Dark Enchantment (30 page)

‘Like a statue coming to life he folded his arms about her and pulled her to him. His kisses were strong and hungry and felt quite human; in moments he had taught her how to yield to them. She felt her whole body melt against his, changing its shape and its nature, her stomach to his stomach, her thighs parted by one of his, her breasts crushed to his chest. It came to her that the one thing she’d never thought to question was how much he wanted her. Now that question was answered forcefully, by the fierce grasp of his hands on her hips and by the need in his kisses. He ate the breath from her throat and she had to pull away from him in the end, gasping. He laughed softly, and that sight was so novel to her that it was almost more frightening than anything that had gone before it. “Do you know what you want?” he asked again.

‘“This,” she answered, running her hands down his torso, forcing them between her body and his until her fingers found a hardness they’d never known before, a jutting thing that seemed to her improbably angled. “Oh?” he asked. He might have been teasing; she could not tell. She lost her nerve and retreated to his chest again, drawing open the overlaid panels of his robe to reveal the bare chest beneath. He
shrugged
the garment off his shoulders, letting it hang from his belted waist, revealing a torso the colour and sculpted smoothness of bone. Entranced, she ran her palms over his skin. Her hands looked very dark against him. “I want this.”

‘“As I want you.” His hand went to the knot at her shoulder and the pall-cloth fell away, revealing her to his gaze and his touch, her bronze gilded by the sunset glow. Some part of her mind noted than neither his pale skin nor the white streaks of his hair were even tinted by the ruddy light. “Every part of you.” So saying he picked her up and carried her bodily over to the couch, moving over her as he laid her back upon the dusty cushions. His mouth grazed her lips, her throat, her breasts. He licked her nipples until they stood up all shiny. Oh, she liked that, she found; it woke in her a fierce hunger that made her grip him hard. Then he crouched lower, kissing her belly and navel, his hair falling over her like a caress, his hands pinning her down. His mouth made her squirm and she laughed out loud. “Ticklish?” he asked her and when she whimpered, “Yes! No!” he drew her thighs apart and bent his head between them, wondering, “And here?”

‘His mouth found her and, oh, it was bliss. Bliss better than anything else – sweeter than the taste of the year’s first ripe persimmon. She writhed beneath him, feeling his tongue sliding about upon her pearl, the hardness of his jaw pushing into her softness, his wetness mixing with hers. First she wanted to push him off and then pull him into her, and then she felt as if she were opening up like a chasm in the earth into which they must both fall. Then she thought she would burst in his face and spurt down his throat, and then she knew he would tear her apart – and then he was doing it, or she was doing it, and the movement of his mouth was working right
through
her body and her breasts were shaking as she arched her back and clawed the cushions beneath her, and she cried out as Death took her plunging through the void.

‘But still she lived. She lay shaken as he knelt up over her. When he kissed her she could taste herself on his lips and tongue. He whispered her name, smiling darkly. He touched her with his fingertips, stirring the gloss on her skin, stroking the flat belly that quivered with her every heartbeat. “Now,” he said softly, drawing her hand up into the folds of his robe, parting the cloth for her so that she could wrap her fingers round the erection she found there. “Do you know what this is?” When she nodded he kissed her again. “Do you know what I’m going to do with it?”

‘“You are going to put it inside me,” she said, quivering. Her hand was measuring his cock from root to tip, shocked by its cool hardness. She found a distinct head that she had somehow not been expecting, a sheen of slickness, a muscular kick against her palm. His lips brushed over hers. “And you want me to do that?” he asked.

‘“Yes,” she told him, “I want it.” And his eyes flashed his pride at her. But it was his fingers that went to her split first, finding her moisture, exploring the contours and depths and the sensitivity of her. She felt her stomach flutter again as he touched her in secret places, making her moan and surge. Then he took her spilt butter and anointed his cock while she watched in fascination.

‘“Come here,” he murmured, sitting back and pulling her upright. He lifted her astride his lap as he turned to sit upon the edge of the couch and, holding her about the waist, her breasts pressed to his bare chest, he gripped himself tight and let his cock kiss her cleft, sliding up and down in an abundant wetness. Even when he first essayed a push it did not hurt because her body was used to another ivory tusk. Only, though
it
did not hurt, still it frightened her a great deal as he eased her down upon his length; to have a living man inside her was hard to believe, to have
this man
– or this thing that looked like a man – so close, so intimately encompassed, was almost unendurable. She made a moan of terror, realising how much trust she had to find. And then he was in all the way, filling her up. “My brave girl,” he breathed. Then he kissed her, settling her weight half on his thighs, half on his cupped hands. “My Zulkais.”

‘She clung to his shoulders, wide-eyed and flushed. “Now touch yourself,” he whispered. “I want to see you touch yourself.” Carefully she slipped one hand between their bodies and fingered her clit. Her face was level with his, their lips brushing. When he spoke she could feel his cool breath: “Does it feel good?”

‘She nodded, unable to speak coherently. Squeezing her bottom in his hands, lifting her weight, he worked her up and down on his shaft, shifting his hips and thighs to open her still further. “I want you to come on me,” he told her, but after that they spoke no more, too busy keeping their rhythm steady and their panting under control, too busy watching the sensations and emotions blossoming in each other’s face, too busy snatching breathless sticky kisses – until the maiden felt the rush of heat flooding her and knew she was coming with a man’s hard cock thrust to the hilt inside her tight sex. She shook her head wildly and scrunched her face and squealed, unable to help herself. It was not a dignified moment. She was sure he would be laughing at her, but when she met his gaze again she found his dark eyes serious and tender. “Yes, that’s it,” he whispered, kissing the sweat from her temples. “It’s over. You’ve done it.”

‘Of course it wasn’t over. Not then, and not for a long time because he next rolled her upon the cushions and delved her
slow
and carefully, then long and hard, and the pleasure was not so sweet as that she’d felt under his mouth or her familiar fingers, but much deeper. Her body was supremely ready for this, readier than she could be herself, and she was grateful that it knew the way as he pushed her to the edge of endurance then over the edge into rapture, all over again. He made her scream and claw at him and beg before she was done, before he let his own need lay him waste. Then he lay with her until they had both recovered enough to begin all over again.

‘The light never changed. He held it there, at that golden sunset moment before the onrushing dark. He held her at the edge of oblivion then let her fall asleep sprawled on top of him, and his hands were tracing the lines of her back as she slipped into unconsciousness.

‘And that is all the story … That’s the end. Everything else is only sunset moments. I don’t know what will happen to …’ The young woman’s voice died away. The shadowed form of the ghoul sat in contemplation. What it had made of the tale was impossible to discern.

Then both heard a chittering call and stood to look down the hill, towards a grove of lemon trees that clustered round a cracked and dusty well. Indistinct in the deepening dusk, to the woman’s eyes – clear to those of her companion – a group of capering, naked ghouls emerged from under the canopy. In their midst walked a tall figure, straight where they were crooked, calm where they danced and jostled, clad in a grey that seemed to blend into the colours of the gloaming hill. It can be assumed that what the ghoul saw differed from that which the girl perceived, but both pulled in an anxious breath at the sight. The young woman’s heart, at least, knocked painfully in her chest. The grey figure lifted its head as if gazing towards them.

They started downhill quickly, the ghoul loping sideways, the girl treading carefully on the unmade path. Her wounded, feral eyes had softened and her face had taken on a new cast, one more suited to someone of her age, her eyes bright and eager. But there was no one close enough to her to see this through the evening shadow, except for the ghoul, and ghouls have no interest in human emotion.

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Epub ISBN 9780753519240

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This book is a work of fiction.
In real life, make sure you practise safe, sane and consensual sex.

Published by Black Lace 2009

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Copyright © Janine Ashbless 2009

Janine Ashbless has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
.

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First published in Great Britain in 2009 by
Black Lace
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ISBN 9780352345134