“And what is that?”
“The freedom to keep your new toy, unencumbered by the strings of England. Obviously, you are utterly enamored with the woman—not that I can blame you.”
“You expect me to believe you brought Lord Hampstead here so that he would allow me to keep his wife? What sort of fool do you believe me to be, Akenov? She has only been here two days.”
“You are no fool at all, my lady. Which is why I continue to make these conjugal visits despite the fact that neither of us desire them. You are certainly not to my taste, and clearly I am not to yours—but the stability of our kingdoms must be preserved. And a child of our joint blood would ensure that.”
“You tell me nothing I don’t know,” Zenovia said dismissively. “But I do not believe you brought Hampstead here so he would give up his wife. I believe it was happenstance that you encountered him and that he chose to release Jane, and you’ve decided to use it to your advantage. You are an opportunist.” The anger in her voice belied the compliment.
Akenov gave a low chuckle. “You are indeed more smart and cunning than I give you credit for. Be that as it may, my lady, I am here now and I have indeed brought Hampstead to you…and he has renounced his claim to the woman. So you may keep her. I ask for only one bit of compensation.”
“And what might that be—aside from the sharing of my bed out of schedule?” Disgust dripped from her voice.
“I desire one night with your new and permanent slave. That is, from now until tomorrow morning.”
Automatically, Jane’s body tightened and flushed with heat as the image of Akenov’s powerful figure and face flashed through her mind. She had no control over the way her stomach pitched with a stab of lust and apprehension, for her body had been so well trained, so attuned to anything sexual and erotic, that her responses were reflexive.
Then she abruptly forced those thoughts away. Relief rushed through her, and her body relaxed. She would not have to betray Zaren yet again, for Zenovia would never agree. Had the woman not nearly killed Jane with her lustful demands when Jane had begun to take pleasure in sucking on the cock of the potential male breeders?
“Never. You’ll not touch her.” Zenovia’s response was as expected.
“That is not very diplomatic of you, my dear concubine,” he replied. His voice was a trifle tighter than before. “After all, it’s imperative that our kingdoms remain at peace with each other if you wish to continue to trade your heather-hash without having to go all the way around the Horn of Falkar. That would add…what…two months to every voyage to the Mediterranean? If the channel between Amazonia and my own beautiful Sallito Island became…shall we say…unwelcoming to your ships…well, that would cut deeply into your profits.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” Zenovia replied. “You would lose money on the tariffs I pay you.”
“One night with her. That’s all I ask. Or I will take the loss in tariffs. You can be certain of it.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Have you ever known me to jest? You have one hour to make your decision, Zenovia. Give me one night with your slave, or I will leave. And you won’t see me—or the shores of Sallito—for a six-month. That will be a huge loss of revenue for you—just as harvest season reaches its peak.”
There was a taut silence, and Jane realized she was holding her breath, waiting with both trepidation and titillation. If she had a night with Akenov, perhaps she could convince him to—to somehow help her. To help her escape. To help her go back to England. At least Papa and Effie were there…even if Zaren was finished with her. Her heart gave a dull pang.
But Jane still couldn’t believe Zaren had truly walked away. He wouldn’t. He loves me.
Yet…the empty pit in her stomach seemed to grow larger every time she remembered the empty, remote look in his eyes.
Zaren. Please understand. Please forgive me.
She had to find a way to see him—to speak with him. Somehow she would. Somehow…she would do what she had to do tonight to appease her mistress, to set her off guard.
I’ll get to him somehow.
“Very well, then, Akenov,” Zenovia said. “One night with my slave…but you will share it with me as well. That is the only way in which I will agree to this, clear passage or no. We traded outside of Amazonia long before you allowed us to use your canal, and we can do it again. I can raise my prices for trade to make up for the loss if necessary. I will not be manipulated by a man—any man. And especially not by you. I agree to your demand simply because you are here, and we might just as well conduct our conjugal relations early.” Her tone clearly displayed her disinterest. “And then you won’t have to come back for six months.”
“Excellent,” Akenov replied. Thick satisfaction was in his voice, and Jane could almost picture the quirk curving his full lips. Her mouth went dry.
“However, due to the nature of our relationship, you will not attempt coitus with her during the night,” Zenovia continued. “For it wouldn’t do for you to impregnate my slave instead of me. You must agree to that for obvious reasons.”
“Agreed. But no other restrictions?” he said with great relish.
There was a pause, then Zenovia replied reluctantly, “No other restrictions.”
“Excellent,” he said again. “Where is she?”
“Here.”
There was a flutter of the floor-to-ceiling drapery that swathed half of the room, and suddenly Jane found herself exposed to both Zenovia and Akenov.
Her breath caught automatically when she met Akenov’s eyes. They were so hot and filled with lust she could almost feel them scorching over her. Immediately, her body reacted—heat rushed over her, shooting down and thickening her labia, drenching her insides even as she moistened her own lips beneath the lustful stares of Zenovia and Akenov.
Jane’s heart pounded so hard her breasts shivered, and she sat up as Akenov approached the bed.
“I see she is ready for us,” he said as he began to strip off his clothing.
“Not so fast,” Zenovia said abruptly. Her arm flashed out as if to stop him from moving any closer. “You must bathe first. You have the stink of travel on you.”
His eyes didn’t leave Jane’s as he replied, “Very well. You won’t have me ‘defile’ your toy. But after that, no more delays, Zenovia. Or I will take my leave.” He started to walk toward the pool in the corner, but Zenovia stopped him.
“No. Not there. That is not for bathing.” She moved quickly, and Jane saw her yank on a bell cord. “Alina will take you to be bathed.”
“So be it,” he replied evenly as the servant appeared. She must have been standing outside the door. “I won’t be long.” There was such promise in his voice that Jane shivered inside, her heart jolting with anticipation and apprehension. “I intend to make the most of this one night.”
No sooner had he walked from the room, leaving a trail of clothing behind him, than Zenovia was on the bed, and had taken Jane by her two arms, her fingers digging into her skin. She brought her face up close to hers, her eyes boring into Jane’s. “If I hear one sigh…one squeak of lust from you…one tiny little moan coming from you because of him, you’ll wish you’d never been born. Do you understand? You take pleasure from me, and only from me, Jane. Now and forever. You are truly mine now, do you understand?”
Jane couldn’t think, for her heart was thudding so hard and her body was already keyed up, hot and trembling, ready for what was to come. It would be impossible—impossible—for her not to respond to Akenov. Just the sight of his bare, sculpted torso, the glitter in his eyes…that alone had made her body go soft and hot and wet. She had no control over that…none.
“Do you understand?” Zenovia hissed, her face very close to Jane’s.
“Yes,” she whispered, knowing it was a lie. Knowing the inevitable: that she would be punished for failing to obey, that Zenovia would then make her miserable even as she demanded and dragged pleasure from her.
“That
’s my lovely,” Zenovia said, then covered Jane’s mouth with hers. It was a rough kiss, an arrogant and possessive one that took her breath away. It wasn’t pleasurable for Jane as the woman’s hard mouth molded to her, for there was desperation in Zenovia’s touch. Even fear, perhaps.
As the kiss went on, Jane couldn’t breathe, and Zenovia pushed her hard into the bed, her solid, sleek body heavy on top of hers. She squeezed her breast, roughly fondling her nipple as she devoured Jane with her mouth.
After far too long, after Jane’s vision began to shimmer and cloud, Zenovia at last pulled away to look down at her slave. One hand rested flat on the top of Jane’s chest, and the other slid between her legs.
No, Jane wanted to say, her eyes closing even as her body tightened and flushed with anticipation. No, please, let me rest… But of course she couldn’t; she dared not—and even if she did beg, Zenovia would never listen. And so when those demanding fingers found her wetness, the swollen folds down there between her legs, she merely closed her eyes and succumbed to the woman’s touch. Just let it be over quickly, she thought.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes to me,” Zenovia said sharply, and thrust two fingers up inside Jane with a hard shove.
Jane gasped at the pain and pleasure, and her eyes flew open as demanded. Zenovia was looking down at her, her own gaze hard as flint and just as cold.
“How dare you close yourself off from me, you damp, clinging little cunt,” she said, and thrust again. Harder, faster, her thumb pushing down sharply on the top of Jane’s little pearl.
She cried out as lust, laced with pain, shot through her. Zenovia ground her thumb down onto her clit, making tight, hard circles over the tiny little nub as Jane gasped and moaned, trying to free herself from the sensation. She heard the sounds of her juices, slick and wet, the slap and suction noise when Zenovia moved, thrusting her fingers inside and pushing deep and hard.
It was a rough moment, a dark and hard rise of lust, one she fought for and fought against at the same time. It hurt, it was hot, and violent—and yet her nipples were tight and she was drenched with readiness, and she felt that familiar rise toward the hot red peak—
And then the next thing Jane knew, just before she’d managed to find pleasure inside the realm of darkness and pain, Zenovia pulled away. She was looking down at her with a strange expression: one of apprehension, and perhaps affrontedness or even speculation. Jane was too weary to discern what it was.
“I think…perhaps…yes,” Zenovia murmured to herself.
Jane lay there, throbbing and pulsing from the dark taunting that had not culminated in any sort of release. She dared not move, dared not speak as her mistress looked down at her. Dear God, was she truly her mistress now? Never. Even without Zaren, she would never stay with this woman.
“I will wring every bit of pleasure from you, my love,” Zenovia muttered, spreading Jane’s legs wide. “And you’ll be nothing but a limp rag for that man and his prick.” Then she moved up and pulled Jane’s arms above her head. With a soft clink, she attached the brass cuffs around Jane’s wrists to each other, then affixed them to a heavy chain at the wall.
Then, looking down at her captive, Zenovia dragged off her own tunic, baring her solid, powerful body, generous teardrop breasts, and the cropped corn-silk bush that grew between her legs.
Jane’s heart thudded with anticipation and apprehension, for the expression in the woman’s eyes was feral and a bit mad. She dragged her hands down over Jane’s upthrust breasts, then levered herself forward to take a hard nipple into her mouth.
The warm, wet lips closed over the sensitive peak, and Jane couldn’t control a sharp intake of breath. Pleasure streaked down, sharp into her belly and lower, as Zenovia licked and sucked roughly, but cunningly. She knew precisely how to draw her nipple taut and long; she knew the way to tease her tongue over its sensitive tip, and how to swirl around it and flick fast and hard, and then to suck and suck until Jane thrashed and arched and moaned.
Lust built as Zenovia’s hot mouth continued its torture, moving from one breast to the other, leaving each nipple standing tall and hard and moist in turn. Throbbing and shivering.
When Jane thought she might scream from the frustration, Zenovia at last pulled away and eased up along her body. Holding herself up on one elbow, she bent down and captured Jane’s mouth with her fierce one once more, kissing and biting and scoring her with her teeth, swiping and stroking with her tongue. Jane twisted, choking and sobbing, unable to breathe, as tears streamed from her eyes even as she arched and shivered, waiting for more. Waiting for Zenovia to give her the pleasure she’d promised.
When strong, deft fingers slid down between her spread legs, Jane moaned beneath the mouth covering hers, her tongue tangling wildly with her lover’s. She shivered when Zenovia’s fingers breached her dripping opening, and cried into her mouth when they slipped inside.
Zenovia pulled away, her eyes dark and hot, piercing Jane’s gaze as she thrust her fingers deep inside, once, twice, thrice…found her little pearl and touched it—and then suddenly Jane exploded with pent-up desire. She cried out, her arms yanking ineffectively at their bonds as she came, the relief and heat roaring through her like the breaking of a dam.
Yes, yes, yes.
Panting, she lay there as Zenovia continued to fondle her, to slide her fingers around and tease her with their slick, smooth, demanding strokes. She mumbled a plea for rest, but her lover gave her none and Jane closed her eyes, waiting for the familiar build once more as her body responded to the expert touch. Stroke, slide, tease, nudge…over and over, mercilessly, slickly, sensually.
And when she was twitching and moaning once again, Zenovia slid her fingers deep inside…two of them deeply, no, three…no…four…
Jane’s eyes flew open as she felt the pressure there as Zenovia pushed…and pushed…her hand—her whole hand—hard and massive, stretching her, pushing and filling her as she’d never been filled before. A full fist, shoving inside her, easing through, breaching her soaking pussy, slipping and sliding and so very full and wide and deep.
Jane choked and gasped, her body flushing with fire and lust as Zenovia watched her, holding her eyes without a flicker—deep and dark and filled with her own lust as her hand moved completely inside Jane.
“Oh, yes,” she murmured, pushing up into her with that curled hand, hard and strong and sure…and then she began moving in and out, just a little movement—rocking, rocking—just enough that Jane thought she would shatter.
Thrust, rock, thrust. Each movement jolted her entire body, pushed at the very corners of her insides. Jane felt it all the way up and inside her: every little movement, every hard thrust, each gentle flex of fingers, broadening the reach, pressing on all of her pleasure points.
The sensation was so intense she couldn’t breathe. She was drenched with juices and sweat; she could only pant, her arms clinking above her head, her eyes wide as the lust stole over her, so deep and sharp and all-consuming that she knew she would die when she came. Jane knew her heart would stop, that her body would explode, and it would be the end of her.
“Come with me,” Zenovia said, her voice tight with lust. Her hand, that entire appendage, moved deeper and harder now—thrust, thrust, thrust!—as she fucked Jane long and slow as if to prolong the pleasure, the torture.
Jane was sobbing as she rode on her lover’s fist, as that bunched-up hand punched her insides, punched and rocked and ground, ever so deeply. Tears soaked the bedding, and she begged for Zenovia to stop, begged her to let her come, and the thrusts became faster now, faster, and all at once a red light ripped through her, from her insides up and out, tearing through her torso as she came with a hoarse scream.
She screamed, thrashed, arched as the orgasm destroyed her. There was nothing left but her body, shuddering and trembling, wet and fiery and limp. Still impaled on that brutal fist, Jane lay there, gasping and sobbing, unable to move, unable to think.
When Zenovia moved in
side her once again, Jane’s eyes bolted open…but relief swept her as, with a wry, triumphant smile, her lover merely withdrew her hand: glistening with Jane’s juices, reeking of musk, powerful in its complete and utter conquest.
“I will teach you how to do the same for me,” Zenovia said, holding Jane’s eyes as she brought her hand up to smell it. “And you’ll love giving it as much as receiving.”
No, never, Jane thought, a shudder of revulsion catching her. Fortunately, Zenovia didn’t seem to notice, for at that moment, Akenov swished through the silken draperies.
“I see you’ve begun without me,” he said, his eyes settling lustfully on Jane’s sprawled, wide-legged body. “So let us not waste any time.”
— III —
Jane couldn’t tear her eyes away as Akenov stripped off the thin white cloth around his waist.
He was beautiful, with tanned skin the color of honey, soft, curling dark brown hair, and shoulders and a torso as muscular as Zaren’s. Akenov had a dark patch of hair on his chest and another on his belly, and his cock thrust boldly from yet another bush of wiry hair.
Jane’s mouth watered at the sight of his tool, for it was thick and long, and its head thrust forward in a tumescent, greedy purple. Thick veins decorated the length of his cock, and something wet and shiny glistened at the tip.
“Enough!” Zenovia cried, and slapped Jane across one breast, making her sensitive nipple tingle sharply. “You are here merely for window dressing, my darling slave—not for ogling.” Her eyes were hard and dark and her jaw was set as she yanked Jane’s wrists from their moorings against the wall.
Akenov watched with hot interest as Zenovia took the chain that was affixed to Jane’s wrist cuffs and stood to string it from a metal hoop that hung from the ceiling over the center of the bed. When she pulled the chain tight, Jane’s arms rose above her head and the chain sagged loosely.
“Kneel,” ordered Zenovia, pointing to a place near the end of the bed. Once Jane was in position, Zenovia tightened the chain so that her slave’s arms were upright above her head, and then she adjusted Jane’s position so that her knees were wide, and her swollen, wet quim nearly rested on the bed. Jane realized that while in this position, no one could touch, taste, or fuck her in the place where she would desire it the most.
Enraptured Page 2
