The Wagered Wench (17 page)

She had closed her eyes. Odd. She’d never done that with him. Was it good or bad? He swallowed.

Stryker’s hands were kneading her tits, the crest of his prick rubbing over her mound. The man was well-built, more than adequately equipped.

Dominic scratched his chin harder, fingers rasping over the rough bristles. Stryker’s head was moving up and down, his hands sliding under Elsinora’s bottom to hold her still while he enjoyed her pussy. Unable to see, with that fat head in his way, Dominic moved around again, creeping closer on his knees. Now he had a clearer view, saw Stryker’s long tongue working over his wife’s beautiful pink pussy, and saw the gleam of wet. He watched the other man’s mouth closing over her nether lips and heard her moan louder. Stryker’s eyes were open and they connected unabashedly with Dominic’s unblinking gaze. There was challenge in those deep blue eyes, and a wicked shimmer that told him how much the man relished his wife’s juices. They flowed sweetly, he knew. It was an addictive taste.

His cock moved in his lap, stretching and thickening. Still he couldn’t touch it. He’d promised himself he would not, for that would be akin to condoning what Stryker did. And he did not condone it. He tolerated it. Barely.

Slowly his gaze swept his wife’s body. She was breathing hard, just a few pulse beats short of panting. Her breasts jostled slightly and they looked fuller than usual tonight. Perhaps it was the moon shining on them. The areolas were dark, the nipples erect. He resettled on the ground because his knees began to hurt. Now he sat on one hip, leaning toward her.

Stryker raised his head a moment and used his fingers to part her dampened labia. Then he stuck out his tongue and ran the tip of it directly over her pearl.

She gasped, her hands going to her breasts, cupping them, squeezing. Dominic cleared his throat hard. His wife opened her eyes and saw him close. While Stryker buried his face between her legs again, she held her left nipple between two fingers, plucking lightly at it, her gaze on her husband’s mouth.

He was sweating, his balls heavy, the root of his cock throbbing, wanting something around it. Stryker was making her come into his greedy mouth, her arse lifting off the furs, legs spread wide, the soles of her feet pressed down on the ground. She cried out and somewhere nearby an owl hooted in reply.

Dominic rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, staring as she parted her lips, long hair spilled across her face. Stryker growled into her sex, eyes unseeing, his big hands securing her bottom, fingertips pressing into her tender flesh.

Dominic flew into action. He grabbed Stryker’s thick sandy hair and jerked it back, forcing his face away from Elsinora’s pussy. Her hips writhed up and down as the climax still shook her. He couldn’t bear it. He pressed his hand over her sex and cursed at Stryker.

“We had an agreement,” the other man reminded him, his lips wet with her nectar. “Tonight she gets to choose.”

“You’ll get your turn,” his wife gasped out, trembling, eyes bright as they gazed up at him.

They’d probably done that together before, he realized grimly. She’d confessed to letting Bloodaxe touch her before she was married, but he’d never wanted to hear the details.

Reluctantly he nodded. Somehow he got his temper under control again and removed his hand. But not until he’d slid a finger inside her soft cleft and drawn it up through her tiny hairs, trailing a line of his caress across her stomach. He had to have that touch to tide him over.

Stryker swore at him and shoved his hand away. “Are you ready for me, Elsie?” he shouted, sitting up between her legs and proudly holding his erect manhood. “Here I come. Let’s see if I can’t make you forget him.”

Fuming, Dominic returned to his seat at her side and stared as the other man pressed his cockhead at her opening. And his wagered wife began to take it in slowly, inch by inch.

* * * *

She closed her eyes tight again, thinking of Dominic. She hadn’t meant to do that—she truly set out to be fair and give Stryker a chance, but the moment she got there that night and let her cloak slide from her shoulders, looked over at her husband and saw the determination in his eyes, she knew Stryker had his work cut out for him.

Oh, he was good, all right. And he was on his best behavior tonight, readying her with his tongue when she’d expected him to charge right in. So she opened her eyes again and looked up at the man fucking her. She tried to relax and enjoy it fully, remembering that they’d given her this chance, this choice. She was determined to make the most of every moment.

Stryker moved his long prick in and out smoothly, his knuckles pressed to the ground, supporting his upper body on a pair of thick, sun-browned arms. He was biting his lips, putting his all into it. She cared about him too, she realized suddenly. But her feelings for him were…different. They were warm, desirous of his happiness. They were not fire and ice and everything in between. In truth she felt she might have led him along in the past. Many times she’d told him what he wanted to hear, just so he would go on meeting her by the stream. He was a habit—a handsome habit. A way for her to release all those wicked, pent up yearnings, as far as she dare.

When she glanced over at Dominic again she felt the flames leaping in her belly. The want.

Stryker pulled out of her body and aimed his spunk at her breasts. The two men had made an agreement not to spend inside her tonight. She looked down at the creamy mess, but before she could complain, he laid over her again, his mouth crushing hers in a clumsy kiss, his arms around her, tugging her to his body, rolling her onto her side. And then she felt a chest against her back, hands on her bottom, stroking. Stryker broke his hasty kiss to grumble over her shoulder that he was not done with his turn yet. The hands withdrew.

Burning up inside, she pulled gently out of Stryker’s embrace and steadily reminded him that he’d spent. It would be a while yet before he was ready to go again. Meanwhile, Dominic was clearly primed and it was unfair to make him wait longer.

Sulking, he slid aside, making room for the other man.

Dominic knelt on the furs and, merely with fevered looks—not a word spoken— urged her astride his lap. Standing tall his pikestaff looked a formidable size with the moonlight dancing over it’s swollen head. Hands on her waist, he guided her down over it. There was no pause, no waiting, no teasing. He filled her pussy in that one powerful act of possession, moving her down until she rode his thighs, impaled upon his cock. She cried out as she felt him throb within her and the pressure almost made her climax right away. He reached around to hold her bottom, lifting her slightly, readjusting. She heard Stryker moving over the furs and then felt his brazen fingers sliding between her buttocks.

She flinched. Dominic growled a curt warning over her shoulder, “She’s mine this time, Bloodaxe.” And his hands clasped her buttocks tighter as she moved up and down on his staff. He grunted when she rose up so high that his cock almost slid out of her, then she let herself fall again and he muttered under his breath, “I’m supposed to be the one fucking you.”

She chuckled and repeated the motion, loving the sensation of that thick head stroking her entrance, filling it as she paused there. He kissed her neck as she slid down again. His rough cheek brushed the side of her face and he nuzzled her hair.

Suddenly she felt a wet tongue sweep over her bottom and into the crevice between her cheeks. She shivered, moaned. Again she lifted herself all the way up his broad cock. Dominic’s breathing halted, then deepened, became gruffer. Down she slid. There went the tongue again, brushing along her crack, the end of it pressing on her anus. She thought her husband would warn the other man off again. But no. This time he parted her cheeks, silently giving Stryker permission to lap at her tiny opening. He must have known how that would arouse her further still; wet her until she made his cock slick. She tried to set the pace, but her husband took control, guiding her up and down, holding her cheeks wide open, while Stryker’s tongue followed the rhythm, tickling her, wetting her puckered back hole until it was ready for his finger.

Her quinny squeezed around Dominic’s cock, greedily swallowing him, needy. She let her head fall back, her hair, dampened with sweat, sticking to the nape of her neck in thick strands. Behind her, Stryker kissed her shoulder as he pressed his finger deeper inside her bottom and she cried out. She desperately wanted to go faster, pump herself up and down, but Dominic’s hands would not allow it. They maintained the teasing pace she’d begun.

And suddenly she released, her juice flooding out of her, surely dripping down over the wide ridges and veins of his cock. Abruptly he took his hands from her. Her thighs shook and then she let go. Without his strength to hold her she went down on his rod and felt it hit her womb, the penetration this time deeper than anything she’d ever known before.

* * * *

He wanted to come so badly. He had no idea how he held off. His hands laid over her slender thighs, he worked his hips, thrusting until all the breath was gone from his lungs and he exhaled invisible fire. His rival, he knew, wanted to plug her arse with his prick.

Dominic was not having that.

He jerked back, pulling out, holding his balls in one hand, the merciless throbbing almost driving him mad. With a nod of his head, he told her to mount Stryker. Her blue eyes dazed, she followed his command. The other man certainly made no argument, but sprawled on his back across the furs and welcomed her astride his package. For a brief moment, Dominic watched his wife’s pussy bouncing on the other man’s phallus, then he stroked her spine, urging her to bend forward. He positioned behind her, rubbing the dew from his cock into her anus where Stryker had so obligingly begun to stretch it in readiness.

She glanced over her shoulder to see what he was doing. “I don’t think—”

Before she could get any further with her doubts he began easing his way into her backside. She lost her words, apparently forgetting what she did not think was possible. Stryker grunted loud, fucking her pussy wildly, her breasts brushing the sandy hairs of his chest. Dominic knew the other man was trying to prevent him from getting in. He exhaled deeply and then, with an almighty groan, plowed forward into his wife’s tight arse. She squealed, but then pushed back, urging him on. His pulse abandoned its usual steady canter and broke into a battle stride. His balls tensed. Again he pushed, claiming her, feeling her muscles relax around him, the tight anal rim conceding defeat. He had her now. She was his heart’s fire, the breath of life that kept him working hard each day, trying to impress…who?

Her.

He was shaking, inhaling the warm scent of her hair, his hands curved to the soft skin on her waist.

Yes he felt that other cock inside her. He didn’t care. He was sustained purely by what he took from her—taste, feel, sound and scent. It was as if she was a part of him and without that part he would expire.

And then he climaxed. He exploded inside her as he heard her scattered, breathless cries and turned his face up to the moon, the dancing flames of the torches darting brightly all around him. He’d never been so consumed by this much of the world around him, not even in battle when his senses were on high alert and his heart beat in time with the hooves thundering across grass beneath him.

The fire surrounded his body. Danger, he thought. He had put himself—his heart— in danger.

* * * *

She cried out when the warmth of his seed filled her. His hands closed around her waist, lifting her off the other man as he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him, his own prick still claiming her arse. Opening her eyes, she turned her face to kiss him, while Stryker shot his cream high. Dominic raised his knees on either side of her, cradling her body to his, her back to his chest, her head on his wide shoulder. His muscles were warm under her, firm but protective; the black curls that peppered his skin were soft. He cupped her breasts, his finger splayed, trembling over the hot flesh. Stryker rose up, his cock drooping now, spent, hanging wet against his thigh. He put his mouth over her nipple while her husband held it. She spread her thighs as far as she could between Dominic’s and then Stryker slid his large hand over her sex. She knew he must feel the fevered pulse throbbing through her. He pressed his long fingers inside her cunny, curled them upward and then kissed a slow trail down over her stomach. When his tongue found her daisy again, his fingers still within her, she tightened, purring with zealous delight, trembling with the vibrations from her husband’s wild grunt of pleasure as he swelled inside her bottom yet again.

She screamed until she was hoarse, breathless, her legs over Stryker’s back, her husband’s cock shifting deeper within her body. They pleasured her that night as if she was a princess from a fable and they her wickedly devoted slaves.

But she knew she could never have them both again. This was for one night only. They shared on this occasion, just because they were intent on outdoing one another.

They gave her until the end of the month to decide between them.

Chapter Fifteen

He watched her ride under the arch of autumn gold leaf. Early that morning he’d gone out for a walk up the slope, enjoying the shroud of mist that came in from over the sea, clawed up the cliffs and tumbled down into the valley. Dominic had not expected to see her about so early, after the night such as they’d all shared. But she didn’t look tired. It seemed she took pleasure from the changing season and liked her time alone to think, just as he did.