Page 52 of The Captive Knight
She lay propped against the pillows, with her dark blonde hair, bronzed in the flickering light, spread across the pale linen. Blood roared in his ears as he drank in the sight of her, wearing nothing but a smile.
“I’ve been waiting so long.” Her voice was husky. “I was starting to think you preferred Thibaud’s company to mine.”
He dug a knee into the bed and pulled her into his arms, breathing in the smell of pine and woman.
“If Rudel had grabbed you one more time,” he murmured as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I was going to draw a sword.”
“Rudel was drunk, he grabbed at every woman.”
“No, he was fixed on you.”
“Hush.” Her hands ran over his back, soft as a breeze. “I am blind to all men but you.”
With a groan he pulled away long enough to yank off his clothes, tossing them at the end of the bed before climbing in.
“Pull the drapes,” she whispered, drawing him close.
“I want to see you.” He filled his hand with a heavy-bottomed breast. “I want to watch your face when you—”
“Jehan.”
Her gaze was steady and determined, one brow lifted in expectation of obedience. He’d seen this look on her face when she chastised servants lagging in their duties. How he looked forward to a night when the risk of discovery wouldn’t linger between them, bringing an element of shame to something that did not in the least feel shameful.
She wound her arms around his neck. “Pull the drapes, my love.”
With a grunt he yanked the linen hangings closed. No sooner had he done so when she pressed against him so her breasts softened upon his chest. Desire flavored her kiss. He wanted to take his time, to touch her until she writhed under his hand. Running his tongue across her bottom lip, he slipped his fingers between her thighs. She let them fall open. His fingertips slid through her wet, soft cleft and she quivered at his touch.
But then her hand was on his hip, pressuring him so he would slide between her legs as she wriggled into a better position. He removed his hand from where he stroked her and shifted his weight evenly on either side of her body. She let out a soft gasp as his cock kissed her cleft. Before he could stop her, she pushed up against his shaft so she took inside her the throbbing head.
“God’s Blood, Aliénor,” he rasped, his teeth gritted.
All his well-made plans for a slow, long lovemaking, all the wicked, glorious things he intended to do with her, they would have to wait. Instead, he gave up to his aching cock and her pleading and filled her with one swift plunge.
Her cry of pleasure made his heart leap.
Her fingers dug into his hips as he withdrew a fraction before plunging deeper. His head clouded as she arched beneath him, making breathy little noises. He ran his hand down her side to palm the fullness of one buttock. He lifted her hips to meet his with the next hungry thrust. She gasped as their loins pressed tight. He opened his eyes but he couldn’t see her well, not with the drapes drawn tight. He could only imagine the flush rising on her face, the parting of her lips, the pleasure crossing her face.
This lovemaking felt guttural, animalistic, and unstoppable. He tightened his will to take care, not lose control. He nearly lost it when she whispered his name in rising desperation before shuddering against him like a silk pennon in the wind.
He buried his face in her shoulder, holding himself back until her strong spasms gentled. Only then did he make his last strong strokes and pulled himself out. His own passion exploded and he released his seed into the linens.
“I’m always ravishing you,” he muttered into her hair moments later. “I’m always taking you like a man who hasn’t had a woman in years.”
Her throaty laugh seemed to ripple through the air. He ran his fingers through her unbound hair, spreading the tresses across the furs. He wiped the perspiration from the nape of her neck and then slipped off her body to lie at her side.
A draft moved amid the folds of the drapes. A slivered opening let in a slim shaft of pale light. For a long time, he gazed at her in that dusky light, waiting for those soft, gilded brown eyes to finally blink open.
When they did, she turned her face and her smile lit up the space between them.
His throat went dry.
We winter in Bordeaux, the prince had said.
How much longer did he dare linger at her side?
***
Aliénor woke to the sound of her chamber door banging open.
