"My lady has not indicated whether she wants me to touch her. " He opened eyes of blue fire, like the flames that licked through her blood at his words. But she merely nodded to the next bucket.
He raised it to rinse himself and she helped, spreading the flow of water over him, run- ning her hands back through those delicious crevices under his gen- itals and between his buttocks, bringing herself close enough that the water splashed down her arms and wet her front before she with- drew enough to fan her hands across his chest. Though she knew his desire was high, it had become a game by his own unintentional voicing of it. He would not touch her until she commanded it, and she would delight in teasing him to raging be- fore she gave him that command. But beneath his lust there was something else, in the way he watched her, something that kept her alert to the shifts in his mood, as well as to her own unusually strong reaction to him. "You're a sorceress, " he said huskily. "A beautiful sorceress, deter- mined to lead me to damnation. " She didn't respond to that, just moved close enough to step into the tub, her wet feet on top of his, her dress floating in the small space of the basin. As she lifted up on her toes to reach his lips, his hands circled her waist, her clad body against his naked, aroused one, his cock pushing into her belly and lower as he raised her. His wet hair tangled in her fingers as she let her lust rise as well. Her grip tightened on the edge of bruising, her breath in the kiss becoming a low growl. "Like a lion cub, " he whispered against her. He surprised her by lifting her in his arms. Stepping out of the tub, he took her to the tumble of cushions that was her bed. He squatted beside her, casu- ally immodest as a soldier was. As she lay back, she watched him toy with the front lacing of the corset she wore over her dress. His jaw was set in an attractive line, rigid with desire like the rest of him. Every muscle hard, his erection damp with viscous fluid at the tip. "It has been a while, my lady. I wish to be gentle. " "Don't be. I will not be gentle with you. I promise I will make you serve me over and over tonight, drain you well before dawn. "
Be- cause she could resist no longer, she grasped his cock, hot steel cov- ered in silk, the pulse of it seeming to match the pulse in her womb. He exhaled sharply at her touch, his hand gripping the pillow by her head as she stroked him, her nail scraping the underside, her fingertips teasing his balls. Gods, but he was a finely equipped man. His hand moved to her thigh, and he began to raise her skirt, gathering it slowly, gauging whether she was pleased or not. The touch of his fingers through the fabric burned. She wanted his hands fully on her. When the skirt was bunched under his large palms and he let his fingertips graze her thigh, she arched up as if he'd slid into her. His expression became more intent, and his attention shifted down to the slick lips of her cunt, already glistening for him. She didn't want to be patient. Restless and almost on the verge of anger, she abruptly wanted to attack him for the way he made her feel. Longing for things . . . For this mere human. She levered herself up and had him on his back before he could resist, though she noted he caught her arm a split second before she did it, as if anticipating her move, even if he couldn't counter her strength or see the speed of her movements. She straddled him on the floor of the tent, hands pinioning his wrists, her thighs gripping his torso securely and toes planted inside his knees, locking his legs down. However, her skirt was caught between them, denying her the full contact of his cock against the aching emptiness between her legs. "So you still do not fear me?" He put some serious effort into lifting his arms, subsiding a few moments later as she gazed down at him, expressionless. Except when she curled back her lip to let him see her fangs elongating. His eyes widened, but then he shifted to her face, studied some- thing there she suspected was different from what she intended him to see. "No, my lady, " he said at last. "But I sense there is something you fear about me. Let my hands go, lass. Let me touch you and give you pleasure. I won't abuse your trust. " His voice became thicker, deeper. "You're wet enough to slide right on my shaft, and I'm sizeable enough to take you deep and hard. Just let me take you. "
Who was seducing whom? She released him but rose. With a short gesture, she bid him stay still as she crossed the tent. He rose up on his elbows as she refilled and retrieved the wine goblet. When she came back she moved over his body, straddling his thighs, sitting on his knees so she had an un- impeded view of his aroused member. Lifting the goblet, she tilted it over him, watched the stream of crimson fluid run along the length of him. His stomach tightened at the stimulation, a pleasurable response, but her eyes lingered on the trail of wine covering him. She bent, her breath hovering over him, and licked delicately at the underside, the broad head of his cock. His hands fisted in the pil- lows on either side of him, giving her delicious visions of what it would be like to restrain and torment him like this for hours. Slowly she covered him with her mouth and went all the way down, taking the taste of his skin and seed with the fermented grape. She savored it, sucking on him as his thighs trembled, a powerful man restrain- ing himself to let her have her pleasure. Little did he know that if she desired it, he would have no choice. But she'd always preferred sub- mission like this, a willing choice in the end, though she couldn't deny the predator in her was equally provoked by the fight up to that point. Releasing him, she raised the goblet again, trailing wine up his belly. Lapping it from his navel, she rubbed her breasts against his arousal. Spilled wine over his chest, over his throat. Licked at his nip- ples as he jerked in response. There she paused, inhaling him. She'd been tempted by the thigh, but somehow for this man, the throat, the flood of life pounding hard behind it like a waterfall, was more than she could resist. He knocked the goblet from her hand and seized her by the waist, dragging her up his body with sheer animal strength. His ur- gency had a gentle power to it she found difficult to resist. When he touched his lips to the cleft of her breasts rising over the top of her neckline, the barest press of his mouth sent a shudder through her. She watched, paralyzed by her own desire, as he opened the cor- set, untied the neckline of her dress and cupped her bare breasts in either hand. Sitting up with a ripple of stomach muscles to hold her straddled on his lap, he teased her with his cock, rubbing the cleft of her buttocks with the skirt in between while he captured a nipple, began to suckle.
"Oh . . . Oh. " Her body was moving of its own accord, grinding urgently against him, but he was of a mind to take his time, God bless him. Suckling with soft, moist noises. Something she would have thought coarse, but the sound of it made her hips move in sen- sual undulations, straining for more of the feel of that organ trapped behind her. "What is it you want, my lady?" He said it against her flesh, his tongue stroking, curling. Her hand caught in his damp hair, found his nape. "Tell this knight what he must do to serve you best. " "Your cock, " she whispered. "Inside me. I want to feel . . . " Taken. Immersed. Impaled. He moved her skirt out of the way and obeyed, bringing himself into line with her, lifting her and then lowering her slowly, slowly onto him as she cried out with the stretching pleasure of it, the fiery sensation it burned to the core of her. It had been far too long since she'd indulged herself in the plea- sure of a man's body. A body like this. A man like this. She grasped his jaw as he anchored her on him with his hands gripping her hips, fingers pressing into her buttocks. She didn't pause or ask permission. He was hers. She would do as she liked, not ques- tioning why the need was so savage with this human who should be just a pleasant diversion. Dinner. When she sank her fangs into his neck, he pushed her down even harder, growling as his hips jerked, pumped into her. She drew his essence into herself, the swirl of his blood on her tongue, a nourish- ment unlike anything she'd tasted before. Except once . . . Her samurai guard. The memory interjected itself unbidden into this moment. Her stepfather, her mother's servant, had Lyssa bite each of her guards, not only to bind them to her, but so Lyssa would know how to bind a hu- man and could practice locating them around the grounds. Jun had been first. She'd been nervous, but he'd put his arm around her, held her to reassure her she wasn't hurting him.