At Her Service (Swords of Passion) (7 page)

He strode to the cupboard on the far wall and opened the door. Reaching in to take his leather saddle pouch, he grasped crimson silk that billowed through his fingers.

She grinned at him as he approached. “What have you brought, my lord?”

His face grew sombre. “This I have carried with me for more than eight years.” He sat upon the bed, his gaze upon his closed fist. “I bought them for you when I had no hope I would ever see you again. When I thought I would die soon and in a heinous land.”

“My dearest,” she whispered and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “You are here with me now.” She did not say
, all your fears are for naught
. For that was useless talk. “Show me, Simon, what you have.”

He smiled again as he opened his fist to reveal a red silk bag with two draw strings. “I bought them from a caravan drover recently arrived in
Jaffa
from the
Silk Road
. The merchant was a leather-faced ancient, sans teeth and hair.”

As Simon spoke, she began to grin—and so did he.

“He sat upon the buttery walls of
Jaffa
, crying at the top of his lungs for all men to come and view his wares. He declared he had the means to make a woman want a man and never leave him.” Simon’s silver eyes met hers, and his voice fell to a rasp. “I had seen my two friends die not days before, their bodies mangled, torn apart by scimitars of the Heathens. I felt for certain my day to die must be close. To buy these for you made me feel somehow eternal.” Simon glanced away, and she knew he did so to hide his sadness.

She put a hand to his arm. “My darling, you bought these as a talisman to tell yourself you would one day come back to me.”

He faced her, his mouth lifting from a tight line of despair to dawning joy. “How could you know?” he whispered.

She gripped his hand. “I know you.”

Delight erased his melancholy. He bent to kiss her lips. “Shall I show you these?”

“Oh, please.”

“Hmm. Very well, be still now.”

“Like this?” She squirmed against the bedding and let her breasts sway a bit before him.

“Temptress,” he scolded.

“Sorcerer,” she countered and lifted her chin at him. “Show me, damn you.”

He took from his pouch two silver pincers, encrusted with tiny stones of aqua and pink, purple and topaz.

“They are lovely. But what are they?” She touched one with a fingertip.

“They are for your breasts. Your nipples.”

“But…how?” Her excitement made her breathless.

He cupped one of her breasts and bent to suck her nipple to a hard round point. She arched up into his hand and his mouth, speechless with his ardour. He drew away, took her areola between his fingertips and clamped her nipple between the clamp of the jewelled silver.

“Ah!” she shot upward into his arms. “Simon!” One hand went to her breast, where darts of raging need pierced her to her oh so ready womb.

He examined her closely. “You like this?”

“Aye,
aye
!” She grabbed his hand. “I like the way it looks, too.”

“Greedy witch.”

She cuffed him. “Give me the other.”

He hauled her up into his embrace and kissed her as if he would die now and be complete. Then he pushed her to the bed, stroked her other breast, laved her nipple with a sweet swirling tongue and clamped the other jewel on.

A shout sprang from her lips. Her hands plunged into her bush. He tore them away and dipped to put his mouth to her swollen flesh. “Quake for me, Elise.” He nibbled at her tiny nub then kissed her and parted her and finally possessed her with his huge rod.

He sat back, pulled her ass cheeks up onto his thighs and rode her as if he were a man on a wild mare.

She reached for him, tweaked his brown, hard nipples and cried in wanton need. “Simon, Simon, be quick, quick because I—”

She had no more words for the fury that overtook her, pulsed through her from her tight little nipples, pressed into a raging delight by the clamps of the bejewelled silver. She could only quake and milk the glorious staff that Simon gave her with sure hard pounds of his hips into hers. Once more, she felt his eruption bathe her womb, and she rejoiced that she had come to accept him, his seed and his service.

For long minutes, he remained upright, eyes closed, fingernails digging into her hips, his body buried deep inside her. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “You learn quickly.”

“I have an excellent teacher.” She asked nothing of how he had learnt. It was best she never ask. For these minutes that must last her all her life, she would keep them free of the bitterness about the past and trepidations of the future. Ponderings would do them no good. “May we do this again?” she asked with bright invitation, squirming against his hips.

He chuckled. “Unsatisfied, are you?”

“If I say aye, then…”

He grinned and gave her a thrust from his still-engorged rod. “Then, I must give you new adventures, eh?”

She had barely uttered, “Aye,” when he lifted her with a hand beneath her neck and sent his tongue stabbing inside her mouth.

“You are such a sweet meat, my lovely.” He took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged at her while one hand covered her breast and twisted her nipple between two strong fingers. “I could eat all of you—and think I will.”

She leant up on an elbow and took his lower lip between her teeth to nip him and taunt, “And if I devour you first?”

He growled. “Think you can outlast me?”

Her eyes narrowed, playing. “Shall we bet?”

“Nay!” He laughed again, more deeply in his throat. “But we shall proceed.”

Another knock sounded.

“Omar,” Simon told her, “with refreshment.”

Simon pulled out of her with such slow precision that she groaned and covered her mound, now so empty, but so sweetly tender that she had to massage herself and sigh.

Simon closed the door, a tray filled with wine jug and bread in hand, and returned to watch her. “For a woman who never pleasured herself before, you do listen to your body’s needs. Open your
chat
and let me see you roll your fingers over your pearl of love.”

She parted her lips with eager fingers. “I can’t go slowly, Simon. I need more.” She caught her breath as she touched her nub and circled it. Her cunt was so sensitive and so very full of their juices that her fingertips glided easily over her flesh. “Come back to me. My hands are poor substitutes for you, my dearest.”

He seemed at first not to hear her, he was so devoted to watching her. But he shook his head then strode away. “We have wine and some bread. Later, we shall have some roast boar. The kitchen servants have butchered and dressed it for the spit.”

“Our boar.” She laughed triumphantly but was almost to the point of ecstasy again and mewled instead.

He poured himself a goblet of wine from the pitcher on the tray and walked back to her. “Go on, Elise. Give yourself the release you need.” He winked and drained his cup. “I promise to reward you for this lovely sight as soon as my rod fills up again. And you working at yourself does give me great desire.”

She moaned and let her fingers fondle and pet her nether lips. Then she let her knees fall wide onto the bed. “Oh, Simon, this is lovely.”

He pursed his lips, his brow wet with sweat as he focused on her fingers dancing over her juicy cunt. “I agree. Take yourself now, my lovely. I want you so wet for me you drip onto the sheets.”

And so she took herself there to that demanding, pounding point where she lifted her hips off the bed in a carnal heat that had her delirious with thoughts of him twisting her nipples and slapping her slit and eating her very needy little cunt all at once.

She splayed on the bed, limbs askew, gasping for air and smiling at him. “Do I inspire you, my Knight Divine?”

Simon bent and kissed her knee then rose. He poured wine into his goblet and strode forward to hand her the cup. “Drink, my lovely. You need it for your next lesson.”

She lifted on an elbow to take the earthen cup and drink. “There is more that is new?” She sipped, luxuriating in the bedclothes. “How much can you do in one afternoon?”

Simon winked at her and stripped himself of the tunic he must have donned to open the door to the Omar. His naked body stopped her breath. The ridges of his ribs and the valley between his hip bones made her mouth water. But the size of his manhood made her swallow and
 
lick her lips.

“Want to know now? Or will you eat first?” He inclined his head towards the sideboard and the tray.

“Which would you prefer?”

“Ah…” He got a devilish gleam in his eyes. “I want you now.”

“Well, then.” She drained the cup, dropped it to the floor and wound her legs together in a coy coil. “Come show me.”

He was over her in the flash of an eye. His hand delved between her heavy lips. “You are not sore?”

She purred. “Delicious to be sore from loving you, I say. Let us be about our business, my man.”

He roared in laughter, throwing back his head and enjoying the mirth she could wager he had not had much of these last twelve years. But when he was done, he grew stark and serious. “Let us be about another way to give each other joy.”

She pouted prettily, letting the fire of her desire sit in her eyes. “I am ready.” She reached for his shaft again.

He batted her hand away but held her gaze with his hard one. “I have another piece I brought from the East. This is rare here, but used by pashas and emperors alike to ensure their women never hunger for another man.”

“Well then I must see this,” she invited him, though the very idea that these would excite her beyond what she had already experienced thrilled her—and made her anxious.

“If we use this, you must promise to tell me if you are hurt or outraged. They are tools of love and lust, but not pain and so—“

“So you must bring this out,” she overcame her fear to say, while dismissing once more the urge to ask if him if he’d ever used this on another woman. Jealousy had no place in her bed with him. Not now. “Show me. Love me with all your ways.”

But she could see in his liquid silver gaze that he spoke as if he took a vow, “With this one piece, you shall henceforth belong to me, in a new way that few men ever possess their women.”

Without question or hesitation, she gave him her trust and so she said, “Come love me then, and let us thus declare that I am yours and you will forever be only mine.” She did not say,
if only in our minds
, for that truth was a useless point to state.

Then, he wrapped her in his embrace and clamped her to his warm and musky body.

He caught her under her ass and spread her legs up on his thighs. He toyed with her little pearl, so sinfully tender and rounded, and pinched it until she shuddered and moaned. Softly, he traced the outline of her nub with his fingertip. “I make you ready for me, for this new way to love. I need you flowing with thick cream, my lovely. I want to ready you—here.” He inserted his finger in her ass, and she groaned. “Here where I wish to come inside as I did the other night.”

“Ah, Simon, you make me pant with eagerness.”

He caught her chin and checked her expression. “For this, you must feel wanted but safe.”

“I do,” she affirmed and reached up to draw his mouth to hers for a long kiss. “I do.”

“Good. Let me prepare you, my sweet one.” He shifted and against her hungry cunny lips, she felt his sure fingers dip inside her then bathe his penis with her cream. “Beauty, I can smell your desire from here,” he rasped as he reached around to massage her asshole, then coat it inside and out with her juice.

She had never felt such ministrations, and she tipped up her hips to offer him better access. “Oh, Simon, this
is
glorious.”

“And more to come, my precious one.” He pulled away and stood. “Don’t move.” He was gone to the sideboard to open his travelling pouch and back in three heartbeats to cover her lonely body with his own.

“Here.” He kissed her mouth. “I return to you.”

“I missed you.” She wound her arms around his shoulders.

“Feel how I missed you,” he whispered and found the entrance to her core to fill her up in one long drive to pleasure.

“Ah, I do.” She welcomed him as she rose with the power of his thrust.

“And here.” He pulled out to make her groan. “Let me bathe this in your ripe juice.” He inserted it between her heated swollen nether lips, something large, smooth and cool, bluntly rounded at one end. In languid strokes, he ran it up and down each of her delicate folds. “Simon, what is this that warms with body heat?”

With one hand, he removed the object from her swollen flesh, but with the other, he inserted one finger, then two in her ass. “Take this token of my pleasure in your body. And revel in the joy.“ He replaced his fingers with the warm and liquid object. “Here will be your pleasure and mine.”

She bucked at the size of it. The stretch of it. The exquisite smooth hot feel of it. “Oh, Simon,” she ground out. “What is this that makes me need your rod inside me, too?”

He fingered her wet, swollen lips aside to bury his manhood deep inside her. “An emerald.”