Enraptured

by Gale, Colette

  That was one way to keep Akenov from taking what Zenovia did not wish to share. But it wasn’t a foolproof way—for why did her mistress not replace the crotch shield over Jane if she intended to be certain?

  No sooner had she formed the thought than Zenovia was there—this time, with the little brass cup and its delicate gold chains. Obediently, Jane rose up on her knees as her mistress affixed it into place.

  “Let’s get on with it,” Zenovia said, turning to Akenov—who’d not taken his attention from Jane.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, his eyes glittering. “Not like that. You gave only one restriction, and I intend to hold you to it.”

  “But—” Zenovia strangled off the word when she saw the small knife in Akenov’s hand. It glinted in the light, just below her throat.

  “We must play fair, my gracious concubine,” he said dryly. “And you were a fool to send me away to bathe—for it gave me the opportunity to bring along my own insurance that you will keep your word.”

  “How dare you,” Zenovia breathed. She stepped back from the dagger’s reach and groped for the bellpull, but Akenov was faster.

  “No,” he said, snatching her wrist in midair. His darker fingers closed around Zenovia’s golden skin and he looked at her, eye to eye. They appeared, for a moment, like two powerful, muscular men facing each other in hand-to-hand combat. Jane’s eyes were glued to their lean, strong figures—one dark, made of all hard angles, and sprinkled with hair, the other the color of moonlight swathed with the brush of a curve at breast, arse, and hip.

  Akenov spoke as he forced Zenovia’s arm down—but she was strong enough that he moved it only a trifle. “You need not call for help. I have no intention of using this…as long as you abide by our arrangement. It’s just a reminder that you aren’t quite as in control as you thought.”

  The two of them glared at each other, loathing and disgust snapping between them, and at last Zenovia nodded. Jane could very nearly hear her teeth grinding with fury. “I will remove the shield,” she said, “but you will relinquish the weapon to my servants—placing us back on even ground.”

  “Agreed.” Akenov smiled with a flash of white teeth and a charming dimple. “It is no more than I expected you to demand, and I am agreeable. But…you must allow me to do the honors first.” He released Zenovia and looked at Jane. His gaze, which had been cold and fearsome only moments earlier, was now hot and lustful. “I believe it is only fair.”

  Jane shivered, unable to control her reaction as he moved toward her, still holding the knife. She felt his eyes scorch her as they slid over her, from the messy braid of copper-gold hair that clung to her damp skin, to her tight, perked-up breasts, to the small brass decoration cupping her from front to back—just above where she rested on the bed.

  The chains at her wrists and three slender ones around her waist clinked softly as she trembled, and she swallowed hard, trying unsuccessfully to pull her eyes from his penetrating black ones.

  When he approached and slid the knife beneath the delicate moorings that held the quim cup in place, Jane heard Zenovia’s hissed intake of breath. She dared not look at her mistress, and hardly dared to look anywhere but at the sharp, lethal blade that pressed cold against her flesh.

  “It would be a shame for such flawless skin to be injured,” Akenov said lightly as he moved Jane’s braid from off her shoulder. “I bid you make no sudden movements—either of you—for it would be a tragedy if my hand were to slip.”

  Jane’s heart beat faster, and her breathing was so unsteady she felt the dagger blade jolting against her skin even though he hadn’t moved. She wasn’t afraid of being cut so much as being unable to control her reaction to this man, whose very presence seemed to ensorcel her body and mind. It was as if her body cried out to be touched by him.

  “You bastard,” Zenovia breathed from behind him. “I will have you sent to the deep mines for this.”

  Akenov didn’t bother to look at her. “Ah, but it will have been worth it, my lady concubine. To have had this.”

  “I’ll kill you,” promised Zenovia.

  “No you won’t. But why do you not simply watch…and enjoy,” he suggested smoothly. “You might find it more pleasurable than you imagine. I promise I won’t hurt her if you behave, Zenovia. You have my word.”

  He returned his attention to Jane and slid the knife down around the front of the three little chains around her waist, positioning its tip down inside the front of the cup. The flat side of the blade was pressed very tightly against Jane’s pubis, and unbelievably, she felt her flesh gathering up: tightening and swelling in immediate, erotic response behind the knife.

  She closed her eyes, swallowing, praying he didn’t mean to hurt her there…yet even despite the proximity of danger and pain, a little unwelcome throb began to twinge there in her tight, hooded little pip… Please, it seemed to say. This is exciting.

  Jane felt Akenov move: the bed shifted as he came up on to it next to her, that knife blade still in the most precarious of positions, the heat of his body close and the hair of his thighs brushing lightly against her. She kept her eyes closed as he moved next to her, her breathing shockingly shallow and rough as she hung from the ceiling by her wrists. She felt him looking at her, felt the lightest touch of fingers brushing over her skin, along the exposed underside of one raised arm, down along the side of her torso—light and quick, making her skin tighten and prickle while an unpleasant shivery sensation washed over her.

  She shifted, trying to free herself from the tickling and unable to stand the light, irritating touch—yet acutely aware of the heavy metal blade pressing against her below. Jane felt it shift, and then the edge of it touched the inside of her thigh. She gasped, stiffening with fear…and yet became alive with desire and curiosity. How could this be?

  Akenov laughed softly and murmured something in a tone that made the hair on her arms lift sensually. The blade moved a trifle, and she felt it slide into an impossible position: slipping in the narrow space between her quim and the golden shield that protected her. He’d replaced the cup with his knife blade, and there it sat—cupping her gently, but very decisively.

  Jane gave a soft, agonized sob as she realized how precarious her position was, and for the first time actually wanted Zenovia back. She almost called out for her mistress, but suddenly a hot, wet mouth closed over her breast.

  Her eyes flew open just as slow, smooth jolts of pleasure shot through her as he licked the hard thrust of her nipple—lazily, sensually. Oh God, she dared not move because of the knife on which she rode…but the sensation was delicious. Titillating and erotic, drawing wave after wave of pleasure up through her body…but she dared not move.

  She looked down. His head was there, just below her chin, and that threatening knife still held her hostage—for she was literally resting on the flatness of its blade. She bit her lip and shuddered, forcing herself to hold perfectly still as his mouth became busier and rougher: slick tongue, nipping teeth, sensual lips—taking and sucking as her lust battled with the sharp danger on which she perched.

  When he moved away from her breast with a loud, sensual pop, and began to trail light kisses and gentle, feathery licks down her dancing belly, Jane was no longer able to control a moan…nor a delicate shiver. This softer, more sensual approach was something she’d been missing here in Zenovia’s court—where her mistress had been determined to wring every bit of pleasure from her in a rough, demanding manner. Thus, now, Jane couldn’t stop the rush of eroticism that heated her, the wetness that dripped onto the blade beneath her. She was so hot and juicy and full, she almost pressed herself harder down onto it, just for the release. She caught herself just before she did so, horrified and titillated at the same time.

  “Very nice,” he murmured in the proximity of her navel, and she felt his warm hand move to the base of her back, just above the swell of her arse. His fingers slipped inside the chain that fit into the crack of her buttocks and down inside to find the
slick, swollen place shielded by the small saucer and the flat of the dagger.

  Jane held her breath as he caressed her arsehole from behind, working around the cup and knife. His breath was warm on her skin, just above the chains that held her shield in place.

  She tightened and flexed her hips backward when his questing fingers found the tiny flower-petal hole, then slipped a long digit deep inside…sliding in, then out, moving just in front of the tip of the knife. She was full and hot, shaken by the intense sensations surrounding her: the finger in her arse, well past a knuckle or two; the hard, unyielding metal blade on which she dripped; the awareness of Akenov’s beautiful body and the image of his ready cock so close to her; the numbness of her upraised, imprisoned arms…and the knowledge that Zenovia watched. And waited.

  What would she do to her?

  Jane struggled to keep her mind blank, to ignore the whirl of eroticism that teased her every sense. But as Akenov’s finger moved in and out, deep and demanding, his fingers gripping the soft flesh of her arse, and she realized how badly she wanted to move, how much she needed to move, to feel—and how important it was that she dared not move—she could not hold back. She twitched and shivered, still fighting it, and Akenov chuckled softly. And he eased back up to capture her nipple once more—but this time, he caught it between sharp teeth so he could flicker his tongue over the tip as his finger plunged deep into her arsehole…and out…and in…

  Jane moaned and lost all sense as a different sort of pleasure gathered deep inside her—dark and harsh and tortured—and she could do nothing but hang from her wrists…impaled, precariously enthroned, and overcome by lust.

  “Please,” she managed to whisper, shaking and terrified as a hot roll of eroticism rushed down over her, then began to build. She was going to come, and she was going to move—and she couldn’t stop herself from the danger, for the pleasure was too good. Too great. She held on, trying somehow to raise herself above the knife blade, lifting her body with numb, weak arms as she fought the onslaught of sensation: at her breast, behind her, below her, against her…

  And then, as he thrust his finger once more deep inside her budlike hole and pushed, twisted, pumped: she came—sudden and loud and quick. Her cry was loud and fearful, for she couldn’t control the shudders that racked her body and twisted her hips with the hard-fought release…but there was no pain. Only great pleasure.

  She realized through the fog of receding lust that the knife blade hadn’t cut her after all, that he must have moved it…pulled it free at just the right moment. She sobbed with relief and let her arms relax, sagging onto her knees on the bed from aching wrists as she tried to come back to herself.

  She dared not open her eyes, for she knew what she would see: Zenovia’s fury, Akenov’s lust, and the fact that this was only the beginning of the night.

  Instead, she hung, panting, shaking, still throbbing and wet, still bound and chained and cupped. Still under the control of the knife and Akenov—surely to Zenovia’s fury.

  Jane was still sobbing when Akenov’s powerful fingers closed over her chin and forced her mouth to his. His lips covered hers: soft and hard as he forced her mouth open, his tongue plunging deep and strong like a demanding cock, sweeping inside her mouth, tangling with her own, slick and hot—almost lovingly.

  She was aware, too, beneath the kiss, of the ever-present knife, now pressed against the base of her back as Akenov drained her of breath and thought while the dagger slid over her skin, back and forth, as if to provide the constant reminder of danger.

  And then he pulled away from the kiss, easing back. His free hand moved between them, and she heard the softest of rattles…then the chains around her waist began to fall away. The golden saucer slid from its moorings, the chains easing down her thighs like soft fingers, and Jane was free. Cool air eased her hot, confined nether lips, and she felt a rush of sensation flooding there, swelling and filling her at the center of her lust. It was as if her body was asking for more—asking to be stroked and licked and pleasured.

  Akenov pulled her body up against his rock-hard one. His free arm shifted, bringing the dagger blade to rest flat on the top of her shoulder, its edge only a hair’s breadth from slicing into her throat or her upraised arm. Jane felt the pulse in her throat leap and jolt next to the clean, cold metal, but even in the face of such danger, once again, she could not ignore the sensations Akenov drew from her.

  The rough, wiry hair on his chest teased her tortured, sensitive nipples, and his cock throbbed, a hot, unyielding rod against her delicate skin at the juncture of hip and thigh. She felt the sticky moisture from the burgeoning head of his tool, and what felt like searing heat emanating from its dark purple self. Jane trembled as his hand found her swollen labia, covering them and then exploring.

  His fingers were relentless and clever as they slipped and slid through her folds, up and around and against her little pip. She couldn’t fight back the delicious heat licking through her, and once again—much more easily this time, for she didn’t try to fight it—Jane came. She arched against Akenov as his fingers probed and flicked, deeper and faster, as she came and came…overcome with pleasure, vibrating against him but desperate to keep from moving the dangerous blade that danced along the top of her shoulder.

  One slip, one sharp movement and he’d cut her…and yet Jane couldn’t fight off the need for more… More from his hand, more pleasure, more heat…more slick, seeking fingers.

  He eased away then, removing the blade from its location next to her throat, and Jane blearily opened her eyes.

  There was Zenovia, standing there just behind Akenov, with a furious and tortured expression on her face. Jane was certain if the man in front of her were unarmed, her mistress would have killed him by now. Her eyes met Jane’s, and the black fury there—limned with jealousy and hurt—immediately killed any lingering pulses of lust.

  Akenov seemed to recognize this change, for he abruptly pulled away and turned to look at Zenovia. “Are we feeling left out, my lady concubine?” he asked. “I’m so sorry.” His tone was anything but, and he spoke briskly. “I was merely making a point—that there are some things even you can’t control. Besides, as you well know, I need all the encouragement I can get in order to fulfill the purpose for which I’ve come to you.” He gestured to his raging purple cock. “Your slave has easily done the trick.”

  Zenovia hissed in a sharp breath at the insult, then looked down at his ready tool, a sneer twisting her mouth. “I’ve no more desire for this than you, and even less now, you bastard. It’s only for the sake of my kingdom that I allow you this access.”

  “Then let us get on with the business of it,” he said, his eyes sliding back to Jane. “Once our duty is complete, I anticipate much more pleasure to come. But I’ve kept my promise, then—no harm has come to our lovely Jane. And see—I shall even dispose of my little friend here, now, Zenovia.” He brandished the dagger, then spun and strode briskly through the silken draperies. Jane heard the sound of a door opening beyond.

  “You disobeyed me,” Zenovia said, turning on Jane. “You will pay, my darling slave. You will pay dearly.” Her eyes glittered fanatically, and Jane’s stomach pitched with terror.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as her skin prickled under the harsh glare of her mistress. “Please…”

  “Oh, you’ll be begging me, there’s no doubt of that,” Zenovia spat, reaching out to tweak one of Jane’s nipples. She couldn’t hold back a squeak of pain, for the sensitive flesh was bright red and throbbing from all of its abuse. “You’ll die begging me.”

  The silk draperies parted and Akenov returned, his monstrous cock still at the ready and his knife absent. He spread his hands and turned around, clearly demonstrating by his sculpted body that he’d rid himself of the dagger. But he noticed the tension between the two women. “What is this? Are we displeased with our slave, then, my lady concubine?”

  “You need not concern yourself with what is between slave and mistre
ss,” Zenovia replied flatly. “Let us get on with the business at hand—for the sooner we do, the sooner I am done with you.”

  Akenov grinned. “But only for a six-month, my lady. Then I shall return. And perhaps…well, perhaps it will be sooner than that, as long as you have this enticing toy at hand.” He hefted one of Jane’s breasts, thumbing its burning nipple, then held up his hands when Zenovia began to bristle. “My lady, if you would just put yourself a bit at ease, you might see how the lovely Jane could actually make our business more enjoyable for both of us, no?”

  Zenovia’s fury ebbed slightly. “Perhaps you have a point there, Akenov. Still, remember our agreement—you are here to impregnate me and not my slave. Don’t waste your seed.”

  “There is plenty to go around,” he jested, sending Jane a private look that caused her insides to tighten with interest. “Now, let us be done with the talk. Bring your sheath hither, woman, and let me slide my sword within.”

  Zenovia muttered something, but she obviously knew her duty, for she moved onto the bed. It jounced and shifted when she climbed up next to her slave, tilting Jane toward her mistress.

  To her surprise, Zenovia took her face gently in her hands and kissed her with devotion, pressing her hard torso against Jane’s quivering one. Their breasts bumped and brushed, and she felt the jut of Zenovia’s hipbone pushing into her belly.

  Just when Jane was beginning to swim in lust once more, Zenovia pulled away and reached up to unfasten Jane’s wrists. Her arms all but fell to her sides once they were released, and Jane couldn’t hold back a moan of relief and pain as feeling returned to her numb arms in the form of strong prickles.

  But she wasn’t allowed any time to enjoy the relief, for Zenovia pulled her down onto the bed, shoving Jane’s face between her legs. “Prepare me for my lord concubine,” she ordered, thrusting her hips up toward Jane.