A Wanton's Thief

by Titania Ladley

  “Awaken.”

  She stirred and her eyes rose to his in that slow manner of one tazired by his allures. His breath caught when the hue of them shone up at him, twinkling by the moonlight. They were a warm, almost spooky peacock-blue edged with sleepy bliss. Thick midnight lashes framed the unusual catlike shape of them, fanning her high cheekbones as she blinked. Slowly, awareness dawned in them, and he knew the exact moment that anger stirred within her breast once again. The full cherry lips pursed and he fought a craving to suck them right into his mouth. The pale skin flushed to the pink of a rose. He clenched one hand against the reins, fighting the urge to explore every silky inch of her flesh.

  Falcon reminded himself that involvement with a mortal always amounted to nothing but emotional suicide. But his blood rekindled, despite the firsthand experience of the repeated heartaches he’d endured, watching helpless, as each of his mortal lovers throughout the past decades and centuries had died off.

  Shaking the morbid thoughts, he allowed the fire to settle to a boil within his balls, and the sac throbbed with a demanding vengeance. Falcon tightened his hold on her, grinding her hip into his penis as he held her gaze, entranced by her witch’s charm. Suddenly, he understood how one must feel to be under his own tazing spells. And her eyes, coupled with that intoxicating ire, were far more potent than his own.

  “You are released from submission—for the moment.” He looked away, breaking the tie that held her bound to his dominance.

  He needed no powers to tell the exact second she realized she was free. But Falcon was prepared. With one hand, he kept a sure grip on the reins. He clamped his thighs around the stallion to keep them both safely mounted. His arms closed around her upper body, pinning her elbows to her sides.

  And she thrashed and screeched, bucking against his tight hold.

  “You monster!” She tried to hunch her head down to bite his forearm, but he shook her hard enough to prevent the defensive move. “Oh! You’ll pay for this. The king and my brother will hunt you down. You will die, Falcon Montague. You will die a choking death at the gallows—and hopefully suffer some rotting in prison before you should be so lucky.”

  “Madam, you do so break my heart with your penchant for vengeance.”

  She twisted then, and shot him a loathing look. “Vengeance? That is but a smidgen of what I wish upon you. You have entered my home uninvited, apparently stolen from my family’s coffers—” she glowered at the bulge of loot upon his back, “—accosted me in my own private chambers and abducted me from the safety of the only home I have ever known.”

  He grinned down at her. “You’ve forgotten the fact that I’ve set out to deflower you for your betrothal to the very stodgy but still alive Duke of Oxford.”

  “He is not stodgy!” she shrieked.

  Falcon guided the horse up a sharp incline and turned deeper into the woods. “I beg to differ.” And to prove his point, he dragged her hip back and forth over his erection. “Do you feel that?”

  Delight stirred within him when she let out an involuntary whimper of mortification—or was it desire? “How could I not? It stands erect like a bloody lance between us!”

  He threw his head back and roared. “Aye, good point. But do you see my point?”

  When she remained mute, her jaw clamped, and presented him with her regal profile, he went on. “The duke is beginning to gray, his skin is showing signs of shriveling and it is said that his…lance…is no longer in working order.”

  “You lie!”

  “I tell naught but truths, young, beautiful maiden. And to add further fact to my ‘tales’, he’s also—reportedly, of course—in dire need of a very rich dowry to pull his estate out of the deep bowels of his gambling sickness. And it is my understanding that you, milady, possess a sizable dowry.”

  She swiped her hood from her head, and he watched as the moonlight speared down upon the long sable locks. Faint auburn highlights glimmered upon the lunar-bathed tendrils. Clouds dissipated in the night sky above, making way for the pinpoint twinkles of stars. Unable to resist, he reached up and combed his hand through the silky curtain until he gripped her nape.

  “You are a vile serpent.” She slapped at his arm, barely jarring it. “And you get your filthy hands off me this instant!”

  “Ah,” he rasped, drawing her closer. “But serpents do not have hot, talented hands. They are, however, snakes,” he amended, jerking back on the reins until his mount halted, “like that which you’ve awakened within my britches.”

  At his words, she went into a flurry of twists and bucks, obviously understanding his esoteric meaning. She growled reminding him of a wild cat fighting to be released from his hold.

  “Stop. Stop now or we both will be unseated.”

  She let out an unladylike snort. “Oh, how I pray to God that you end up on the earth with a smarting backside—and a broken neck besides!”

  Well, there was no other way about it. Falcon did not wish either of them to break their necks. He gripped her face and turned her so that she was forced to look into his eyes.

  “You will stop this foolishness immediately!”

  His powers hit her as a stone might fly from a catapult and strike a castle wall. She instantly jolted and stilled her movements, slumping against him.

  “And now that you’ve stirred my manhood, something must be done to…relieve me. But not until you’re ready of your own free will.”

  He tipped her chin up and watched, once again enchanted when defiance sparked in her eyes. “You may talk to me only, but you may not scream or alert anyone else we may encounter. You may only move your body if you’re in need of a change of position for the sake of comfort…or if you genuinely wish to seek out my…charms.”

  “I…I…your manhood will not be relieved by me.”

  “That is your choice.”

  “I have no choices in this matter!”

  Unable to resist, he massaged her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Her eyes went limpid with what could only be desire. “No, you don’t have a choice in whether you remain at Wyngate Hall or not. But…”

  “But?”

  “But you do have a choice as to whether or not I kiss you. And, oh, I do wish to do just that.” Her eyes widened and sparkled in the moonlight. They made him think of the many precious gems he’d stolen over the centuries. Only the worth in the cut of them, the passionate gleam she could not hide from him, made them far more valuable than any loot he’d seized before. He watched as her chest rose and fell, listened to her uneven, wispy breathing. Clearly, she warred with her own scruples, but he would not force the issue even if she chose to deny what was apparent in every aspect of her being.

  “A kiss?”

  He nodded, his heart captured by her astonished and curious tone. “A kiss. Just grant me one chance to sample your flavor. One chance and I promise, if you do not like it, I will never plea for your charms again.”

  She lifted her chin. “That is quite a noble vow for such a criminal man.”

  “Criminal or not, it is by my honor I swear it.”

  “And you promise you will never force me against my will by use of your bizarre, paralyzing and mind-controlling black magic?”

  “I promise to never force my amorous needs upon you, Lady Salena. You must be willing, for I prefer my women eager for my advances. I will only use those powers on you when necessary to preserve your safety, but not in the case of courting…and all that goes with it.”

  She let out a melodious, cynical tinkle of laughter. “Courting? Is that what you’re doing, courting me after an abduction?”

  Her cheek felt satiny against his palm, a maddening stimuli when one had a painful erection to rival a mountain. “It hadn’t been part of my original plan just as the abduction hadn’t, but yes, I desire to woo you into my bed.”

  She gasped.

  “You’re rather indignant,” he chuckled, “when I happen to know that wet spot between your legs throbs, your heart pounds in antic
ipation of the coming kiss and your lips tingle with the need to be devoured by mine.”

  Salena swallowed audibly. “You…how do you know this?”

  He trailed a finger down her neck watching with undisguised lust as her eyelids quivered. She let out a strangled groan when he said, “Because I can smell your arousal and because my extensive experience has taught me the look and body language and sounds of a woman who wishes to be taken by a man.”

  “Taken?”

  Falcon sighed sensing her surrender. “We can start with a kiss. Can’t we?”

  A long moment went by in which she stared into his eyes. The lunar glow waned and ebbed as clouds glided across the night sky. He drew her sweet scent into his lungs unsure as to how much longer he could take this torture of being so very near to her without being allowed to sample her. Finally, she nodded and whispered, “Aye, we can start with a kiss.”

  And she tipped her head back and parted her lips in fascinated welcome.

  * * * * *

  With the moon behind him, it seemed he descended upon her like a hungry raven in the night. He still wore that ominous, mysterious black mask, and she thought of a devil seducing her into his lair of dark magic. Hot hands held her face captive while his body seemed to scorch her through the fabric of her cloak and gown. She no longer felt the chill of the midnight hour; in its place simmered something altogether elemental. His magnetic eyes snared her through the mask’s slits, intent as a wolf about to tear into his prey. Though his powers once again held her obedient, it was only against any attempts at escape. He did not force upon her his ardent allure but rather dangled it in front of her for the taking. She shivered with anticipation, despite the fury that ate away at her soul at her own self-betrayal.

  She caught a whiff of his rugged scent mixed with cool wind just before his lips slammed into hers. Something about it made her hungry, made her yearn for a long drought of him, if only to satisfy her curiosity. The feel of his lips on hers made her suddenly unsure of herself and what propriety and her morals would dictate. This kiss…it was nothing like Thane’s kisses had been. Wet and warm, Falcon tasted of a sweet ambrosia that instilled further thirst within her breast. The need caused her to tip her head back, to finally accept his probing tongue into her mouth. With a groan that sounded as if it came from somewhere afar, she hesitantly touched her tongue to his. It seemed the contact sent a jolt of energy from his soul into hers. Liquid heat melted over her heart and pooled into her cunt. As if to reinforce the sensation, to inform her he experienced the same wonder as she, he sighed into her mouth.

  His hand slid into her cloak and cupped one breast. It was the first time any man had ever touched her there. Thane’s hurried lovemaking had apparently skipped this wondrous step. The incredulity of it shocked her into an erotic fog she could not awaken from. Through the silk of her nightshift, he strummed her nipple. It hardened, and with it, so did the little knot between her labia. She tightened her thigh muscles, attempting to hold in the gush of warm liquid that trickled out of her pussy. But it was no use. A flashflood washed over her, and suddenly, she craved his hand down there at the spot that seemed to need soothing.

  Oh, even though I hate you with a passion, please…please touch me…down there.

  He chuckled a low, crazed laugh. The hand that had been at her breast now moved down over her quivering abdomen, down lower still to—oh, Lord God above, help her! That was when she realized his powers were not limited to mental control. They also encompassed reading of the mind.

  “Ah, you’re a passionate one, love. I knew you wanted it,” he said huskily, his teeth nipping at her earlobe at the precise second his finger located her clitoris through the cloth of her nightrail. It nearly unseated her from her sidesaddle position across his lap, despite the hold his powers had over her movements. A bolt of lightning-like impact struck her between her legs, forcing her to yearn for more, for further torture.

  But his pretentious words jolted her back into her indignant state of mentality as she struggled to save face against her own shocking surrender to this thieving warlock.

  You bastard! You arrogant, pompous thief!

  He shrugged. “Debatable point. But this…” he whispered, running that hot hand down her thigh, over her knee to the hem of her gown, “is a sure thing.”

  She stiffened against the ascent of his palm, the callused texture of it now dragging the gown up and abrading over the flesh of her inner thigh. Sweet Mother Mary, but it made her gasp, made her hips tilt up and forward toward his hand.

  “You want it, don’t you?”

  How could she even coherently piece together an answer to the question he asked when his hand articulated its own distracting language?

  “Salena, again, it’s your choice, but you must answer me now. No…or yes?” It came out gruff and insistent as if he held onto rigid restraint. His anxious demand came followed by a shiver of wanton fire centered in her passage. She was ashamed to realize she’d become clay in his hands. Something about him giving her the power of choice coupled with his almost chivalrous attempts at self-control endeared her heart a small measure to her captor. But she didn’t care to admit to such a ridiculous emotional defeat at the moment. She just wanted to focus on how good he was making her feel.

  “Yes, yes,” she whimpered when the flames of his fingertips swirled higher and brushed her clitoris. And in spite of the power his spell had over her voice and her ability to cry out to others, she let out a torturous growl that echoed throughout the forest when his finger sank through her curls. “Oh yes, please touch me!”

  “Look at me.”

  The sharp command did little to lesson the magic of his touch. Fire shot through her abdomen when he swirled his finger over the large pebble. Still, she obeyed under the spell’s force, turning her head to look into those liquid eyes.

  “I want to hear your voice when I bring you pleasure.” He said it with a strained tone, and with his words, he ground her hip into the hardened mass within his braies, a mass that now pressed enormous and threateningly against her. Even so, it somehow had the ability to make her long for its length to be within her wet passage. In her limited experience, mating had been painful and disappointing. She’d not felt that actual…supposed bliss before, but had heard whisperings of it from select maids at court. And suddenly, she’d never been so aware of the need to satisfy that particular curiosity and to know what those other women seemed to live for.

  “Remember, you may not scream or bring attention in any way to us if we should encounter intruders.”

  “You are the intruder,” she accused on a moan as he slowly and deliberately sank another long finger into her tightness, again something Thane had omitted from the act. Her eyelids fluttered and her vision blurred. She could barely see his masked face beneath the shadow of the woodsman’s cap. But she could clearly smell the scent of him mixed with that of her own arousal and the aroma of the horse that stood obediently still beneath them. And like a fire-tipped arrow, his fingers ignited within her, making her arch against her will and against the power of his spell, right into the source of throbbing heat.

  “Again, a comment that warrants further consideration. Ah,” he said with a strained tone, his breath coming in sharp staccato spurts. “You’re so tight…but not still a virgin, I see.”

  She could have sworn she saw the red, embarrassed glow of her face reflect upon his mask. “Don’t say such things, don’t talk. Please…I—”

  With his fingers still inside her, he hoisted her up. Dragging her against the solid wall of his chest, he positioned her so that she faced forward, her back pressed into his chest. She no longer sat in sidesaddle fashion but astride the horse with one leg dangling on each side. As a proper lady, never before had she sat a horse in this manner. But she had to admit the chilly air was a godsend upon the burning flesh of her legs and pussy. Still unable to move her limbs voluntarily, something feral reared up inside her at the spread position with the warm solid girth
of animal held between her legs. Falcon ground her rear against his erect shaft, and Salena thought she’d never experienced a more confusing thing in her life. While her mind screamed harlot, fighting the enthrall of his charms, her body shouted yes, driving toward its own end. It would not obey her commands to resist, to merely move and wrestle for her freedom as a proper woman should do. Nor would it stop with the incessant flood of desire. It was as if she were some court jester’s puppet on a string.

  And this lack of control infuriated her, made her hate him all the more.

  “Talk to me.” His hot breath filled her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Tell me how it feels, how I make you feel.”

  “I hate you,” she said on a gasp as he continued his torture upon her womanhood.

  He merely chuckled and dug his heels into the steed’s sides. The horse pranced and darted forward upon the path ahead. The jarring sensation of the brisk trot caused his fingers to jolt in and out of her. He swirled the reins around his free hand and found her clit with a leather-wrapped finger.

  “Oh, God help me!” Her head fell back against his shoulder. She gulped for air. White clouds puffed from her pursed lips as she panted.

  No, it hadn’t felt like this before.

  He snarled in her ear, his hot mouth buried in her hair, and sucked on the tender flesh of her nape. “He can’t help you, Salena. You can only help yourself. Let yourself over to the magic of it, my little dove.”

  Falcon emphasized that magic by switching to his thumb and increasing the pressure and rhythm. The digit inside her pumped slow and sure, giving her flashes of that never-before-seen pinnacle ahead in the forest of her clogged mind. The hard length of his fingers slid in and out over wet, tight folds, sticky inner recesses. With each penetration, each waggle of his finger more hot juices flowed from inside her, trickling out into his hand, down onto the hide of the horse. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could do little else but surrender to this madness.

  “Talk to me, milady. How does it feel?”