The Craftsman (4 page)

She smiled and licked his sac, looking up at him.

His face was red hot. “You shouldn’t,” he managed, hoarse. Surely a fine lady was not meant to behave this way, even with a husband.

“I should,” she replied, before sucking gently on his hard balls, then lapping under them, around them, over them. And under them again. Ah. When her tongue touched him there, licking and lifting the underside of his heavy seed bags, Raedwulf was afire. The walls of the workshop swayed, the floor tipped.

There was nothing else he could do or say; he was too far gone to prevent it now. A fierce lust tightened in his loins. His cock took over. Grunting, he spread his legs further apart and pushed forward as her lips opened wider and her soft, warm, wet tongue guided his prick back in. Inch by inch he slid across her tongue and into the narrow, silken cave of her throat. In and down. Grabbing her hair tighter, he sank his fingers into the coiling thickness, caressing her scalp.

Her throat constricted as she swallowed and he withdrew a little, afraid he’d choke her. She had no such qualm, it seemed. Somehow she opened her throat for him, guiding his cock back in with her hands on his buttocks. Then she worked him with her entire mouth and throat, sucking so hard his balls hurt. His hips began a slow circling motion that soon turned into a maddened thrusting. New sweat broke on his brow. He flung his head back, his gaze rolling upward to the low thatched roof.

Wulf tasted wood dust in his mouth and blood where he’d bit his tongue. The woman’s soft, wet mouth and throat held his manhood captive, tugged and suckled without pause.

He grunted, lips rolling inward as one particularly savage, greedy suction brought his thick cock head up against the back of her throat again and she moaned, causing a vibration that struck his shaft and shot down it like lightening.

Chapter Three

Thick, silken threads of his semen hit the roof of her mouth and kept coming. He had an excess, apparently. Perhaps he didn’t often have the opportunity to spend it, she thought, remembering he’d only recently been released from the king’s custody.

She was glad to discover she’d not forgotten how to do it. After so long without the chance to milk her husband’s cock, she’d feared being unable to take this much into her throat without gagging. But no, it went well. Raedwulf seemed pleased and she was extremely aroused by the act, as she always was before.

Perhaps it was one of those talents that, once acquired, could not be lost again. Her first husband had been a good, thorough tutor and taught her many ways to pleasure him. Now she was eager to refresh her skills. She certainly had a beautiful practice tool at her disposal.

When she stood slowly, still swallowing, her pussy pulsing with desire, he backed away, leaning his hands against the work bench. A slight frown furrowed his brow, sweat gleaming in the shallow lines.

“Why did you do that?” he stammered.

Puzzled, she gave a soft laugh. “Do you not like it? You must tell me all the things you like. As your wife it is my duty to please you.”

He wiped his forearm across his reddened face. “Duty?” he murmured. His cock was only partially deflated. She touched it, unable to resist, running her fingers along the length. Even spent it was impressive.

“You have a fine organ here, Raedwulf,” she said. “You must be a favorite with the ladies.”

He laughed uncomfortably. “No.”

“You don’t have to lie for me. I’m sure you’ve known many women. This is an arranged match and I don’t expect you to love me, Raedwulf. I had a husband once who did. I have been more fortunate than many women.” She walked around his bench while his heated gaze followed her. “I had all that once and I cannot expect it again. But I will do my duty as a wife without complaint.”

He merely stared at her, still leaning against his bench, breeches around his knees.

“If you tell me what you like I will keep you well content in the bedchamber, Raedwulf, but I expect nothing more from our marriage. I am not a naïve young bride. No silly virgin with high ideals of romance.”

Emma thought it was a jest, but when his expression remained somber and he began retying his breeches, she realized he spoke honestly, deadly serious.

A man of his beauty and proportions? It seemed incredible.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good,” he continued, charming her with his candor and humility.

Dear God, the man had no idea of his advantages. “Oh.” She touched the fluttering pulse on the side of her neck. “I’m sure you’ll be…more than adequate.”

He frowned. Had he heard the amusement in her voice?

She cleared her throat and laced her fingers behind her back. “Did you enjoy that just now, Raedwulf?” She wanted to make certain he was intrigued enough to come to their marriage bed, not spend his nights in the woodshed.

His big hands tightened around his bundled tunic. “Yes,” he admitted sheepishly, head bowed. “It was the best damn thing I ever felt.”

Heart racing, she walked back around the bench to where he stood. “And it only gets better.”

Slowly, cautiously, his dark eyes finally lifted to her face, studying her in a puzzled fashion. “How…How do we start then?”

I think we already did,
she mused.

Gently she placed her hands on his broad shoulders. His skin was hot, his muscles hard as iron. Her cunny tensed in anticipation. Dear God a virgin. The irony was not lost on Emma; that she should have been fearful of what he might do to her, yet now she must be sure not to scare
him
away. A man with all this at his disposal and he didn’t know yet what to do with it. In this marriage she would be the one to give instructions. It felt strange.

After a brief hesitation he complied. She shuddered. His hands were so large, warm and heavy. He splayed his fingers and they dug into her. The man didn’t know his own strength, she thought, moisture beading between her thighs as if he’d just squeezed it out of her.

“You’re trembling,” he muttered, gazing down at her. He did not, however, relax his hands. They tightened on her waist. Her breasts swelled, pushed at her shift, the nipples brushing his bare chest through that thin material.

“Kiss me, Raedwulf,” she whispered, rising on tiptoe, barefoot among the wood shavings.

“I don’t know…”

Emma pressed her lips to his moving mouth and silenced it. Pity he’d refastened his breeches, she thought, stretching upward, her body falling lightly against his great form. His lips were just as firm as the rest of him, but they did part for her eventually and her tongue slid inside. The rubbing of her breasts against his chest soon took effect and she felt that long ridge pushing at her belly through his breeches and her garment. His hands, previously gripping her waist as if he feared she might fall, suddenly began to move. The fingers twitched first, spreading and closing, gathering up little pleats of cloth. Then the palms grew bolder, venturing to her back, pressing her lower spine until she was clamped tightly to his groin.

A heavy hand caressed the curve of her bottom and gripped one side. The other hand quickly followed suit, claiming the twin cheek, holding and squeezing. His cock pushed at her through their clothing.

Finally needing air, she pulled back from the kiss, but he was still leaning forward, his eyes on her mouth, his fingers dug into the tender flesh of her bottom.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before, Raedwulf?”

He flushed a little. “I’m sure.”

Emma nodded, her fingers stroking through his hair. Was all this man really hers? Was this her reward for the years of patience and forced chastity? That enormous shaft pushing at her lower body was an unexpected prize, a magnificent treasure to which she, a plain, barren widow was surely not entitled.

He must want children, she thought suddenly, and a cruel ache caused her heart to stiffen. Did he know she was unable to have any?

Relieved to have got that out, she relaxed against him. “But we can still swive. It is my duty as your wife to allow it. As often as you choose.”

“Duty?” he muttered. “That word again.”

She nodded.

For a few thumps of her pulse he looked down at her, bewildered or amused—she couldn’t tell yet, not being familiar with his many expressions and small gestures. Then he said, “And is this
duty
all yours? Are the needs to be met all mine?”

Emma drew back as far as she could with his hands still holding her bottom. “A wife’s place is to please her husband.”

No one had ever asked her about her needs before; it had not occurred to her that they might be important. Nothing about her ever was.

He blinked slowly and then made his face solemn again. “So what
does
happen next? After my painfully dutiful wife has told me I should take a mistress.”

Was he making fun of her?

“You may kiss me again, if you wish,” she said warily.

Apparently he did wish. His firm lips caressed hers and cajoled them open as she had done to his. This time she clung on with her hands knitted at the nape of his neck and he took control, pushing his tongue into her mouth, thrusting, demanding. Meanwhile his hands scooped under her bottom, lifting her off her feet, moving her vulva against his loins.

This time she knew for sure he was making fun of her. So the virgin had a sense of humor. He was not merely a splendid body with a lovely cock.

Suddenly she wanted her feet on solid ground again before all this got away from her. She reminded herself that copulation with her new husband was simply an obligation. The pleasurable effect of being touched was inevitable, but she could not allow herself to feel more than that. Never would she go through that pain again. In fact she felt certain she had no heart left to spare. Most of it had been used up for Henry. She didn’t begrudge her first husband any part of it, but now there was only enough left to keep her blood pumping. If she was to go on living it must be without love. As long as she didn’t risk anything she had nothing to lose.

“Put me down please, Raedwulf,” she murmured.

There was a moment when she thought he might not do as she asked, but then he did, slowly setting her back on her feet. His left hand moved to her right breast and cupped it. Her nipple had been so long without a man’s touch that it hurt, and when he brushed his callused thumb over her shift, pressing on that sharp peak, she almost cried out.

“For suckling,” he whispered.

She bit her lip. “Yes.”

Without an invitation, he bent his head, splayed his hands across her back and lifted her again so that his lips brushed that pointy distraction. She felt the bristles of his cheek as they caught on her shift. Then he opened his mouth and closed it over the dark shadow of her areola, instantly wetting the thin material that covered it.

Emma moaned, grabbing his shoulders again. Her eyelids fluttered shut. Oh it was too much. The tide of desire which had been slowly churning since she spied through his window, now came faster, little ripples piling atop larger, billowing waves. He sucked too hard, with the mouth of a novice, yet it was, strangely, just what she needed.

She pulled on his right arm, grabbed his hand and pressed it between her thighs. The sucking never let up. His mouth tugged on her ravenously, as his fingers touched the dampness that wet her shift. She parted her legs and let him explore through the gauzy material, rubbing a fingertip along her labia and between, trying to push up into her even with the cloth in his way.

He closed his hand over her sex and squeezed. Any moment now he would bite right through her shift. He definitely would not be as gentle with her as Henry had been. Gasping, she urged him to try the other breast. With more tenderness.

The moment his tongue wound around her taut, neglected left nipple and drew upon it gently, she climaxed in a rush that took them both by surprise.