Fighting Lady Jayne

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Ronen it is. Besides, handling one is better than taking on many.

  Horny she could work with, perhaps even enjoy, especially when the man had the body of a warrior. Thick muscles held a tightly constructed frame, forming the perfect specimen of masculine beauty. But unlike the others, he had an ease to his movements. Dark waves framed his face, falling to his shoulders. He looked a lot like his brother, only shorter and less menacing. Then there were his eyes, dark and deep and expressive. She’d have to be careful of those eyes.

  Jayne preferred to fight with her fists, but feminine wiles could work just as well. She let a small smile curl her lips. People around her talked, but she ignored them, focusing all her concentration on what she was doing. She kept her sights on her target. Ronen made a move to sit, but froze mid-action at her look.

  That’s right, sunbeam, I’m looking at you.

  Stepping out of line, she walked right for him. Jayne let her hips sway, being sure to keep her back to the firelight. The action wasn’t lost on Ronen. His eyes went straight to her waist.

  Jayne felt the gaze of the crowd on her, but that didn’t make her nervous. She was used to an audience. Still watching him, she stepped up the two stairs to reach the high table and lifted his goblet of liquor. With her hands bound, it was hard to hold on to the goblet, but she managed. Ronen practically fell into his chair. Closing her eyes, she drank deeply, purposefully letting little trails of liquid slide down her neck and into the ugly white gown’s bodice. Jayne ignored the burning sensation that numbed her tongue and heated her throat and stomach.

  When she finished, she set the goblet back down and licked her lips. Ronen’s eyes followed the gesture, his mouth agape. Jayne put her bound hands on the table, leaned across the wooden top and stated, “Mine.”

  A round of gasps met her declaration. She was pretty sure by the look on Ronen’s face that no woman had pulled this little stunt before. Well, they were sorely mistaken if they thought she was just going to stand there and be a timid little creature awaiting the first guy who decided he wanted to fuck her.

  “Pardon me?” the man managed weakly, glancing back and forth as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard and needed outside confirmation.

  She’d shocked him. Good. She would twirl his mind around in so many circles he wouldn’t be able to see straight. By the time she was done with him, he’d try to conquer the entire country of Staria if she demanded it.

  “Mine,” she declared even louder.

  He looked down at her chest before drawing his gaze back to her eyes. Ronen shook his head in denial. “It does not work—”

  “Sunbeam, I’m sure it works just fine,” she whispered, giving a meaningful glance down to his crotch. Was she mistaken or was Mr. Happy poking his head up to play?

  “What?” He looked at his lap, jumping a little. “Of course that works—”

  Laughter broke out at the head table, cutting him off. His lips pressed tightly together.

  Jayne pointed at the man who’d made Sorin’s announcement. “Say it.”

  “My lady?” the man asked in surprise. Jayne rolled her eyes. Had none of these men ever seen a strong-willed woman before? “Lord Ronen, shall I…?”

  “Say mine, Lord Ronen.” Jayne leaned closer, parting her lips. Keeping her tone sultry and filled with erotic promise, she panted, “Say it. Say Jayne is mine.”

  She waited. His lips parted, as if he would answer but couldn’t. He stared at her, stunned in to obvious silence.

  Without giving him warning as to her intentions, Jayne grabbed Ronen’s face and jerked him to her. Her body fell across the tabletop and her elbows banged into the hard wood a little too firmly, but she ignored the little hints of pain. She’d expected the kiss to be a cold, calculated form of seduction. What she didn’t expect was the rush of warm pleasure that started where their mouths met and ended in her toes. It was meant to be a quick, playful kiss, but it soon turned into more.

  Jayne opened her mouth, sucking his bottom lip between hers. He tasted like liquor and something else she couldn’t quite name. At first, he remained stunned, not kissing her back, but then his tongue slid into her mouth, rubbing and exploring. Their lips sawed together, rough and just a little awkward as they learned each other’s rhythm.

  Jayne gripped him tighter, becoming aware of her awkward position as she tried to hold onto his face for support. A utensil of some sort poked her ribs, digging in uncomfortably. The sound of cheering rushed over them, as the men from the lower tables went crazy with good-natured laughter and approval. Jayne was used to the crowds, to discomforts and pain. But she wasn’t used to a mouth that tasted like his, or lips that felt so firm and good.

  Her body tingled, each nerve ending seeming to fight for attention. But he didn’t touch her, didn’t grab her back, only returned the heated kiss she’d initiated. Well aware that her plan was quickly backfiring and she’d soon be lost to his touch and begging for things she didn’t want to beg for, she pushed back. Breathing hard, she whispered to him, “Mine. Say mine. Say Jayne is mine.”

  “Mine,” Ronen mouthed, as if entranced. He licked his lips slowly before he cleared his throat. Nodding, he repeated with more force so the cheering hall could hear, “Mine. Lady Jayne is mine.”

  “Good boy,” Jayne blew him a quick kiss and stood, hoping she effectively put on a playful, unconcerned air. Inside, she still trembled. His taste was still on her tongue, teasing her with the promise of more.

  Get control, Jayne, she ordered herself harshly. It is time to perform. It is time to fight.

  Years of fighting in the ring and living as she did, trained her to quickly get all her emotions under control. He took her by surprise once with his taste, but now that she knew it, she would not let it happen again. Jayne turned to the announcer and arched a brow. Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, she said, “Well? Get on with it.”

  “Rejoice!” the man called. “Lord Ronen has also chosen. The house of Firewall is complete. This is truly a day blessed by the gods!”

  The hall broke out in a mixture of cheering and encouragement. Jayne winked at the crowd, waving audaciously to give them the performance they wanted. Just like her fans, none of these men really cared about her or the other brides. They wanted a show, something to gossip about later. And Jayne was always good at giving the crowd exactly what they paid for. Jayne suppressed a mocking laugh as she lowered her hand and turned to Ronen. Poor, poor, Ronen. You’re so out of your league.

  * * * * *

  Ronen endeavored to slow his racing heart. Never in the history of his people had a woman stood up and announced her choice. But today, at this ceremony, it had happened to him. Lady Jayne chose to be his wife. She chose him. She wanted him. And she didn’t hesitate, or doubt, or hold back. She sang her desire to the world, stroking his masculine pride for all to see, laying claim to him with her lips. Ah, those lips, so full, so pleasurable. Perhaps the gods knew he’d hesitate to say the words himself and gave her voice to initiate the claim. Either way, she belonged to him.

  Ronen grinned. Mine.

  The war gods smiled upon him for his deeds in battle and rewarded him with a gorgeous woman with an animalistic appetite to fuel his. He’d felt the envious eyes of the others as he whisked his new bride away to his chambers in the Mace Tower. None would dare to touch her, no matter how much they wanted to.

  He breathed deeply, panting as if it had taken all his strength to walk the winding stairwell. Already he could envision tearing the clothes from her body, finding the soft womanly flesh, those secret crevices and gentle slopes only a lover could touch. He tried not to let his eagerness show, but he found himself slamming the door shut behind him.

  “I hope this meets with my lady’s approval.” Ronen motioned around his tower room. None of the Starian men took pains to decorate their chambers and he was no different. A few necessary staples graced the room—a large bed with thick fur blankets, a weapons’ wall to display and hold the majority of h
is belongings, the fireplace, a thickly cushioned chair and a trunk for the rest of his belongings. He motioned toward the far door next to his bed. “That door leads to your room.”

  “You live here?” she asked, her voice losing some of the smoky seduction of before.

  “When I am here,” he answered, wondering how long until she kissed him again. This time, she wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t let her. “Normally I live at the battlefront or at Firewall Castle, my family home, before it burnt to the ground.”

  “Firewall burnt down?” Her mouth twisted slightly and he wasn’t sure he appreciated the humor she seemed to find at the irony.

  He stiffened defensively. “It will be rebuilt when the resources can be spared.”

  Jayne’s face sobered and she nodded, guarding her expression from him. Instantly, the playfulness came back and he realized it was a practiced look, a defense, a way to hide her true emotions from the world around her. He wondered at it and opened his mouth to speak, but her words stopped him.

  “This will do, I’ve stayed in worse.” She made a show of walking around his room, touching his things with the delicate tips of her fingers. Each seductive brush sent an erotic shiver over his flesh, as if she marked all he was as her own. She ran her index finger over the long center indent of a sword. When she reached the end, she jerked her finger away, making a small noise of surprise. She stuck the digit between her lips and sucked. Ronen nearly came undone at the sight.

  “Sharp,” she whispered around her finger, indicating she’d cut herself.

  Firelight caressed her every move, casting shadows in stark relief across her face. The orange glow caught up in her eyes, giving them a temptress’s gleam. He swallowed over the hard lump in his throat. She didn’t look away and for the first time in Ronen’s life he felt helpless.

  “You have a lot of weapons.” Jayne let the finger slip from her lips as she stepped brazenly toward him. Ronen couldn’t move, could barely breathe. “Are they decoration or do you know how to use them?”

  “Men must be…” His breathing deepened and he could barely concentrate to answer as her eyes glanced to the bed and back again. It had been so long since he’d been with a woman. The camp followers were few and the number of men they serviced were many. “Must be prepared for battle.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, Lord Ronen. I asked if you knew how to wield your weapons.” She smiled, an achingly seductive look. The white material of her gown clung to her breasts, teasing him as it hid her body from view. A strand of inky black hair fell over her smooth cheek. Every thought in his head centered on the hard heat of his cock. Never had it felt so full and thick, practically throbbing for attention.

  Ronen nodded. “Yea, of course. I have held a sword since the night I was born and…”

  Sanity left him. How could he think with her lips so close, so full and lush? How could he concentrate when every breath brought him the scent of a clean field, untouched by bloodshed? Never had a woman chosen him above all others. Sure, the camp followers enjoyed his bed on those rare moments he’d been in their company, but he was one of many to them. Lady Jayne chose him to be her one and the very idea of it spun his brain around in his head.

  She touched the middle of his chest. It was just a gentle fingertip but enough to send a shiver over his entire frame. Jayne ran the caress down his tunic, just like she had with the sword blade. Reaching his waist, she stopped right next to his erection. “All your weapons?”

  He tilted his jaw down in affirmation, realizing what she’d meant. Her hand cupped his cock, wrapping it tight though the material of his tunic and breeches. Ronen balled his hands into fists, curious to see what she’d do next.

  “Yea,” he managed, completely disarmed.

  Jayne licked her lips and tugged at her gown. She pulled the material over her head, inching it slowly up. Strong, tan calves grew into perfect thighs. Tradition dictated that she’d be naked under the gown and he waited with bated breath to see the apex revealed. Naked, shaved flesh or soft black curls?

  Absently, he tugged at the laces on his shoulder to loosen his tunic. The gown moved higher and his fingers stopped. Short curls formed into a strip to guard her sex, greeting him. Sleek muscles and rounded hips tapered to a flat stomach. With a deft swoop, she jerked the gown over her head. Breasts bobbed at the motion, a perfect handful. Dusky, round nipples puckered in the firelight, erect and begging for attention.

  “Prove it,” she ordered.

  Ronen sprung into action, happy to obey. As he shoved his long tunic aside and tore at the laces to his breeches, she backed into the bed. He followed her, his pants falling over his boots to trap his feet. Jayne gasped, her eyes going to his full arousal.

  No thoughts beyond the driving need to feel the warmth of her wet pussy passed through his mind. He needed her. He wanted her. He had to be inside her. Now.

  Ronen pushed her shoulder and she landed on her back, her legs dangling over the side. The long strands of her hair spilled around her head, framing her gorgeous face. Her willingness was all the invitation he needed. Eagerly, he grabbed her legs, thrusting them open. Jayne’s eyes widened in surprise. He wanted to take her then, hard and fast, but the bounce of her breasts caught his eyes. Leaning over, he buried his face between the soft mounds and groaned in pleasure. Her clean smell consumed him, scented by the distinct hint of her femininity.

  He ran his hands over her sides, trying to explore everywhere at once. The urgency inside him wouldn’t let him slow. Not yet. Not now.

  Ronen pulled a taut nipple between his lips and sucked. She arched and moaned, grabbing his hair and tugging hard. The sound of her pleasure drove his aggressive lips on.

  “Ah, in all the bloody battles of Staria,” he cursed in frustration. His lips wanted more, but his cock refused to wait. The heat of her sex radiated onto his stomach. The call was too much for his libido to handle. Roughly, he grabbed her hips and dislodged his mouth from her breast. The wet nipple glistened, scorched with the orange firelight.

  Ronen fumbled with his tunic, growling when he couldn’t move the front of it fast enough. Mindless with passion, he brought himself to her sex. Jayne said something, but he couldn’t hear her through the rushing sound of blood in his ears. The thick tip of his cock head slid along her moist heat, parting the curls. She felt so right, so slick and hot and ready.

  He surged forward, pressing his cock into the velvet length of her sex. Ronen grunted, slowing in astonishment as the tight muscles of her pussy clamped down on him. Withdrawing, he worked his hips in easier thrusts, going deeper with each pass, not wanting to hurt her.

  Jayne wrapped her legs around Ronen’s waist, hooking her feet behind his ass. She forced him into her deep, making a strange noise as he penetrated her completely. His feet braced on the ground for leverage as he began to thrust. Her pussy clamped around him, giving the perfect amount of resistance.

  Ronen felt like an untried youth, fumbling his way through his first time. A voice inside his head screamed at him to take his time, to enjoy the moment, but the desire raged and demanded satisfaction.

  Jayne held onto his arm with one hand and rubbed her sex with the other. All the while, her legs controlled his movements. Ronen gripped the fur bedding, rocking wildly. He slammed into her, making her perfect breasts bounce. There was so much more he wanted to do to her. He tried to hold off, to stop the inevitable surge of release.

  Muscles trembled and clamped down. He lost himself, spilling his seed with a hard jerk inside her body. His mouth opened wide and he groaned hoarsely. The loud sound echoed around them.

  Jayne gulped for breath. As they had sex, her mind strayed from her purpose and she’d actually enjoyed herself. She refused to believe the fact meant anything, reasoning that it had been a very long time since she’d been with a man. And so what if she enjoyed it? Sex was meant to be pleasurable. It didn’t mean she couldn’t manipulate the man on top of her afterward.

  “I would do that ag
ain and slower,” Lord Ronen said, pushing up from her, “but I am expecting a report from the front lines.”

  What?

  Jayne sat up in surprise.

  “Your every comfort should be met next door. Look around and make it your own. If you’ve brought any personal items with you, they’ll be delivered by the maids. A seamstress will come around. Please, direct her to make any gowns you’d like. I can well afford to clothe you.” Ronen leaned over to grab his pants, pulling them up so he could re-lace them at his waist. His businesslike tone annoyed her.

  What?! Where do you think you are going?

  “But…” Jayne frowned, pushing up from the bed. Her first instinct was to cover her nakedness, but she refrained.

  His eyes moved over her. “You wish for more? I will come back after my meeting to attend you.”

  “Wait, I think we need to talk.” Jayne crossed in front of him, blocking his path to the door. This wasn’t happening. He was dismissing her? Men did not dismiss her. She was Jane Hart.

  Ronen tilted his head. “I see nothing to discuss. If you have questions, the maids will help you find your way.”

  “I mean about this,” Jayne waved around the room, “and us.”

  Did she just say that? Why in the world was she sounding all girly and clingy? What did she care if he didn’t want to stay and cuddle in the aftermath? It’s not as if they meant anything to each other.

  “The choice was made.” He tried to walk around her. Jayne again blocked him, forgetting her plan to manipulate him in her irritation. So what if she’d been planning on leaving him? His actions were unacceptable. “I see nothing to discuss. You are mine.”

  “Then I change my mind. There is no decision.” Jayne put her hands on her hips, trying to rankle him. “I unchoose you.”

  Ronen’s eyes narrowed in instant rage, the easy expression in his gaze fizzling out like water under fire. His shoulders tensed as he inhaled a deep, ragged breath. One very important fact became clear to her in that instant. Jayne underestimated the man before her. She’d seen him as the weakest of the pack, the one she could manipulate and push over. But she’d mistaken his easy manner for vulnerability. How could she have been so off in her assessment of her chosen opponent?