Chapter 16
Even sotted, Gellir was sober enough to know he was making a mistake.
He told himself he was doing it for Merraid. To save her from suffering. To guard against clumsy knaves who might snatch her virginity without the proper gentleness. He convinced himself swiving her would be his one final act of protection before he left her side forever.
That’s what he told himself.
But he didn’t believe it.
In truth, he wanted this as much as she did.
He longed for a taste of paradise. Just once, he wanted to make love with someone who genuinely cared for him. Someone for whom it was not just a marital duty, but an expression of affection. Of adoration. Of trust.
So when she whispered that entreaty—looking up at him with a hopeful smile, reminding him it was Beltane, when all turned a blind eye to indiscretions—he was powerless to tell her nay.
“If I do this,” he murmured, “it must ne’er happen again.”
She nodded, promising, “I won’t ask.”
So she claimed. But they were the words of a lass who’d never been swived. He wouldn’t be surprised if she broke that promise.
Carefully, reluctantly, he extricated her hand from his braies. He tugged her kirtle back up over her breasts so she wouldn’t grow cold while he gathered leaves to make a soft bed.
The forest pool at midnight was not the best spot for a tryst. The air was chill. The ground was hard. But at least here they’d not be discovered.
Once he’d mounded the leaves, he swirled off his cloak to make a coverlet. Then he swept her off her feet, laying her gently atop the makeshift pallet. Though the torch had gone out, the half-moon’s reflection on the water cast enough light that he could see her gazing up at him with adoring eyes.
How he loved her. And to see that love reflected back at him… He wished with all his heart that his wife would one day look at him the way Merraid looked at him now.
But he dared not think more about Carenza. Guilt already weighed on him like an anvil. What he did was sinful. He knew that. Never mind that he’d had plenty of lovers before Merraid. He was now betrothed. He should be true to his bride-to-be.
Why then did Merraid feel like his one true love?
“Come to me,” Merraid murmured.
That sweet encouragement made him forget about everything except the lovely wee maidservant who shared his heart and welcomed his caresses.
Gazing down at the beautiful lass, he knew his greatest challenge would be keeping his own desires in check while he aroused hers. When she’d thrust her hand down his braies, he’d hardened faster than molten steel plunged in icy water.
Thankfully, he knew a few secrets. Secrets that would soon have her begging for his touch.
Moving her skirts out of the way, he nudged her knees apart and knelt between them. Leaning forward, he swept her hair back from her brow and placed a kiss there. He slipped his fingers into her tresses to cradle her head as he kissed each eyelid.
She giggled playfully and lifted her hands to clutch at his leine.
“Nay,” he said, prying her fingers loose. “Keep your hands still.”
“But I want to touch ye.”
“I know,” he said. “But do not. Just lie back. Close your eyes.”
She sighed.
He nuzzled her temple and blew a soft breath into her ear.
She shivered.
“Do you like that?” he murmured against her hair.
She nodded.
“What about this?”
He turned her head aside and kissed the lobe of her ear. Then he captured it between his lips and licked at the tender flesh.
She made a sound of pleasure deep in her throat.
He opened his lips then and, with the tip of his tongue, traced the delicate shell and recesses of her ear.
She writhed in lusty torment and snatched again at his leine.
He murmured in her ear, “Let go.”
She did so with difficulty.
When he turned her head to the other side, she stiffened, bracing for his touch, and made fists of her hands.
He smiled, running his tongue up the side of her neck, blowing on her flesh to make her shiver. When he bathed her ear, she arched up against him, making a strangled squeal in her throat.
He answered with a soft chuckle.
But her eager response was stretching his restraint to the limit. He felt the demanding beast stirring in his braies.
He moved lower, nudging her surcoat down with his chin, taking care not to scratch her silky bosom with his rough stubble. With nimble fingers, he peeled the cloth from her shoulders. Slipped it down till it perched on the tips of her nipples.
She strained against the fabric, keen to be free of it.
But he trapped her there and bent his head, slowly lashing her exposed flesh with his hair. He delved under the taut edge of the cloth with his tongue, finding and arousing each nipple with a teasing thrust.
She arched again. This time, he released his grip, and her breasts emerged from their prison.
He lavished kisses upon the creamy globes, marveling at their delicious softness. While he distracted her with licking and suckling, he simultaneously tortured himself with anticipation as he used one hand to slowly drag her skirts up, stopping only when he exposed the small recess of her navel.
Meanwhile, she defied his command. Her fingers crept up to weave through his hair. She held him firm against her breasts.
He pulled his head out of her grasp. Chided her with a cluck of his tongue.
“If you can’t obey…” he warned. He intertwined his fingers with hers to hold them still.
Then he moved past the rucked surcoat to circle her navel with his tongue. He felt the uneasy hitch of her belly as he widened the circles, sweeping the upper margin of the soft curls hiding her vulnerable womanhood.
The farther he ventured, the tighter she gripped his hands. But he refused to let go. And he refused to cease.
As he nuzzled her with his chin, inhaling her intoxicating, womanly scent, she panicked.
“Nay,” she hissed. “Ye mustn’t.”
“Mustn’t I?” He grinned. “Why not?”
Merraid opened her mouth. And shut it. Twice. She couldn’t think of a single good reason.
She could hardly think at all.
From his first kiss, she’d floated in a mist of passion and wonder.
Now, like a master warrior, Gellir kept deflecting the energy of her desire. With dizzying speed and nimbleness, he steered her from frustration to fulfillment, from agony to ecstasy. And like a novice opponent, she was completely outmatched.
All she knew was what he threatened now felt wicked. Forbidden. She both wanted and did not want it.
At her silence, he promised, “’Twill make it better.”
She still felt uncertain.
“If you want me to stop,” he said, “I’ll stop.”
She bit her lip. She didn’t exactly want him to stop.
“You’ll let me know.” His hot breath ruffled her curls.
Deciding she trusted him, she nodded, lying her head back and closing her eyes, bracing for the worst.
Nothing could have prepared her for the divine shock as his tongue parted her nether lips. Intruded upon her most secret place. Swept across her flesh in arousing exploration.
She gasped and squeezed his fingers between her own.
Weighting her thighs apart with his arms, he continued his onslaught. Licking. Circling. Sucking.
Her head rocked across his cloak as waves of pleasure washed over her, each rising higher than the last. When she felt as if she could endure no more, he gave her hands one last squeeze and released her. With a final kiss, he withdrew his mouth as well, letting his fingers take its place.
His thumb danced over her swollen nub with expert grace while he eased a moistened finger farther and farther inside her.
He must have hauled down his braies with his other hand. She was too enrapt in her own rising passion to notice.
“Are you ready?” he asked, strain clear in his voice.
“Aye,” she gasped. “Och aye.”
He moved up to loom over her. Slipping his finger out, he replaced it with the tip of his cock.
As he pressed inward, she could feel his thick member stretching her.
Then he resumed kneading her slick folds.
She was swiftly drawn into a haze of such erotic bliss that she scarcely noticed the sting of her maidenhead tearing.
He paused then, shuddering with the effort.
She peered up at him, wondering at the lusty torment on his face. The sweat of restraint on his brow. The beautiful awe in his eyes.
And she fell in love with him all over again.
He’d stopped to give her respite.
But she didn’t want to stop.
She rocked her hips forward, seeking the sweet pressure that would carry her to the heights of desire. Then she withdrew, relishing the lovely friction of his flesh sliding against hers. Again she thrust forward, sheathing his warm cock like a dagger.
He growled at the sensation. A growl that sounded like a leashed beast. A growl that rose from the depths of his primal soul.
Stirred by the seductive sound, she continued. Easing forward. Pulling back. Driving deep. Compelled by some primitive rhythm, she moved beneath him until he at last joined her in the erotic dance.
Where their bodies joined, each stroke of their flesh was like flint on steel, sparking a fire. Gone was the night chill. Every inch of her burned with a growing passion that threatened to consume her in an explosive blaze.
Then, when she thought she could endure no more, when the heat of their union was intense beyond bearing, when she feared they would go up in flame and turn to ash, there came over her a sudden stillness.
Time stopped. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Yet within her still body, the flame of desire continued to rise, burning brighter and brighter. At last it erupted into a brilliant, blinding flash of light.
He must have felt it too. He groaned as she cried out. They were shaken by the same tremors. He clung to her, shielding her from harm as they dropped from the sky like falling stars.
For several moments, the only sound was their mingled breath, ragged and chaotic. The only scent was the sweat and musk of lovemaking. The only sensation was flesh upon flesh.