Starry Knight

by Nina Mason

  He cupped her bum and held her firmly against his thigh. She captured his tongue and sucked gently. The hand on her neck swept down her back and fisted the fabric of her dress. Shifting his weight, he pulled her against him, letting her feel his arousal. Moaning into his mouth, she wriggled against his erection.

  He pulled away, looked into her eyes, and said in a velvet burr, “What would you say if I told you I’d be content to stay like this all night? Holding you in my arms and kissing you.”

  “I’d say you’re a silver-tongued devil, my lord,” she answered with a smile, “and a bald-faced liar.”

  He grinned broadly. “And you’d be right on both scores.”

  She set her head against his chest. His heartbeat was as rapid as hers. “I thought we were going to dance.”

  He began to sway, holding her against him. “Isn’t dancing merely a vertical expression of a horizontal desire?”

  Who’d said that? Oh, right. Robert Frost. The American poet who famously advised taking the road less traveled.

  Stepping back suddenly, Callum let her go, stood tall, raised his left arm, and crooked his right toward her—an invitation to waltz.

  “What about music?”

  He cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. An invisible orchestra began to play something appropriately Straussian. She stepped into his arms, lifted her right hand to his left, and docked the other firmly against his upper arm. He started to move, sweeping her along in graceful circles.

  “You’re very light on your feet,” she remarked as he whisked her masterfully around the floor.

  “As are you, my lady.”

  The compliment warmed her. Or was it the closeness? Or the exercise? Whatever the reason, it was heady and magical, just like the fairy tales she adored as a child. Her favorites were the ones in which the hero rescued the heroine from some terrible fate—tower prisons, thorn-covered castles, evil queens, fire-breathing dragons, wicked stepmothers, and well-intentioned but neglectful parents.

  Then, she grew up and saw the truth. Far from being a magic nostrum, true love, so-called, was a lingering illness, a clash of cold steel, a take-no-prisoners war between Venus and Mars.

  Well, she wanted no part of that battle. On her few and far between holidays from boarding school, she’d witnessed enough of her parents’ ugly battles to put her off matrimony permanently.

  * * * *

  The music stopped and so did Callum. He’d delayed long enough. Time to raise the stakes of their game.

  He offered her his hand. As she took it, the contact ignited the smoldering cinders of his lust. Bending over her to level their faces, he captured her mouth with his own.

  His ante.

  Her tongue glided over his lip as her body moved against his. Her ante, plus a small bump. Seeing her, raising, and adding one of his own, he pulled her to him, welding her body’s heat to his. Her lips parted, inviting his tongue. He gave it to her, sweetening the pot.

  The kiss deepened and grew more torrid. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he ran his hands down her back, savoring every luscious inch of her. When he worked his way to her buttocks and squeezed, she rolled her pubic bone against his erection. The pleasure of it was so celestial, his eyes rolled back in his head.

  His bet, matched and raised.

  He swept his hands upwards to her shoulders and around to her face, trapping her jaw as they devoured each other. He’d almost meant it when he said he’d be content to simply hold and kiss her all night. Kissing her felt as sweet and natural as licking heather honey from the comb. Though there was other honey he’d rather taste right now.

  The kiss was escalating in step with his desire. He’d lost track of whose turn it was to bet. He only knew he was all in. Clearly, so was she, given how ardently she was stroking his cock through his trousers. Easing out of the kiss, he nipped and licked her lips as he pulled away. His fangs were descending. He ran his tongue over their sharp points, ready to partake of the next course.

  “Come, my lady.” He pulled her toward the door. “It’s high time I took you to bed.”

  * * * *

  Feral lust roared to life inside Vanessa as Callum pulled her up the stairs and down the long corridor leading to his bedchamber. While she’d known him little more than twenty-four hours, it felt as if she’d waited an eternity to get him into bed.

  Grabbing her hand, he whisked her across the threshold, shut the door, and, in one smooth move, swept her backward, pinning her.

  When he lowered his mouth to hers, she expected him to kiss her, but he didn’t. Instead, he locked her in his gaze, his parted lips hovering invitingly, his breath hot and sweet on her face. She closed her eyes and turned her head, giving him the lead.

  He dragged his fingers down the front of her dress, then back up again, pausing to massage her breasts through the fabric. Her nipples were already hard and he softly rolled them between forefinger and thumb, stoking the blaze in her pelvis. She opened her lips to emit a breathy moan. Seizing her mouth with his, he gave her his tongue. She sucked it hard, the way she’d like to suck his cock before they were through.

  Her legs trembled as she felt his hand come up beneath her dress. Ripping aside the thong, he began to play among her folds. His fingers were soft and smooth, not rough like most men’s, and he knew his way around a woman’s anatomy the way he knew his way around a dance floor.

  What he was doing between her legs felt like heaven on earth. Groaning into his mouth, she stroked the beast straining against his trousers. He made a rough choked sound. Sucking his tongue harder, she fingered the rim of his glans through the thin gabardine. He dipped his fingers in her well for added lubrication. He’d find plenty. In fact, if he didn’t take her soon, she might melt into a puddle and seep under the door.

  His finger was on her clit, circling and circling. Her breaths were ragged, her muscles rigid and trembling, her thighs aching from the sweet torture of his teasing. Releasing his tongue, she abruptly turned her head.

  “Please, my lord. Fuck me already. I need to feel you inside me.”

  “Not like this.” His lips brushed her mouth. “Not up against the door like some whore.”

  She shivered when his hands slipped beneath her bare bum, lifting her. Hopping up, she wrapped her legs about his narrow hips and taut buttocks. He carried her to the bed and lay down on his side, their bodies still entwined. He swept his fingers along the side of her face, brushing back a strand of loose hair. She did the same for him while gazing longingly into his eyes.

  She clawed the front of his shirt before she began to unbutton it. It fell open and she slid her hand inside, running it over his chest. His nipples, she was pleased to find, were already hard. As she set about teasing them, he placed a big, warm hand over hers.

  “Sit up, lass. So I can divest you of that dress.”

  She planted a kiss on his sternum before doing as he’d requested, turning and lifting her hair to give him access to the zipper. He slid it down, peeled the dress off her shoulders, and pushed it to her waist, kissing her neck and shoulders as he did.

  “You have the loveliest neck I’ve ever seen.” As he spoke the words, his hot, moist breath caressed her nape.

  “Thank you for the compliment.”

  His hands came around to her breasts and fondled them through the black lace of her brassiere. His touch was gentle, sure, and delicious. Pulling her against him, back to front, he began to nibble her lobe. “Lay down on your belly.”

  Curious what he had in mind, she did as he instructed. No sooner was she flat then he peeled her dress down her body, taking care to ease it over her high heels, which he left on.

  When he started to unbuckle his belt, she rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand for a better view.

  Her jaw dropped as his trousers hit the floor. Holy cow, he was big. Bending to pick up his pants, he gave her an unabridged view of his magnificent derriere. When he turned around,
she fixed her gaze on his erection and smiled.

  “Is all that for me?”

  He didn’t answer, but she could tell he was pleased. As he strode toward the bed and knelt beside her, she watched him with prurient interest. She reached for him, eager to touch, and brushed her fingers from his navel to his pubic hair—a soft, wiry nest of dark gold—and out the full length of his cock.

  “Roll over,” he said. “On your front. The way you were before.”

  Suspicion narrowed her eyes. “Only if you promise not to stick that big thing up my bum.”

  “I promise. Now, roll over.”

  As soon as she was on her belly, he perched on her thighs and unhooked her bra. Though she had no idea what he planned to do, she trusted him for some reason. A pleasant herbal scent jabbed her nose at the same time she felt his hands, warm and slick with oil, glide over her buttocks. Unaware until that moment how much tension she’d been holding, she groaned from the intense pleasure of his touch.

  Like a professional masseur, he proceeded to rub her back and shoulders, setting her alight with sweet pain. She was beyond impressed, with his thoughtfulness as well as his skill. Never had a man attended her so selflessly.

  “I could get used to this.”

  The massage turned from sensual to sexual when his hand burrowed between her legs. Her desire reignited with a roar, blasting her out of her torpor. While his fingers teased her sweet spot, he kissed, licked, and nibbled her backside. Her insides quivered like jelly, making it hard to think.

  “You’ve got a lovely arse, my lady, but it’s time to turn over.”

  As he rose off her, she rolled onto her back. She still wore her bra, thong, and high heels. He was on all fours over her, gloriously naked, hair hanging around his face, eyes smoldering, and cock like a marble pestle.

  Lifting one hand, he smoothed back her hair and pulled off her bra before bending to take a nipple between his lips. He tugged on it gently and flicked it with his tongue, sending pulses of pleasure to her genitals. Aching with need, she reached between his legs and closed her fingers around his engorgement. He made a sexy sound, but when she started to stroke him, he pulled out of her hand.

  She frowned at him. “I want to please you, too.”

  “Pleasing you pleases me.”

  She brought up her hands, sank them into his hair, and tugged his head toward hers. As his face came over, she parted her lips and reared up, hungry for his mouth. He didn’t deny her. As their lips met, she opened wider and gave him her tongue. He caught it and sucked on it like a lollipop. Pulling his hair, she arched against him.

  “Callum, please,” she gasped, breaking free. “Fuck me already.”

  “I wish you’d stop using that vile word.”

  She laughed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me.”

  He kissed her hard, probably to shut her up. She ran her hands across his broad shoulders, down his muscular back, and over the taut knoll of his ass. As her fingers circled and squeezed, she pressed her pubic bone against his erection and wiggled.

  “Please.”

  Pushing up on his arms, he climbed off her and the bed. Panic flared. Had she upset him? He took a condom from the nightstand drawer, tore open the wrapper, and unrolled the latex sheath down his erection. Good. Given how many partners he’d probably had, she didn’t want to take any chances. For a long moment, he stood at the side of the bed, looking better than humanly possible, his fiery gaze roving over her. Just as she opened her mouth to ask if he was all right, he grabbed her by the ankles and jerked her toward him.

  Dropping to his knees, he dragged her body ever closer until her legs were over his shoulders and her sex was even with his mouth. He ran his hands up and down her thighs before hooking a finger in the crotch of her thong. To her surprise, he plucked it right off her body.

  He rose to his full height, taking her legs along for the ride. As she felt him come into her, he threw back his head and made a sound like a muted battle cry. His cock wasn’t in all the way, but already felt sublime. He drove deeper, filling, stretching, opening her to her limits.

  Oh, yes. He was hitting something deep in her vagina, some secret spot concealing undiscovered treasure. He kept it up until she was writhing against him on the precipice of orgasm, her fingers mauling his expensive bedspread.

  He was sweating and breathing hard. His eyes were dark and hooded, his front teeth pinching his lower lip. He looked to be on the brink of climax, too. Drawing back, he hovered on the edge of withdrawal before plunging into her so deeply her breath hitched. Staying deep, he rotated his hips, grinding against her. He then drew back, moved a hand between them, and tweaked her clit.

  Pleasure sang out like a plucked string, pushing her over the edge. As the climax crashed over and through her, she arched and bucked. Her sex spasmed around his, urging him to join her. He stilled, made a sound like a hushed cry, and spilled himself in violent pulses she could feel all the way to her bones.

  When his body ceased convulsing, he pulled out of her, and tumbled onto the bed beside her. After removing the condom, he gathered her into his arms and held her against his heaving chest.

  She snuggled against him, reveling in the afterglow. “So, was it worth the wait?”

  “Oh, aye,” he rasped in his sexy burr. “It was bloody brilliant.”

  * * * *

  Callum rolled onto his back and pulled her body atop his. She squealed with delight, setting off sparks in his groin. She sat up, set her hands on his chest and, with a salacious grin, pushed back against his budding erection. All the blood in his brain raced southward. He took the fullness of her breasts in his hands, marveling at their supple heaviness. Throwing back her head, she laughed and tossed her hair.

  “You really are rapacious, aren’t you?”

  Taking hold of her face with both hands, he pulled her mouth down on his. The desire to be inside her burned in every cell of his body. So did the dark thirst. He liberated another condom from the nightstand and put it on. Then, he lifted her hips and entered her, sinking into luscious heat with a groan of pleasure. Capturing her tongue between his lips, he nipped it just hard enough to draw blood. She cried into his mouth and tried to pull away. Holding her tighter, he sucked hard, tasting briny sweetness. The head-swimming sample only heightened his need. He groaned and thrust his hips, burying his cock as deep as it would go.

  He was dimly aware of hair caressing his face, of hot blasts of breath, of fingers pinching his nipples hard enough to hurt. Slipping a hand between their bodies, he maneuvered until he found the wee magic bean hiding within her folds. He began to work it as she slid up and down his length, squeezing his sex with her internal muscles with exquisite finesse.

  Feeling her trembling on the brink of orgasm, he let go of her mouth. She sat up, set her hands on his chest and rode him hard. His gaze darted between the expression of pleasure on her face and her lovely breasts. Though his bollocks ached for release, he clenched against the urge to come, waiting for her. Her rapid breathing and breathy moans suggested it wouldn’t be long.

  It wasn’t. The moment her sex started convulsing around his, he drove into her like a demon again and again until his seed cannoned forth in pulsating ecstasy.

  “You bit my tongue,” she lisped accusatorily.

  He opened his eyes, unaware he’d closed them, to find her frowning down at him. He gave her a penitent smile, hoping she wouldn’t catch on. “Did you not enjoy it?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she said, still frowning. “It was just, well, different.”

  He brushed her cheek. He didn’t want to disconnect from her. If he had his way, they’d remain as they were until he roused again, which wouldn’t be long.

  “Would you like to have another go?”

  She gave him a hesitant smile. “Is it possible to die from too much pleasure?”

  “If it is,” he said, moving inside her, “can you think of a better way to go?”

 
; Chapter 7

  “Good morning,” Callum offered with an adorable grin as Vanessa opened her eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Really well,” she said, yawning. “You wore me out.”

  They’d made love at least six times—not that she was counting. Or complaining. According to some of her past lovers, she had the drive of a nymphomaniac, so she and the baron were well matched in that regard. And, except for the kinky tongue-biting thing, the sex had been nothing short of mind-blowing.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, looking disappointed.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, already wanting him again.

  “Does that mean you fancy another go?”

  “I do,” she told him. “Very much.”

  A glance at his crotch told her he was hard. After putting on protection, he moved down the bed, positioned himself between her thighs, and licked her sex, calling her passion like a genie in a lamp. As he attended to her pleasure, his intense golden gaze holding hers, something silly popped into her mind. She fought to suppress the grin the thought engendered—God forbid he mistake her mirth for laughing at his technique—but lost the battle.

  “What?”

  He licked her sex like a big cat, only with a tongue like velvet.

  “Nothing.”

  “What?” He kissed her clit with a swift softness that made her shudder.

  “It’s just a corny joke.”

  “Tell me.” He kissed her again, lingering this time.

  “It’s stupid.” Her face burned with embarrassment. “Incredibly stupid.”

  “Tell me anyway,” he insisted between pleasurable oral stimulations.

  “All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He kissed her pubis, then her clit, then her vagina. “Tell me your corny joke, mo dearbadan-de, so I can get on with making love to you.”

  Face heating, she let out a nervous laugh. “All right, here goes. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Knock, knock.”

  He flicked his tongue against her sweet spot. “Who’s there?”