor could she stay here while he attended those functions alone. He’d merely fuel gossip that his wife wasn’t good enough to associate with her betters. She might grow to hate him for the anguish he’d put her through when he should have known better and considered her feelings rather than his desire.
He should stop the impending sorrow now and refuse to see her again, depriving himself of her laughter, smile, touch, scent. All he had to do was live without those things.
Tomás sank to his chair, head in his hands, knowing he couldn’t. He needed a few more days with her, at least. A week perhaps. No, a month.
Possibly more.
He wasn’t a pious man, but soon found himself praying for time.
* * * *
The following morning, Beatriz was the only one who congratulated Yolanda on her new position. The other servants seemed confused, stunned, or were outwardly jealous, mutte
ring that the girl wasn’t special, never had been, and hardly deserved such a lofty job that should have gone to them.
By late afternoon, the cruel barbs had taken their toll, Yolanda no longer her buoyant self.
Beatriz searched the child’s lovely face. “What happened?”
“I fear everyone hates me now.”
She slipped her arm around Yolanda’s narrow shoulders, chiding herself for having mucked things up. She’d only wanted to help, not bring her pain. “Surely the others will adjust.”
“I hope they do. Too many times today, I got shoved, tripped, pinched, and burned.”
“Burned? Who did that? Where?”
“My wrist is fine now.” She held her arm to her chest. “The hot grease stung for no more than a few minutes.”
Beatriz rubbed her forehead. “Would you like to work as a scullery maid again? Were you happier?”
“No. I earn more now than I had before and my tasks are easier than yours.”
Thanks to Tomás. She cupped Yolanda’s chin. “Then smile.”
Yolanda did, making her even lovelier, but quickly backed away. “I must be off. I have so much to learn. Tonight I keep watch on the tallow and wax.” She bolted away, skirt flying.
Beatriz returned to cleaning those bedchambers the señoritas and their mamás had used. The lot had manners worse than a common villager. They’d left food on the floor to rot, spilled wine on the fine linens, tracked in mud, and ruined two pillows, sending the feathers everywhere.
By the time she’d finished, the hour was late, her chance to dust Tomás’s study finally at hand. Excitement dashed through her, making her giddy with expectation. All day she’d waited for this moment.
She darted from the last chamber and nearly collided with Nuncio in the hall.
He reared back. So did she.
“Forgive me.” Beatriz pressed her hand to her chest. “I had no idea you were lurking about in the dark without a candle to guide you.”
Nuncio curled his upper lip. “I was walking, as is my right.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “Of course. The fault, as always, is mine. Can you possibly forgive me?”
