Regency Rogues Omnibus (64 page)

She did not want to look, so she pretended to herself that she was unaware. However, in the abyss of nothingness that she sought, a melody filtered through. It was the Gypsy’s song and her eyes opened to see who was singing it. She saw one guard in the opposite corner washing Saxon, and then her gaze turned to the hummed melody...

Her hand lifted and reached out with a life of its own. “Sir Yojo,” she pleaded with tears striking her eyes. She could not comprehend why the sight of him comforted her . . . it just did. She watched him smile and totter forward, coming down on one knee to take her hand. He bent forward, then kissing her fingers, and Joelle wondered if in Yojo’s mind she was now closer to the Gods.

“Pretty lady,” he hummed.

Joelle would always realize, thereafter, that a human’s sense of survival was innate. “My cloak, just there in the other room. I so want my cloak, darling Sir Yojo.” She was battered, bruised of body and soul, yet something inside her survived despite all that had happened.

“Yes, yes,” Yojo peeped. “Warm cloak for pretty lady.”

Joelle watched him totter off and she tried to stay conscious to see his return because her numb mind still knew how important it was. Nevertheless, her next coherent thought came when she heard a clank that tapped against stone. “No, quiet. No one knows it’s there,” she muttered, trying to open her eyes.

“Go leave, leave, leave. Yojo, locks cell.”

Joelle’s eyes opened to see Yojo standing beside her as she was lying on her side on the cot in the cell. Yojo was looking down at his small out of portion hands clutching one end of a black cloak.
The key.
Her mind sparked as she watched him and she gained more consciousness with her intensity.

“Lady Joelle and Sir Yojo,” Yojo hummed. “Yojo not bad.”

Joelle held her breath watching Yojo move then, but gratefully he brought the cloak to lay it over her. She thought to say something, but she was too afraid to. Too afraid to topple the events, so she kept her eyes nearly closed, watching Yojo amble with side to side swaying out of the cell, then closing and locking the door.

“Jonal, you put Yojo up on your shoulder!” Yojo clapped his hands with excitement. “Yojo rides Jonal’s shoulder!”

Joelle turned her head after a moment and saw the two guards with Yojo perched atop one of their shoulders as they ascended the dungeon stairs to the top, then disappeared from view. Her people would say that many of the little people were of Gypsy blood, Joelle thought. But at the same moment, she suddenly realized that they had tied her wrists behind her back. The key was useless now, and she heard her own whimpers of dismay as she realized Saxon also lay tied at an odd angle, partially in front of her hips, toward the end of the cot. She could just see the top of his head from the way Yojo had laid the cloak. She could see that Saxon’s tied arms were sticking outward, nearly off the cot, as he lay on his side toward her.

His ass hurt,
and Saxon realized that his face was all but nestled in the sweet cradle of a tender bare pussy. It smelled clean, fresh, supple, and young . . . A bit familiar. Desire incarnate was the sudden rushing aura inside him. He wondered with half-conscious ludicrous thoughts, if the powers that shaped all things were trying to tell him something. He certainly did not want to dwell on or dredge up the past at the moment. It was far too raw and emotional. Much better to contemplate a delicate and feminine pussy. It was to him the shining source of what made a man a man. The desire for it, the contemplation of it, and the mystery of it. It was the heart and core of the rest of what a man desired. The full body, mind, and soul of a woman.
Lord,
how he wanted to be a man. He wanted to be masculine to his teeth and his toenails. He wanted his masculinity to ooze out of him like a cloying entity that no one could ever confuse as anything else, but a man who desired women and women alone!

It ached in his chest so painfully his eyes misted. He
was
a man. Thoroughly . . . nothing that had happened would ever change his basic instincts or desires. It was just that . . . perhaps, in this blinding emotional aftermath, he needed proof. He needed to prove it to himself. He did congratulate himself a moment later with finding a logical motive. Joelle deserved to know pleasure in all this pain. He could not live with himself if he did not show her the possibility of joy. It truly was an honorable thing. Perhaps to strengthen them both . . . surely.

But then, he realized that his fake logic be-damned, he just simply had to do it!

Joelle felt the warm puffs of breath blowing on her sex and she murmured, lifting her eyelids halfway. Her first thoughts were that she was still so sensitive there and the heated breath was like tendrils of warm sensation stirring embers still glowing just beneath her skins tender surface. It took a few moments of lightly dawning pleasure to realize the puffs of warm air over her loins were purposeful. But still, her sex murmured with distinct feelings of pleasure, which was strange because the tender tissue ought to be wounded instead of purring.

But she shied away from the thoughts of why and she cuddled into the feelings, instead of away from them. She had never felt anything so delicious before. Yet, how could she feel any pleasure after . . .
No,
she did not want to think about that, instead a moan sighed from her lips as the breath got warmer and a bit closer. It was as though the sultry tingling air moved her hips in barely perceptible rolls. And, it would be lovely if she spread her thighs to feel the toasted air a bit deeper. But the actual engagement of that and the fact that she could want to do it filtered through her thoughts, beginning to raise her alarm.

But then, suddenly, her thoughts rushed away, save one. The one that left the searing emotion of full and firm lips gently placing a kiss against the bare lips of her sex. She could do nothing else reasonably, but moan at the haunting intimacy and pleasure while squirming her bottom in response. The appreciative and intrigued male chuckle that rose from beneath the cloak instantly thrilled her. Abruptly, she put a name to the sensation. Saxon! Handsome, beautiful, and sensual Saxon was kissing her naked loins with his fevered lips.

Saxon decided that God made no more savory treat in all the heavens than a woman’s sweet soft pussy, as he nuzzled the plump and torrid little lips pressed to his mouth. He felt thighs quivering and he heard a barely perceptible sigh of . . . longing, perhaps. He wanted to press his advantage. She could easily try to escape. The circumstances being what they were. Yet, he also wanted to savor this woman that he loved from the first time.

The fact that he was losing himself and fleeing from the tragedies that surrounded them did not matter. What soothed him, what moved him and aroused him, was making love to Joelle’s pussy for the first time. What compelled him forward . . . was her pleasure. So he kissed the full hot lips flushed with interest as a lover’s would be. He opened his mouth partially, sucking on them gently, feeling the incredible satin of the bare flesh. The two pillowed lips heated his mouth, while Joelle’s thighs murmured with small undulations as her knees pressed into his lower abdomen. The trick was to persuade her pussy to flower open for him.

His tongue dallied forth lightly and her thighs jerked. He felt the caution of her possible withdrawal and he begged as any sane man would do. “Please
let
me, firefly. Please.”

“Saxon.” Joelle pleaded and denied in the same breath, while he tickled his tongue along the clinging crevice of her pussy lips.

“Mm,” he murmured, vibrating his tenor over the swollen fruit of her rosy quim.

“Oh,” she answered with lightly puffing gasps, and he nearly chuckled, but instead he did it again.

Joelle felt the tremolo wavering to her clitoris, which responded with unashamed greed. The tapping demand rolled her hips as she caught her bottom lip, breathless and waiting for the next sensation. It came quickly with a tongue burrowing between the tingling lips of her sex. Had she not been aroused to the point of breaking so many times recently without a culmination, things couldn’t have been different. It seemed not to matter at all about the recent abuse, her clitoris trotted upward eagerly, straining toward the source of amazing pleasure. She’d never really understood that men tasted women the way Saxon was. But oh my god, it was the most, catch-a-person-unaware and hotly arousing experience she had ever had.

“Oh. Oh! Mm.” The sounds she made sounded to her like a different person as her body melted and thrived within the same moments over Saxon’s smoldering male tongue lapping with full exploration around, into, and over her sex. Her enthralled loins sent orders to her thighs to open wider for better access, while her clitoris demanded that her hips undulate to guide the sensation toward it. Little mewls of hopefulness etched from her throat, as every searing lick of Saxon’s tongue twisted elevated aching pangs into her clitoris. She amazed herself by wanting to cry, “Please! Please! Please lick my clitoris.” But her tightly throbbing throat only moaned, as she tilted her hips forward trying to guide Saxon’s tongue higher.

“You taste like fire,” Saxon murmured between the unfolding lips of her sex.

“Oh. Oh!” Joelle cried as Saxon fattened his tongue and caressed her sex from nearly her bottom lip, through the yielding torrid crevice, too... “Please!”

She could not believe she had said that.

“Here?” Saxon asked.

“Oh! Oh!” Joelle’s hips jerked as though someone was aggressively pinching her bottom, “Please,” she panted.

“I will climb the tallest mountain for, ‘pleases’ like that, firefly.” Saxon chuckled deeply. “Guide me, love.”

“Guide? Oh! Oh!” Joelle yelped. “There! There!”

Saxon’s tongue swirled over the miniature nub of her clitoris and Joelle saw bright lights flash beneath her eyelids. Then Saxon aggressively pushed forward raising his body and lifting her top leg high. He seemed to dig in further, spreading her legs shockingly wide, and then she felt his lips pressing around her jutting clitoris. “Oh!”

He sucked.

Saxon used only his mouth to hold Joelle’s passionate writhing down. And what a ride it was, having a steaming pussy squirming over his mouth, while he sucked on Joelle’s butterfly of pleasure. The butterfly pith bobbed its head and spread its wings, straining and growing taut against his flicking tongue. So, he could feel the sex juices Joelle was exuding on his chin and the greed to taste them ran rampant through his body. His mouth left her pulsing butterfly nub for one brief moment, to curl and lap his tongue over the entry to her vagina.
Ecstasy.
She bucked against him with a shrill cry of pleasure locked in her throat. He returned his tongue with energy to the heart of her butterfly.

He could feel the actual blood pulsing through the tautly swollen nub as he sucked it, holding it in place, licking his tongue over it. It jutted and grew stronger and he knew that Joelle was seconds away from the edge of heaven.

Her moans grew more ardent and her breath deepened and held as she forced more blood into her sex. Just then, on a release and sucking engagement of his lips and tongue, he felt it swell larger and she surged upward. Her mouth closed tightly with her scream filling her throat, swelling it, but containing it as she stiffened in a climax.

Her tensed body shook in spasms and she came again and again. And each time she rolled with more climaxing, her body jerked upward. Her thighs clamped over his head as her entire pussy throbbed in his mouth and he felt the beats drumming in his penis. He lapped her pussy repeatedly, swallowing every throe, until she finally collapsed.

Chapter Fifteen

“Thank God,” Saxon rasped. “Thank
you,
God.”

Then, Saxon laid his cheek on the inside of Joelle’s inner thigh, where he still felt her light tremors slowly wearing down after her sexual revolution. What man could have any tragic cause concerning his sexuality, with his woman’s essence clinging to the bold lines of his face? None! Saxon thought, none, none!

Joelle’s inner calf lowered to rest over his waist and hip. It was then, Saxon felt a slithering on his left arm, which brought his mind to the source. It felt as though half the ropes circling his left upper arm down to his wrist had slipped off. Of course they had, he thought becoming more alert. In all his gyrations he had loosened them to fall down off his handless wrist. His initial elation was brought up short when he realized that gaining freedom from the ropes would not do much good toward total freedom. They were still locked in the cell.

Nevertheless, he could hold Joelle in his arms. A precious enough gift and it would make them both more comfortable. He really did not want to think far beyond that. He was quickly learning to live in the moment.

He seesawed his arms a bit, not moving his cheek from its treasured position upon Joelle’s inner thigh. It took only a few maneuvers and the left side came off, loosening the right side to fall to his elbow. He shucked the bunched up rope downward and off his right hand with a gentle shake.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Joelle questioned. He heard the husky vibrating tone in her voice. He knew that tone, it was the sound of afterglow.

“I am...” Saxon said, then tunneled up through the cloak, until he was braced on his one hand looking down at Joelle... “Loose,” he finished, dipping his head with his lips beginning to pucker as they zeroed in on Joelle’s mouth.