Authors: Arpan B
"If
you can't look at me, then I suppose there's no need for me to stay
covered." She pushed her long hair back over her shoulders,
leaving her bared in all her elegant, graceful glory.
She
was the goddess Diana, the huntress, and he was her prey. Ethan knew
he was the most fortunate man on earth at this moment. She whisked
the covers away.
And
she was the most doomed woman in the world.
"Jane,
stop this!" Ethan pulled against his bindings, but the clever
minx had made the cord so that it tightened if he struggled. He
fought them anyway, until the bed frame creaked in protest and the
veins in his arms stood out. Jane merely rode him out, sitting
peacefully astride him until he tired. Finally, he lay back, gasping
but not defeated. He had to save her from herself!
Then
he saw what she had in her hand. The sheepskin sheath caught the
firelight behind its filmy translucence. Yet there was no need to
worry. She'd never get the trick of rolling it onto him without
practice.
She
was regarding it contemplatively. "If this were a stocking that
I was putting on…"
Ah.
Well, that might very well count as practice. He watched with
mounting horror as she rolled it rather expertly into a stiff disc.
She displayed it proudly. "There, what do you think?"
"I
think you should stop this n—" His voice left him with a
gasp as she wrapped her fingers round his cock and gently squeezed.
"I've
been admiring this tonight," she said thoughtfully. "I
liked it quite a bit before, but now I find it much more
interesting."
Ethan
gritted his teeth, straining backward in an effort to control his
growing erection. "No, Jane. I won't—"
She
stroked her hand up and down. "Do you like that? Does it feel
good?" Her voice was soft and mesmerizing. He recognized the
tone instantly as the one he'd used on her in the carriage.
Oh,
God, he was going to pay for that now. And he
still
wasn't able to touch her!
Jane
wrapped her hand firmly around Ethan's staff, enjoying the
silk-over-steel feel of it. His body quivered as his member jumped in
her grasp. "What does that feel like?" She didn't really
expect an answer and she didn't get one.
If
the sheath was a stocking and his staff was a leg…
The
flexible cover rolled neatly down over Ethan's staff. Jane realized a
bit too late that she ought to have waited. Now she could not
directly feel his skin, nor could he directly feel her touch.
Unfortunately,
her hands were shaking badly now. The feel of him in her grasp, the
way his straining body looked in the fire's glow… she was
becoming more aroused by the moment herself.
"If
you can't feel through that, I suppose I'm going to have to touch you
in other places…"
Leaving
his encased staff lying stiffly against his stomach, she moved up his
body to his chest. "My breasts are tingling," she whispered
to him. He clenched his eyes shut and turned away, but his breathing
quickened. "Do you remember how you made me touch myself for
you?"
A
low, primitive groan came from deep in his chest. Jane leaned over
him, using all the words and intonations he had used on her. "All
I wanted was your touch that night… all I wanted was for you
to feel how hard my nipples had become." She let her breasts
trail across his bare chest. The sensation of his chest hair against
her rigid nipples made her whimper even as he gasped wordlessly.
He'd
stopped pulling at his bonds, she noticed. She pressed her breasts
harder to his chest, straddling him again to make better contact.
His
staff leaped beneath her, nearly slipping into her dampened center.
The sensation made her freeze above him as the tiny shocks went
coursing through her.
"You
aren't fighting anymore, darling. Do you want me now?"
His
jaw worked, but he didn't answer. Yet his hips rotated upward,
pressing him closer to her. Experimentally, she reached between them
and grasped him in her hand. She wanted to touch herself again, the
way she had before, but he wasn't watching now.
If
he would not open his eyes, then she would touch herself with him, so
he could feel it instead.
Using
his pulsing rigid staff instead of her own fingers, she began to
press and rotate the thickened head against her pleasure spot. Her
own slickness soon coated his staff and her own shaking fingers,
until her grip began to slide rather wildly as she drove herself
higher.
Lost
in pleasure, she took a moment to realize Ethan was hoarsely calling
her name. "Janet, oh God, Janet— ride me! Please, please,
take me in—"
Half
mad with arousal, halfway to her own satisfaction, Jane thoughtlessly
obeyed. With one motion, she positioned him at her slit and began to
drive her body down on his long, thick staff without a care for her
own virginity.
"No!"
Ethan's urgent cry just barely reached her in time. She halted,
breathless, nearly crying with need.
"No?"
she gasped.
"Oh,
yes," he growled. "But slowly, darling. Go carefully."
Jane
obeyed, slipping the thick round head just slightly into herself.
Even that short length began to stretch her with a burning ache.
"Slowly,"
he breathed into her hair, for she was bent low over him. "Don't
hurry. You'll feel it when you're ready for more of me."
Now
that she had him partially within her, she realized how daunting his
size truly was. She wasn't frightened, nor would she have stopped if
Napoleon himself had burst through the door, but she did wish she
dared to untie him so she could feel his strong arms about her.
No.
Stubborn, so-sure-he-was-right man would stop. He would get up and
leave her like this, swollen and aching, just to save her for some
imaginary highborn husband she would never want to have.
She
pressed him another inch within her. Gasping, she buried her face
into his neck. He turned his head to kiss her hair. "Rise up and
down," he whispered. "It will ease me in."
She
did as she was told, bracing her hands on his broad, muscled chest.
Every stroke stretched her further, even as every withdrawal
slickened and soothed her.
Then
he could enter her no further. "Ah, Ethan," she whispered.
"I think I'm full."
His
breathless laugh rumbled up through her body as well. "No,
sweeting. This is the part where I break your maidenhead."
She
swallowed. It wasn't alarming, precisely, but he did seem to go on
and on. "What do I do?"
"First,
hold very still."
She
braced herself above him.
"Now,
kiss me."
Oddly,
she had not kissed him yet. She lowered her lips to his in a soft
caress—
He
surged upward in a sudden thrust of his hips.
Jane
felt him burst through, driving deep within her. She cried out, just
a small cry that he took into his own mouth.
He
kissed her softly. "Shh, shh. Now relax for a moment. The pain
will ease—"
She
shook her head. She felt soft and liquid, wrapped around his
thickness. "There is no pain. I want to—" She rose
and fell on him, again and again.
It
burned, it blazed, it sent wracking shudders through her until she
could hardly continue. She heard Ethan crying out her name, his voice
hoarse with passion.
She
felt that precipice approach, the one he'd led her to before. There
was some pain now, just a hint of ache behind the pleasure, but she
knew she must reach the edge soon…
Ethan
cried out and surged beneath her, inside her. He swelled and
throbbed, adding the last bit of pressure she had needed—
She
cried out as she flung them both over the edge, unable to stop her
rise and fall, unable to do anything but call her lover's name, her
love's name—
"Ethan!"
Jane
awoke to the feel of something warm and damp between her thighs. She
roused and opened her eyes to find Ethan sitting next to her, tending
to her with a cloth.
She
smiled sleepily at him. "Hello, darling."
He
did not smile back. "Hello, my lady."
She
tried to sit up, to reach for him—
Only
to find that she was the one now bound with silken cord.
She
eyed her beloved with wary eyes. "Ethan, what is this?"
Something was wrong.
He
glanced up, then went back to his task. "I would think you'd
recognize the technique."
His
touch was infinitely tender as the cloth cleaned and soothed her.
"I'm
sorry, Ethan—"
He
went still. "No you aren't."
She
hesitated, aware that this was a time for the truth. "No, I must
confess that I am not. Not for loving you, or making love to you. I
am happy. I am only sorry that you cannot be happy as well."
"The
only thing I am happy about is that you had the sense to use the
sheath," he said. "At least there will be no bastards."
She
blinked. "Oh, is that what it is for?" If she'd known, she
certainly wouldn't have used it.
He
stared at her. "What did you think it was for?"
She
shrugged with difficulty, since her hands were bound above her. "I
thought it was for pleasure."
"No."
He looked away. "It actually feels a bit better without it."
Jane's
jaw dropped. "It gets
better
?'
He
let out a single gust of helpless laughter and dropped his head into
his hands. "My lady, what am I going to do with you?"
Jane
frowned. What was his meaning? "I want you to make love to me,"
she said. "I want to stay in your arms until I die of it."
He
nodded, gazing at her with dark, hooded eyes. "That, my lady, I
can provide."
He
lowered his mouth to her.
Jane
started at the first touch of his lips there. Shock rippled through
her. She pulled at her bonds. What was this—this outrageous—
His
tongue slipped through to her pleasure spot and all coherent thought
left her mind.
Soft,
slippery tongue, circling over and around, then back, then again. He
created suction, making her entire body convulse. Her thighs opened,
spreading her helplessly before him, open and wet and exposed for
him—and then he made her forget she ever had any concept of
shame.
She
writhed and bucked and mouthed helpless sounds as he tortured her
beautifully with his tongue, lips, and teeth. The sensations consumed
her, devoured her, made her forget everything but the wild untamed
ecstasy of his kiss on her.
"Oh,
dear God! Please, Ethan! Oh, please, I need you so!"
He
went very still, his head still bowed over her. She could see his
bare chest heaving and the sheen of perspiration that told her he
wanted her just as much. He was nearly trembling with it. The sight
of his muscled, rippling arms tensing as he hesitated—how she
loved his chest, his arms, his shoulders. Soon he would move up her
body, release her from her bonds, and hold her tightly in those
corded arms while he drove himself into her—
"The
sheath—" His words were a gasp of need.
Jane
tossed her head on the pillow. "Forget the sheath! I want you. I
want your child and your name!"
He
froze in the act of reaching for the night table drawer.
"No."
At
first that breathless pained word made no sense to her. Then, as he
moved away from her slowly, as if every movement caused him physical
pain, she drew in a disbelieving breath.