Dark Warrior (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Julie Shelton

  His big hands twisted the silk sheets as if he would rip them apart. His muscles rippled. “Beloved, please. Let me touch you. I have to touch you.”

  “Nay.” Ignoring his pleas, she trailed wet kisses from his nipple down his torso. She kissed his navel, swirling her tongue in and out and all around the surprisingly sensitive little hole, as his stomach muscles tightened and rippled. His hips jerked up off the bed. His cock twitched, growing thicker and longer and, if possible, even harder.

  Closing her lips over his navel, she sucked hard while reaming it with her tongue.

  “Ahhhh! God!” He arched up off the bed, practically shredding the delicate silk of the sheets between his long, thick fingers. His moan of pleasure was a throaty growl ripped from his throat. The tendons in his neck stood out like iron rods.

  His aching penis pulsed and grew even thicker, desperate for the touch of her mouth.

  Kathryn raised her head, studying it with hot intent. It was so huge. Impossibly huge. How on earth could she possibly have taken that into her body without being ripped apart?

  Yet she had. And not only had it not ripped her apart, it had filled her and stretched her and given her the most intense pleasure she had ever known. Pleasure she could not possibly have even imagined just a week ago.

  Her hot eyes roamed over this massive instrument of her pleasure. Nicholas’s cock was a work of art. Beautiful in its mystery and power. Smooth velvet skin stretched over iron hardness. Thick, ropy veins snaking along its length, texturing its surface. The bulbous head, flaring out like the cap of a mushroom, smooth and shiny as satin, with a tiny slit in its tip, was deep purple from engorged blood. Pearly drops of ejaculate oozed from the opening, running down the head in rivulets.

  A movement off to her right had her head turning in that direction. Rolf was awake, watching her through slitted eyes. His cock, too, was heavily engorged and a deep, angry-looking red. He was holding it at the base, slowly moving his fist up and down its length. The shiny head emerged, flaring out from the trench separating it from his thick shaft.

  Twisting her upper body, she leaned away from Nicholas and lowered her head to place a kiss on the oozing tip of Rolf’s cock. His eyes closed and he drew in a hissing breath as she dug her tongue into the narrow slit, making him shudder and jerk with pleasure. “By all the gods, yndling—”

  “You’re next,” she assured him. Rising to her knees, Kathryn lifted one leg over Nicholas’s body, giving him a heavenly view of the smooth, round cheeks of her heart-shaped ass.

  God’s blood! He hissed in his breath. His lips stretched back in a grimace that bared his teeth. His fingers clenched convulsively in the furs at his sides. All in the massive effort it was taking to keep from rolling her beneath him and ramming himself inside her, fucking her until the world exploded and disintegrated around their heads.

  And she hadn’t even touched him yet!

  Christ on the Cross!

  She lowered her head and touched her tongue to the oozing slit of his cock head. He shot up off the bed with a shout. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

  His hands reached out to grab her ass, but she turned her head and gave him a fulminating look. “No touching.”

  “Bloody Christ, beloved! You’re killing me!”

  He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He was in danger of spilling his seed at any minute. Already his balls were hard as stones, ready to release his ejaculate. But he didn’t want to spend on the sheets. Nay, when he came, he wanted to be inside her, pumping hot jets of sticky cum against the mouth of her womb, feeling the tight walls of her cunt fluttering and pulsing and wringing him dry.

  He lifted his head and watched her through eyes that were mere slits. Watched the fluid muscles of her back flex and bunch under satin smooth skin. Watched the perfect globes of her heart-shaped ass sitting on his abdomen. Felt the hot, slippery folds of her sex dripping against the skin of his belly.

  Swallowing convulsively, he shut his eyes.

  Bloody fucking hell!

  Rolf elbowed up to lie on his side, resting his head in one hand while the other continued to stroke his rock-hard penis. He watched Kathryn and Nicholas through eyes that were mere slits, his mouth dry with lust.

  Once more lowering her head, she ran the tip of her tongue around the head of Nicholas’s penis, excavating the little slit, plundering it, making it gush forth viscous tendrils of slippery fluid.

  His cock jerked in response. Sweet Jesu! Even this tiny, timid touch set his blood on fire.

  She tasted him experimentally. Mmmm. Slightly salty. Tangy. Musky. Wholly and completely male.

  “Put your mouth on me, beloved!” he commanded harshly, his hips writhing and twisting helplessly His hands ached to touch her, to stroke her silky skin, to flick his thumb across her pebbled nipples.

  “Like this?” she asked around him. She kissed the tip of his swollen cock, then drew the entire head inside her mouth, sealing her lips around the trench, sucking gently. More fluid gushed from him. He threw back his head, tendons hard cords in his neck.

  “Aye! Nay! More! Take me deep inside, love!”

  She parted her lips, sucking nearly the entire length of his rod into her hot, mobile mouth.

  “Ahhhh, God! Kathryn!”

  His cock was bucking and jerking so, she reached out a hand and grabbed it around its base. Holding it tight in her fist, she took more of him into her mouth, raising and lowering her head, wiggling her tongue along the underside of his cock.

  He growled deep in his throat, a primitive, animal sound that sent shivers racing down her spine. He arched his back up off the bed. Her tongue was flaying him, torturing him. God! What pleasure! He was shaking with it.

  “Bloody Christ! Kathryn! Your mouth is exquisite! Fuck me with your mouth!”

  Smiling, her hot mouth full of his thick cock, she closed her lips around him and took him in nearly to the back of her throat. Her cunt clenched, sending hot juice cascading from her core, spilling out onto his belly. Her eyes met Rolf’s and she could see the arousal burning there as he sped up the movement of his hand up and down his own shaft.

  She dropped her gaze to his cock, watching him match his movements to hers as she shuttled Nicholas in and out of the tight drag of her mouth, palpating him with her whipping tongue, sucking hard. She was guided purely by instinct and by Nicholas’s hissing, indrawn breaths and groans whenever she did something he particularly liked. Still watching Rolf, she also began moving her closed fist up and down Nicholas’s cock at its base, adding a twisting motion with her hand, and a swirling motion with her tongue.

  Unable to help himself, Nicholas let out a sharp cry and began to roll his hips, gently thrusting up into her mouth careful not to lose control or thrust too deep. He let her set the pace and the depth to which she took him.

  “God’s teeth, sweetness! Your mouth is so tight! So hot! Like a vise. I love the feel of you sucking my cock!”

  She sucked him in, deeper and deeper, running her tongue around the sensitive crease just below the flared head, pulling on him so hard her cheeks hollowed.

  His entire body was one trembling mass of sparking nerve endings. He was shaking all over as his balls drew up tight and his orgasm screamed along his spine.

  She felt his impending climax and raised her head, freeing him from her mouth, denying him his release.

  “Christ! Kathryn!” With a strangled curse, he reached for her, grabbing her hips with his big hands, his fingers biting into her creamy flesh.

  “Nicholas! What are you—?”

  “Torture me, will you?” He pulled her up his body without lifting her, letting the juicy, succulent folds of her slit slide up over his belly button, his abdomen, his ribs, his chest, leaving a trail of slick, hot cream up the center of his body. Her scent swirled around them, ratcheting up their arousal.

  “Nicholas!”

  He lifted her until she was astride his head, her cunt hovering over his face. Raising his head up
off the pillow, he thumbed her labia open and began tonguing her needy slit. She shrieked, writhing helplessly against him. He grabbed her hips to keep her still.

  His wickedly agile tongue and lips licked and sucked and nibbled her hot little button. He thrust up into her cunt, giving her such gushing, moaning pleasure she momentarily forgot about the rigid cock she was still holding in her hand.

  Until Rolf grabbed her other hand and, being careful of her splinted little finger, wrapped the others around his rigid member, closing his hand over hers and guiding her up-and-down movements.

  Both cocks pulsed and jerked in her fists. Closing her mouth over Nicholas again, she raised and lowered her head, sucking and licking, twisting the thick base with her hand. She pleasured him as he pleasured her, torturing the slippery folds of her sex with his clever tongue.

  The exquisite sensations had her writhing, grinding her slit against his face. Her moans vibrated through his cock, tightening his balls. His climax was imminent. As was Rolf’s if his harsh, erratic breathing was any indication. As was hers, spiraling tighter and tighter, just out of reach.

  Nicholas swiveled his hips, thrusting gently in and out of her versatile mouth. She scoured her slit against his mouth as his tongue rasped around her quivering little bud.

  Christ! He was coming!

  His climax shot up his spine, slammed up the length of his cock and exploded out of him in bursting jets of semen that blasted against the back of her throat just as her own orgasm flung her into the fiery void, exploding into dazzling starbursts that pulsed through her, wrenching a cry of pleasure from deep in her throat. She felt the heat of Rolf’s release as he spurted all over her hand and wrist.

  Muscles convulsing with mindless pleasure as her orgasm inundated her, she swallowed every bit of Nicholas’s cum, licking it greedily off his cock. Just as he slurped up every drop of her gushing juice, perpetuating the rolling shudders of her climax until, finally spent, she collapsed on top of him like a limp rag. Twisting sideways, she proceeded to lick up every bit of Rolf’s cum from his cock and her hand.

  Finally, Kathryn regained enough energy to roll off of Nicholas and turn herself so Rolf could put his arms around her, pulling her against him so she could rest her head on his chest. Nicholas slid in behind her, pulling her back to his front, cradling her ass against his groin. She lifted her face for Rolf’s kiss, letting him taste himself on her lips. Angling her head backward, she gave Nicholas a similar kiss. Lifting a fold of the sheet, she wiped her slippery juice from her husband’s face.

  “Thank you, my angel,” he whispered. “Your mouth is heaven. The pleasure you just gave me—” He stopped, his throat too clogged with unshed tears to allow him to finish.

  “I cannot get enough of you,” she admitted shakily before turning back to face Rolf. “Either of you. I need to be a part of you.”

  “You are a part of us,” Nicholas asserted. “The best part of us.”

  They finally emerged from their marriage bed two days later, having spent nearly the entire time making love, taking time only to eat the meals that were brought to them and to sleep. Although, truth be told, there had been precious little of that. Rolf had been right. Keeping two highly virile men sexually satisfied required a great deal of stamina. Fortunately for all of them, Kathryn had definitely proven herself up to the task. At her men’s insistence, she had spent part of the morning soaking in a mineral bath to help alleviate some of her soreness. Only after much touching and kissing were they finally bathed and dressed and ready to face the household.

  As they entered the great hall for the midday meal, they were greeted with applause and loud “Huzzahs,” which Nicholas and Rolf waved away with wry grins. Blushing furiously, Kathryn ducked her head, suddenly feeling awkward and self-conscious as ribald comments and good-natured jests were hurled at them. Before the first course was served, they were joined by Thomas and Sorcha, Sir Simon, Sir Richard, and Roger de Vries. Sir Richard pulled a red-faced Kathryn aside to check the splint on her little finger, pronouncing himself quite pleased with the way it seemed to be healing.

  They were chatting with Thomas and Sorcha when a frantic voice shouted, “Your Grace! Your Grace!”

  Startled, everyone turned to see Matthew Vyne running across the room, practically skidding to a stop in front of them.

  “What is it, Matthew?” Nicholas asked in alarm as he put out a hand to steady his young knight.

  “Riders, my lord,” he panted. “An armed party of twelve, one in the lead. Approaching fast.”

  “Colors?” Nicholas demanded, his stomach sinking with dread.

  “’Tis the Duke of Pemberton, my lord, an’ no mistake.”

  Instantly the color drained from Kathryn’s face and she swayed, her hand flying to her breast.

  “Kathryn!” The frantic cry burst from Nicholas’s lips. “Beloved—”

  She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t move. She was frozen, unable to breathe. Her throat was tight. Her chest was tight—and getting tighter, forcing the breath from her lungs, crushing them. There wasn’t enough air left in the room—in the world—to fill them again. Her throat closed, making every breath a struggle, as she inhaled in heaving, audible gasps.

  Muttering a string of curses, Nicholas looked at the castle physician desperately, running his hand through his thick mane of hair. “God’s blood, Richard, help her! She can’t breathe!”

  Rolf pushed her chair against the backs of her legs, and she sank down into it, eyes shut, hearing their voices as if from a great distance. She was in a panic, about to descend into darkness, when she heard someone’s very deep voice calling her name. She felt someone’s very large hands grabbing hers and beginning a gentle stroking motion across the backs of her fingers.

  “Keep your eyes closed, lass, and listen to me.” That deep voice, speaking calmly and quietly, finally penetrated the mist and snagged her attention. She found herself latching onto that voice, and those hands, the sound and the touch working together to bring her up out of the darkness and anchor her to the world.

  “That’s it, poppet,” Thomas Parsons said quietly, kneeling in front of her, his callused thumbs stroking the backs of her hands and down her fingers in a steady, unhurried rhythm. “Breathe, lassie. Deep, slow breaths. In. Out.”

  She concentrated on following his instructions, breathing slowly in. Out.

  “That’s it, little one. In. Slow and easy. Out. Again. Good girl.” He continued talking to her in that calm voice that no doubt had been soothing away his children’s nightmares for years. For there was no doubt about it. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the day and she was wide awake, this was a nightmare. Her worst nightmare, come to vivid, terrifying life. The culmination of all her fears.

  Thomas’s thumbs continued their rhythmic stroking, gently massaging her fingers as her breathing steadied and she was once more in control of herself. Sort of.

  “Robert Walford presents no danger to you, Poppet,” Thomas continued in that deep, sonorous voice, finally standing up and releasing her hands. “He will be unarmed and escorted by six of our most trusted, fully armed knights. Everyone here is sworn to keep you safe from harm, lass.”

  Nicholas stared down at her, reading the apprehension and fear flickering in her eyes. His heart twisted in his breast. He hated the look he saw there. He hated the man who had put it there. He hated that the force of his love, no matter how powerful, had not been enough to take this nightmare from her.

  Thanks to her innate sexuality, he had managed to wipe the ghosts away from her body. But they still lingered in her eyes, in her mind. In that he had failed her, and it was a stain on his soul. He would gladly give his life if only he could only free her from them forever.

  “You need not see him, beloved,” he reminded her gently. “You could remain in our solar with Mary and Ellen.”

  Resolutely, she stood, pale and determined in spite of her terror. “But that’s where you’re wrong, my love,” she said, never
taking her eyes off of his. “I do need to see him.”

  “Nay, beloved,” he begged. “I fear for you. Go to our solar, where you’ll be safe. Rolf and Thomas and I will deal with Walford.”

  She shook her head firmly. “I must face him. If I don’t, he will haunt me forever. You said it yourself, and you were right.” She put her hand on Nicholas’s arm. It looked so small resting there. “You cannot protect me from this, Nicholas. No matter how badly you want to. And no matter how badly I want you to.”

  Rolf’s arm came around her slender shoulders, pulling her against his side. “That’s my girl,” he whispered proudly in her ear. “That’s my very brave girl.” He rested his forehead against her temple. “Thou wilt not be alone, yndling. Nicholas and I will be right beside thee.”

  “You are certain about this, then, beloved?” Nicholas asked, fear weighting his voice.

  Rolf smiled up at his best friend. “Aye, Nick, she’s certain.” He kissed her on the cheek and released her to stand on her own, tears glittering in her eyes. When he leaned down to kiss her tenderly on the lips, tears filled her eyes.

  “This is not going to be easy,” Nicholas warned, his worry for her written on his face. “Or pleasant.”

  “I know. I’m ready.”

  Unable to help himself, Nicholas pulled Kathryn into his arms and lowered his head for a kiss. His tongue swept into the sweet heaven of her mouth, tasting her, drinking her nectar, pleasuring her with his skilled excavation.

  Breathless, she reluctantly broke off the rapacious kiss. She drew back her head to look up at him. Something dark and predatory prowled in his gaze.

  “We have an audience,” she reminded him demurely.

  “We live in a castle with nearly a hundred other people,” he reminded her with a grin. “We will always have an audience.”

  “Then mayhap we should start selling tickets,” she suggested.

  They all laughed at that. Nicholas gave her a swift hug. They righted their chairs and took their places at the high table. It could have been any normal midday meal at Berwick Castle. Except for the six knights standing at attention behind them and the dozen or so others aligned along the walls. “Where is our guest?” Kathryn asked, looking around, apprehensive in spite of the impressive show of force.