by Lynn Lorenz
He kissed me, his tongue fucking my mouth as his cock fucked my ass. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on. I could feel his feet pushing against the bed with each thrust of his lean hips, rocking our bodies, my cock trapped between them, enjoying the friction of his body.
Breaking the kiss, he rose on his hand, putting space between us.
“Stroke yourself.” His voice was soft and tender.
I reached one hand down, and began my strokes, matching them to his. Our eyes locked again, and I took in every detail of his face as he fucked me. His green eyes grew dark, and when he would feel some deepening of pleasure, the lids quivered, nearly shutting, his eyes rolling briefly backward. One side of his beautiful long hair fell forward, partially covering his face; the rest draped over his shoulder to brush against my chest. Those full lips, reddened and kiss-swollen, parted with his efforts, and every now and then, his tongue would dart out to moisten them.
Gods, I was damned again. Lost to another man, I knew, as the love I’d tried to hold back burned in my heart. I wondered if it was too soon to tell him, if this was all he wanted of me, then decided I didn’t care. If this were all he had to give to me, I’d take it.
His eyes scanned my face, as if reading my thoughts.
“You’re mine, Drake.” He plunged deeper, the muscles in his arms and chest straining. “Say it. You belong to me.”
“I’m yours, Logan. Are you mine?” I met his thrust with one of my own, and squeezed the muscles below, tight around his cock.
“I am. I am yours,” he groaned.
My fist pumped faster, and his head fell forward to watch as he quickened his pace.
“I’m ready, it’s coming. I can’t hold on much more,” he panted as he raised his head to look into my eyes.
I let go. My eyes were open, but I lost my sight. For a moment, everything went dark, then a thousand stars exploded outward.
“Gods, Logan, you make me shoot,” I groaned, as my hot cream spurted onto my belly and covered my hand as I pumped to get the last drop, feel the last wave of pleasure.
He shouted my name and spilled, filling me with his warm seed. He froze, back arched, muscles taut, his green eyes wide and locked with mine.
Then, it was over. He pulled out, released my leg, and we fell together, panting, bodies trembling, onto the bed.
He kissed me, tender, sweet, and filled with his love.
We slept, our bodies sated, entangled with each other.
I woke early in the morning. The lantern still burned. I looked at the man next to me. Gods, he was beautiful, his long blond hair falling over his shoulders, his fair face peaceful, and his body strong and graceful.
Damned again? No, I never had been. I’d been blessed when I found Ansel, and now to have found Logan, that blessing had been doubled. Most don’t ever find love.
The dawn broke and the light in the room lifted.
I raised my hand and gave a farewell to my ghost, fading in the morning light.
“Damn,” I whispered.
“Drake? Did you say something?” Logan murmured.
I rolled over as he pulled me into his arms. “Morn, Logan.”
His lips on mine were tender, and I closed my eyes as he deepened the kiss.
“I want to wake with you every morn, just like this.” He sighed.
There was a soft rapping. “Da! Da!”
“It’s Tomas!” Logan sat up and stared at a door in the wall that I hadn’t noticed before.
I rolled out of bed, pulled on my breeches and reached for my shirt as Logan did the same. He walked to the door, looked back at me to see if I was ready, then slid back the bolt.
“Tomas? What is it?” He kneeled as his son stepped through the door and threw himself into his father’s arms.
“Da! I had a bad dream! There was a man chasing me. I called for you, but you didn’t come!” He buried his head in Logan’s shoulder, his legs wrapping around his father’s waist.
Logan carried him to the bed. “Do you need to stay here?”
The boy nodded, wiping his eyes with his fists. “Aye.” Then, he noticed me standing to the side of the bed. “Morn, Drake,” he said in his sleepy boy’s voice.
“Morn, Tomas.” The door must have been to Tomas’s adjoining room.
Logan sat on the bed with Tomas in his arms and smiled up at me. I nodded and began to leave.
“No, Drake, sit with us.” Logan held out his hand to me. I hesitated. I had no place in Logan’s family. Being his lover wasn’t something we could make known.
“Drake? Come sit with Da and me. You’ll keep us both safe, won’t you?” Tomas whispered, his head nodding and his eyes half-closed as he snuggled into his father.
“I am so sworn,” I managed to say. “With my life.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back against the wall. Tomas lay sprawled on his father’s chest, his tousled hair covering part of his face, those green eyes so like his father’s now shut tight to sleep. Logan’s hand reached out and rested on my thigh.
“Stay with us.” He looked up into my eyes and I leaned over to kiss him, soft and tender. I hadn’t said the words, but they passed from my lips to his in that kiss.
“I must go; the rest will wake soon.”
He gave a rueful smile, and I slipped out the door, down the hall to my own room.
Chapter Fourteen
That day the hours passed slow and thick as if they were honey dripping from a fresh comb. Noon meal seemed to take forever to arrive, and when it was served, Logan and I sat at our table, along with Peter, and Harold, and talked of the outposts. Beneath the table, Logan’s leg pressed to mine in a secret touch.
Peter reported that the wood would be finished in another week, and that the carpenter estimated the post would be built and ready before the end of the month. Logan listened, commented, and ate, as I sat there half-hearing everyone’s words, dwelling in our last kiss and my own thoughts of what being with Logan meant.
I’d lost what little family I had at ten and four. When my father died, he left his estates to me as his heir, but my uncle, my father’s younger brother, had moved in with his armsmen and taken control of our lands. He took my father’s title, calling himself lord duke, and my mother fell under his spell and soon married him. He claimed, and she backed him, that I was too young to manage the estates. In truth, I was young and more interested in hunting and swordplay than running my lands, but to have them wrestled from me stung my pride. For four years, I lived under his tight rule until I turned ten and eight and could no longer swallow the bile in my throat every time I looked at him and my mother together.
I challenged his rights to the lands, but he had the armed men behind him, and I had only my blood right. Six of his men ambushed me when I was riding alone. They beat me as he watched, then he threw me off my lands, and told me to never return under pain of death.
My mother chose to stand by my uncle.
That day, as I lay in the mud of the road, my body bloodied and pride wounded, I damned my mother, renounced my family name, my title, and my lands, and set out to make a name as a mercenary, a man with no claim to anything or anyone, known only by my newly chosen name, Drake.
Now, here in Marden, I had found a place where I wanted to stay for more than the length of a battle, more than just a place to sleep and rest between my hiring to fight. Perhaps that is why I gave my oath so readily to Marden and to Duke Logan.
I’d found a home.
•●•
As the evening wore on, I put Joss to bed and found myself at Logan’s door. After a quick rap on it, he let me in.
I was pulled into his arms with a kiss that seared my soul. His hands held my face, and I dug my fingers in his hair as we kissed, strong and passionate, with all the longing that we’d felt during that day. The time apart had fueled the fire between us, and as he pushed me against the door, his tongue delving into my mouth, his body like a hot, hard weight against mine, I knew that I love
d this man, and would never want anyone or anything more.
“I thought the night would never come,” he said as he dragged me to his bed.
Pushing me down, he began to pull my clothes off. He had my shirt over my head, my arms still in it, when he twisted it, trapped my hands, and then straddled me.
Unable to free my hands, he pulled them over my head and tied my shirt to the bedpost. I watched him, as he began to unlace his breeches.
“What the hell are you doing, Logan?” Aroused by his actions, I licked my lips in anticipation of the unveiling of his cock.
“Am I your duke?” His eyes burned into mine.
“You are my duke.” My life, my breath, my love.
“You will obey me.” He pulled his rod free from the cloth that kept it from me, and began to stroke it.
“Oh, aye. You need only command and I will obey.” I swallowed, my gaze locked on his hand as he pleasured himself.
“Good. You will watch, but you can’t have me.” He grinned. Damn, he must have known how badly I wanted him, only to torture me by denying what I craved the most.
So, I watched. My gaze flicked from his hand wrapped around that glorious cock of his, to his face as he gave himself pleasure, and then back to his rod. If I had to pick one to watch, I couldn’t have done it. His face was beautiful, his green eyes full with desire, his mouth parted to let his small gasps, soft moans, and my name escape. That sweet pink tongue of his darted out to moisten his full lips, driving me mad. If I ever lost my sight, his face would be the last thing I’d want to see.
His cock was a thing to marvel over. Thick, straight, brown, and proud, it held my gaze as his strong hand pumped its head, red and swollen, a perfect tip on his long spear that with each looking made me want it more. I wanted to taste it, feel it inside me, take it in my mouth, in my ass, anywhere he wanted to shove it, I wanted it.
Logan tempted me, teased me with what I needed but couldn’t have as he stroked himself to completion. My arms struggled against the cloth binding my wrists.
“Please, Logan, let me,” I begged.
“Let you what?”
“Let me touch you, lick you, taste you.”
“No. You can only watch.”
I groaned. I didn’t want to close my eyes, fearing I’d miss something, some flutter of his eyelids, a sigh, and the dart of his tongue. I stared until my eyes grew dry and I had to blink.
“I’m coming,” he hissed, his hand pumping hard and fast at the top of his cock, his fingers rubbing over the edge of the head, and I knew just what he felt, just how the pressure built in his sac, how it would rush up his rod and explode.
“Let me take you in my mouth,” I cried, hoping at least to taste his cream.
“Oh, aye!” He crawled closer, and I opened my mouth to receive him.
His cock surged into my mouth, filling it, and I took it deep. Logan’s hand let go and his hips thrusting took over as he fucked me. I began to suck, my cheeks straining with the effort, my eyes locked on his face, high above me, as he rode me.
With a final thrust, he spilled, warm and salty, in hard spurts that hit the back of my throat, making me swallow him down, until there was nothing left to take.
“Goddamn,” he cried as his body fell off me, pulling his softening cock from my mouth’s grasp.
“Logan. Untie me,” I rasped.
“Damn. Sorry,” he panted and reached up, loosened my bindings and freed my arms. They tingled as the feeling came back to them, then I wrapped them around him as he tried to catch his breath, and pulled him close.
“Damn, my duke,” I exhaled.
He rolled and took me with him so that I lay on top of him. His hands threaded through my hair as he kissed me, his lips traveling over my face, at last reaching my scar. I shivered as his tongue traced it in a slow lick.
“I wanted you so badly.” Logan laughed. “I’d been thinking of it all day.”
“Did you enjoy it? Being in control?”
“Oh, aye, I did. Did you enjoy being my prisoner?”
“You may torture me anytime, Your Grace.”
We held each other and kissed, slow and pleasant, drifting on the edge of arousal, until he hardened beneath me again.
It was my turn to bring him off and just like him, I’d spent the day thinking of how I wanted him. I loved watching. Now, I wanted to watch my cock slide in and out of Logan’s tight, sweet ass.
“On your knees, Your Grace.” I rolled off him and sat back.
He rose to his knees and supported his body with his arms. I kneeled behind him as my hands caressed his flanks, cupped his sac, and kneaded his cheeks. Dragging my finger through his valley, I ringed his hole with soft pressure, passing over it in a promise of what was to come. Logan moaned and leaned back into my hands, eager to be taken.
His hair swept over his shoulder. Only a single tress of gold lay on his back. Leaning over him, I could just touch it, feel it run through my fingers. I pressed my rod into his valley and lay over his back, rocking us both, one hand stroking his cock, the other making slow circles around his nipple, rubbing that sweet nub to standing.
Logan held my weight on his back and as my tongue licked his turned face, we kissed. I climbed back to kneel behind him and stroked myself to ready, rubbing oil into my rod’s skin, preparing to enter him.
“Fuck me, Drake,” he begged, as he pressed back toward me.
“Before I do, tell me. Did you fuck Jackson? Did you let him fuck you?” I’d been wondering about that ever since Jackson had left.
“No, never.” He shook his head.
“Was there anyone else?”
“No, not in a long time.”
“Good. This is mine.” I plunged my finger into his ass. “Mine and no one else’s. Tell me.” I slipped in a second finger and pumped.
“Yours! I swear it,” he moaned.
“I don’t care who you put your mouth on, but no one fucks you but me,” I growled.
“Aye, no one but you.” Logan panted; his body rocked with my fingers’ thrusts.
I removed them and he cried out, then grew silent as he felt the head of my cock glide along his valley, to stop at his ass. I pushed inside, opening his hole, and watched as my cock slid in, then each inch, until I was so deep our bodies touched.
Logan had stopped breathing; his body tensed as he took me inside. When I began to pull out, he exhaled in a long moan.
“Goddamn, my love,” he gasped.
I left his body, and then pushed back inside. I fucked him, each time forcing myself in, each time leaving him. His body rocked with each stroke, and the muscles of his body tensed.
“Damn you, Drake. Damn you for making me love you. For fucking me like this,” he growled.
“I am damned, Logan. Damned because I love you. We are damned, you and I.”
“I don’t care. Stay with me, my love.” Logan’s hips rocked as he met my thrusts.
I held his hips, pounding into him, watching my rod slide in and out of him. My sac tightened, and I could hold back no longer. Thrusting forward, I buried my cock deep inside him and cried out his name.
He spilled just after I did and together we collapsed to the bed, with me lying on top of him. I shifted off, and he rolled over. We lay side by side looking into each other’s eyes. We’d said it, told each other of our love. Now, we marveled at it.
“I don’t know what you see in me, Logan.” I have never understood it and probably never will.
“I see a man, brave, loyal, filled with honor. I see the man I love and want.”
I kissed him and felt his love and acceptance, and knew I’d found where I belonged.
He fell asleep in my arms, and I watched him, in awe of his love for me. Time passed, and he rolled out of my arms and onto his side. I didn’t want to leave him, but we’d been found together in the morn, and we were lucky it was only Tomas. The next time, it might be a servant or one of the men. No explanation would satisfy whoever found us, so it was best i
f I went. I left the bed, gathered my clothing, dressed in silence, and then returned to my room as Logan slept.
I opened my door and stepped inside. The lantern burned low. I had just sat on my bed and removed my boots when Joss sat up and rubbed his eyes. Brute didn’t wake.
“Where have you been, m’lord?” he asked, half-asleep.
“Doing rounds,” I answered. “Go back to bed, lad.”
Joss nodded and pulled his blanket around him. “I woke before and you were gone.” His voice was small and soft.
“Were you frightened?” I remembered Tomas’s tears. After all, Joss was still a boy, only a few years older than Tomas.
There was a long pause then he sighed. “Aye.”
“A bad dream?” I’d had more than my share of those.
“No.” There was a small shake of his head.
I finished undressing and pulled the blanket over me as I lay on my side.
“Just didn’t like being alone?”
“Aye.”
“Brute was here. He’ll keep you safe.”
Joss snorted. “If he woke up.”
“True enough. He likes his sleep.” I nodded. “What was it that bothered you?”
He shrugged. “A bad feeling, m’lord.”
“Well. Those are most rare. Go back to sleep. I’m here now.”
Joss seemed to settle and his breathing slowed. I kept guard until I was sure he slept, then let my mind drift. I thought of Logan and worried that he’d wake in the morn to find himself alone, angry with me for deserting him.
I thought of Tomas, who looked so much like his father, from his blond hair to his green eyes.
I closed my eyes. Ansel stood in the field, holding up a rabbit, his dark hair streaked with copper. Then, I was looking down at Joss’s dark brown hair, touched with copper, and his soft brown eyes.
I couldn’t believe it. Ansel’s words came back to me, “The first girl I ever fucked was redheaded.” My eyes opened.
So was Joss’s mother, just a girl when he was born.
My eyes burned as I stared at the boy lying on a pallet against the wall of my room.
Ansel’s son.
