Page 43 of The Captive Knight
He vaguely remembered he’d said something. Gathering what was left of his self-control he released her hand and gave her leave to explore. He tried to temper the blinding rush of his excitement. The manipulation of her curious fingers—all ten of them—made control very difficult.
“It’s throbbing,” she said, lifting her head off the pillow, all wide-eyed fascination, her skin made pearly by the dawn light.
He could manage nothing but a grunt.
“It’s hard but…smooth,” she murmured, leaning over him. “And so warm.”
Her soft stroking was making him lose the ability to speak, so when she slipped a hand below his root to explore farther, he grasped her wrist. “Enough for now.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You promised—”
“You got your wish, witch.”
“It excites you?” She gave him a light squeeze.
“Yes,” he said with strain in his voice, “but I want to exciteyounow.”
With one swift move, he rolled her flat on her back, her low, husky laughter like music in his ears. He gave her a taste of her own teasing as he swept his hand across the rise of her mons to rub his finger across her cleft.
Her laughter ended in a pleasure-moan. He rose up on an elbow so he could watch her in all her nakedness. Her slim, strong body arched and undulated against his touch. Her nipples peaked high and all but begged for kisses. The honey-brown triangle of her woman’s hair lay soft against his palm.
She was a wonder, reveling in the pleasure. He whispered, “Do you know how beautiful you are to me?”
She didn’t answer, only threw out her arms to grasp the furs tight. The trembling in her body told him how close she was to reaching her pleasure. With one nudge of his knee he stretched her legs apart, eager to slide his aching cock inside her, until he remembered the way she’d flinched last night at the first penetration.
For all her sensual abandon, she had been a virgin to his touch, and sure to be sore this morning. So he pulled his cock away from temptation, slipped down the bedding, and ducked his head beneath her knee.
“Don’t deny me,” she gasped, her fingertips scraping his shoulders. “No more teasing, Jehan—”
She choked on her words as he rubbed his lips over her rosiness. She made a surprised noise and went stiff, only to fall back all but boneless against the pelts when he kissed her more deeply with his tongue. He reached under and around her leg to grasp one breast, massaging gently as the nipple traced circles on his palm. As he tongued the nub of her pleasure, slick with desire, her hips began to roll in imitation. She grasped a handful of his hair. He kissed and sucked until she arched and cried out and her wet, tender flesh throbbed against his mouth.
Lost in the taste of her, he released his own pleasure in the linens.
After, he dragged himself up to lie at her side. Their breathing filled the room. With his arm thrown across his brow, he gazed blindly at the ceiling and yet noticed a thousand little details. The old, dark wood of the roof-beams. The mitering of the stone wall. The scratch of a tip of hay against his back. The warmth of her body and the scent of her sex. The sound of her hair as she turned her head against the pillow. The slip of her small hand into his.
Her brown eyes, soft with a contentedness that made his heart squeeze.
“That,” she said, “was different than before.”
“You liked it.”
She bit her lower lip. He stared, fascinated with the way her lips swelled around the gentle pressure of those lovely teeth.
“I thought it was always the same,” she ventured. “Every time.”
“There are many ways I can please you.”
“But,” she said, glancing down his body, “why didn’t you…”
“I took my pleasure just watching you.”
She curled to her side, one rosy nipple peeking over the bend of her elbow. “Is that possible?”
He nodded. His loins grew heavy just thinking of all he could teach her.
“I didn’t think…it would be like this.”
His mind vaulted back to swift tumbles in bawdy houses, lusty rolls in the fields, and pleasure taken behind haystacks and in vineyards.
