by Cassie Burns
Dreams of Desire
By
Kassie Burns
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dreams of Desire
Copyright © 2004 Kassie Burns
ISBN: 1-55410-185-9
Cover art and design by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books
www.Extasybooks.com
Tarot: The Eight of Cups
Theme of the eight of cups: Waking up and realizing you’ve been asleep in your own life, living a dream that no longer satisfies.
Dreams of Desire
"You beasts! Let me go!”
Calie cas Chabos, queen of Sarmona, screamed with helpless rage as two brawny palace guards threw her down on the soft feather bed and bound her wrists to the bed posts.
She knew it was useless to fight, but she bucked her hips anyway as the guards grabbed her calves and yanked her legs apart. The soft leather cuffs around her ankles tightened as the men hooked them into the polished brass loops at the bottom of the bed.
“You’re ready.” The thin guard with the jagged scar across his cheek smirked down at her, letting his gaze linger a long moment on her naked body, her legs spread wide to reveal her intimate parts. Lust flared in his eyes but he turned and marched from the room, accompanied by his companion. The guards had done their duty and prepared her for the amorous attentions of her captor, Barbose lor de Domatan, the ninth king of the dread Isle of Domatus.
As the door closed behind them, Calie lifted her head as far as she could off the pillow. The pale, pink-tipped globes of her breasts trembled as she tried to survey the sumptuously appointed bedchamber. It was a room made for pleasure. Silken sheets caressed her bare flesh. The wood paneled walls glowed in the soft candlelight. A fire burned in the marble fireplace along one wall, but the doors to the terrace outside were open, letting in the cool night breeze.
Shivering, Calie sank back into the bed. Despair filled her heart, and the luxury that surrounded her only mocked her. She was a prisoner. Why had she ridden out of her palace without her guard? She’d known the danger. Her kingdom was unstable, and her capital teemed with spies. In a moment of foolhardy bravado, she’d risked her future for a brief night of freedom—and now she was a captive, at the mercy of her sworn enemy.
A slight sound to the right of the bed caught her attention. One of Barbose’s servant women had entered the room while she’d been lost in thought and stood there, silently watching her. Calie’s eyes widened as she saw the silver bowl the servant held. She knew what it contained—jermeni juice, a potent aphrodisiac. As Calie’s struggles subsided, the woman approached and dipped a small brush into the bowl. Then she applied the tip of the brush to Calie’s nipples.
Calie took in a hissing breath as the powerful drug sank into her flesh, sensitizing it. The rosy tips stiffened into taut, aroused peaks and her body quivered. Now, even the merest whisper of air against her nipples would send waves of intense, pleasurable heat shooting from her breasts down into her loins. She bit her lips and squirmed, her lower parts growing wet with anticipation. An empty ache began between her legs as the drug roused her to yearning passion. Against her will, she found herself longing for the touch of Barbose’s lips on her nipples, for the rough caress of his tongue across the tender tips. Only that would relieve the mounting tension in her body.
She squirmed against her bonds in humiliation, and her cheeks grew hot as she imagined his sensual lips sucking at her. She trembled on the verge of explosion, yearning for the powerful release of orgasm, and glanced toward the door. Soon it would open and her captor would appear. The pink tips of her breasts tightened into little towers, poking up in abandoned invitation.
The servant woman smiled with gloating triumph at Calie’s reaction and dipped her brush once more into the liquid.
“No,” Calie begged. “Please, no.” She strained to lift her buttocks off the bed, to close her legs against this invasion, but the bindings at her ankles kept her legs spread wide. The woman’s eyes gleamed as she reached between Calie’s thighs. Rough fingers opened the lips of her tender intimate parts and dabbed the burning liquid on her already moist flesh.
“Ah!” Calie’s back arched but the bonds held her to the bed. Waves of fire exploded out of her cunt and rolled through her as the touch of the fiery liquid on her flesh sent her soaring into the convulsions of orgasm. Her nipples stabbed at the empty air as she shuddered again and again, but the explosions brought no release. Her saturated flesh cried out for more. She needed a man, needed the thick length of his phallus inside her, plunging into her depths.
Soon, she knew, he would come.
She wet her lips with her tongue. Her breathing grew ragged as the door at the far end of the room opened and Barbose entered. Turning her head toward him, she watched as he approached. As always, his strong, athletic body moved with a supple grace surprising in a man so big. He had a massive barrel of a chest, thick, muscular arms, and long legs with powerful thighs. But it was his face that drew her attention. The man was her tormentor, her demon lover, but he had the face of a god, with clean-cut features, a straight nose, and full, sensuous lips. His moonlight silver hair hung unbound around his shoulders and his sapphire eyes examined her naked body with smoldering desire.
Tonight, he wore only a loose silk robe of deep purple, embroidered in gold. Unfastened, it hung open to reveal the silver mat upon his chest, his muscular thighs and the weapon he used to teach her submission—his massive phallus, already fully erect and ready for her. She could see a drop of his love juice quivering on the tip.
“Has she been prepared?” he asked the servant. His voice, sensual and deep, flowed over Calie’s body like a warm wave, setting her nipples throbbing to its rhythm. She licked her lips yet again and eyed his bold erection. Why had the gods cursed her with an enemy who had the tender voice of a poet and the thick phallus of a young bull?
“She has, my lord.”
“Good.” Barbose waved his hand in dismissal and the servant bowed and retreated from the room.
The door clicked shut behind her, blocking off the noise from Barbose’s palace. They were alone, utterly alone, with no sound except the hammering of Calie’s heart. Surely he could hear it beat in the silence of the room. Her cheeks flamed hotter even as she ached for him.
The jermeni burned into her private flesh, heating it. She could feel her inner tissues swelling as if they scented the closeness of his phallus. The muscles of her thighs clenched. She smelled the musky scent of her arousal and knew he did as well. Gods, she wanted him. The first thrust of that hard shaft within her would shatter her body into a thousand orgasmic fragments. Since he had kidnapped her, Barbose had claimed her nightly, ravishing her again and again, bringing her to orgasm each time.
Looking up into his face, she saw him smile. “You want it, don’t you?” he murmured, gesturing to that part of him that jutted out toward her as if straining toward a goal.
Oh, how she wa
nted to deny it. Her lips moved but she couldn’t speak. Her desire throbbed in every particle of her flesh, showed in her rigid nipples and dew-drenched opening, and most of all, she knew, in her face. She could see her yearning for him mirrored in the huge, dark pupils of his eyes.
For the hundredth time, she wondered if she’d wanted to be captured that day. Her advisors had warned her that Barbose wanted her and would stop at nothing to claim her. But then…she’d wanted him, too…ever since that day they’d met under a flag of truce to try and negotiate a treaty between their realms. That negotiation had failed, thanks to the demands of her advisors, but she’d never forgotten the erotic promise in his brilliant blue eyes. Something had passed between them that day, something unspoken but deep and real nevertheless. Although she’d sat cool and proud in her regal robes, she’d felt stripped naked by his gaze. He’d seen beneath the royal veneer to a hot-blooded woman who yearned to know the darker side of love.
She knew it now.
Barbose regarded her for a long moment of silence. When he spoke again, his voice rumbled with amusement. “Your prime minister is threatening war if I don’t return you at once, my queen.” His fingers brushed lightly against the swell of her left breast, sending a helpless shudder through her.
Calie fought to speak through a dry throat. “My people will gladly fight to set me free from your barbarous captivity.”
“They will fail. My armies are stronger.” Barbose gave a small shrug and the robe slipped from his shoulders and pooled at his feet.
Calie wanted to look away but her rebellious eyes would not obey. Instead, she drank in the sight of his nude body. Against her will, her gaze focused on his shaft, measuring its length. Her stomach tightened as more moisture flooded her lower parts.
She closed her eyes, ashamed of the wanton desire she was sure he could see shining in her gaze. Tears of frustration and embarrassment leaked out from under her lashes. “If you loved me as you say, you would not do this to me.”
“I do love you, my queen.” He bent over her, his voice gentle. His warm breath tickled her ear. “And I will set you free the moment you agree to marry me, surrender your lands to me, and become the queen of Domantus.”
Calie gritted her teeth to keep her tongue from murmuring an agreement. To her utter astonishment, she’d fallen in love with the charismatic Barbose. While sparring with him nightly, she’d learned he was charming, witty, intelligent, and a fabulous lover. But she could not surrender her kingdom to him. She was a queen after all. If that meant she must submit to his desires night after night to pay the price for endangering herself, then so be it. She’d longed to experience bondage. It was only just punishment for her foolishness that she lay spread-eagled before him.
“Very well,” Barbose murmured, observing her silence. “I will woo you with another night of lovemaking beyond your wildest dreams.” He leaned closer, his sapphire bright eyes full of lustful promise. The tip of his tongue slid between his lips to touch the peak of one stiff nipple…
“Calie!” The shout penetrated her dream. With a start, Calie came awake and sat up in her bed. Her mother stood over her with her hands on her hips. Her gray hair fell forward in long strands around her wrinkled face. She looked as if she, too, had just been awakened.
“Calie, girl, there’s a messenger here from Lord Tromas. Seems his stomach is bothering him again. Too much rich food, that’s my opinion.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Calie sighed. She threw off the covers and hurried past her mother to the chest where she kept her clothes. She snatched up her sole dress and pressed it to her to hide the fact that her nipples were still taut from the dream.
“He wants you at once, as usual,” her mother grumbled. “I’ll cut you off a bit of bread so you'll have something to eat at least.”
“He pays well,” Calie said defensively. It was getting harder and harder to support the two of them with her healing talents. She frowned as an elusive memory brushed at the edges of her brain. Once, it almost seemed, healers had been rare in Sarmona. But that was not possible. Healers were everywhere these days. The idea that her talent had once been rare must have been a dream!
Besides, it was a blessing—for the sick at least—that healers were so common. Yet their numbers meant that their services were devalued. It was hard to earn much money as a healer in Sarmona anymore.
“He should pay,” her mother snapped. “He has a talented healer at his beck and call. You should ask him for more.”
“I’ll try,” Calie said, donning her dress. She was glad when her mother turned and shuffled from the room. They’d had too many arguments about Lord Tromas already. Calie couldn’t blame her mother for wanting more, but Calie had other plans. She hoped to earn Tromas’s favor, then ask for something bolder than a mere gift of money. She wanted him to become the patron of a healing center for the poor who could not afford to pay even the cheap prices healers charged nowadays. He was a rich man, a good man in his own way. Why wouldn’t he agree to keep his healer happy? She’d cured his headaches and his arthritis, and even these stomachaches from too much food. And her plan was a noble one.
Leaving her bedroom, she clambered down the narrow steps to the ground floor of their small home. Her mother appeared from the kitchen with a hunk of bread in her hand. “I sent the messenger back to tell Lord Tromas you’re on the way. Don’t let him keep you there all day. There’s cleaning to be done and laundry too.” The two of them had begun taking in laundry from the neighbors to earn a bit of extra coin.
“Yes, Mother,” Calie said, biting her tongue. She knew her mother was worried that Calie only concentrated on this one client. She didn’t know the motive behind her daughter’s actions. And, she had no idea at all that Calie was a dream master.
Calie shuddered. No one knew that, fortunately. Those with the dreaming talent were required by law to enter the Temple of Remoru. But that would mean the end of her plans to start a healing hospital devoted to the poor.
Munching on the bread, she set off down the narrow streets of Jabol, toward Lord Tromas’s much larger and richer townhouse, which was located in a desirable neighborhood not far from the royal palace. As she turned onto the main thoroughfare, she passed a wooden doorway, emblazoned with a bright red symbol: an eye set in the center of a flame. As always, her step faltered for a moment. Melisa cas Gypor was a powerful psychic, a true diviner of the future. Calie longed to have her cards read, to know if her dream of starting a healing center would come true—but she dreaded what the answer might be.
Shaking her head, she moved on.
* * * *
“So, my love, have you reconsidered?” Barbose leered down at her nude body. He held a riding crop in one hand and slowly drew the lash over her stomach.
Calie shook her head. “Never. I will never wed you.”
“Why not?” Amusement glittered in his eyes. “I already enjoy all the pleasures your body has to offer.” He lifted his wrist and let the lash drop against her ribs just below her breasts, the lightest of touches. The soft leather slid across her skin like silk.
“Please.” She fought to hold still, knowing how he enjoyed watching her breasts quiver when she struggled. It was humiliating enough that her nipples already thrust into the air as if inviting his touch.
A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. His gaze wandered down over her breasts and belly, down to her damp opening. The beast! He knew she enjoyed this game as much as he. He was prolonging it cruelly tonight, refusing to enter her until he had her wound up to a fever pitch.
“Please what? If you want favors from me, you have to offer something in return.” His dark blue eyes narrowed as he drew the lash down her body and flicked it lightly again against the golden hair that curled between her legs. “This I already have whenever I please, so you cannot offer it.” He touched the tip of the crop to the swollen flesh at the juncture of her thighs.
She drew in a hissing breath at the touch, her hips rising as
she fought her bonds. Desire pulsed through her.
“Or do I need to teach you obedience to get you to surrender to my will?” He lifted the lash as he spoke and brought it down, harder this time, across one white thigh.
She cried out as a vivid red welt appeared on her bare flesh. His hand stroked her other thigh. “Do not provoke me, Calie. You are a helpless captive and you haven’t yet begun to taste the sweet wine of submission.”
“Will you treat your queen any better?” she gasped, staring up at the colorful ceiling high above her. Someone had painted clouds there, restful in a bedroom, no doubt, but as she watched they began to spin. Her whole body hurt with need, dizzy with desire. Gods, she was a queen in her own land, and yet she longed to suffer debasement at his hands, to know his tormenting touch, to cry out as his hard shaft plunged into her.
Was it madness, or the insatiable fire of love?
He bent over her, his long, moonlight bright hair falling forward until the silken ends brushed against the tips of her breasts. His body pleased her more than any man’s ever had. His sensual mouth hovered above hers, waiting, knowing she must respond. Trembling, she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue in invitation. Would it be so awful to surrender her kingdom to his, to become his queen? Her spies had told her he was a stern but just king, a truth she’d begun to see for herself. The other day he’d loosed her bonds for a few hours and taken her riding to explore his lands. His kingdom was a prosperous one.
Their ancestors had fought but there was no reason for them to remain enemies. Together they could be happy, if she could only make her stubborn mouth say the words he wanted to hear.
He bent closer, his lips capturing the tip of her tongue. She moaned as he sucked her into his mouth. One of his fingers teased her nipple, sending waves of fire surging down her spine and into her loins.
