***
Irisa’s desire shifted from curious to obsessive. Ware was like no other man. Each time she tried to seduce him into a less than knightly act he pulled from her. She found him an inspiring choice for her heart and quite noble with his reluctance.
“We’re being watched,” she whispered so she didn’t alarm their visitor.
Ware jumped to his feet and spun around in a protective stance before her. It was an impressive moment she hated to stop.
“Where?” he asked. “I see no one.”
She ended his defensive twirl with her hand on his arm. “I see supper.” She pointed around his wide frame. The rabbit ignored them and continued browsing through the thick blades of grass no more than twenty feet away.
“Woman, you exasperate a man.” He reached for his dagger and she controlled her laugh when he glanced at her with vexation. “You also lost my blade.”
“No, I didn’t.” She went to her gown and took it from the deep pocket.
“You’ve had this all the time?”
“No. I used magic to put it in my pocket.” She pinched her lips. “Now here, show me you can provide us with a meal.” She thrust the handle in his hand.
His fingers curled over it and her wrist. “Did you plan on using this on me?”
“If I wanted you dead, Sir Pembroke, I could have left you in the lake to drown.” She heaved a tiresome breath. “Now will you go before my meal hops away?”
“Just so you know, you didn’t save me. I would have managed to walk to high ground—eventually.”
“I saw you formulating that very plan.” She gave a little jerk to her arm and he let go.
One—two—three steps and Sir Pembroke flung the blade. His precision took down the rabbit. She watched him jog over to the carcass and lift it.
“Your supper, M’lady.” His wide grin and triumphant pose made her heart pitter-patter a few extra beats per minute.
Irisa watched him as he cleaned and skewered the meat. She thought with what had transpired between them, the atmosphere might be tense, except Ware didn’t swagger with arrogance as some men in her past. He resumed his role as a noble knight, serving her with his skill at cooking.
“You’re from Pembroke, why is it we’ve never met?” She watched the meat darken over the fire.
“I’ve not been to Mansfield castle in over eight years and you were no more than a child then.” He tore a piece of meat from the bone and tasted it.
“I think I would have recalled seeing you there.”
“Oh? Is that because you feel I’m memorable or is it you’ve always been attracted to men?” He handed her a piece of the cooked rabbit.
She nibbled at the food and studied him. There was a familiarity about him—something that let her trust him from the start. His present quietness appeared steeped in heavy memories. Of her, she hoped, and they finished eating in silence.
“You’re a long distance from home. Tell me again what happened.” He tossed the last of his bones to the side and moved to stretch out. Lifting one leg to cross over the other, he eased back.
“So now you don’t believe I’m a thief out to steal your dragon?” She smiled.
“Let’s say, I’m not as convinced of your culpability as I once was.”
“I really was kidnapped.”
“And no one came after you?” He closed his eyes and folded his hands together to support his head. “Why?”
She smoothed out her gown on the ground next to him.
“How do you know no one came after me?” Irisa lay down on her side facing him.
Ware’s head turned, his eyes opened and one brow arched.
“Oh, all right,” she confessed. “No one probably has the faintest idea since I ran away first.”
“Why?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I know something that is.” He gripped her arm and pushed her back.
“What?”
“Reciprocation.”
“What?” She looked at him puzzled.
“I wish to return the favor you gave with your mouth.”
She accepted his kiss as if it were a treat she hadn’t the delight of in a long time. Unlike before, he gave her tenderness with soft brushes of his lips over hers. The gentle sweep of his fingers tickled her jaw and stroked her neck.
His kiss wasn’t as drawn out as she had wished. He traveled to her breast in haste. The thin muslin withstood nothing and she squirmed as the pressure of his lips closed on her nipple. He gripped with his teeth and playfully pulled so that she arched to keep contact. His saliva wet the fabric and cooled the heat of her skin. Writhing against his mouth, Irisa grasped what she could of Ware’s thick shoulders. She dug her fingertips into the hard muscles and pushed him lower.
“Oh yes, right there.” She praised the placement of his tongue rotating in the dent of her navel. “No, don’t stop.”
Ware rose and his eyes shined with a dark and dangerous glaze. His hands raked up and down over her thighs, caressing her with impatience and then he suddenly stopped. The thin shell of her under garment jerked and the sound of ripping fabric followed. A breeze of air rushed between her slightly parted legs. Ware ducked his head between her spread thighs and blocked off the chill. Irisa cried out at the instant flutter of his tongue upon the sensitive flesh.
“Oh God,” she wheezed.
His finger slipped beneath his mouth and she clenched against the insertion. He pushed deeper, forcing through her tightening muscles. When he eased back, Irisa reached to hold his hand from withdrawing.
“Please,” she cried.
He kissed her wrist and with the turn of his head, his hair brushed the inside of her legs. Nerves jumped as the silky fibers tickled the sensitive area he left exposed. Her insides jittered again when he found another receptive place to tease with the tip of his tongue.
The slow invasions of his finger, quickened. The plunges screwed in and out, enticing her hips from the ground. Made breathless by his fervid attention to one spot, Irisa twisted her fingers around the locks of hair on Ware’s head. She rocked against the titillating hum of his mouth flitting over her pulsing nether region. Bumping and grinding, she had no control over her body’s spasms shaking her intimate area against Ware’s persistent suckling.
He pressed her knees, keeping her spread even though she fought weakly to close her legs and stop his torture. The wracking contractions were exhausting, glorious and new. Her brief encounters with men were mostly active on her end, making them the recipient of her curiosity. The most she accepted was the fondling of her breasts while kissing. Ware was beyond the bounds of her experience. Even though her imagination had taken her into many fantasies, nothing compared to the way a man—this handsome knight, made loving a possibility.
Ware drank from her wet spending long after the final shudder of her rapture left her drained of energy. She laid relaxed, limp as if he’d sucked every ounce of life from her. She didn’t open her eyes when he slid up, over her. Not even when the ties of his britches brushed over her tender mound or while his hot skin grazed her sore nipples. He had made her willing to accept him completely into her body.
***
Ware tried to picture Irisa as an abused child of Lord Mansfield. He couldn’t think of too many other reasons for her to run away from home.
“Who kidnapped you?” He shifted off and pulled her to him, offering a place to snuggle.
It was more for his benefit than hers that he kept her close. Total abandonment of his senses simmered below the pretense of self-discipline.
“I don’t know. I could only guess they were interested in a ransom.”
She didn’t remain at his side. Instead, Irisa flipped to the flat of her back and stared at the sky. He tried not to look in her direction or wonder why she didn’t act like other women that always wanted to cuddle him as if he were their bed pillows. He never approved in the past and he didn’t know why, with Irisa, he sought the comfort of her sof
t body hugging his.
“It’s hard for me to believe that someone could get the better of you, I’ve seen you in action.”
“Yes, well, you were easy. You were only one knight, not two ruffians.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“That I was kidnapped?” She sat up and he looked.
Her pert breasts jiggled beneath the cloth.
“No.” He closed his eyes against the idea of nibbling on the tender nubs. “T’would be bad form for a knight to be any less than courteous with a lady.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call you polite the way you tossed me over your saddle or kicked me off the dragon.”
“I have done nothing more than what I would do to a spoiled child.”
“You’d not lay a hand on a child as you have touched me, Sir Pembroke.” She rolled over and he had the length of her backside facing him.
Ware moved to stroke her arm and changed his mind, thinking it best to leave her alone and get sleep. Each time he thought he might dose off, the fire went low and he got up to add wood.
“If you think of yourself as courteous,” she spoke quietly. “Then you should offer me the heat of your body.”
Ware almost laughed. The sound caught in his throat as Irisa scooted back without invitation. Her bottom pressed into his groin and he put an arm over her to keep her still.
“This is much better, don’t you think?” She squirmed and he got another shocking jolt to the tender ache his arousal suffered.
“For you, maybe.”
“Stop complaining. You’ll soon see this is best.” She took his hand and brought it farther around her.
He had truly grown nobler than he was in his tender youth, or so he thought after he managed to get some sleep until sunrise. When he woke, he discovered his comfort came from the way Irisa snuggled affectionately to him.
Their fire had gone out and the cool air wafted over his warm face.
He rubbed his hand over the curve of Irisa’s hip and behind to the firmness of her bottom. Her soft moan stirred the hairs on his chest and he recalled how wonderful her lips felt on his skin.
“M’lady?”
“Hmmm?” she answered with a sleepy sound.
“‘Tis time to wake.”
Her moves created a greater heat than any fire ever provided.
“Just a little longer.” She squirmed and he pulled her closer with a grasp of her supple bottom.
“I’m sorry, I was cold last night.” She tried pushing away.
“I wasn’t.” He dipped his head to kiss her parted lips and felt resistance.
Ware stopped and studied her expression. The playful vixen had a twinkle in her eye and a faint smile dimpling her cheek. The hands she used to discourage him, slipped up around his neck.
Irisa’s laughter taunted his endurance. He wanted her to the extremes of forgetting all he cherished about his reputation. When their lips smacked together, her eagerness lessened his immediate needs. They kissed, not with a rushed hunger, but a tender passion. Her mouth moved, lovingly, tasting and awakening different emotions. Their lips clung and parted, each time realigning as if a new angle might be a better fit or extract a sensation they hadn’t enjoyed.
“You kiss exceedingly well,” she murmured. “Have you much experience?”
He smiled against her kiss. “I could ask the same of you.”
“Oh, I’ve been kissed before. I assure you I’m not new to this.”
He didn’t like the comment and it wasn’t for the fact another man’s mouth had been where he had his now.
“And have your encounters gone further than kissing?” He tried a diplomatic approach to get an answer he already knew.
“Why, of course.”
The news of her less than virtuous nature stung even though it was expected.
“Then, I’m glad to be of service for adding to your escapades.” He got up and left her on the ground. “I have to relief myself and I’m sure you have similar needs. I suggest I go this way and you that.”
“Ware?”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. If left to him, he would have enjoyed a lengthy stay in her embrace.
The sight of her gorgeous body aroused him, as he was sure it did other men. Her reminder of chastity conflicted with her confession of indiscretion and he reconsidered her honesty. If she gave him one word that she was not chaste in the most important way, ready for a marriage bed, he’d have nothing left to stop him from sinking his tormented cock into her tight cunt.
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 3
When Ware returned to camp, Irisa had already finished her private necessities. She had her gown on, covering the lovely shape of her silhouette beneath the muslin. It was a good thing since the split he put in her under-dress left him with too great a visual reminder of how soft her legs were against his lips.
After he put on his tunic and chain mail vest, he helped her up on the dragon in front of him.
“I’ve never been on a dragon as much as I have yours.” She leaned as if to examine the creature.
“You know many dragon fighter knights?” The question was one he really wanted to know the answer to.
“A few, but I’ve only been on one other dragon and I didn’t like him.”
Ware tried to relax with Irisa settled into the arc of his arm. He didn’t ask anything else, not wanting to know details and they rode for better than half a day in silence.
“There’s Mansfield Castle,” he announced, as if Irisa didn’t know the terrain.
The stone castle sat within the majestic view of clover green fields and emerald trees. The sigh from Irisa seemed sad as if something unpleasant awaited her inside the stone walls. He refused to think she was mistreated by anyone.
Ware urged the dragon downhill.
Irisa put her hand over his on the reins. “Wait, please.”
He pulled up on the animal and brought him to a stop on the slope of ground leading to her home.
“I want to gather my thoughts a moment.” She rubbed the back of his hand.
When she tilted her head back, looking at him, he read her thoughts. What reflected in her brown eyes was his need to kiss her. He cupped her face with every intention of having his fill of her breath rushing into his lungs. However, Irisa’s desire changed. She lifted her chin from his palm and turned her head away. She inhaled deeply with what sounded like resignation. It rattled him to think he aimed for the last chance he’d have at happiness with Irisa Mansfield.
“I’m ready to go,” she informed him. “T’would be good of you to make haste in case my father has noticed my absence.”
Ware kicked the flanks of the dragon and the huge wings snapped open. They lifted off and moved swiftly with his urging. Riding low to the ground, they followed a footpath into the valley and up to the entrance of the castle.
“They stare too intently.” He surveyed the parapets with guards overlooking the pasture.
“We’ve no dragons here, Sir Pembroke. It’s the unusual sight they take an interest in, I assure you.”
Ware swung a leg over the back of the dragon and hopped down. He raised his arms and Irisa dropped into his clutches. Keeping her as his passed through his thoughts with more frequency and he actually looked forward to speaking to Lord Mansfield. He didn’t know exactly what he would say, other than impress upon the man that he’d take good care of his daughter.
The large fortress gates opened upon the guard’s sight of Irisa. When she smiled and gave the man a nod as they passed under the arch, Ware stiffened with an unusual jealousy. Irisa had given him a different view of how a woman could be and he liked having her around.
“Irisa,” a man shouted.
Ware turned to see who else he’d suspect of caressing the vixen.
“Your father is ready to tear this country apart in search for you.” Sir William Milstead approached. “You are a troublesome child some days.”
“I’m hardly a child.” Irisa folded her arms and ex
pressed clear displeasure.
Ware silently agreed—the woman was no child.
“I said, just some days.” Milstead smiled.
“Sir Milstead, this is…”
“Ware?” Milstead cocked his head. “Is it really you?”
Ware didn’t get a chance to reply.
“The last I saw you was five years ago. You were having a very good time with that wench in—” William turned to the grunt from Irisa. “I’m sorry, M’lady. We best get you to your father at once.”
“I’d like to hear more about your exploits, Sir Pembroke.” Irisa gave Ware another one of her devilish smiles.
Milstead practically dragged her to the heavy doors of the castle’s great hall. Ware watched her sashay through the place.
“Father!” The musical cadence of her voice filled the room.
“Stop right there.” Her father’s hands shot up in front of her. “Have you returned to your senses?”
“Some,” she replied rather meekly.
“Some will do.” Lord Mansfield opened his arms and Irisa rushed into her father’s embrace.
“Father, this is Sir Ware Pembroke, my champion. I was kidnapped and he rescued me. Wasn’t that very brave of him?”
Ware held his amusement in check while the sweet damsel wove her spell around her father.
“Kidnapped?” Lord Mansfield appeared skeptical.
“Yes, Father.”
Ware thought she bore a striking resemblance to a vibrant breeze that shifted directions easily. He found it a wonder she wasn’t in charge of the place. Then, he considered, maybe, without anyone’s notice, she was.
“Tell me,” Lord Mansfield commanded him.
“I’m sorry, m’lord. I can only assure you that when I came upon the Lady Irisa, she was indeed, bound and gagged. The bandits stole a dragon from me and that was what led me to give chase.”
“A dragon? How does one steal such a vile creature?”
“Father, Ware’s dragons are not like Sir Tulane’s.”
“Elan Tulane?” Ware hated the man for many things and extreme dragon fighting was just one.
“Yes, Sir Tulane has some ferocious beasts and it’s a good thing there are few in the country with the savagery of their existence.”
A Damsel In Distress • Dragon Fighter Romance Book 1 (Dragon Fighter Romance ~ Book 1) Page 3
