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

by Alice Gaines

  “A present,” he said.

  “For me?”

  “For my new bride.”

  “One captive as a gift to another?”

  “Must you question everything I do?” He approached, filling the room with his presence.

  “Forgive me if I don’t play the part of the obedient wife,” she said. “I’d never thought to be a wife at all.”

  “But you are one. Mine. Now, here.” He held his arm with the falcon out to her. “Take it.”

  “I will, for the bird’s sake.” She extended her own arm, and he eased the falcon onto her glove. Such a stunning beast. Finely plumed and fierce in the predatory glare to its eye. It spread its wings to make its presence known and then settled back as if to say it already ruled this roost.

  “I’m told you favor falconry, lady,” Ulric said. “This specimen cost me dearly.”

  “So you buy things, Viking?” she said. “I thought you only took them.”

  He learned toward her. “Gifts are sweeter when they’re freely given, mouse.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “Why do you call me Viking?” he countered. “I’m your lord and husband. I’d have you call me that.”

  “Very well, my lord Viking.” She walked to a free perch and set the falcon onto it.

  The man came up behind her with footsteps so soft she almost didn’t hear them. She could feel him, though. The heat of his body washed over her. He still smelled like the forest after a rain. Odd for a barbarian’s scent to be always so clean. It tugged at the memory of her drugged fantasy from the night before.

  “Does a mouse like to be stroked behind the ear as a dog does?” he said.

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “An easy task to find out.” His finger traced her ear and then dipped behind to stroke the flesh there. She’d never thought much about that part of her body, but it suddenly became tender enough to sense the passage of his fingertip over each inch of skin. She held herself perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe.

  “Just so,” he whispered from behind her. Close, so close. He gathered up her hair and draped it over one shoulder. “You respond to gentling. I should have known.”

  “No one likes to be forced. Or drugged.”

  “I have no potions now, and yet you want me.”

  “I don’t,” she said, although the breathless quality of her voice said the opposite. “I’ll do my duty, no more.”

  “That’s not what the flush of your skin tells me.”

  “You can’t see my color in this dim light.”

  “But I can feel you.” His fingers traveled to her neck, to where her spine met her skull. “You’re warm, my lady. I know how to quench your fever.”

  She jerked around and stepped back. “What are you trying to prove?”

  “There’s a link between us. Invisible but real. We forged it that first moment we laid eyes on each other.”

  “When you looked up at me from the bailey,” she said.

  “I never drop my guard in battle. Never. In those seconds, nothing existed but you and me and the connection between us.”

  She’d felt it, too. She would not confess that to him, but she couldn’t deny it to herself. He’d fascinated her, even as she’d feared him. He should repulse her–an untamed male with all the usual base urges. Now free from Trey’s potions, she ought to recoil from him. But the invisible tether between them held strong, and when he took a step toward her, she didn’t move backward.

  “Ah, my lady,” he said. “My brave, little mouse.”

  I’m not a mouse. The words wouldn’t pass her lips, even when he inched closer.

  “You’ll stand and stare down the lion, won’t you, Lady Mouse?” he said.

  She’d thought him a lion before, a huge, tawny beast who could eat her alive if he wanted. But the cat in him made him toy with her, instead, as he got closer and closer until she could see a stray shard of sunlight in his hair.

  “What are you going to do?” Curse the tremble in her voice.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” His big hand went to the side of her face, and he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “But I am going to convince you of something.”

  “So we’ll debate then,” she said. “Like two learned priests dissecting some obscure bit of scripture.”

  “I won’t need words for our discussion.” His hand slid along her jaw to her chin, and he used his thumb to pull it upwards so that she could look nowhere but into his face. “Nor will our subject matter be theological, although it will be divine.”

  She could continue sparring words with him, pretending ignorance. He’d noticed the heat rising within her, though. This close he’d have to hear the harshness of her breathing as she worked to get air into her lungs. His own uneven breath spilled over her cheeks, and she could imagine that his heart beat at the same frantic pace as hers.

  “God created men and women to fit naturally together,” he said. “Whether the Norse gods or yours, they created your queynt for my cock, my sword for your sheath.”

  “To produce children only,” she said.

  He took her elbows in his hands and pulled her against him. “Oh, we’ll do that, my lady. I want sons.”

  When he wrapped his arms around her, she should have resisted, but in truth, she’d grown too weak to fight him. No, not too weak. Too much in need of him.

  “And a daughter to cherish as every woman deserves,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. It sent a shock through her, and when he followed with his tongue, a cry of pleasure escaped her.

  “Such a sweet sound.” His voice had taken a low, husky tone. “Let me cherish you now.”

  She managed to get her hands on his chest and pushed back to get some air. Useless. “That isn’t cherishing, it’s—”

  “Come now, dear wife.”

  “Ravishment.”

  “Name it as you will,” he said. “You want it as much as I do.”

  Impossible, but true. Her body had come to life in a way she’d never felt until the night before. Then, she’d blamed it on the potion in the wine and the ointment he’d massaged into her sex. Now, all that desire had returned from the mere nearness of him, a few touches, the flick of his tongue into her ear. The fury hadn't whipped into the intensity of their first coupling, but it would, and she had no power to stop it.

  He must have taken her silence as consent, because without a word, he started to strip her of her clothing. He started with the leather gloves, which fell wherever they wished. Powerless against her own desire, she let him remove layer after layer of silk and then linen until the cool air in the mews washed over her.

  “Someone might come in,” she said.

  “Then they’ll go out again.” He pulled her into his arms, and her breasts pressed into his chest. Even through his tunic, the nipples met hard muscles and stiffened in response.

  “I’m naked,” she cried.

  “I’ll be naked, too, soon,” he answered. “We’re married, madam. No scandal here.”

  “Ulric.”

  “Shh.” He kissed her then. Softly at first, as though testing his opponent in preparation for the real assault. Whatever he’d planned, it only served to make her crave more. Shameless in her need, she lifted her face and claimed his lips. They held such tenderness, soft and full and pliant on her own. She’d fallen so deeply under the trance of his eyes that she’d forgotten the pure sensuality of his mouth. She made up for her ignorance now by taking more and more of him until she could scarcely catch a breath and she had to lean into him for support.

  “Ah, my lady,” he murmured as he held her fast. Under her ear, his heart thumped wildly in his chest.

  “I feel so….” She took a shuddering breath. “How is this possible?”

  “’Tis not only possible but natural,” he said. “Though, ‘tis stronger between us than I could have hoped.”

  “You’ve drugged me again,” she said.

  “Nay. I sw
ear it. Only the magic we work on each other. Let me show you.”

  She nodded, but he couldn’t have had time to see as he dipped below her jaw and forged a trail of hot kisses over her neck to her collarbone. He didn’t stop there, though, but bent to run his tongue over the top of her breast. She held her breath and waited for what would come next. The gentle friction all around her nipple made the sensitive flesh ache, but then he took it into his mouth to suck, and tiny explosions of pleasure went off in her brain.

  Her eyelids grew too heavy to hold up, and she clutched at his head for balance as he continued the suction. Warmth pooled low in her belly, and the space between her thighs grew moist.

  She should have felt shame as lust coiled in her queynt and released more of her inner dampness. She should have prayed for mercy that he touch her there so she wouldn’t have to beg–or worse, touch herself. He’d made her a carnal creature, beyond embarrassment, beyond rational thought, beyond caring about sin. She could forbid him nothing.

  He switched to the other breast as his hands went exploring. Over her ribs, to her rear to cup her buttocks, and then past her hips to her outer thighs. He massaged as he went, kneading her muscles under his palms. Her sex waited for him to ease the ache and fill her emptiness.

  He kept moving lower, and she urged him with pressure on his head. His tongue trailed along the center of her torso and dabbed at her navel before he fell to his knees.

  “Spread your legs,” he said. “I want to taste you.”

  “You can’t mean to kiss me. Not there.”

  “Of course, there.” He slipped a hand between her thighs to urge them apart. “Already soaked. Your nubbin’s fairly begging for my tongue.”

  “Sweet saint, no.”

  “The poor mite is peeking out between your lips.” He took her hand and placed it on her sex. Her finger settled on something hard and small. Just that touch sent a stab of pleasure through her so powerful that she let out a gasp.

  “Let me. You’ll like it better.” He moved her hand away, and this time she let him part her legs. His tongue moved over her nether lips, forward and back. His arms went around her and held her upward toward her rear, or surely, she would have fallen. He teased and sucked, pushing her near the end of her endurance and then pulling back to leave her wanting.

  One more pass, and his tongue stroked her bud. A fury of lust claimed her, squeezing a cry out of her chest as her knees buckled. He helped her to the floor, into the straw. No sort of bed at all, but it would have to do. So wild now, so close, she’d have to climax here.

  He spread her legs and placed his face at her sex again. “You smell of flowers and taste of honey.”

  “My lord, my husband,” she whispered. “Please.”

  “As you wish, my lady.” His mouth closed over her queynt again, his tongue going immediately to the stiff nub, the seat of her passion. Long, sure strokes that pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Still, he didn’t finish her but left her floating in a sea of lust.

  The feel of the straw beneath her back disappeared, as did the soft sounds the birds made on their perches and even the pressure of his fingers into her thighs. Her body readied itself, the climax coiling inside her.

  “Ulric,” she shouted. “Don’t stop.”

  His tongue flicked against her, hard and fast, and she snapped. Her hips jerked upward as her chamber shuddered in a driving rhythm.

  He continued his caresses until he’d drawn out every fiber of response from her. Now finished, she lay back and sighed. She’d have to puzzle out this power he had over her. She’d have to understand how he knew exactly where to touch her and how. For now, her mind basked in the glow of spent passion. In her life, she’d never felt so weak nor so alive.

  After long moments, she opened her eyes again and found her husband, sitting naked and cross-legged beside her. He ran his palm over her ribs and let it settle on her belly. With his long fingers, his hand nearly spanned her body from one side to the other.

  “Satisfied, wife?”

  “Yes.” The word came out without thought. Yes, he’d sent her to ecstasy, but he could do more. Odd, she’d only shared that one night with him, and he’d created a hunger with potions and elixirs. Now, even sober, her body craved more.

  “No,” she said. “I’m not satisfied.”

  “Not satisfied?” His brow went up. “I’ve seldom seen a woman come with such force.”

  “’Twas splendid, I’ll admit, but I want more.”

  “And what could this more be?”

  “I want you.”

  “Me?” He put his hand over his chest. “What could a huge brute like me have that such a highborn lady as you could want?”

  He knew exactly what she’d asked for. He needed no explanation. He only toyed with her for some reason. Well enough. She’d turn his own language on him. “Sir Viking, I command the use of your sword.”

  “I came unarmed, lady.”

  “But, you haven’t come,” she said. “And you’re very well armed, as I can see for myself.”

  He laughed so heartily, some of the birds took alarm, unfurling their wings and causing the bells on their jesses to jangle.

  “Well done,” he said. “I’ll make a bawd of you yet.”

  “Then you have work still undone, wouldn’t you say?”

  “If you would command my sword, I pray you, lady, do it.”

  He had worked some magic on her because she’d suddenly become bewitched by his cock. It jutted out from his body, a reminder of how large he became when aroused. When she wrapped her hand around it, his eyes half closed, and a small grunt of approval escaped from his chest.

  She moved her hand along it from the base to the tip. The head felt like velvet, and as she squeezed it and then ran a finger around its ridge, a pearlish droplet of liquid appeared at the tip. Smoothing that into his flesh, she stroked him downward with more firmness until his flesh jerked upward, coming alive in her hand.

  “You have a magnificent weapon, my knight,” she said. “I’m honored to have it in my service.”

  He removed her hand from his rod and brought it to his lips. “Then, I beg you, allow me to fulfill my quest.”

  “Your quest? What is that?”

  “What it always is,” he answered. “My lady’s pleasure.”

  With that, he spread her legs farther apart and took his place between them. He paused there. “Bring me to you.”

  Though he’d never admit it, he’d asked for her consent, even after she’d asked him to swyve her. Warmth settled around her heart as she reached down, wrapped her fingers around his shaft, and guided him to her entrance.

  He groaned and pushed forward. “You’re wet for me.”

  The heat rose in her cheeks. “I couldn’t help it.”

  “Don’t apologize. I love it.” He eased an inch inside her and stayed there, propping himself up on his hands. “The feel of you. ‘Tis better even than your scent.”

  “More, Ulric. I’m ready.”

  “Don’t close your eyes. Look into mine.”

  “Aye.” Easily said, but as he sank into her–deep, so deep–a knowledge passed between them. Terrible and wonderful at once, and powerful enough to burn it into her heart. He watched her, the same awe in his eyes as she felt in her soul. This joining might seem base or crude in jest and song, but between them, it felt more like a sacrament.

  She reached up to stroke his face, and he turned his head to kiss her palm. “My lady, you own me.”

  “Ulric,” she gasped. “I never dreamed of this.”

  He moved. One slow thrust into her, back nearly out, and forward again. A heavenly connection. Divine congress. She wrapped her legs around him to hold him close, and now she could lift herself to meet him. Still gazing down at her, he increased the pace. She placed her hands on his shoulders to anchor herself more firmly.

  She would have closed her eyes by now and retreated into her own pleasure. But now, she shared this, watching the play of emot
ion on his face–every tightening of his jaw, every harsh breath as he worked to give them both joy.

  His thrusts stoked her inner fire, which hadn’t died but only banked itself, waiting for the moment it would flare even brighter than before. Now, she moved frantically, urging him to go faster, harder, deeper.

  He obliged, finally surrendering and closing his eyes in pleasure so profound it looked like pain. He strained with each movement, pinning her beneath him. His muscles bunched with his effort, cording in his powerful neck.

  The beast rode her now, the way she’d ridden him the night before. The great, golden animal was at the mercy of his mate. Her palms moved over his shoulders and down his arms, soothing and loving and begging at the same time.

  My lord, my love. Take me. Own me.

  “Come, Josalyn,” he gritted. “I need to feel you.”

  “I will. Soon.”

  “Now, love. Now.”

  “Yes!” The climax rushed through her, a whirlwind that caught her in its grip and tossed her upward. She clung to Ulric as he joined her, her sex sending powerful spasms along his as he emptied his seed inside her. He bellowed, throwing his head back in a roar of victory. The sound frightened the birds into a flapping of wings and jostling of bells.

  As they settled down, Ulric fell onto his side and pulled her against him. “Ah, Josalyn.”

  “My lord.”

  He groaned, a happy, satisfied sound. “I’ll bring you a falcon every day if this is how you thank me.”

  “The whole castle would be filled by birds,” she said. “Besides, I didn’t thank you. You seduced me.”

  “Did I, now?” he said. “Then I’ll thank you for allowing it.”

  Allowing it? She’d fairly begged for it. Best she keep that to herself, though, lest he realize his true power over her.

  “And I thank you for the falcon,” she said.

  He pulled a piece of straw from her hair and laughed. “My wife deserves a better bed.”

  “Did you think about that when you came in here?” she said.

  “Truly, lady, I only thought to give you the falcon. Your beauty overcame my good sense.”

  “Flowery language, husband,” she said. “Did you learn it from Trey?”