Knightley's Tale

by Destiny D'Otare

  His breath caught. He dared not move for fear he’d send Emma fleeing, but damn, he was about to burst.

  The other Passions crowded around, renewing Emma’s massaging while giving her encouragements.

  “That’s right. Up and down. Up and down.”

  “The slower, the harder.”

  He closed his eyes and tried to remember how to breathe.

  She was actually stroking him.

  “That’s a good girl,” he heard Poesy say. “Let us instruct you in the ways of Passion.”

  “Now, cup and squeeze.”

  All at once eight hands tightened around his buttocks, his nipples and his balls.

  He exploded.

  There was no stopping it. The orgasm poured over him, racking his body with violent shuddering. He closed his eyes, let the wave take him again and again. Emma’s hand resolutely continued to cup him, and he could not stop his seed from spilling out, dampening the cloth that separated them.

  He hated himself for this uncharacteristic lack of control.

  He hated more that his body loved this moment, groped by three strange women and Emma, yes Emma, bringing him to this height.

  He wanted to reach for her and make her come for him.

  “Ooohhh! Wasn’t that fun?” one of the Passions cooed, jarring his thoughts.

  “Again. I want to do it again.” Another one pleaded.

  “Stop!” He commanded. “Enough!” Sensing their hesitation, Knightley broke free of their hands and, like a man possessed by demons, he flailed his arms at them.

  “Off with you. All of you.”

  Trembling, he turned his back on the Passions and forcibly plugged the dike of his suppressed emotions.

  More, more, more.

  He wanted to shout, cry and laugh all at once. He grabbed at the wall of shrubs and shook them.

  ARRGGHH!

  He wasn’t thinking straight. What man would turn away three beautiful women intent on fucking him? He almost turned around and called them back. Almost.

  Behind him he could hear the regretful cries of the Passions trailing away as they flitted through the maze.

  “I choose Indolence,” he challenged halfheartedly and then laughed hysterically at his bad joke.

  “First Grimm, now Keats—this evening’s a literal nightmare.” He chortled madly. It sounded like a witch’s cackle to his ears. Clearly, he was going insane.

  In this state, how would he ever win Emma’s love?

  Suddenly, he was sober. Clear-headed. Purpose-driven.

  He loved Emma.

  The flood gate had burst. Emotions poured from him, leaving him exhilarated and free…and in love.

  With every breath, every thought, every fiber of his body, he knew it was true.

  He wanted to dance and shout it out loud.

  He loved Emma.

  He hadn’t known until this very moment, but he realized his love had grown over years of adoration. But this love was real and solid and pure. It was the kind of love one committed to—forever.

  That’s why he had banished the three women, and why he hadn’t been with any other woman for months now. He was waiting to love Emma.

  And when Emma was ready for him to show her the depth of his love, he would do what every man in love does—he would make it perfect for her.

  Not on the cold ground. Not spastic or hurried. Not with a crowd of diaphanous bystanders feeling him up.

  He must make Emma understand.

  “Emma, darling,” he said softly, as he started to turn toward her, “I must expl…”

  Breath, thought, all manner of being died in that instant.

  Emma was gone.

  For several minutes he stood there dumbly—unable to believe that she had left him.

  Had she confused his order when he shooed away the other women? Had his lack of self-control scared her away?

  Or had the Passions forced her to join them for some deviant tryst? Worse, was she alone and at the mercy of the pleasure gardens?

  Fear, a gut-wrenching terror, swept over him.

  He threw himself into the shrubs and ran.

  “Handsome they may be, and kind,

  Gay, and charming—never mind!”

  After she escaped the Passions—really, what an elaborate ruse that was—Emma raced out of the maze and onto the open lawn. At the far end of the concourse was her intended destination: the lagoon.

  Midway there, she stopped to catch her breath…and gloat.

  A wide smile played on her lips. Her body tingled with new sensations. Her bottom contracted, her lips—both sets—were swollen, but craved more. She had never felt so alive.

  Even more, she loved how she had made Knightley feel.

  Pure ecstasy.

  So he wasn’t as impervious to her as he would lead her to believe. Her touch could enthrall him. Indeed, she could drive him over the edge.

  It was a heady discovery, this power she had over him.

  She wanted to stretch her newfound knowledge—fan the flames. Of course, it involved more touching and much more kissing and far less people.

  A niggling of doubt crept into her consciousness. She hoped it was her touch, and hers alone, that brought him such fulfillment.

  She sighed. Where was he, anyway?

  Casting a glance back to the maze, she frowned. She had been certain he would follow her as soon as he realized she was gone. She was wearing red, for goodness sake, so why couldn’t he find her?

  Just as she thought she might have to return for him, Knightley broke through the shrubs. When he began chasing at full gait, she lifted her skirts and took off.

  She arrived at the shore to find luck was on her side. One gondolier was docked, lounging in his craft. When he saw her, he stumbled to his feet, but she had already leapt into the bow, motioning for his silence.

  The gondola was perfect, just as she had pictured from all the descriptions she had read. While the back of the boat was completely open, a tarp-covered enclosure near the front provided the passengers with privacy. She could see the stars, but no one, not even the gondolier, could see her. Inside, she found a comfortable seat, wider than a bench, not quite a bed. Perfect.

  “Emma. This is ridiculous.” She heard Knightley’s out-of-breath pronouncement.

  She smiled but remained hidden.

  “Mademoiselle wishes to ride, no?” the gondolier offered.

  “No.” Knightley’s voice replied tightly, then a heavy sigh. She felt the boat tip slightly to one side as someone moved around the back. A jingling of coins was the next sound.

  “Make sure we keep a good distance from the other boats.” Knightley growled. “And I’ll take that.”

  Then he stood before her, quivering the boat with his sudden appearance. Intense emotions raged around him. He tossed the gondolier’s cap into her lap but moved no closer.

  Somewhere, he had lost his black mask and she could see his dark eyes staring at her—predatory, dangerous. There was a wildness about him that she had never known before.

  He didn’t frighten her, not really. She felt sheer excitement.

  “Come, sit here next to me. I promise I won’t bite.” She patted the damask-cushioned seat as she leaned back on one of the pillows.

  “You are the wolf.” He said simply.

  The surprise declaration evoked a laugh from both of them—a full, hearty release that broke the awful tension of the bizarre night.

  He ducked into the tent, shrugged out of his coat and sat gingerly on the seat next to her, near but still not touching.

  “Here you are as I have always known you,” he said quietly. “Cheeks flushed and eyes shining, so beautiful and so innocent and I think there is nothing, no one, I desire more.” He looked at her hard. “So, I must be the wolf.”

  Sighing, he rested his elbows on his knees and placed his head in hands.

  She understood. He thought he was taking advantage of her. He didn’t know the depth of her feelings for him.
>
  She knelt on the cushion next to him and pulled his hands away from his face, replacing them with her own. She gently turned his head toward her.

  “I have a confession to make,” she said softly.

  His only reaction was to raise one eyebrow.

  “I planned this entire evening. From the beginning.”

  Both eyebrows cocked.

  “I stood in the entryway of our dear siblings’ house and opened and closed the door a half-dozen times before I gained your attention. I arranged to have the carriage waiting outside so I could slip out and race off. I knew you would follow.

  “I coerced you into leading me into the gardens and I planned for you to make love to me here in a covered gondola.

  “It was an elaborate, albeit idiotically romantic, ploy to show you the depth of my feelings for you.”

  For a long moment he did nothing, just stared at her. Would he rail at her for being so reckless? Would he set her aside with a lecture? She held her breath, hoping against hope.

  “You did all of this…to seduce me? You want me?” He asked finally.

  She nodded. The emotion of this night and for him was too much; a tear slipped down her cheek.

  Gently, he reached around her head and released the silk ties for the mask. It fell to the floor.

  His finger traced along the wetness of her cheek, a soft smile edging his lips.

  Gently, he began smoothing the wild waves of hair away from her neck. It was both comforting and sensual.

  Without warning, his fingers jerked at the clasp at the base of her neck and released the fastening. He whipped the cloak away from her, flinging it onto the cushion behind her.

  Red Riding Hood was gone.

  Rough hands tugged her onto his lap and his hard lips claimed her in a long kiss. When they broke away, his lips trailed to her neck, igniting a fiery path of desire.

  “Energetic enough?” he questioned in a low voice.

  She shivered. Yes and no. More, her body responded. More. She wanted to feel his arms around her, to devour him with kisses, to explore his body.

  “What I really wish for…” she asked.

  “Anything, darling, I will give you anything.” He was nibbling on the sensitive part just below her ear. She could have purred.

  “…is six more hands.”

  His chuckled into her neck and hugged her closer.

  “That was…” he started, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips.

  “…educational, but not nearly as enlightening as your library.” She caressed his cheek.

  “About that…tell me what else piqued your interest.”

  “The large book with prints from the Orient. The man and woman in different…um…positions.”

  “Shunga.”

  “Shunga?” She tested the word. “Yes, they were quite invigorating. As were the sculptures.”

  He groaned into her neck, hiding his face. “You found the key to the cupboard?”

  She didn’t answer. Nor was she about to tell him what she did with the sculptures. Enough confessions for one night.

  “What I found most fascinating was the expression on their faces: a mixture of rapture, pain and something more.…It made me wonder.”

  Her fingers played with the buttons on his crisp shirt.

  “Wonder?” He was nibbling at her neck. Sharp little nips, each one sending jolts through her body. It was quite distracting.

  “I wondered if…I—I alone—could make you feel the same.”

  She wiggled out of his embrace and dropped to the floorboards. For mere seconds, she hesitated. Even though his face was strangely blank, he didn’t still her progress. With a light touch to each knee, she coaxed his legs to open for her. His answering sigh was a heady feeling. She skimmed her hands along his calves, knees, and thighs, noting every time she moved higher, he would breathe less. Power, indeed.

  Her eyes immediately went to the bulge of his cock. It was throbbing now, and she could not stay away. Like a good pupil, she cupped her hand and squeezed. He groaned loudly. Leaning back, he closed his eyes

  Encouraged—indeed power-hungry—she attacked the waistband of his pants and found the buttons. She had to see it now. What was this magnificent organ that gave him equal pleasure and pain?

  As she flicked each button open, his body tightened and muscles contracted. But he did not stop her. When the last button loosened, she pulled on the cloth and out sprang a thick, red-skinned club.

  “Oh,” she gasped. She looked up to see him watching her and giggled nervously to explain her surprise. “I wasn’t expecting…” Well, she didn’t know what exactly she was expecting.

  No novel, no etchings, no statue of entwined bodies—none could answer her next question: How was something this large and uncompromising supposed to join with her?

  He tried to sit forward, reaching for her, but she held him at bay.

  “You don’t appear sufficiently pained,” she murmured.

  She stuck out a tentative hand and smoothed her palm over the tip. The member convulsed.

  She giggled and tried again. It didn’t react so violently this time. She leaned forward to get a closer look. He was holding himself so stiffly now, she thought he’d expire.

  “It resembles a palm tree, don’t you think?” she announced.

  Knightley burst out laughing, but broke off when her hand closed around the shaft.

  “You see, this is the trunk and this,” she said, moving her hand up and grasping the tip, “is the palm leaves.”

  To her delight, he moaned deeply.

  “And these,” she reached down the shaft to the base where two red sacks waited for their caress, “are the coconuts.”

  Her hand had barely covered them when a growl reverberated in his chest. Two strong hands lifted her from the floor and set her down on the silk lining of her cloak.

  “My turn.” He intoned deeply as he rolled next to her. She laughed breathlessly. Oh, yes, his turn. His mouth caught hers as his hand traveled down her legs. When his lips broke free, she felt his smile at her ear.

  “Grandmother, what long legs you have,” he mimicked the fairy tale.

  She tittered, “The better with which to wrap around you.”

  Her leg lifted of its own volition and snuggled over his leg. His hand slipped under the skirt and skimmed over the naked skin of her calf. She wiggled closer to him. But his hand was roaming again, outside of the gown over the bodice of her dress. Single-minded in his pursuit, he undid the line of tiny buttons down her chest. Nudging open the gown, he ran a finger over the silk chemise covering her breast.

  She breathed in sharply.

  She now had an idea of what he felt.

  It was only the beginning.

  When his thumb rubbed over the nipple, she froze. She didn’t think her tips could get any harder. Cut glass, indeed.

  The tingling had returned too, only now it came in great waves, coursing through her. His hand pushed aside the lace and the nipple tightened further in the cool air. When his fingertip tested the tip again, her body involuntarily arched into his hand.

  “My,” his voice was sweet and low at her ear, “what very luscious breasts you have.”

  She answered automatically. “The better to…” All thought left her as his mouth covered the orb.

  “Oh.” Her cry turned into a moan as his tongue swirled around the nub. He ended the gentle assault with his lips closing around the tip and pulling gently. Lightning pleasure pulsed through her veins. Her restless body twisted toward him, screaming more, more.

  “Easy, my love. There will be more.”

  Had she spoken her desires aloud? She was mindless of everything but his mouth and his hands. The latter were gathering great folds of fabric at her knees and pushing upward. Yes, she thought, touch me there.

  “Why, Emma, your stratagem was quite thorough.”

  She stilled. She’d forgotten she was scandalously naked underneath. Would he berate her?

>   She tried to read his expression, but he seemed transfixed with her until a devilish smile spread across his lips. She knew what he intended the instant before she felt it.

  Without ceremony his fingers went straight for the wet, private sanctuary of her womanhood.

  She came undone.

  Someone’s voice called out (was it hers?) and she found herself muffled against his hard chest, which was rumbling with controlled laughter.

  “Ssshhh, darling. We don’t want all of London descending upon us.”

  She remembered then they were not alone. She didn’t care—if anything it added more to her excitement. She tried to reach for Knightley, but he quieted her.

  His hand returned to her thighs, making slow circling motions and closing in on the target. Slowly he cupped her and stroked back the folds to reveal the nub beneath.

  “Oh, Emma, how very wet you are.”

  When she didn’t—couldn’t—answer, he added, “The better for you to take me, all of me, in.”

  He twirled his finger around and around, slathering the wetness, and slowly nudged it inside. Her walls involuntarily closed around the tip, beckoning his finger in.

  She moaned deeply into his chest, and he answered in a low whisper.

  “Darling, you are ready for me. If I go any further there will be some pain, then pleasure beyond your imagination. Shall I continue?”

  “Hmmm,” she answered, still dazed and hugging his chest.

  “Emma?”

  “Yes, yes, do it. I want it all. Now.”

  He chuckled at her demands and kissed her again, a long sensual mating. When he broke away he shifted over her, dropping his pants and covering her body. Long and hard, his cock was ready, but he guided it gently to bask in her warm, wet folds.

  Emma could feel her body becoming restless. She needed more. She arched her hips and brought him fully into her. Both of her mouths gasped.

  Unable to maintain the gentle composure, he drove into her, filling her completely. She flinched at the pain and cried out into his shoulder. He stilled then, waiting. His mouth found hers again, and he coaxed her into a long, breathtaking kiss.