“When I take you, my love, you’ll be begging me to do it.”
His words spoke to my inner wanton that I didn’t even know existed and I found myself pulling him down to my body. He laughed and complied, crawling atop me and straddling my hips. I groaned with the heaviness of his body, which I was not used to. From his position on me, I could feel the hardness of his masculinity pressing tight against my naked sex, and I couldn’t help but arch my body against it. He jokingly scolded me for being so impatient and rolled backward slightly. My fingertips tugged at the fabric of his tunic. I wanted to see his body as he was seeing me.
When he disrobed fully, I blushed so hot I had to look away. Of course I’d seen his chest and such many times, but when my eyes traveled to the more secretive places, I couldn’t stop my eyes from nearly bugging out of my head. I just couldn’t help it. I reached out with tentative fingertips to feel the steeled muscle beneath his skin. His breath hitched and I felt a rush of satisfaction. It gave me such a feeling of power, so I did it again, this time becoming bolder by brushing my fingertips over the muscles in his belly and lower. He made a little growling noise and grabbed my hand. At first I thought I had done something wrong, but he pressed my palm tighter against his skin and guided it lower.
“Touch me,” he whispered, and I did.
I couldn’t believe it. Every part of him was as hard as I am soft. He said nothing, but taught me how to touch and stroke at his sex until he groaned and pushed me away. Again, I thought I had made some silly error, but he assured me that I was doing everything correctly. Too much even.
I arched my body again, instinctively wanting to rub my center against his. His expression darkened as he ran his hand down the front of my body, pausing to let his fingers brush each nipple. He sat on his knees between my legs, looking down at me as if I were some conquered prey. He leaned over, placing light kisses on my belly as his hands caressed my breasts. His tongue felt so warm and moist against my skin that I broke out in gooseflesh all over my body, almost shivering. I reached down to draw my fingertips through his hair, but he took my hand, kissing my wrist and pressing it down beside me on the bed. He planted little kisses over my navel and breathed warmly over the soft line that led to the apex of my thighs.
I sat up, alarmed, when I realized what he had in mind. He smiled up at me wickedly. “Stop,” he purred, and I obeyed, lying back down on the bed, cradled in the pillows. I closed my eyes, not knowing what was going to happen next. And then I felt his breath against the inside of my thigh. I bit my lip, telling myself to be brave to this new experience. I could feel the gentle tickling of his eyelashes as they brushed against the sensitive flesh around my sex. And then it happened. He planted a kiss against the opening of my sex, taking those tiny lips between his as if it were my mouth. I gasped and involuntarily arched my back against him. He calmed my thrashing with a heavy hand on my pelvic bone, pressing me down against the coverlet. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I knew that I didn’t want it to stop. More of those tiny little caresses had me panting, nearly ready to beg as he had predicted. Then I felt his fingertips replacing his mouth, pinching the little lips until they were swollen with blood. I wanted to cry out, but I didn’t think it would be very ladylike. The sneaky little fingertips became gentler, teasing the little petals apart until I felt that I was splayed open wide enough for him to see into my body. He made a little noise in his throat that sounded like ultimate satisfaction as he found his destination.
His tongue found the tiny nub of flesh that I myself had teased tentatively in the bath. But it was nothing in comparison to Cianan’s manipulations of it. He pulled the little bud between his teeth and I nearly screamed with the pleasure of it. I felt an intense pressure lying heavy over my middle and it started to burn hot, so hot that I found myself opening my legs farther in an attempt to cool them. Cianan leaned back so that I could see his face again. He looked so hungry, like an animal that wanted to devour me completely. But there was also restraint there. He was going to keep his promise to go slow and give me pleasure.
I sat up on my elbows so that I could watch as he petted the hood of my sex. Every touch and caress was almost too much. His fingertips were at my center again, and he used them deftly to tap at the swollen button again, each gentle blow making me cry out. Then, he slid his fingertip into me slowly. I gasped and he asked if he’d hurt me. I said no and he continued, pawing just inside the opening, letting me get used to the new sensation. When I began to groan with need, he pushed it inside a little farther, letting me move against his hand at my own pace. He asked again if I was all right, and when I nodded, I felt him press another finger inside. I did cry out this time, and he slowed a little. The opening of my sex was so narrow, but it was as if he were using some kind of evil magic to relax my body. As soon as I was comfortable, he began to slide the insistent little fingers deeper inside, moving in a slow rhythm that made the pressure and burning at my center more intense. It was only a matter of moments before I couldn’t control my body any longer. I must have looked such a fright as I thrashed against the bed, calling out his name into the dark forest around us.
Sascha cried out, barely aware that she was clutching the pillow tight against her center. As she read the details of Bella’s first climax, she was gasping her way through her own. How she had lost herself in the pages of such a private memoir, she could not say. She blushed as she realized that she had been there with them, Cianan touching her as he had touched Lady Bella so many years ago. His hands, now so rough and violent, had been so gentle, so loving. She blushed again and felt silly as she thought how she could fall in love with the Lord Marek between those pages.
As her breathing slowed and her mind cleared a little, she was utterly ashamed at how she had stolen these private thoughts. Spying on them like a mischievous chambermaid. There were no two ways about it. She had to return the journal to the library.
Rising from the bed, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wild. “Get a hold of yourself, Sascha,” she scolded. Smoothing her gown into place and slipping the journal into her sleeve, she started out the door.
When she stepped into the corridor, the house was silent. She peered back and forth to be sure she wouldn’t be seen. Feeling safe, she slowly pulled the door closed behind her, tensing as it creaked noisily. She padded down the hall, praying that she was going the right way in the dark. A dim light up ahead led her toward the staircase. “Just a short trip to the library to put you back where you belong and no one will be the wiser,” she whispered to herself.
Just as she rounded the corner to descend the stairs, she noticed Anya standing on the landing below. With a panicked gasp, she pressed herself against the wall, hoping she hadn’t been seen. She couldn’t risk anyone knowing about the stolen journal. After a few moments, she realized that Anya hadn’t seen her and she backed slowly up the stairs. “Now what am I going to do?” She sighed, slipping back into her room. She supposed she could wait for Anya to leave, but to do that would mean risking another trip down the hallway. And next time she might run into Lord Marek, which would be infinitely worse.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the wall tapestry by her bed moving slightly as if caught by a draft from the opening door. Upon closer inspection, she noticed a small door by the bedside that she hadn’t noticed before. It was standing slightly ajar and she could see a narrow hallway behind it. Of course, a secret passageway. Castles were full of them. That must be how Lord Marek had entered her room the night before. Perhaps it was a way to get downstairs discreetly.
“Well. Only one way to find out.” Re-situating the book and grabbing the candle from the bedside, she tiptoed into the hidden corridor.
****
Cianan’s eyes were glazed and unseeing under the haze of whiskey. And he didn’t care. He was only vaguely aware of Neesa on her knees before him, tangling her fingers in the laces of his leggings. If it made her happy to suck his cock, so be i
t. He’d never been prudish in accepting the advances of women. Taking pleasure in their unattached entanglements was fine so long as they expected nothing of him. Cianan had been alone so long now that the thought of taking a woman to his bed for anything but a meaningless roll had become a long-forgotten habit.
That was, until now. Until Sascha. Beguiling and infuriating Sascha. She was so much like Bella, only she lacked the fire of one who had been loved unconditionally. If only she knew how she’d been loved. He’d watched her all these long years, waiting for her to come into herself, knowing who she was, but having to stand in the background and let her life unfold. That restraint fueled the rage he needed for the changing.
He groaned audibly as Neesa slid her delicate hand into the opening of his leggings, seeking out his cock. She closed her fingers around him and stroked lazily, purring in satisfaction. Her large, almond eyes stared with fascination as the swollen member in her hands pulsed with hot blood. With purposeful hands, she freed the turgid flesh from its prison of woven thread. The sharp contrast of her sun-kissed complexion against his pale skin was arousing in itself. He watched her fingers move expertly against him, knowing exactly where to touch, how much pressure to apply. She bowed her head slightly, breathing warm, moist air over his overheated sex. He could feel his skin crawling with goose bumps that made every tiny hair on his body stand straight like a beacon of sensation. He made a silent prayer that he could keep the animal away. Maintaining control was the most important thing. He bit down on his lip, the pain making him focus. He could already feel the burning beneath his skin.
“Relax, Lord Marek,” Neesa purred, pushing her mass of black curls away from her rounded face. “I don’t bite.”
Marek had to bite his lip harder, this time to keep from laughing out loud. With a mischievous smile, her head dipped low, taking only the tip of his cock between her lips. Her tongue swirled seductively against it, teasing the tiny opening.
“Unless of course, you ask me to,” she finished, pulling back and letting her hair tickle at the exposed skin.
He wanted to protest as she drew him into her mouth again, taking several inches inside. After a moment of playful teasing, he tired of her game and tangled his fingers into the curls at the nape of her neck, guiding her head back and forth. He groaned deeply in his throat, closing his eyes and giving up to her ministrations. After a moment, she paused, panting with lust as she looked up at him.
“I can only hope you’re as eager in my cunt, my lord.”
“You’ll never know.” He growled, taking a handful of her hair and forcing her back to the issue at hand.
She whimpered softly, but obeyed. Cianan let his head fall to the side, lost in the sensations produced by Neesa’s tongue and teeth. Across the room, he could hear a strained mewling coming from the timid blonde thing, Vasilia. At first it appeared that the three of them were wrestling on the rug in front of the fire, but upon closer inspection, he saw that Ioin now lay flat on his back, Vasilia straddling his hips. His hands went to her sides, guiding her to impale herself on his impossibly hardened member. She groaned with satisfaction, settling herself atop him. Her small hands caressed her breasts, cupping and bouncing them for the amusement of her master.
“That’s it, girl.” Ioin hissed. “I want you to play with them like the dirty, little whore you are.” Vasilia moaned softly, pinching and pulling at her nipples until they stood at burning red attention. He laughed, gripping her hips so tightly that Cianan could already see the bruises forming in tiny, round circles at the corners of her pelvis. “I’m not certain she’s quite mastered this lesson,” Ioin chuckled, looking back at Kali. “Show her.”
Kali was quick to oblige, crawling into the mix eagerly. She stopped to lean over, kissing Ioin obscenely, shoving her tongue into his mouth with a violent hunger. She then crawled atop him to kiss Vasilia fully on the mouth. The girls’ lips moved together sensually, their tongues mingling playfully to the excitement of both men.
Cianan couldn’t help but groan audibly at the sight.
Neesa peered up at him, smiling at his lustful fascination with their games. “That one is a beast,” she commented, nodding toward Kali. “Though she has the face of an angel.”
He was mesmerized by the steady undulation of Kali’s hips against Ioin’s chest. He kneaded her buttocks with vigorous abandon as she moaned softly, pushing her hips backward to tease him further. Then she leaned down to flick the tip of her tongue over Vasilia’s swollen nipples. The younger girl let out a high-pitched groan as Kali’s fingertips found the nipple and squeezed brutally, twisting it nearly around her tiny fingertip as if it were a lock of hair. Kali purred in delight and soothed the little nub with her lips, drawing it between her teeth and rolling it gently. Ioin worked his hand under her ass, sliding the pads of his fingers along Kali’s sex, which only made her more determined to tease Vasilia. The smaller girl cradled her slave sister’s head against her chest as she rolled her hips in time to Ioin’s shallow thrusting.
Cianan’s eyes flashed with the red fire that always warned of the impending change. His hands were rough as he pushed Neesa’s head back down, forcing her to submit. She took him into her mouth again, but this time, he was less than passive. Gripping the back of her head with both hands, he pushed himself farther in until his cock nudged at the back of her throat. She made a soft whimper, and Cianan could tell she was surprised at his sudden violence, but he didn’t care. He fucked her mouth as he would her sex, pushing and pulling until she had no choice but to indulge him. He closed his eyes, knowing that it would be over soon, and concentrated on keeping the changing at bay. His breath came in heavy gasps that echoed off the walls around them. In his mind’s eye, he could see Isabella’s generous mouth caressing his sex and for a moment, when he looked down again at Neesa, he could almost believe it. Her face was the only thing that kept the beast from taking over.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cianan detected movement in the shadows. At first he was sure that it was only an alcohol induced hallucination, but like the wolf, his vision was sharp. He sat up a little, drawing a small sound from Neesa. His eyes narrowed as he looked again, trying to find the source of the movement.
“Are you all right, my lord?” Neesa asked.
He didn’t respond, but leaned back, pushing the girl’s head back down over his cock, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched. He succeeded easily, animal lust taking over. He growled with a near inhuman timbre, digging his fingers into the back of Neesa’s head, using her without guilt or hesitation. He felt every muscle in his body tense, the tiny hairs along the edge of his hairline standing up. Unable to resist any longer, he came fast, almost before he could process what was happening. Neesa gave a satisfied moan, catching every drop of the pearly liquid on her tongue. His vision started to clear as he glanced across the room. He rubbed his eyes, seeing the movement again as he began to focus.
“Sascha,” he whispered as her face came into view. With a gentle push of his boot, he pushed Neesa aside and quickly rearranged himself back inside his clothes.
****
Sascha realized that her spying had been found out, and she stood paralyzed with fear behind the small door. As he came toward her, she was trying to move, but her legs were like immoveable tree trunks. His eyes were locked on her so intently that he ran into a side table, throwing a vase and candlestick to the floor. The clattering snapped Sascha out of her terror and she turned to run back down the hallway.
“God damn it,” Cianan cursed, stalking to the door and throwing it open wide to stare down the empty corridor. All was dark and she was obviously gone.
Ioin laughed behind him, making his skin prickle dangerously. “Our little slave spying, huh?”
“Shut it, Ioin,” Cianan said, his voice gravelly with contained rage.
He stepped into the corridor a little way, using his heightened senses to catch if her scent was close. Only a shade of her was left behind, the lingering scent of her perfum
e and sweat. He stepped back toward the room, stumbling briefly over some object on the floor. Reaching down, he took up the mysterious object, quickly recognizing it as a leather-bound book. He walked back into the room, barely noticing Vasilia’s shrieks of completion coming from the corner. He ran his palm over the smooth leather, turning the book over and tracing the embossed rose with a nervous fingertip. He’d seen this book before.
“Isabella,” he whispered, putting the book to his nose and inhaling deeply. The subtle scent of sunbaked leather and jasmine perfume permeated his senses, blocking out everything.
Ioin stood up, delivering a slight nudge to Vasilia’s shoulder with his foot and leaving the Syban to entertain themselves. “What’s that?” he asked, pulling his shirt around his frame.
“Something I was certain had been lost,” Cianan replied, his voice far away. Before the other man could see, he clutched the book to his chest, hiding it. “How would Sascha have found it?”
“She’s an undisciplined little slave whore, just like every other.” Ioin sighed. “I told you she’d be trouble if you didn’t take control.”
“And I told you that I didn’t need your help in dealing with my slave,” Cianan answered, an edge of danger tingeing his words. His puzzlement was quickly turning to rage at such a violation of his privacy. Her privacy. Those were Isabella’s thoughts. Thoughts that even he had not been privy to. He’d forgotten that journal even existed, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember.
“See, I think you do, old friend. I think you’re blinded by that little one’s beauty and it’s made you soft. Don’t think I haven’t noticed her resemblance to Isabella.”
Cianan balled his fists at his sides, staring him down. “Be careful, Ioin.”
“I’m just suggesting that you take this situation in hand before it gets the better of you.” Cianan pushed past him with a forceful bump of his shoulder and made his way toward the door. “But if you’d like someone to take her off your hands…” Ioin called behind him as he slammed the door.
Beast of Burden Page 8
