Lord Grim's Witch (a medieval romance novelette) (4 page)

The rich beef pastry sat like a stone at the pit of her stomach before she chanced the ale.

“You look as though you’re partaking of your last meal.”

She swallowed another bite that tasted like sawdust to her tongue. “I have a hearty appetite,” she muttered around the mouthful.

“One can hope you have an appetite for more than one sort of meal.”

She rolled her eyes and set down her spoon. “You needn’t circle me with innuendo, sire. I find honest talk less work.”

“You would prefer I speak openly about what I desire from you?”

She nodded and took a gulp of ale.

“What of the game? The hunt?”

“You would prefer that I not spoil the illusion you are going to seduce me? When we both know I’m here by your command, not by my choice?”

“Am I so unattractive to you?” he asked, his voice silky.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re still playing with me. You must know you’re beyond handsome.”

His brows rose high. “You flatter me. I’m an old warhorse, full of scars and imperfections.”

“Old warhorse? You would have me believe you aren’t aware of your great appeal to women?”

“Most women fear me. Some wish to be conquered by the warrior. They relish my scars only because they fantasize their own—”

“Rape? I can assure you,” she said, her tone low and scathing, “I do not grow hot from the thought of you taking me like a captive.”

“You’ve never wanted to be overwhelmed?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You only have to breathe to do that. You don’t have to physically restrain me to show me your strength.” At the rise of his eyebrows, she snapped her jaw shut. Had she really admitted her desire so clearly?

“I only have to breathe?” he said softly.

Gisele swallowed hard, dismayed she’d revealed her attraction so clearly. “Your chest is quite broad.” Her breaths grew choppy. “It’s a pity you stopped at the tunic. I would not have minded you dispensing with the undershirt as well.” Lord, what truth elixir had he laced into the ale?

“I do not wish to disappoint.” He reached for the hem of the shirt and quickly pulled it over his head.

His broad chest was everything she’d imagined. The curves of his shoulders were round and pronounced. His muscled chest and abdomen looked as though they were chiseled from stone. An enticing smattering of hair stretched across his chest and trailed in a narrow line down his belly to disappear into the top of his braies.

“Would you like me to remove the rest of my clothing?” he murmured, his deep breaths raising and lowering his massively appealing chest.

Oh, Yes!

At the hard glitter in his eyes, she realized she must have blurted her wish out loud.

He rose and toed off his soft boots and untied the knot at his waist to loosen his garment. Then without any perceivable embarrassment, he pushed them down his thick thighs and calves and stepped out of them.

She tried very hard not to stare at the part of his anatomy that rose like a blunted pole. The skin stretched tightly around his shaft gleamed in the firelight; shadows darkened the veins that traversed his cock.

She licked her lips and wondered whether the skin cloaking his thick shaft was as soft as it appeared to be and whether his cock would feel like an iron rod, it rose so high.

“I am yours tonight, Gisele,” he said, reaching to tip her chin and raise her gaze to his. His jaw tightened, and his eyes glittered with dark, sensual intent. “There need be no rules for what passes between us. You may lead me wherever you prefer. You may touch me however you wish.”

‡

G
isele’s breath caught
at the intensity of his look.

She’d thought this night would be all about his wishes, his desires. Wasn’t that how most men saw sexual congress with women? Even the sheriff had thought first of his own pleasure.

“And what if I prefer you do the taking?” she whispered. “At least, for the first time?”

His lips curved. “You have great faith in my prowess.”

She drew a deep, steadying breath, reaching for courage to answer the challenge in his gaze. “There are many things I wish to learn this night, milord, but I find that my body pleads for immediate satisfaction.” Her cheeks grew hot as she added a soft, “I’m quite wet.”

His hand curved around her jaw, and his thumb stroked her lips. “I think I like this plain speaking.”

She closed her eyes and kissed his thumb, moaning when it slipped inside her mouth. She licked it once then drew back and opened her eyes. She lifted both brows. “Are you always so slow to act upon a woman’s request? ’Tis no surprise you must force women to your bed.” But she followed her teasing cut with a smile, wondering where the courage came for her to join his game.

“I mustn’t let you destroy my reputation for ruthless ravishment,” he growled and reached down to tug her to her feet. Then he gathered her gown and undertunic in his hands and slid them up her body, his hands cupping and kneading as he swept the fabric upward.

When her garments cleared her head, she stood in only her thick stockings and shoes. Her breaths were jagged, so nervous was she standing nearly nude beneath his sharpened gaze, for now he looked slightly feral.

She should have waited until the ale was gone. “I hadn’t planned on sharing milord’s bed when I dressed this morning. I would have worn more clothing.” A gasp escaped her lips when he knelt to slide her stockings down her legs and remove her shoes.

He stood quickly and placed his hands on his hips, his expression taut and wickedly foreboding. “Climb onto the bed.”

Her chin rose, and she issued him a challenge he could not misinterpret.
Force me.

His eyelids dipped as his gaze raked over her. Suddenly, he bent and shoved his shoulder into her belly, causing her to fold over him. Before she could catch her breath, she was on her back in the middle of his great bed with his body anchoring her limbs to the mattress.

The feel of his hulking body pressing her deep into the down was overpowering to her senses. He surrounded her. His hands pressed hers high above her head. His hairy chest mashed her breasts. His ankles hooked hers so that his legs rode her outer thighs. His cock nestled between, the blunt head already burrowing between her folds.

“Shall I slow my assault, mistress?”

She tilted her head. “Can you?”

He issued a masculine snort. “No.”

“Since you’ve been frank, I’ll be the same. Take me. Do it now!” She closed her eyes tight, expecting him to drive his manhood deep inside her, but she blinked when he let go of her hands and backed off her body. The moan that broke from her betrayed her disappointment.

He thrust a knee between her legs and pressed them open one at a time. Then he knelt between her splayed thighs and hooked his arms beneath her knees, lifting them from the bed, raising her higher until her bottom also left the mattress.

Gisele wasn’t at all sure she liked this position. She was open, vulnerable—her movements controlled by him. But her body reacted fiercely, her nipples drawing painfully tight, her cunt clasping—the ache deep inside her tightening.

Flexing his hips forward, he found her entrance and pushed the crown of his cock between her folds. His eyes gleamed with triumph.

The pressure brought her down to Earth with a thud. Gisele’s breath caught. She was exactly where he’d wanted her all along. He’d played with her, letting her think she was the one directing this game. He’s somehow manipulated her into making her request that he take charge for this first joining.

As he pushed inward, stretching her, she found she didn’t care whether he’d won or not. She wanted him. Wanted to be filled, to find the ecstasy—even if it lasted only a moment. She bit her lip to hold back her cry as he thrust deeper, burrowing inside her body.

Dear God, his cock was endless! It tunneled inside her, leaving no room for breath or thoughts beyond the need to wriggle and help him settle deeper still.

“Don’t move,” he said, his eyes squeezing tight, perspiration gathering above his lips and on his broad forehead.

“Why?” she asked, surprised she had enough wits about her to ask.

“Because I’m going to hurt you. I have to move, woman.”

“Please,” she said, her voice rising as he withdrew and thrust back inside, this time dragging against her inner walls. “It isn’t as though I haven’t done this before—”

Not like I didn’t do this last night!

Liquid melted from inside her, surrounding him in heat, lubricating his motions as he rocked forward and back, jerking slightly each time he delved toward her womb.

“You’re too small,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Nonsense,” she said, reaching out to grasp the bedding in her fists, feeling as though she needed to hold onto something lest she be swept away by the gathering storm. “I’m just not accustomed to this. Pray continue.”

A gust of laughter was followed by another harsh, forward thrust, then another, deeper, harder, until she lost track of his movements. She only knew the heat within her channel was increasing, the ache intensifying.

Gradually, her hips joined his rhythm, her breaths gusting in time with his. They danced against each other, thrusting, melting, thighs tensing. Gisele’s belly quivered and tension built deep inside her core.

When he began a circular movement that screwed his cock in and out of her, her back arched off the bed, and she cried out.

He slammed forward and back, faster, harder—deeper than she thought possible for her body to accept, yet still she wanted more. “Please,” she begged. “Oh please, more!”

A deep growling roar tore from him as he hammered faster. Sweat gleamed on his chest and abdomen. The sight of him, straining and fierce, ignited a womanly pride she hadn’t known she possessed. She’d inspired this ferocity.

The bed creaked, and his harsh strokes drove the breath from her, and then suddenly that elusive dark wave of ecstasy swept over her, tightening her feminine muscles around his thick cock and thrusting her over the edge. He shouted as liquid spurted, bathing her womb and channel with his essence.

Gisele fell back to Earth to find the dark lord’s head nestled in the corner of her shoulder, his arms still hooked beneath her thighs, and his breath rasping loudly.

Filled to the brim once again with the moist evidence of a man’s attraction and his still-throbbing cock, she wondered why she’d denied herself this joy for so long and whether she could coax him into repeating the act soon.

She spared only a passing thought for the handsome sheriff, a quick comparison of the delights he’d offered against their overlord’s dark passion. How lucky could one woman be to know two such different but powerful lovers in less than the space of one day?

*

The woman’s snores
woke him. They were soft, and her mouth opened with each breath. He almost laughed, but was sure she wouldn’t appreciate his amusement at her expense. She was a prickly little thing.

Her “prickles” were what had drawn his interest in the first place. Accustomed to women fawning over him, her initial resistance had incited a powerful desire. Memory of her lusty sensuality had him prodding her sex with his engorged cock. Would she even waken before he thrust into her from behind?

Her cunt moistened his crown, and he snuggled his thick thighs flush with the backs of her slender ones and flexed his hips to enter her.

“Milord!” she exclaimed, coming fully awake, her hand reaching behind to grasp his leg.

But she didn’t push him away; instead her bottom nestled closer, and her thighs parted to aid his entry.

Suddenly, he wanted more—deeper penetration, more ease of movement—and to unsettle her once again.

He withdrew and rolled her to her stomach, grabbing pillows to shove beneath her belly.

Gisele gasped and tried to rise on her hands and knees to crawl forward to escape him, but he hooked an arm around her belly and added another pillow. When he was done, he arranged her squirming body until it was draped over the mound of pillows and her buttocks lifted high.

Perfect for what he had in mind.

“This isn’t comfortable,” she muttered.