Chapter Six #2
He lingered over her breasts, stroking, squeezing, weighing them in his hands, before tracing the shape of them with his tongue, flicking over one hard little nipple before drawing it into his mouth.
She cried out, her body arching against his, making him grit his teeth against the need to sink inside her straight away.
He didn’t want to do that yet. She was a virgin, and she was sheltered, and she’d been ill-treated.
And despite all of that she’d chosen him to give herself to.
And even though he’d told her he liked it rough, she deserved better from him than that.
Certainly this first time. And besides, it was the perfect opportunity to drive her as mad as she’d driven him all day.
He licked and kissed and nipped her sensitive nipples, then worked his way down further, gripping her shuddering hips in his hands as he kissed his way over her stomach and finally down between her thighs.
Guinevere gave another hoarse cry as he tasted her, sweet yet tart at the same time, holding her writhing body as he explored.
She panted and moaned, her hands in his hair, holding on to him as if she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her afloat.
He kept her there, exploring her deeper, drawing more and more desperate sounds from her as she moved restlessly beneath him, the grip she had in his hair almost painful.
She was as soft as he’d thought she’d be, and as hot, and she tasted like the sweetest treat.
It felt as if he’d been years without a woman, years since he’d had anyone this responsive, this passionate.
She’d abandoned herself to him without self-consciousness, not hiding her pleasure or holding back.
It made him feel like a god that he could do this to her.
His little lioness.
She called his name in the end, as he brought her to the peak and held her there, making her plead, making her beg, and then he took her over it, her screams of release echoing in his ears.
* * *
Guinevere lay on her back in Tiberius’s bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to remember what her actual name was. It came back to her slowly as the aftershocks of that incredible climax faded, leaving her heavy and sated and yet strangely still hungry.
Guinevere. That was right. That was what her name was. And she was here in Tiberius’s bed because she’d had the brilliant idea of giving herself to him in a way that would make it very difficult for him to refuse.
In fact, she’d gone through many scenarios after those moments in the orchard, trying to think of the best approach when it came to seducing her husband. But, considering how little experience she’d had with men, she’d decided that being as direct as possible was the key.
Of course he’d been working late, since that was what he’d been doing every night since he’d married her, so she’d had lots of time to prepare. Not that she’d needed it, since her plan had been basically to turn up naked in his bed.
She’d already been there a quite a while before he’d entered the bedroom, sitting on the bed, vacillating between wild excitement and a sick dread that he’d laugh at her, or simply send her away.
Anxiety had gripped her when she’d heard him enter the royal apartments, and then the shower in the bathroom next door had been turned on. Her heart beating fast, she’d come up onto her knees on the mattress, trying to calm her ragged nerves as she’d heard the door open.
Then he’d turned on the light and she’d seen him in the doorway.
Naked.
Her mouth had dried, her nerves forgotten, and she hadn’t been able to look away.
Because he was beautiful. So achingly beautiful.
Broad shoulders. Muscled chest and stomach.
Narrow hips and powerful thighs. All encased in smooth, satiny olive skin.
And the most male part of him, hard and thick, making no secret of how much he wanted her.
She’d thrilled to it, even as a sudden attack of nerves had nearly undone her.
She’d thought he might turn around and walk away, leaving her kneeling in his bed all alone. She’d had no idea what she would do if that happened.
But it hadn’t.
Instead, he’d told her that there would be no divorce.
That if she wanted this then she had to accept that she would be his wife in every way, including bearing his heirs.
She understood why. Knew that he wanted to set an example for his people.
It wasn’t about her specifically. It was about what she represented as his wife and queen.
She’d known a moment’s hesitation when he’d laid it all out for her, because she hadn’t been expecting that. Hadn’t been expecting more than a night and hadn’t thought about anything beyond that.
Yet he had.
She’d also known that this was the moment of truth. That if she didn’t give this to him she’d get nothing at all. And looking at him, standing there, she hadn’t been sure she could stand having nothing.
If she agreed, she would be his, and there was reassurance in being someone’s…
in being claimed. No one had ever wanted her to be theirs, even when she was a child, long before she’d decided that hiding was better than being noticed.
Her value as a daughter, as her father had often said, was only in her ability to make a good marriage, nothing more.
Certainly no one had loved her, and while she knew that it wasn’t love with Tiberius, she would settle for being desired. He’d promised to protect her too, and after all it would hardly be a hardship to share his bed every night.
Of course she’d said yes.
And then everything had happened very fast.
His lips on hers, his hands on her body, and then she’d been pushed onto her back and his marauding mouth had been everywhere. On her throat, her nipples, her thighs and then between.
Pleasure had gripped her like music as he’d turned her body into an instrument that he played with the most incredible precision. She hadn’t known that so many different sounds could be drawn from her.
He hadn’t been rough like he’d warned her earlier that day. Instead he’d been decisive, firm and unhesitating, which had thrilled her…excited her. She’d loved him taking charge, because she wouldn’t have even known where to start.
Now she lay there, gasping, and he was moving again, sliding between her thighs, one hand braced beside her head as the other slipped through her slick folds, spreading her open for him.
She stared up into his silver eyes as he shifted once again, pushing against her and then into her, sliding in deeply, slowly, watching her as he did so, gauging her reaction.
‘Does this hurt?’ he asked, his voice almost guttural.
She was panting, the feeling of him inside her almost too much and yet also not enough. ‘No… It’s just…strange.’
His hand slipped beneath her rear, lifting her, letting him slide even deeper, and then he paused. The feel of his hot, bare skin against hers and the weight of him on her was intensely erotic. She wanted to hold him there, never let him go.
Unexpectedly, he put out a hand and pushed a curl behind her ear, the movement tender, making her frantically beating heart catch fire. And then he leaned down and kissed her, tasting her, and at the same time he began to move, making her blaze.
She’d had no idea she could be so hungry for him again, and so soon, but she was. Desperate and feverish. Wanting more.
Looking up into his face, at the harshly carved lines of it drawn taut with desire, she felt the flames inside her burn higher and hotter. It was strange to be so surrounded by a person. To have him over her and inside her, the heat of his body against hers, the scent of his skin everywhere.
It was thrilling. Intoxicating.
She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she put them on his powerful shoulders, loving the feeling of hard muscle moving under his skin.
The hand beneath her rear shifted again, tilting her hips, and somehow the hunger deepened, becoming fierce.
Then it slid away as he reached down to grip her behind her knee, drawing her leg up and around his hip, opening her more to him.
‘Better?’ he asked roughly.
‘Yes…’ It came out on a gasp, the acuteness of the pleasure making her moan. ‘Yes… More.’
Tiberius bent and kissed her, then his mouth moved down to her throat, the sharp edges of his teeth grazing the delicate cords of her neck. ‘You enjoy this?’ he growled, and the deep velvet sound of it was like a stroke against her skin. ‘Giving yourself to a Benedictus? To your father’s enemy?’
Maybe it was wrong to find that so erotic, but she did. ‘Yes,’ she moaned again. ‘I like it. I want more.’
He moved faster, harder, and she began to understand what he meant by roughness, because he wasn’t gentle. His grip was almost painful. But she loved it. It made her feel strong that he didn’t hold himself back. It made her feel powerful.
‘More,’ she repeated, turning it into a demand. ‘Don’t hold back from me, my king. I’m not as delicate as you think.’
He growled then, and before she could take another breath he pulled out of her, flipping her over onto her front. Then he gripped her hips hard and slid back inside her from behind, moving faster, harder, deeper.
Guinevere pressed her hot face into the pillow as pleasure drew into a tight knot inside her, the pressure almost unbearable. Then he slipped a finger beneath her, finding the most sensitive part of her, stroking firmly. And that hard, tight knot burst suddenly apart.
She screamed against the pillow as the orgasm crashed over her, and as she shook and shook she dimly felt him move faster, then fall out of rhythm, heard his own harsh roar of release in her ears.
She lay there for several stunned seconds, listened to both of them breathing hard.
Then with firm hands he withdrew from her, before pulling her into the warmth of his body, turning her over onto her back and taking her chin between his fingers.
His burning gaze swept over her, as if checking she was unharmed, before settling on her face.
‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked. ‘Give me the truth, now, lioness.’
‘No,’ she said huskily, tremors still shaking her. ‘Not at all.’
He said nothing for a long moment, and she was distracted by the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the lines around his mouth. He had been working hard. Perhaps too hard.
Without thinking, she reached up and touched his cheek. ‘You look tired.’
‘I am.’ He made no move to avoid her touch, only stared down at her as if he couldn’t look away. ‘But I couldn’t go to sleep because someone was already in my bed.’
The faint trace of humour in his voice was unexpected, and she smiled. ‘Sorry. I thought the direct approach was better.’
‘I’m not complaining.’ He turned his head against her hand, brushing her fingertips with his mouth. ‘You’re very brave, though. To beard me in my den, so to speak. Especially after what I told you today.’
‘I think your bark is worse than your bite.’
His eyes glinted wickedly. ‘How can you know when I haven’t bitten you yet?’
A delicious shiver ran through her. ‘When you said that you like it rough…is biting a part of that?’
‘Sometimes.’ He leaned down and kissed her again. ‘I meant what I said,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘You will be in my bed every night, and you will be my wife in every way from now on. Do you understand?’
She sighed, the feel of his mouth on hers like a cold drink of water in a parched desert. ‘Yes.’
He trailed kisses down her throat. ‘And I will not divorce you. You will stay my queen from now on.’
Another sigh escaped her as, unbelievably, her body began to wake once more. ‘Yes,’ she repeated.
He lifted his mouth from hers, then took her hand, guiding it to the hard, flat plane of his stomach and down. His skin was hot, and it felt like satin, and she was once more hungry.
‘Shall I show you the proper respect that a war prize should give to her king?’
Her mouth went dry as he wrapped her fingers around the rapidly hardening length of his shaft. ‘P-please…’
So he showed her how to touch him, how to caress him—and, no, she didn’t have to be gentle. She could be rough as she wanted. Then he guided her mouth to him, so she could worship him there, as he’d worshipped her, and she loved it.
He tasted good, and the feel of him in her mouth was good too, and when that got too much he pulled her up and lifted her, settling her down on him and showing her how to ride him.
In fact, he showed her many other things too, keeping her up well into the night. And she didn’t even think about going to her little room, not once. Instead she fell asleep in his arms, exhausted.