Heart of Darkness

by Jaide Fox

  “Do you mind awfully that I saw what happened?”

  “It is hardly thrilling for my worst moments to be on repeat inside your cycle of dreams, but seeing as there is little I can do, I shall endeavor to keep you occupied and so tired, that when you sleep your dreams are either of me or so deep because you're insensate. What do you say to that Isabeau Hart?”

  “Why Duke, I find your suggestion most pleasing,” she murmured, and meant every word. Isabeau did not want to know more. She already knew far too much about this intriguing and beguiling man!

  Instead of saying that though, she battered her eyelashes at him and laughed as he growled and swept down to capture her mouth and take her once more to the heavens they'd explored earlier.

  He rolled on top of her, kissing her with a voracious hunger, devouring her mouth as if his life depended upon it. Already, she could feel that delicious moisture creeping into the depths of her being, readying her for him. Her sex clenched on a spasm of pleasure, aching for fulfillment, for the delightful stretch of his manhood deep inside her.

  She kissed him just as eagerly, wanting and craving more.

  She stroked her hands up his massive arms, around his corded shoulders and back, reveling in the play of muscles that moved there. The hardness of his body enticed her, made her want to explore every inch of him.

  He gave a little gasp when she slid her hands around his sides and moved down the ripples of his belly, past the hard line of his hips. The lower she moved, the more tense he got, and she found she enjoyed the jerk of his flat stomach as her nails raked across his flesh.

  Wedging her hand between their hips, she laid hold of his cock, gripping it tightly. The moment her hand encircled his thickness, he groaned and twisted off of her, lying back on the bed.

  She smiled devilishly, and stroked his length, fascinated when a clear bead of liquid appeared from the hole at the tip. She leaned close and with a move that stunned herself with boldness, she snaked a tongue out and swiped it across the satiny flesh.

  He tasted salty, and she liked it.

  “You imp,” he ground out, fixed and still as she gave him a look that spoke volumes then decided to arouse him more.

  She found herself wanting to taste all of him, and held his shaft firmly, sinking the mushroom head into the depths of her mouth. He filled the moist space, making her choke slightly, but the sound of that made his hips buck beneath her.

  Pushing him down on the bed, trapping him with one delicate hand, she suckled his manhood. Her sex clenched enticingly at the power she held over him, the drugging look of passion that made him look half asleep as he gazed down at her ministrations with her mouth. She nearly came with just the heady look in his eyes. She swirled her tongue around him, her saliva running down his length to moisten her hand.

  Experimentally, she rubbed her tongue on the underside of the head, pleased when he groaned and grabbed the back of her head with tight fingers.

  “Gods, don’t stop with that wicked mouth of yours,” he said hoarsely.

  She smiled and hummed around him, then moved her hand in a twisting motion on his cock. Each move she made only seemed to make him harder, thicker in her mouth. She could do no wrong with him at the mercy of her mouth.

  A thrill raced through her, making the moisture of her body cream her sex, make her ache for fulfillment, but she found the anticipation and foreplay to be as entertaining as the act itself.

  He growled suddenly and sat up, dragging her across him. She broke from his manhood as he settled her above him, her bottom over his face and her knees around his head.

  Looking back at the erotic image of straddling his head, she was shocked when he grasped her buttocks, spread her nether lips wide, and his mouth locked onto her clitoris with a suddenness that nearly made her explode with intense lust.

  Wet heat spread through her body, making her tighten, her nerves alight with pleasure.

  She gasped and bent, taking him back into her mouth as he speared her tight hole with his hot, wet tongue.

  A moan tore from her throat. She sucked him hard, twisting her hands around his massive length, tears of pleasure dotting her eyes as he devoured her with his mouth.

  He swept up her cleft, teasing her lips. His chin rubbed her clit, the stubble of his jaw scraping the sensitive flesh racketed up the intense sensation. She bucked against him, but was held captive by his rough, huge hands tight on her cheeks. His fingers rubbed the underside of each cheek, her thighs, pushing her far apart so that he could enjoy her to the fullest.

  Blood pounded in her veins and that hard little nub. Her nipples rasped against his hard lower belly and the hair that trailed there like an arrow to his groin. She rubbed herself sensuously against him, enjoying everything that she could. The taste of him, his heat, his mouth on her sex.

  He nudged her puckered anus with a nibble of his lips, and the movement shocked her. She stiffened, then jerked when he swiped his tongue across the forbidden area, moving hand to rub her wetness on the tight bud of her anus.

  She tore her mouth from his length on a gasp, her hands still gripping him tight.

  “I would taste everything,” he said, his voice muffled from behind.

  A shudder rippled through her when he tongued her bottom and lapped it with tickling motions. She did not think that he could have done anything to increase her excitement more than he already had, but having him in such a forbidden area made a hard spasm tighten her belly.

  “You drive me mad,” she groaned.

  He released her and pushed her off of him. She twisted around until they were face to face again. “You started this,” he said.

  She arched back into the pillows, tasting and smelling of him. He moved between her soaked thighs, spreading her lips with his fingers and replacing them with his engorged erection.

  Grasping her hips, he slid the length of his thick cock against her jerkily, evoking a myriad of sinful shivers to rake her body.

  “Don’t tease me so, Wolfe,” she begged, raking her nails along his shoulders and back.

  He groaned and gave a push, and the thick head of his cock glided inside her wet, willing channel with slow, torturous movement.

  She could feel every thick vein that wrapped around his long girth.

  She bit her lip, whimpering as he settled ever so slowly in her depths. She clutched him with the snug grip of her cunny, tension building inside her with his precise moves.

  Wolfe sucked a spot on her neck, drawing her hips tight against him with powerful hands, then pulling back before thrusting deep within her. She felt the thick head nudge a sensitive spot inside her, grating against flesh so sensitive, she cried out at the intensity of feeling.

  Her nerves glowed with pleasure, veins building a burning so intense, she thought she would die from it. Fire flooded her, fueled by the fluttering beat of her heart and the long, delicious strokes he pulled in and out of her.

  He broke from her neck with a smack and settled above her, his hair hanging around his forehead, making him appear wild and untamed. His near black eyes met her gaze, locking onto her as he pressed within her slick channel and claimed her, pumped into her hard and long until she could feel the rising tide of pleasure once more.

  He hiked her leg up, wedging a hand down to tickle her anus again. The area was lubricated with the cream of her body and he stroked it with his alternating drive into her. The sensation of being touched there was almost too much for her. Incredibly, she felt a tension rise down there. He pushed a finger into her bottom, and she screamed when he curled the tapered digit inside her.

  Delicious ripples of pleasure emanated from her core, increasing with the drill of his shaft inside her, the strange tickle of his finger in her other hole. She was filled more than she thought possible, stretched almost to the point of burning, but it felt so right, she thought she could die.

  “You are killing me,” she cried, bucking and writing beneath him, clutching at his arms with desperation.

&nb
sp; She kept her eyes trained on him, begging for love, which he gave her. His arms tensed, his fingers felt rough and strong on her, and soon, the ecstasy rolled through them both, alighting her every nerve in a white-hot fire that had her screaming his name and arching her back and neck.

  As the orgasm increased to its greatest height, he removed the pressure of his finger from her bottom. Incredibly, it made her come that much harder.

  She gasped and cried, tightening and shivering around him as pleasure filled every pore and she drowned in it, mindless.

  He cried out with her, shuddering and groaning, moving fast and furiously until she’d greedily milked the sap of his body and drank her fill of him.

  ****

  When she awoke the next morning, Isabeau was surprised to find that she was not alone. Having fully expected to find herself waking up with an empty space beside her, she didn't even know how to react as the roughened legs resting upon her lower limbs and the heavy arm slumped around her waist, kept her pinned to the bed.

  It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling, merely unusual. In fact, it was more to the contrary. There was a sense of...protection. It felt strange to consider it so, but she truly felt as though his possessive hold was protective.

  The room was dark, pitch black but she felt the zing of energy buzzing around her system that told her it was morning. From the heat and the darkness, it told her that during the night, he'd awoken and closed the curtains. Which, while unimportant in itself, meant that he'd made a conscience decision to sleep with her.

  Was that promising?

  Did men sleep with their women after sharing a bed?

  She thought not, for why would there be two bedrooms? One for wife and one for husband, if a married pair shared a bed?

  Isabeau had to admit that she liked the idea of him choosing to stay with her. She liked it very much indeed.

  Although now, she needed to wake up and climb out of bed and move. Her body held none of the tension that it had yesterday. The ring and the remnant aches from her tumbles had completely dissipated.

  She was unsure as to how to move away without waking him. Rocking against him made him grunt a little, so carefully, she rolled and managed to free herself from his tight clasp. As soon as she was free however, Isabeau instantly wished she could be back within his warm grasp. Talk about contrary, she thought with a wry grin.

  Quickly, she jumped out of bed and rapidly shut the curtain. Although she'd seen him around in the day time and he hadn't disintegrated into dust, there had to be a reason why they all slept through the day. When he'd come and fought off Jaegar's henchman, he hadn't looked out of place. He had looked normal. Yet when he talked about himself, the words he used, the way in which he described himself...Well, it was almost as though he thought he were a monster. But she'd seen him, his face hadn't changed and he hadn't turned into something that only belonged in nightmares!

  Isabeau shrugged and thought that maybe it was more to do with how he perceived himself, rather than a faithful depiction of what he actually was.

  The morning light blared into the room with a glimmering gold that had her eyes blinking at the sheer radiance of it and then, enabled her to notice that there was another dress resting on the chair. A yellow silk patterned with lavender flecks in the grain that instantly appealed to her. Although it was almost ten years out of fashion, it was again something that reminded her very much of her mother. It would appear that Wolfe's mother and her own had shared similar fashion tastes.

  She wandered over to the screen, washed herself in what she noted was fresh water scented with lavender, then quickly pulled on the yellow silk. It was a little on the large side, the shoulders drooped, but it was wonderful to be in something different. That was one very superficial aspect of life on the run that she had detested. Wearing the same old dress, time and time again. Even though she could change her body into the molds that she needed with her glamor, the dress came with her in whatever disguise she chose.

  Wolfe did not snore like her papa had, but his deep and leaden breathing told her that he would not awaken if she were to throw the water jug out of the glass window!

  Isabeau wandered over to the door and tested it...It opened.

  With a raised brow, she wondered what that actually meant. Was it a mistake on his part? Had he simply forgotten to lock the door after he'd gone for her dress? And that in itself spoke loudly. By bringing her another dress, that facilitated her, what could be considered, escape, she had to believe, for what else could it be, that he'd grown to trust her.

  Remarkable, but it had to be true. He'd given her clothing, when she'd been naked and therefore, tied to this room. He'd left the door unlocked as he slept...He must have trusted her to roam the castle and not attempt to escape.

  She wondered if it was trust, or simply that he could tell she was slowly becoming besotted with him and wouldn't leave even if he'd left all of the doors unlocked and left a horse-drawn carriage in the driveway with a coachman to boot!

  Grimacing at the thought, because it was true, Isabeau realized that he'd already taken her heart captive and without that, she couldn't go anywhere!

  Stepping over the threshold, she decided to head downstairs and wondered if the staircase that had so perplexed her yesterday was still there.

  Good God! Yesterday? She frowned at the thought.

  It felt like a lifetime ago!

  Perhaps the more she thought about it, the more she'd grow accustomed to realizing how short a time Wolfe had been in her life.

  When her mother had met her father, or so she had told Isabeau, the minutes they had spent together at first--as was only proper to an unattached couple--felt both like a lifetime and then minuscule. The depth of learning between the two had been instant and within moments. Her mama had said that she felt as though she had known her soon-to-be fiancé inside out. Then, when her duenna had separated them, although they had been together for more than the permitted time, it had felt as though only two seconds had passed.

  Strange how love could inveigle its way into a person's heart, so rapidly and so silently until it was just there and one did not even know how it had grown. How had hate turned to love? And so swiftly? It was like something from one of her mama's old Minerva Press novels!

  Had it happened because as he had talked to her, as he had spoken about the past, she had allowed herself to feel sympathy? From sympathy to care and then to intrigue and desire, arousal to lust, passion to love.

  Licking her lips, she shook her head and dismissed her feelings as simply...well, she wasn't sure what. Premature or delusional.

  And Isabeau feared that she was edging towards delusional!

  Grimacing, Isabeau headed down the corridor and was surprised to see that the stairs led downwards again. She peered over the banister and spied the Great Hall. Treading slowly down the steps, her eyes unerringly sought out the stone flags on the floor.

  The last time she had seen those particular flags, Isabeau had seen Wolfe's mother dead and her lifeblood spilling out.

  Nausea rumbled uncomfortably in her stomach and quickly, she rushed down the stairs and past the area. Knowing that the door at the front would be locked for the day, she headed down the corridor and into the first room she could see. It didn't matter where or what type of room it was, she needed to leave the confines of the castle and feel the sun on her face.

  Heading into, what turned out to be a salon, she ignored everything as soon as she spied the French doors. Opening them with a flourish, she soon walked out on to a landing; this then led to two separate branches of stairs that led into the gardens at the front of the castle.

  Having never seen the grounds in daylight, even though it was almost the early evening, Isabeau couldn't withhold the sigh of pleasure as she took in the manicured lawns and tidy clusters of flowers, which seemed to flirt prettily with the dying sun.