The Destroyer Book 4 (52 page)

Read The Destroyer Book 4 Online

Authors: Michael-Scott Earle

Tags: #General Fiction

“Thank you, Tuirp. You’ve made my stay very enjoyable.” I hoped I would not have to kill him.

“Can I get you anything else to eat? How about some wine? I want to make sure I stay on good terms with them.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” I pulled out the silver tab again, but he shook his head and loaded another tray up with eggs, bread, fruit, and a jug of wine. Then he yelled back into the kitchen for the servant girls to prepare the bath on the fourth floor and get me when it was ready.

I made the short climb back upstairs and into the room. Iolarathe’s silver eyes widened when I presented the extra food and the jug of wine. She set into the second meal and I listened for the sounds of the serving girls hauling buckets of water up the stairs. Within a few minutes, they were at the task of filling the bathtub at the far end of the hall.

“I am full. Please eat the rest.” She smiled and nudged the plate toward the side of my table. It was three-quarters full, but I wasn’t particularly hungry. Still, tonight would be busy with the mission into Malek’s estate and there was no telling when I would eat again.

“I hear the humans carrying buckets.” She wrote on the journal page after I took a few bites of salty eggs and washed it down with a mouthful of dry wine.

“The innkeeper and I came to an understanding. We will have a private bath.”

“We?” She raised a red copper eyebrow after she wrote the question.

“Unless you would prefer to bathe alone?” I suddenly felt like the boy in the stables again and my cheeks began to burn.

“No. I want to spend every possible second of the rest of my life with you and our daughter,” she scrawled the words hastily. After I read the note our eyes met and she licked her full lips.

I felt desire course through my body. I reminded myself that I was no longer a slave boy waiting for her orders and I reached out my hand and ran it through the crimson hair at the back of her scalp. She gasped softly when my fingers made contact with her skin and then moaned when I pulled her lips to my mouth.

Her lips and tongue felt just as I remembered. They tasted sweet and felt so soft on my mouth that I battled between wanting to slowly savor them and needing to devour her. She bit my lower lip and I was reminded of how dangerous my lover was. Before her teeth sank deep enough to draw blood, she reduced the pressure and I felt her tongue caressing the inside of my mouth again.

Our lips parted and we each gasped. Then she slid into my lap and set my mind spinning with another assault of her lips. Her fingers roamed my chest and neck while our tongues danced. My hands grabbed onto her hips and she began to rock against my lap.

Footsteps moved toward the door so we stopped kissing and parted quietly. Iolarathe slid to a corner of the room that was not visible from the doorway and I had my hand on the doorknob as soon as the girl knocked.

“Your bath is ready, sir.” The girl was probably Tuirp’s granddaughter.

“Thank you. I will be there shortly.”

“We left extra buckets of water and soap, and the door to the latrine is unlocked.” She smiled at me.

“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.” I handed her the silver piece I had tried to give Tuirp and her eyes grew large.

“Thank you, sir!” She bowed at the waist and then fled down the stairs.

Once I heard the girl reach the bottom floor I listened for any other activity. The snores of the only other occupant of this floor continued and the rest of the inn seemed to be empty save for the innkeeper and his two girls.

I beckoned to Iolarathe and we walked silently to the bathing room. I heard no other disturbance, but I made a final glance down the hallway before shutting and locking the door.

The room was twenty feet square with four long wooden bathtubs arranged in a row. Two of the tubs were filled with steaming hot water and there was a neat stack of towels, robes, soaps, bottles, and brushes laid atop stools placed nearby. The floor of the room was a polished red wood and it sloped toward each of the four corners where brass drains were located. There were two large windows in the room but thin white cotton curtains were drawn over them so that only soft light filtered through.

Iolarathe silently walked around the bathtubs and then gestured to the only other door in the room. It was opened a crack and she peered inside. Her mouth formed the word for toilet and then she closed the door after she entered.

I moved the thin curtain away from the side of the window and peered out at an angle. It was still mid-morning, perhaps a hair closer to lunch time, and the street traffic moved normally through the avenues. There did not seem to be any discernible change to the pace of the inhabitants below. Rumors were that my old friends were not currently in the city, but there still should have been guards scouring the streets. They had planned on executing her this morning, and by now the O’Baarni must have noticed that I’d taken Iolarathe from her cell and put a corpse in her place.

Even if every guard in the city were searching, there were hundreds of places to hide. I could keep us undiscovered until tonight. I still expected to see soldiers in the street. Had my generals grown so complacent that their commanders did not take their prisoners seriously? Whatever the reason, we just had to get the Ovule tonight and be on the deck of the
Sea Dog
by morning.

I took off my clothes, folded them, and set them on an empty spot on one of the wooden benches. Then I climbed into the bathtub. The water was extremely hot, but my body quickly grew used to the pain. I felt my muscles begin to relax and the sensation climbed up my spine and temples. My mind calmed along with my body and my eyes dared to close. I forgot all about the lack of soldiers in the streets or the execution that was supposed to be taking place this morning.

Iolarathe came into the room and moved next to my bathtub. I felt my heart begin to hammer into my chest when she reached down and slipped off her dirt and blood-covered garments in one easy movement. Her body was beautiful. Even the grime from her stay in the dungeon could not hide the smoothness of her alabaster skin, the tone of her muscles, and her perfectly proportioned body. Her hair was longer than I remembered. It dripped past her waist like the fiery tail of a comet and I wanted to rub my hands over every inch of her.

She raised a pointed foot and stepped into the bathtub with me. The movement gave me the opportunity to see the wondrous play of muscles in her legs and stomach. She was spread before me for a brief second before her other leg joined her in the water and she slid down into the bubbly depths. The tub was small and probably only meant for one person, so she perched on my shins. Her movement caused half a bucket of water to flow over the top of the tub but it slid across the smooth wood floor and spiraled down the drain pipes.

Iolarathe lay back against the edge of the wood tub. Her knees stuck out of the water but her skin was almost the same color as the bubbles and it blended with the suds. I felt the bottoms of her feet rest on the top of my thighs so I moved my hands from their resting place at the edge of the basin and began to rub the joints of her toes. She closed her eyes and purred at my touch. For a flash of a second we were back in the stables and she was commanding me to take off her boots and wash her feet.

My hands continued to roam her feet and legs, rubbing her muscles until they relaxed against my fingers. Her body felt as tense as mine and I wondered if she was nervous about our quest tonight.

Her silver eyes were half-open and she smiled when she caught me looking at her. The beautiful Elven leaned forward and took a bar of soap from the table. She dipped it into the water, lathered it between her fingers, and then rubbed the suds over my chest, shoulders, and armpits. The suds smelled of lemongrass and oatmeal.

The feel of her hands dancing over my skin was delightful and I couldn’t keep a soft moan from escaping my lips. She scooted closer to me and I crossed my legs under her so that she could wrap her own long legs around my hips.

“If you can’t even control your moans while I rub soap on your chest, you are really going to have a problem when I make love to you.” Her sensual voice was just the faintest of whispers in my ear and her teeth scraped against the lobe after she spoke the words. My heart skipped a beat at the sound of her admission and my stiff penis throbbed against her stomach. She smiled slyly before reaching her left hand into the water between us. I felt her fingers brush against the tip of my member, rub down the shaft, and then push it against her. For a second I thought she would raise her hips and slide me inside of her entrance, but then she squeezed along the base before releasing it with a sigh.

She pushed herself backward to the far side of the tub and gestured with a finger for me to stand. I must have given her an exasperated look because she smirked at me and then waved her finger again. I untied my legs from hers and stood up out of the bathwater. The soapy bubbles cascaded down my body and into the tub. My erection was a few feet from Iolarathe’s mouth and there was no mistaking the hunger in her silver eyes. She ran her tongue over her lips seductively.

She grabbed the bar of soap again and lathered her hands. Then she set it back down and rested her fingers on my erection. I gasped at her touch and I fought to keep from moaning at her caress. The soap made her grip slippery and her slow rub across my erection, around my testicles, and between my thighs caused my legs to tremble with desire.

She lathered more soap and then rubbed down the rest of my legs, shins, and the front of my stomach. Each stroke of her fingers across my skin made my head spin and my breath catch in my throat. I never dreamed that Iolarathe would touch me in this way. We had made love so many times, but the adoration in her face and the complete focus she was giving to my pleasure was new and made my heart race.

“Do you remember when you would wash my feet?” I understood her mouth make the movements more than I actually heard the almost silent whisper.

“Yes.”

She smiled and then motioned for me to turn around. I followed her orders and heard her apply soap to a bristle brush. It lightly scratched my back as she cleaned, and while the sensation wasn’t as pleasant as when she used her fingers I still enjoyed the feel of it scraping against my skin.

“Sit back down and I’ll wash your feet.” I complied with her request and sat in the tub, raising my right foot above the water. She grasped it by the heel and worked her soapy fingers between my toes and along the ridge of my arches. It was agonizingly pleasurable and I understood why Iolarathe had made me rub her feet those many years ago.

A few minutes of the cleansing massage passed and she indicated that she wanted my other foot. I complied and she repeated her administrations while I tried to stifle my moans of pleasure. It felt almost as good as sex, but I was eager for it to end so that I could begin my work on her delicious body.

“Lie back and close your eyes,” she commanded and I was too relaxed and aroused to resist, or even guess at what she had planned for me next. I did as she instructed and heard her open some of the jars arranged on the table by the tub. She made a few sniffing noises and then I felt her fingertips brush my face. First she rubbed the base of my throat gingerly, and then she moved to my jawline and the knots that had formed there from weeks of stress.

Soon she was rubbing my cheeks, temples, and forehead. The scent that filled my nose and the ease with which her fingers slipped across my skin led me to guess she had soap all over her fingers, so I didn’t dare open my eyes. Finally, I felt her body lean over the tub and grab one of the full buckets of water. A trickle of the fresh liquid poured over my face and I was washed clean.

“Keep them closed,” she whispered a second before her mouth made contact with my lips. Iolarathe was straddling me again and my hips unconsciously bucked underneath her in a quest to find her velvety passage. She bit my lip and I let out a gasp before I kissed her passionately.

She pulled away from my lips abruptly and I moaned with sorrow. Then I felt her shift on top of me when she reached for another item on the table. I could smell the lavender on the air and she rubbed some oil in my thick hair and used her nails to scratch my scalp. Her lips found mine again and we explored each other’s tongues with a building hot urgency that made the water start to feel cool.

My hair was relatively short, but there was enough for her to grab, which she did as she broke off our kiss and then moved her mouth to my jawline. There she licked, nibbled, and sucked on my exposed throat until I couldn’t hold back a moan of longing for her.

“Keep your eyes shut.” Her voice was warm honey gently poured over my tongue. It made the hairs on my body stand up with exhilaration every time she risked a whisper to me.

I felt her move to pick up the bucket again and she slowly poured a stream of water over my hair, rubbed my scalp, and then repeated both steps. I heard her set the pail down again and then she administered half a dozen slow kisses around my mouth and neck. Each touch of her lips had me twisting my head in an effort to meet her tongue and when I was finally rewarded with her lips I almost screamed with desire. Every part of my body ached for her and I felt as if I would burst.

“Now it is my turn.” She broke the kiss again and I opened my eyes. She stood from the bath and the soapy water slid down her slick marble body effortlessly. My mouth watered when I gazed upon her wet form and my head began to spin. I felt as if I wanted to wash, rub, lick, suck, and fuck her all at the same time. And never stop until the day that I died.

Other books

Warrior of the West by M. K. Hume
The Art of Disposal by John Prindle
Dedication by Emma McLaughlin
Inquisitor by Mitchell Hogan
The Eternal Ones by Kirsten Miller
A Shot to Die For by Libby Fischer Hellmann
Stories for Chip by Nisi Shawl
El códice Maya by Douglas Preston
Winter's Destiny by Nancy Allan