My Lady's Pleasure ~ Three Kinds of Wicked ~ Book 11

by Alice Gaines

  “At least, you can tell us about his rod,” the young one said.

  They all stood around her, staring at her. For heaven’s sake, they’d never budge until she’d told them something.

  “I saw him naked and aroused. An error, only,” she said. “He is, well, very large.”

  “Ooh,” the young one crooned. “I’ll think I’ll take one of these Vikings.”

  “Not until you’re older,” Josalyn said. “And only after you’ve married him.”

  “Don’t worry.” One of the older women put her hand on the girl’s shoulders. “She will, my lady. She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

  “I think we’re done,” Anne said. She scanned the room and then smiled. “Lovely. Luxury, as benefits your station.”

  The room could have come from a tale of dragons and brave knights who awakened beautiful princesses. They’d draped flowers all over the huge bed and down the curtains at the corners. Rose petals covered the sheets where they’d pulled the blankets back. So much work. So much love. She’d hold it all in her heart when she surrendered her body to the Viking. Her husband.

  A man appeared at the door. Not Ulric but old Tom who cleaned swords in the armory.

  “What are you doing here, fool?” Anne demanded. “We told you, no man will view this chamber but the lord.”

  “’Twas the lord who sent me,” Tom said. “He wants to know when he can see his wife.”

  “See her?” Anne said, to titters from the others.

  “Have mercy. He’s just married,” Tom said.

  “Tell him we’re ready,” Anne said.

  Tom left, and many of the women followed. Anne waved her hands at the rest, and they disappeared, too, leaving the two of them alone.

  Josalyn got up and approached the bed. She’d agreed to this. She’d taken the vow in front of witnesses of her own free will. By what she understood of the ways of men and women, the congress would hurt tonight. Women told stories of great pleasure with the coupling. Although she’d never expect that, she couldn’t deny the power of his kiss after the ceremony. Imagine, that a warrior could be so gentle with his touch. A lazy warmth had washed through her from the meeting of their mouths to other secret places. And then when he’d held her against him, he hadn’t overwhelmed her with his size but rather offered comfort and a promise of sweet secrets they might share.

  “You’ll enjoy your husband,” Anne said. “He’s not a beast, and he treasures you.”

  “Aye, treasure, well enough. Like his horse, his sword, and this castle.”

  “His eyes go soft when he gazes at you,” Anne said. “He doesn’t look at his horse that way.”

  “Soft? Him?”

  “’Tis love, my lady.”

  “Even less likely,” Josalyn said.

  Anne gave her a knowing smile. “You’ll recognize the expression when you know him better.”

  “Mayhap, but I’ll still have to endure this night first.” She shrugged out of her chemise and handed it to Anne. Now naked, she slipped into the bed. The perfume of rose petals, crushed under her body, floated up to surround her.

  “Good night, my lady,” Anne said. “You’ll fare well with the Viking. I can feel it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Josalyn lay back, staring up into the darkness and the flickering of light from the oil lamp near the bed. She breathed in a steady rhythm to calm herself, in and out, pausing after each exhalation.

  Ulric entered finally. Though his tread was light, she sensed the moment he stepped into the room. He made a looming figure, filling threshold. He stayed there for a moment, and though she must have imagined it in the dim light, his nostrils seemed to flare, the male in his territory catching the scent of his female.

  “My lord?” she whispered.

  In answer, he stepped aside to reveal he’d brought another man. Trey, the minstrel, his lyre in his hand. The flames reflected in his dark eyes, helping him to create his magic. The man brought music with him even when he didn’t play or sing. It surrounded him, casting a spell as it had when she’d first kissed the Viking after the marriage ceremony. Somehow, his presence made her submission natural, even desirable.

  Still, why had her husband brought another man here to witness what would pass between them? Bad enough she had to surrender her body to a man she hadn’t wanted to marry. Did he now want her to have to expose herself to a stranger at the moment of her ultimate debasement?

  She stared up at Ulric. Her husband wouldn’t return her gaze but looked away into a dark corner of the chamber.

  She sat up, clutching the sheet to her body. “Explain.”

  “I’ve come to perform for you, my lady,” the troubadour said.

  “I’ll hear it from my husband,” she said.

  He still didn’t look at her. “He seems to soothe you, my lady. I thought he might help.”

  The musician struck up his lyre, and more magic poured forth. It filled the space around the bed, even making the flames in the oil lamp dance.

  “Don’t,” she said. “No tricks from you to fool me into liking what will happen here.”

  Trey stopped playing. “In my experience, women enjoy the act, my lady. Even the first time.”

  Ulric approached the bed with a chalice in his hand. “Drink, wife.”

  “What is it?” she said.

  “Wine. Why must you defy me? You agreed to this.”

  “Aye.” Clutching the sheet with one hand, she took the cup with the other and raised it to her lips. This wine surpassed what they’d had at the feast. Honeyed notes and cinnamon blossomed on her tongue. The liquid warmed her throat as it went down, and before she realized what she’d done, she’d swallowed the entire drink. She handed the cup back to Ulric and sank back into the rose petals.

  Trey stroked his lyre again and began to sing something, but the words tripped over each other in a blur. A sweetness settled around her heart and spread out to relax her muscles. Her breath softened and went deeper into her chest. Mayhap the singer’s spells weren’t so threatening, after all. Would it be so bad to lie back and let him cast his circle of enchantment around her?

  Her gaze wandered to Ulric where he shrugged from his tunic and then his shirt and braes. He stood, naked and facing away from her.

  “Stay a moment, my lord husband,” she said.

  He straightened and turned his head toward her.

  “Just so,” she said.

  “What do you want, wife?”

  “To look at you.”

  He let his hands fall to his side but made no other move. In the flickering light, he made quite a spectacle. Though large, he was also sleek, made of graceful contours and solid planes with only the scar she’d noted before marring his perfection. Broad shoulders gave way to a grand expanse of back and then to a narrower waist and finally his buttocks. Round and firm. Her palms itched for the feel of them as heat spread over her. For some reason her body wouldn’t explain to her mind, she became wet between her legs as she stared at him. She could almost believe she wanted him.

  “Done with the back?” he said.

  “Aye.”

  He turned slowly, and the minstrel accompanied his movements with the music. More and more of Ulric came into view. He resembled a lion with his golden mane of hair. It caught the light and shone around his face. His eyes seemed to reflect the fire of the lamp as he stared at her. Jesu, he looked as if he’d devour her.

  “Take my measure,” he said. “All of me.”

  He meant his cock. She’d seen the thing before as she’d peeked over his shoulder in the bath. It held more importance now that he was about to take his right as her husband. She’d have to deal with it, and soon.

  She went slowly, though, admiring his beauty as she lowered her gaze. The muscles of his chest and the male nipples there. The trail of the scar over his ribs. The flat abdomen. Finally, she encountered the curling hairs of his pelvis and the rod that jutted out from them.

  If anything, he
seemed even larger than before and so thick that her fingers might not span him at the base. Surely a trick of the light or the rhythm Trey played, but the thing seemed to jerk upward as she studied it. Eager to plunder her.

  “Afraid?” he said.

  “I should be.” She hadn’t imagined his size. Did women truly accept such large instruments into their body? He’d surely split her in two. And yet, the fear huddled in the back of her mind, tucked away in its own compartment where it couldn’t reach other parts of her. An invisible blanket had settled over her, leaving her weak but with all her senses alive, as she’d never experienced them before. Her feminine chamber released yet more moisture, as if she were drowning inside.

  Trey changed his song to something less refined with deeper notes. The rhythm drove the music, thumping with the beating of her heart. Ulric moved with it as he approached the bed and bent to grab the covers from her hand. She didn’t resist. She might have found the strength to, but the will wasn’t there. By all the saints, she wanted his eyes on her, wanted his reaction. She wanted him to desire her and take her.

  He sucked in a breath. “God’s blood, what a sight.”

  “I hope I please you, my lord.”

  “Please me? Your beauty humbles me.” He gestured with his head toward Trey. “What say you, minstrel?”

  “Very beautiful, my lord.”

  Their admiration blossomed in her heart, and truth to tell, in other parts of her body, as well. It spread through her downward, filling her with more warmth. The look in Ulric’s eyes spoke of a shared heat, a flame that could set them both ablaze. Her queynt came alive with an insistent ache. It wanted his mammoth member inside. Craved it.

  Suddenly, her flesh grew sensitive. Especially between her legs but elsewhere, too. All the other hidden places–under her arms, behind her knees. Her nipples hardened into peaks as drowsiness settled over her.

  “You drugged the wine,” she said.

  “’Tis for the best, my lady.” Trey’d said that from where he sat beside her. When had he stopped playing? How had he gotten so close without her noticing?

  “Why are you here?” she whispered.

  “To give you maximum pleasure. Your lord and husband is a large man. He doesn’t want to hurt or frighten you.”

  She turned back to the Viking. “You’ll allow this?”

  “For your happiness, aye,” he answered.

  Suddenly, she was there and not there as her mind slipped away from reality. She floated in a perfumed cloud, rose petals and warmth lapping at her skin. She fought the fog, mentally clawing her way back to reality and reason. But no matter how hard she tried, one last curtain obscured the outside world, and then the mists closed around her again.

  “What have you done?”

  “Don’t fight.” A voice from the distance. The minstrel’s.

  But she didn’t want to fight it. Was that the result of the drug? Or was that her true desire? “You shouldn’t have drugged me. That was wrong of you.”

  “’Twill only relax you and ease your virgin’s pain. Nothing else has changed.”

  “Then why do I feel so….”

  “So?” A voice prompted.

  “Alive. My skin feels as it never has before. Awake, somehow.”

  “That’s desire, my lady.”

  “Oh. Desire. Of course.” She let her eyes drift shut. A hand – Trey’s? – closed over her breast, and thought of anything else rushed out of her head. He kneaded her gently and then circled his palm over the peak. Saints, she’d never felt the like. The passage of his fingers burned and soothed at the same time, and she closed her eyes, arching her back for more contact.

  “She’s ready, my lord.” Trey’s voice.

  A heavier weight settled next to her. The hand at her breast disappeared, but a large body covered hers. Skin against bare skin. Hard muscle against her nipples. Tiny kisses rained down over her face, from her forehead to her eyelids to her cheeks and then along her jaw. So gentle, so lovely, and yet, not enough.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair and searched for his mouth with hers. When she found it, she kissed him hard and deep, as if her whole life had built to this moment.

  The man groaned and responded with hunger of his own. Their lips battled, each of them seeking dominance and surrender at the same time. His mouth tasted of spices and of the sweets they’d shared at the end of the bridal feast.

  “Josalyn, I need you.” Her husband whispered. “Open for me.”

  “Too soon, my lord.” It was Trey, nearby again. “Even with the potion, you still need to arouse her passions.”

  She opened her eyes and found the blurry image of his face next to hers on the pillow, his dark eyes staring deeply into her own. She reached out and touched velvet skin everywhere–his shoulder, down his side to his hip, and below. Her hand landed on something hard, so she circled it with her fingers.

  A low ahh of pleasure enveloped her, and as she stroked him, the hardness grew longer and harder. He stopped her hand and pushed it away. “Not for me tonight.”

  Then he bent and placed his mouth over her breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth. The gentle tugging sent jolts of excitement through her, sending her deeper into her sensual spell. Ulric took the other breast, and she surrendered utterly. She ran her fingers through both men’s hair, holding them both against her.

  Hands traveled over her body, moving so deftly and quickly she couldn’t possibly know which one belonged to which man. Fingers parted her legs and stroked the sensitive flesh there. She hadn’t wanted this but, oh, how she needed it. Her body burned, sparks of lust dancing over her skin.

  One of their fingers found a secret spot, one she hadn’t even guessed at herself. She cried out at the shock, nearly floating off the bed.

  “’Tis time, my lord.”

  She opened her eyes, although nothing around her made any sense, flooded as she was with the sensations that had claimed her body. Trey had spoken, and now, he held out a tiny jar toward her husband. It caught the light of the lamp and sparkled like a jewel.

  Ulric tipped his finger in and dabbed something that glistened onto the tip. The salve gave off a strong scent like perfume from a fir forest. Pleasant and green. Exhilarating.

  He brought it to his nose and sniffed deeply. Then, smiling, he moved his hand to her breast and smoothed a tiny amount around her nipple. It chilled at first but then became a slow, soft burn. A whole new dimension of excitement built inside her. Now images blossomed in her mind, riding on a horse through the forest, the hooves kicking glittering snow into the evergreen boughs. The horse picked up speed, its back rolling between her spread legs as it galloped. She kicked it to make it run harder, faster. More, more. Then, the steed turned into a huge man beneath her as his hardness surged up into her.

  No, wait. That was reality. Trey was holding her legs apart as her husband spread more of the ointment onto her private parts. His fingers went between the lips there to coat the sensitive inner petals. Again, the chill, followed by the heat. She burned with need so powerful she’d never imagined such feelings possible.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped.

  “Making you ready, my lady,” Trey said.

  “Stop. It’s too much.”

  “Don’t worry. ‘Tis for your pleasure.” Her husband this time. She tried to focus on him, but his image blurred. The flickering of the light, or the fever in her brain?

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  Sweet saints, she had no choice. He was the horse and the man and the cock. She’d ride him or spend a night of misery, empty and aching for him.

  “I trust you,” she whispered.

  “I will not hurt you,” he murmured against her ear.

  “Now, my lord,” Trey said softly.

  The bed creaked with his weight as he rolled onto his back. Then arms were lifting her. Trey’s. Ulric helped her to swing a leg over him. Trey still held her, poised above the enormous cock.

  “Grasp h
im and bring him to your chamber,” Trey said softly. “Then, tell me when you’re ready.”

  She found the pole of flesh easily enough. So thick, it dwarfed her fingers. Blindly she guided him to the entrance to her chamber, the very flesh he’d just anointed. Her body welcomed the contact. It knew, even if she hadn’t realized sooner, that he could end the ache and soothe the burning. When she had the head of his rod at her passage, she nodded. Trey lowered her slowly.

  Her husband grunted loudly. “The ointment. It burns.”

  “Restraint, my lord.”

  “Aye,” he gritted.

  She stretched to accept him, and immediately, a tendril of pain wound through the curtain of desire. If she went farther, he’d possess her fully. The Viking who’d overrun her home would own her. He’d drugged her with passion and wine and other mysterious things, and now he’d own her, too.

  And yet, if she didn’t have him now, she’d have to beg him to take her later. Now that he’d created this appetite, she’d never find peace until she satisfied it. She had to ride the horse or lose her mind.

  “More, please,” she whispered as she pushed herself down onto him. Trey still held her from behind, his arms beneath hers. He helped her to go slowly, and Ulric lay motionless.

  Another stab of pain made her gasp, but her arousal could bear no more delay. She pushed down, hard, crying out in victory as his cock entered her passage.

  “God’s teeth, you’re tight,” he shouted.

  “Well done, my lady,” Trey whispered into her ear. “’Twill all be good from here.”

  Good? The puny word couldn’t stand comparison with her reality. Her inner walls gripped the hardness, measuring each inch as her husband’s member passed inside her. Deep, to her very core. He moved, finally, pumping his hips slowly to drive himself in and out of her.

  She moaned at the pure carnality of it, and her head fell back onto Trey’s shoulder. “Don’t stop. Don’t let him stop.”

  “We’re here to serve you.” Trey nibbled at the tender curve where her neck met her shoulder. “Your lord husband and I.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Ulric went harder and deeper.

  “Yes!” she cried.