Dark Warrior (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Julie Shelton

  He raised his head and looked at her. “No need of such haste, beloved,” he admonished tenderly, his eyes glittering with the love he felt for her. “I’ll get you there. Pleasure is not just about the arrival, you know. ’Tis also about the journey. Take time to enjoy it. I promise you it will be worth the wait.”

  The breath left her lungs in a whoosh. She collapsed back onto the bed with a strangled sob. “It feels so good,” she choked out past her tears. “I never knew aught could feel so good!”

  “It only gets better,” he promised with a wicked smile, bending his head once again to his most pleasurable task.

  Starting at the top, he slid his tongue along her dripping, aching channel, down past her opening, along her perineum to the tight, puckered ring of her anus. Her shocked gasp echoed through the room. Flexing his fingers in the firm flesh of her buttocks, he lifted her higher against his mouth, licking around the tiny rosebud opening of her asshole.

  Her body went taut as a bowstring. She cried out, struggling for breath between moans. This was wicked! This was depraved! This was—oh, God, this was so good!

  He licked and swirled his tongue until she was slippery with both his saliva and her own juices. He circled the tightly puckered opening, probing it with the tip of his ravaging tongue.

  Holy Mary, Mother of God! She let out a howl of pleasure as he pushed though the rim with short, sharp jabs. Her head thrashed about wildly on the pillow. She was experiencing a pleasure so intense she knew she was not going to survive.

  Then, lubricating the index finger of his right hand in her hot cream, Nicholas probed past the rim until he breached the taut opening up to his first knuckle.

  A sharp cry lacerated her throat at the thrusting invasion of her nether hole. Her body trembled, as tense as an archer’s bowstring. She went rigid, breath held, as his finger slowly penetrated more deeply into the tight passage. She had expected pain. Never this profound, burning pleasure he was giving her. “Oh, my God, Nicholas! Don’t stop! Blessed Mary that feels so good! Don’t stop!”

  He partially withdrew to insert a second finger alongside the first, sliding them both in past the tight sphincter until both were sheathed inside her narrow, pulsing passage. The pleasure was searing, burning, as his fingers stroked the darkness, setting fire to the sensitive nerves within.

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t cry out. She could only draw deep, shuddering breaths, exhaling in sharp bursts of pleasure as his tongue resumed its dancing exploration of her wet, slippery slit. He thrust his tongue in and out of her sheath, his fingers in and out of her anus, tantalizing her with the alternating advance and retreat. Then he moved his agile tongue back up her slit, once again suckling that luscious flap of flesh. As he pleasured her hyper-sensitized bud, he removed his left hand from her buttock and slid his long, thick forefinger through the slippery folds of her vulva, penetrating her cunt with it.

  She screamed in an agony of pleasure, grinding against his face, trying to impale herself more fully on his fingers and his swirling tongue.

  Another finger joined the first within the quaking walls of her sheath, building her pleasure to the point of combustion.

  She was on fire, a conflagration of excruciating sensations coiling deep inside her womb, winding higher and higher, propelling her upward. Shooting her toward the peak. Her spasming muscles clenched, released, clenched again as pleasure ricocheted through her.

  Nicholas’s lips enclosed the little flap of flesh, pulling it into his mouth, sucking on it, palpating it with the roughness of his tongue.

  Two fingers were pumping in and out of her ass, two more were fucking her cunt and his mouth was plundering her sensitive pearl-like button with devastating skill. And she could not hold back another second. She catapulted out over the abyss, poised on the edge of total annihilation. Then she burst into flames, shattering completely, leaving a trail of blazing sparks streaking across the sky. Her orgasm slammed into her, so intense it wrenched a scream from her throat. It exploded through her, lifting her off the bed, convulsing her limbs. Shuddering yelps of pleasure accompanied each seizure as her climax thundered through her, wracking her body with tremors that never seemed to end.

  Through all her trembling aftershocks, Nicholas lay perfectly still, tongue hard and unmoving against her pleasure bud, fingers quiet in her ass and cunt, until her body stopped jerking and her lungs stopped heaving. He remained that way until the convulsions finally stilled and she let out a tremendous, shuddering sob of total satiation.

  But he wasn’t through. As she lay still, he began fluttering his tongue just barely against her sweet pink pearl, slowly moving his fingers in and out of her two holes until she sucked in her breath and pleasure once more began to tighten the muscles deep within her fluttering walls. Her body once again responded to his exquisite stimulation until she was trembling, shaking like a leaf in a gale. Every wet, secret place deep inside her body was throbbing, aching, on fire with a hunger that stole her ability to do aught except feel.

  He stilled. With a tiny cry of protest, she stilled too, inhaling sharply, holding herself rigid, waiting for the exquisite torment to begin again. Then he fluttered his wicked tongue again, spreading his fingers, stretching both passages. Her body clenched and released again. She dragged air into her lungs as the pressure began to wind anew.

  Artfully, he varied the speed and movement of his tongue sucking her nubbin. Increased the pace of his fingers plunging and thrusting in both channels. He angled his fingers toward each other, until they were massaging the thin membrane separating them as they moved in and out. She was sobbing, shaking with the exquisite pleasure he was giving her. He kept it up until he knew from her whimpering sobs and the accelerated tension of her twitching limbs that she was closing in on her second roaring climax.

  Her body seized as she sucked in her breath, filling her lungs almost to the bursting point. She arched up off the bed, holding herself rigid, as the beginnings of her orgasm spiraled tighter and tighter. It shimmered, just beyond reach, then, just as she was about to explode, he removed his tongue and all of his fingers. She shrieked in protest, even as she teetered right on the very edge.

  Rising swiftly above her, he drew her legs up over his shoulders. Grabbing her hips, he entered her in one long, powerful thrust that touched off the cataclysm of her orgasm. Excruciating pleasure exploded inside her, ripping her body apart, ripping the breath from her lungs in a scream of pure ecstasy. Her inner muscles clamped down on his invading cock, pulling him over the edge with her into ecstasy.

  He stiffened, slamming into her and holding himself deep, adding his shout to her scream as her clenching muscles wrung his climax out of him. Arching his back, he threw back his head with a rapturous groan.

  Muscles and tendons distended, face distorted in a grimace that looked almost pained, he held himself above her, braced on his straight arms as he spurted thick, hot jets of cum deep within her clenching sheath, splashing against the mouth of her womb.

  Finally, his trembling arms no longer able to support him, he collapsed on top of her, quickly rolling them onto their sides, lifting her leg over his hip to keep their bodies joined. They both struggled to catch their breath as the contractions deep within her flexing sheath continued to milk him all along the length of his cock.

  Raising his upper torso and reaching down, he pulled the furs up over their sweat-soaked bodies. He took her mouth in a series of wet, sipping kisses, his lips brushing across hers, pulling at them as the tip of his tongue moistened them. When he drew back his head to look at her, she reached up to wipe away a rivulet of sweat running down his forehead, heaving an enormous sigh of total satisfaction. Her entire body was still tingling in the aftermath of his lovemaking.

  “That was,” she began, each word slow and measured, “without a doubt, absolutely, the most astounding experience of my entire life. Never, ever have I felt such pleasure. I knew not ’twas even possible to feel such pleasure.” She gave him a shy smile. “I
always suspected that I would enjoy sex. But that was beyond all my wildest imaginings. I love sex! Especially with you.”

  She touched her fingertip to his nose, his mouth, where her moisture still glistened in his mustache and goatee. “I didn’t say this last night,” she said, her voice throbbing with the overwhelming love she felt for him, “because I’ve never said it to anyone before. But I love you, Nicholas. You bring me such joy—” Her voice broke. She gulped back tears. “Your love has healed me. Healed my mind. My body. My soul.”

  Sweet Jesu! Shutting his eyes, he swallowed hard. Blindly reaching for her hand, he raised it to his lips, kissing the palm, then each fingertip in turn. “I love you, too, Kathryn. You have woven a spell of enchantment around me to the point where I cannot imagine my life without you. You light the darkness, beloved. With you, I find myself more fully alive than I have ever felt in my life. Were you to leave and take that away, my world would fall into shadow.”

  She opened her eyes, swamped by the tidal wave of his emotion. Then she closed them on a whimper as his softened cock finally slipped out of her, releasing a hot flood of their commingled juices onto the sheets. He snuggled her body closer to him and she let out a sigh. “Just let me hold you for a while, beloved,” he murmured against her ear, “then we’ll clean up and get ready to meet with Rolf and Sorcha.”

  Chapter Six

  Half an hour later, Kathryn graciously admitted the lovely Sorcha Parsons into the solar, while Nicholas went off with Rolf.

  “Please forgive me, my lady,” Sorcha began with a bow that was graceful despite her thickening waistline. “Nicky asked me to plan your wedding, but I didn’t want to do it without any input from you.”

  “I’ve never planned a wedding before,” Kathryn admitted. “I’ve never even seen a wedding before. Oh, except once when I was around nine. It was a last-minute ceremony between our cook and a scullery maid who was heavy with child.” She smiled at the memory. “She had the baby right there in the kitchen before they could finish exchanging their vows.”

  Sorcha laughed. “Well, I doubt that I can equal that for excitement, my lady. But I do have a few ideas about some appropriate activities, if you would care to hear them?”

  “I would love to hear them,” Kathryn said, indicating that they should sit down, “and, please, when we’re alone like this I would love for you to call me ‘Kathryn.’”

  Sorcha blushed a becoming shade of red. “Oh, my lady, I wouldn’t dare to presume—”

  “You call His Grace ‘Nicky,’” Kathryn pointed out.

  “Oh, aye, but then I have known him for over fifteen years—” She broke off at the pleading look she saw in Kathryn’s eyes. “All right, my—Kathryn,” she smiled. “I think we are going to be good friends. I’m so thrilled for you and Nicky. I have never seen him so happy. In fact, now that I think about it, I have never actually seen him any kind of happy. ’Twould seem you have wrought some sort of miracle here.”

  Kathryn’s face took on a softness of expression that reminded Sorcha of her own love for her husband, Thomas. How she hoped he would be back from his mission soon. She needed his arms around her, ached to have him hold her as he made slow, sensual love to her. With an audible sigh, she reached into the tight sleeve of her orange cote-hardie and pulled out a thin sheet of folded vellum. “Here are some things I penned as I thought of them,” she said, unfolding the parchment and smoothing it out on the table before handing it to Kathryn.

  “Juggling. Acrobats,” Kathryn read. She raised her head in disbelief. “During the ceremony?”

  Sorcha laughed. “Nay, my—Kathryn. At the feast.” At Kathryn’s blank look, she added, “After the ceremony. There’s usually a tremendous banquet.”

  “Oh.” At Kathryn’s obvious embarrassment, Sorcha said kindly, “You really haven’t been to any weddings before, have you, my lady?”

  Kathryn laughed, feeling suddenly ashamed and awkward. “I fear my acquaintance with ordinary, everyday things is rather limited.” She returned her attention to the list. “Musicians, singing, dancing—” She looked at Sorcha, horrified. “Dancing! You mean me? Us? Nicholas and me?”

  “I mean everyone—including Nicky and you. I take it your acquaintance with dancing is rather limited also?”

  “To the point of non-existence. There’s not much occasion for dancing in a convent.” In spite of her smile, she couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of her voice. “There’s not much occasion for anything, really, in a convent. Especially anything fun. And dancing sounds like so much fun,” she added, a wistful note in her voice.

  “Oh, it is, and I fear ’tis a must. We shall simply have to teach you. I’ll schedule your first lesson for tomorrow morning. Can you think of aught else you would like? Any special food or entertainment?”

  Kathryn took Sorcha’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I think I’m going to just leave everything in your capable hands, Lady Sorcha. You obviously are better equipped for this than I am. Anything you plan will be fine with me.”

  “Well, why don’t you at least accompany me as I consult with the various members of the kitchen and household staff? These are all people you will be working closely with as the new Duchess of Berwick. ’Twill help you become better acquainted with who they are and what they do around here.”

  “I would love to,” Kathryn said with enthusiasm. “’Twill give me something useful to do.”

  “Running a household this size is a daunting task, to say the least,” Sorcha went on conversationally. “At Nicky’s request, I’ve been doing it since his father’s death.” She smiled graciously. “But, I must admit, I will be glad to relinquish the responsibility to you as soon as you feel you’re ready. I need to get back to my girls.”

  “Your girls?”

  “Aye. My children. They’re all girls.”

  “How many do you have?” Kathryn asked, enchanted with the thought of a family of girls.

  “We have six.”

  “Six!”

  “Oh, aye,” Sorcha looked down at her gently protruding belly. “And this little one is number seven.” A wistful look crossed her face. “Thomas and I love all of our girls dearly. But this time we both long for a boy. A son.” She fell silent, rubbing her belly, a dreamy smile on her face. “I would dearly love to give Thomas a son,” she said softly. There was a long pause. Then she seemed to shake herself, directing her smile once more at Kathryn. “But no matter what this one turns out to be, we will love it with all our hearts.”

  “Where is your husband, if I may ask?” Kathryn wanted to know.

  “He’s in London, conducting some business for Nicky. He should be back any day now.”

  “I cannot wait to meet him,” Kathryn said.

  “Oh, you already have.” Sorcha grinned at her. “He’s the one who found you in the forest and pulled you out of the leaves.”

  “Ah. So that explains why I have not heard that booming voice around here. He’s been in London all this time?”

  “Aye.”

  “And how did you meet him? Certes ’twas not in so dramatic a fashion as my first encounter with him.”

  Sorcha giggled. “Nay, my lady. ’Twas worse. Much worse. We met when he was part of the invading English army during the border skirmishes. The clan elders had chosen me to infiltrate the English camp and obtain as much intelligence as I could. I wasn’t but thirteen and could easily pass as a lad if I covered my hair. For three days I wandered freely around the camp—nobody paid any attention to me. Until I was caught stealing a pigeon pie and was dragged kicking and screaming before Thomas Parsons.”

  Mischief lit her pale, freckled face. “You can imagine how terrified I was! He was so huge! Those eyes—I could swear they were spitting fire. And that voice—like it was rising up from the very depths of Hell.” She drew in a deep breath. “Oh, and those hands! Och! He could have broken me like a twig!” She fell silent, the memories making her smile.

  Kathryn was remembering those hands, too. G
rabbing her. Jerking her up out of her hiding place in the woods. “What did he do?” she asked.

  Sorcha smiled. “He saw right through my disguise. He took me to his tent, ordered his page to get me some food and some women’s clothes. Then he told me to eat, dress and wait.”

  “And did you?”

  Sorcha’s smile grew wider. “Not exactly. The first thing I did was try to escape by crawling under the back of the tent. But Thomas had anticipated just such a move and was standing there with his arms folded across his chest, waiting for me.” She laughed. “He just put his hand on top of my head and pushed me back inside.” She took a deep breath. “So, I ate, dressed, and waited. And I fell asleep. When Thomas came back several hours later, I was sleeping in his camp bed. I awoke to the delicious feel of his lips on mine.” Sorcha lifted her hand to touch her mouth. “It was my first kiss and it was the sweetest, most incredibly gentle thing I had ever felt. When I opened my eyes, I was looking into the gentlest brown eyes I had ever seen. I couldn’t believe it was the same man who had seemed so terrifying just a few hours before.

  “But it was the same man. He pulled up a stool, sat down opposite me, took my hands in his”—she shook her head, a dreamy expression on her face—“and I was lost. He looked into my eyes and I knew I was his.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “We hand-fasted. Then we…we made love,” Sorcha’s voice faltered and she lowered her eyes, a deep red blush staining her cheeks. “All night long. I’d never felt such passion, such fire, such…” her voice trailed off. “The next morning, Thomas put me in front of him on his charger and took me home to my family’s stronghold. You can imagine how shocked they were to see an English knight riding right up to their front door, alone, with no armed escort to protect him. Thomas introduced himself and told them we were wed. Then he ordered a servant to go pack all my clothing and personal items in a trunk. He told my father that if they wished to remain a part of my life, they would welcome him warmly into the family. If not,” she shrugged, “well, if not, they would most likely never see me again. He gave orders to have the trunk delivered post-haste to Moreland Castle in Northumberland. Then, he kissed me in front of everyone, and we left as we had arrived. Both of us on his charger.”