DeliveredIntoHisHands (6 page)

Moving his mouth like a starving man over
her lips, thrusting in and out slowly with his tongue, he wedged himself
between her legs and pressed his engorged cock against her center.

“Ricky!” she cried out, her hands clawing
at his shoulders.

A part of his mind warned him she was
innocent, that she had no real notion of what would happen if he dared allow
it. She was instinctively arching her hips in offering and he wanted nothing
more than to accept but their Joining night was only two days away. He could
wait. The other part of his mind screamed at him to give her a taste of what
she could expect on their Joining night, to ready her for the pleasures only he
would ever give her.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips.
Hers were swollen from his kisses and her eyes in the moonlight were glittering
with need.

“Baby, I—”

She dug her nails into his shirt. “I belong
to you,” she said.

Which was, perhaps, the very worst thing
she could have uttered.

With no thought other than to satisfy the
raging desire to do so, he yanked up the hem of her gown. Dragging it up her
legs, he sucked in a harsh breath as his fingertips slid over the soft, pliant
flesh of her thighs. He couldn’t have stopped even had he wanted to and his
fingers thrust under the leg band of her panties and ripped them from her in
one savage jerk. She twitched beneath him and her eyes widened at the sound of
the material ripping. She opened her mouth to say something but he would never
know what for he turned his hand to cup the very core of her.

Beneath his palm she was wet for him. Slick
for him. That she was both stunned and elated him. He growled low in his
throat, the scent of her need driving deep into his nostrils. The heat of her
scorched his palm. He could no more deny himself the pleasure of rubbing that
silky, hot expanse than he could stop breathing.

She moaned under his firm, rhythmic stroke.
Her hips writhed under him and he shifted so he lay only on one of her thighs
to give himself better access to her damp folds.

“Spread your legs wider,” he ordered in a
gruff voice.

Her brow furrowed for a split second then
smoothed as she did as he told her. She squirmed as he pressed the tips of his
fingers higher up the cleft of her ass.

“Lie still,” he said softly. She tried to
wriggle again and he raised his hand from her. She whimpered. “Are you going to
lie still?”

“Aye,” she said, her breath coming ragged
and quick.

As soon as she settled down he laid his hand
on her again. Her eyelids fluttered then closed. She ran her tongue along her
top lip. Against the side of her leg, his cock stirred and a sweet smile tugged
at the corners of her mouth.

“You like when he nudges you, eh?” he
queried.

“Very much,” she said and once more she
licked her lip.

“Then let’s try this and see if it is to
your liking.”

He stroked upward, dipping just the tip of
his finger into the sweetness of her cunt on the way.

“Garrick!” she hissed and sank her nails
into his shoulders.

“Aye, wench?”

She sighed as he stroked downward again.

“Put your hands above your head,” he said.

“Why?”

“Just do it, Antonia,” he told her and she
did.

Not wanting to rush but beginning to sweat
from the lust that was riding him hard, he lowered his lips to hers and began
soft, gentle kisses upon her mouth, her cheeks, and her chin. He slowly worked
his way down the side of her neck. The moment his mouth touched that sensitive
span of flesh between neck and shoulder, she writhed and tried to lift her hips
again.

“Don’t,” he commanded.

A sigh of frustration was his answer but
she obediently obeyed.

He kissed his way along the flesh not
covered by the scooped neck of her gown then ventured on to the rise of her
breast beneath the material, settling his mouth over the apex of the sweet
mound.

“Ahh,” she moaned for he knew she could
feel the heat of his breath through the silk of the gown and the cup of her
bra.

Invading her on two fronts, he spread the
fingers of the hand that was stroking her between the legs so that the index
and ring fingers slipped into the soft, wet folds.

Her hips bucked again and he lifted his
head to give her a stern look.

“If you do that one more time, I’m going to
remove my hand and take my leave, wench,” he said sternly.

“No,” she whimpered.

“Then lie still,” he said. “Am I making
myself clear?”

She nodded, tucking her bottom lip between
her teeth.

“All right,” he said then lowered his head
to her breast.

Slowly he dragged his fingers through her
softness as he plucked at her nipple beneath the restriction of the fabric. She
was beginning to pant as the sexual tension built within her. Using his Vampire
abilities, he gently slipped into her mind to see when she’d last had a climax
and was stunned to find out she never had. He knew she was a virgin in fact but
at her age she should have had a least a few wet dreams or experimented with
her body. That she had not pleased him immensely. He would be the first to show
her what pleasure truly was.

He pressed his body harder to her side and
hooked his leg to draw hers tighter to his crotch. Her gasp and the quiver of
her body drew his mouth from her breast. He nudged her face to the side and put
his lips to her ear.

“I want you, wench,” he whispered, his hot
breath against her flesh.

She moaned and he increased the pressure of
his fingers.

“I need you,” he said and slipped his
middle finger into her wet center. Almost instantly he felt the ripples of her
first orgasm.

She stiffened—her heels digging into the
ground—and she opened her mouth to scream as she came. He could not allow that
for fear it would bring the castle guards running. With the supernatural speed
of his Vampire species he withdrew his hands from between her thighs to slap
his palm across her mouth.

“Shush, wench!” he said against her ear.

Her body was shuddering as the orgasm
rocked her. Her eyes were wide, her chest heaving, heart thundering, blood
racing. Beneath his palm he could feel her teeth chattering and he smiled.

He had fucking tilted her world on its axis
with such little effort he knew when he put the full force of his experience
behind it after their Joining, she would be a wildcat in their bed. That he
could pleasure her, fulfill her, and satisfy her better than any man ever could
was a surety in his mind.

“You are mine,” he whispered, tugging her
face toward him so he could gauge her reaction to his words. “Until a day after
forever you are mine.”

Antonia shivered one last time then lay
still, her eyes locked on his. His hand was still covering her mouth so she
could not agree with him. Instead, she looped her arms around his neck and
pulled his head toward her. When he slipped his hand from her mouth, she took
his in a kiss that surprised him. Her tongue danced with his then slid
seductively into his mouth for the first time. A quiver of his own undulated
down his body and he pulled back. He knew if he didn’t stop now, didn’t get
away from her and the scent of her orgasm, he would compromise her there on the
hard ground.

He peeled her arms from his neck, put his
hands to either side of her and pushed away, gaining his feet so quickly she
couldn’t stop him. Her groan of frustration was almost his undoing. He held his
hand out to her to help her to her feet.

She put her hand in his and he levered her
up, stepping back for he dared not allow his body to touch her again. The
raging erection in his pants was scalding him and he needed to relieve himself
of the agony. He stepped back into the shadows so she could not see the
evidence of that stony hard-on.

“Good eve, milady,” he said and simply
vanished before her eyes.

Antonia stared at the spot where he had
been standing only seconds before. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up
long enough to walk to the stone bench a few feet away under the sycamore tree.
She was quivering like a leaf and her heart was hammering as though she’d been
running full-out for several minutes.

“Sweet Sibylline,” she breathed, her body
tingling where his had pressed against it. Between her legs had come a feeling
like none she’d ever felt before but surely wanted to experience again.

With Garrick.

Just thinking of his strong, muscular body
hard against her made her ache between her legs.

“You have bewitched me, Vampire,” she said
softly. “Beguiled and glamoured me.”

And she prayed he would do so again.

And again.

And again.

Garrick was shaking like a leaf when he
materialized inside his room. Thankful Marcus had been given his own room far
distant from his own, he stood in the center of the luxurious surroundings and
gulped air as though he’d been deprived of breath for hours.

He swallowed hard then fumbled with the fly
of his leather pants. Never had the goddess-be-damned buttons given him so much
trouble as he ran them. Freeing his cock from the tight restriction, he spat in
his palm then wrapped his fingers around himself. He pumped his fist as fast
and hard as he could. Letting his head fall back, he squeezed his eyes shut and
pictured Antonia in his mind, imagining it was her tight cunt wrapped around
him. His knees felt weak as he shifted his legs farther apart to brace himself.
He knew when he came, it would be with a violent explosion of seed.

He was right.

The release was so forceful, so powerful,
he saw stars behind his tightly closed lids. He staggered from the strength of
it as wave after wave of cum shot vigorously from his aching shaft.

He opened his eyes, lowered his head and
was stunned to see his seed had landed a good three feet away from where he
stood. “Mother of the goddess,” he whispered as his cock pulsed one last time
and a dribble of cum fell to the carpet at his feet. He stared at the
glistening pearl splotches on the carpet that he needed to clean up before
anyone saw what he’d done.

Stuffing himself back into his pants, he
wasn’t surprised his fingers were shaking as he buttoned the fly. He couldn’t
remember ever having such a brutal orgasm and was thankful he hadn’t been
inside Antonia when it came.

“Milady, you have entrapped me like no
other ever could,” he said to the empty room.

He stumbled to the bed and sat down
heavily, plowed a shaking hand through his hair. Staring unseeingly across the
room, he thought of her silken body wrapped around his cock as had been his
hand and once more his shaft began to throb, to harden.

“Easy, boy,” he said, glancing down at his
wayward appendage. “Soon we will make her truly ours.”

That night would not come soon enough for
him.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Aye.”

“Positive?”

“Aye.”

“Without a shadow of a doubt?”

“Aye.”

“Without any kind of reservation?”

Garrick turned a scowl to his
cradle-to-grave friend. “Ask me one more stupid fucking question and I will gut
you, Zoltán.”

Marc pursed his lips and shook his head.
“Mistake, mistake, mistake,” he mumbled.

“Mine to make,” Garrick stated.

The man he had chosen to be his second-in-command
of the Modarthan army reached out and grabbed his arm. “Listen!”

Garrick cocked his head to the side.
“What?”

“Listen!” Marc insisted, tugging hard on
Garrick’s arm.

Straining his ears to hear whatever had
caught his friend’s attention, the Crimson Lord’s brows drew together. “What is
it I’m supposed to be hearing?”

“The sound of hundreds of women moaning
with despair at losing a cocksman of your caliber and talent.”

Garrick rolled his eyes. “Fuck you,
Zoltán,” he snapped.

“Aye, well, if you go through with this
Joining, the only fucking you’ll be doing is between the thighs of your bride,”
Marc warned him.

“Creamy thighs that they are,” Garrick
replied with a grin. “Creamy and soft and strong. The better to wrap around
me.”

“And strangle your ass,” Marc grumbled.

“Trust me when I say that isn’t what she
wants to do to my ass,” Garrick told him.

“Blech,” Marc said and turned away, obvious
giving up on trying to convince Garrick of the error of his ways.

“Be happy for me, Marc,” Garrick said.

“I can’t when I believe you are making a
mistake,” Marc replied. “Nevertheless, I will stand beside you as your
surrogate father though you’re an old man compared to me.”

“By thirty days!” Garrick reminded him.

Marc shrugged. “Still older.”

“And wiser and smarter and—”

“Not that smart if you go through with the
Joining.”

“Enough!” Garrick said. He had reached the
end of his patience with his friend.

“Just saying,” Marc defended.

“Just say no more,” Garrick warned, eyes
narrowed dangerously. He glared at Marc until his friend looked away, nodding
at the reprimand.

A light knock sounded at the door. Garrick turned
toward it.

“Come!”

The baron’s manservant opened the door. He
bowed. “The High Priest asks that you present yourself, General,” he told
Garrick. “The ceremony is about to begin.”

“Thank you, Basil. I will be there
shortly.”

The servant bowed again and eased the door
closed.

Silence played out in the room until Marc
took a long, loud breath. He turned to his friend with a smile that looked
forced and strained. “Ready?” he asked.

“I am,” Garrick agreed.

“Then let’s do this,” Marc said. He strode
to the door, opened it and stepped back. “Your destiny awaits, General.”

The ceremony went by in a blur for Garrick.
He was too busy staring with wonder at the lovely vision that walked down the
aisle toward him at the stroke of midnight. To the accompaniment of tinkling
bells, Antonia kept her eyes on him. The gentle smile on her face took his
breath away and made the rebellious part of him hidden behind the black uniform
pants ache to be set free. He managed to reply at the appropriate times and say
the words expected of him. He knelt when he needed to, had his shirt removed so
the band of Joining could be soldered on his arm. He had trembled with intense
feeling when his bride’s hands went to his shoulders while the band was
applied. Holding her against him as hers was soldered into place made his head
spin. There was such an intense protective instinct welling up inside him that
should the Royal Jeweler’s soldering wand had slipped and he’d burned her,
Garrick would have beheaded the poor man with his bare hands.

As the words were spoken over them that
made her his legal wife, his heart swelled with so much pride he felt tears
gathering in his eyes. Walking down the aisle with her on his arm, he wasn’t
sure his booted feet even touched the white silk carpet that Antonia had
insisted on in place of the ermine.

The reception that followed would forever
be a hazy recollection in his mind. No doubt the very expensive Chrystallusian
plum wine had been good. It had certainly been heady enough. The canapés had
looked exotic and most likely had been delicious but he didn’t know that for a
surety. Music had played but he would never be able to tell their children to what
it was he and their mother danced or if he had tripped over his feet when
dancing with her mother. There had certainly been laughter and toasts and
well-wishes but he would never be able to recall any of that. His eyes, his
hands, his arms, his thoughts had been centered entirely on his bride and he
began counting down the minutes until they could be alone from the moment he
had seen her coming down the aisle toward him.

Now that he had carried her over the
threshold of his room, he stood just beyond the doorway as nervous as a green
youth about to get his first lesson in carnal knowledge. All he could do was
stare down at the lovely vision whose arms were wrapped securely around his
neck and try to still the raging emotion choking him.

“Ricky?” she asked softly.

He swallowed hard. “Aye, love?”

“I think you can put me down now.”

“Put you down?” he asked.

“Aye,” she said. When he didn’t, she lifted
her hand and curled her fingers in his hair. “Ricky? Put me down.”

“Um huh,” he said, taking her to the bed.
Gently he lowered her to the mattress then eased his arms from under her. He
straightened and just stood there staring down at her. “Better?”

“Than what?” she teased as he removed her
slippers.

He sat down beside her and tugged off his
boots, peeled off his socks and laid them aside then and stretched out on his
side facing her. He slowly smiled and reached up to tuck a wisp of hair behind
her ear. “You are so beautiful just looking at you makes me ache.”

“In the right place I hope,” she said
saucily, her lips twitching with humor.

“Brazen hussy,” he said. He trailed his
fingertip along her jawline.

“And who awakened that brazenness within
me, Milord Vampire?” she inquired then the teasing look slipped from her face
and the color fled her cheeks.

He knew precisely the thought that had
suddenly intruded to cause her paleness. In calling him what he was, her mind
had gone to the Changing.

“Push that from your mind,” he said, moving
over her. “That is for a night in our future. Not tonight.” He took her wrists
in his hands and drew her arms over her head. “Tonight is about pleasure.”

“Then I order you to pleasure me, knave,”
she said in an imperious voice, lifting her chin.

Garrick arched an eyebrow. “Knave, milady?”

“You can call me a wench,” she said. “I can
call you a—”

She got no further for he slanted his mouth
over hers and took possession, thrusting his tongue deep into the warm, wet
cavern. Wedging a knee between her legs, he spread her thighs as much as the
Joining gown would allow then dragged his stiff cock against her core. He liked
that she did not close her eyes when they kissed but kept them riveted to his.
It seemed more intimate, more intense that way.

Crossing her wrists together, he held them
easily in one hand while he slid the other hand down her slender arm. He moved
his lips to her cheek then to the side of her neck, worked his way to her
shoulder then tugged the bodice of her gown down until he could kiss the rise
of her breast. Her breath was beginning to quicken as he planted soft kisses above
her breast.

“Garrick, this gown is burdensome,” she
said against his hair.

He raised his head to look up at her from
beneath his lashes. “Is it now?”

“Uncomfortably so. I can’t move my legs at
all. You have me pinned to the bed, love. I can’t wrap them around you as
Cherise tells me you men prefer.” Her lips twitched and he knew she was teasing
him.

“Well, that won’t do, will it?” he asked.

“No, I would say not,” she replied.

“How much do you like this gown, wench?” he
queried.

She shrugged as well as she could with him
lying atop her and with her arms shackled above her head. “Not so much.”

“It’s a pretty gown,” he reminded her.

“It was my mother’s choice,” she said. “Not
mine.”

“Then you won’t mind if I relieve you of it
as a knave would a wench?”

She pretended to yawn and closed her eyes
as though deciding to sleep.

“Oh, now that is a challenge this knave
cannot ignore,” he said in a low, deep voice.

“I hope not,” she replied.

He eased off her enough that he could snag
his fingers into the bodice of the gown then ripped it. She gasped but kept her
eyes closed.

“Ho hum,” she said.

“You’re treading on thin ice, wench,” he
warned. He gathered the material in his hand and pulled tautly. The gown ripped
all the way to the hem.

He was stunned to find her completely naked
beneath the gown. He stared at the creamy flesh of her breasts, the prominent
dark nipples, the sweet indention of her navel, the patch of dark hair at the
apex of her thighs… Then his gaze jumped back to hers.

“Antonia!” he said in a shocked, accusatory
voice. “You came to your Joining without your…?”

“I came loaded for bear, knave,” she said.
“Cherise said—”

“Cherise is going to have her plump ass
turned over my knee!” he stated.

“She’d like that but I wouldn’t,” she said
and moved against the sheet in a way that his attention immediately lowered to
her body.

Garrick licked his lips.

“You want an ass to spank, mine is
willing,” she said.

Once more his eyes flew to hers and he
could feel them darkening. If he wasn’t careful the red glow of his Vampire
side would show. Only anger and lust brought that crimson tint and he knew she
wasn’t ready to see that side of him yet.

“I will never lay a hand to you, Antonia. I
told you that,” he said.

“Even if I want you to?”

“No.”

She sighed. “We’ll see about that.” She
writhed again then curled her little tongue over her bottom lip. “Are you just
going to lie there all night and stare at me or are you going to do something
with that hard pressure against my thigh?”

He shook his head. “Wench, I take it back. You
aren’t brazen. You are downright shameless.”

“Trust me when I say you’d have me no other
way,” she said, throwing his earlier words back at him.

He knew what she was doing. It wasn’t just
the act of seducing her husband into claiming her. She was afraid of the
Changing and was using humor and banter to push it from her mind. Using her
feminine wiles to embolden him, make him lose the tight restraint she no doubt
sensed he was trying to maintain. She wanted him wild and forceful so she had
his masterful side to contend with and not the Vampire. His lady was a smart,
resourceful woman.

If it was forceful and masterful she
wanted, he was up to the challenge.

“Throwing down the gauntlet are you,
wench?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“Pinned as I am, I can’t throw anything,
you arrogant man,” she replied. “All I can do is endure your primitive lust.”

Garrick growled. “I’ll show you primitive
lust, Lady Warwyck,” he said, using her married name for the first time.

“You—” she began. The word ended in a
squeal as he dropped his head to her breast and took her nipple between his
teeth.

Teeth clamped loosely, he repeatedly
stabbed the tip of his tongue against the sensitive nubbin. She bucked beneath
him and tried to pull her hands free but he couldn’t allow it. He rolled atop
her right leg then wedged between her thighs, shoving his knee to the side of
hers to open her.

“Garrick!” she whimpered as he released her
nipple and began firmly sucking.

He ground his hard cock against her
crotch—sliding up and down, swiveling his hips, bumping against her—and she
began arching her hips in invitation. Once more she tried to break free of his
grip on her wrists but failed. He kept her pinned tight to the pillow, rubbing
his body upon hers like the cat he was.

Antonia had to bite her lip to keep from
screaming as he rolled his body slightly so he could kiss his way to her other
breast. The moment his lips, his teeth, his tongue touched it, she trembled
from head to toe. She could feel him smiling as he nipped her, sucked and licked
her, pulling at her nipple with his lips and teeth. She shuddered as he swept
his tongue around and around then flicked it over the engorged bud.

“Garrick, please!” she said. Her body was
on fire with need and she was wet between the legs. The hard press of his cock
where she wanted it to go was inhibited by the fabric of his uniform pants. She
needed him free. She needed that hot shaft inside her, desperate to know what
it felt like to be made his woman.

Garrick gave as much time as he dared to
her breast before he began to inch his kisses over to the center of her chest
to start downward. He heard her gasp and looked up.

“I’ve a journey to make, wench,” he said,
his eyes boring into hers. “If you want me to make it, I need you to lie
still.”

“I don’t think I can,” she said with a
whimper.

“I’m going to let go of your hands,” he
said as though he hadn’t heard her. “I want you to reach up and wrap them
around one of the spindles of the headboard.”

He watched her crane her neck so she could
see what he meant. There were thick, oaken carvings that ran the width of the
tall headboard. At some later time he could use them to tie her wrists there
but that was weeks down the road when she trusted him completely not to hurt or
shame her.