Chapter Sixteen
Chapter
Sixteen
Loose Lips
Loren
At first, he felt Satrine
moving.
And then came the pain carving into his side.
He opened his eyes and saw a dark that shared it was still
the dead of night but felt Satrine fidgeting.
“Are you not comfortable, sweeting?” he murmured, his voice
thick with sleep.
“Okay, honey, I get why you felt the need for barriers, but you
try to sleep in a corset.”
He roused at that.
“I need this dress off,” she finished.
He had decreed they’d sleep in their clothes, an effort to
fight temptation.
Therefore, he’d tugged off his boots and socks, she had
slipped off her slippers.
And they were on top of the bedclothes with the duvet pulled
over them that usually lay folded at the foot in case an evening was uncommonly
cold.
He’d forgotten she was daily tortured with that item of
apparel.
“Never understood why you women suffer that contraption,” he
remarked.
“I knew I was falling in love with you.”
Startled, Loren was powerless to do anything but allow her
words to flood through him, the light of them momentarily, but brilliantly,
illuminating places that had long been dark.
He did this before he moved his hand to the top button at
the back of her neck.
He released it from its loop, the next, and then, with
practiced ease, he angled his fingers just so, in order to slide them down and
release all the buttons in one go.
Nary a second after he accomplished this, she shivered
against him and remarked, “Maybe we should keep our clothes on.”
He grinned into the dark then pulled them both from under
the duvet and onto their feet.
He heard the silk of her dress rush to puddle on to the
floor. He then used her hips to turn her and found the ends of the satin laces
at her back. He tugged them and loosened them, thankfully unable to see what he
was doing. It was bad enough being able to feel it.
He stepped away to allow her to pull the corset over her
head, which would leave her in nothing but her shift, and he turned his
attention to the buttons on his breeches.
He pulled those down so that he was only in his undershorts,
then reached beyond her to tug back all the covers.
With a hand at her hip, he guided her in and followed her.
With ease, he turned her into his arms, but this was because
she was already heading there.
“Much better,” she decreed.
His lips curved, he pulled her closer and tangled their
legs.
Much better, yes.
And much more dangerous.
Nevertheless, his fingers found themselves wound into her
soft hair.
She melted into him.
“How’s your side?” she asked quietly.
“I’ll live.”
“The goal should be not to allow them to cut you,”
she teased.
“There were five of them, and only two of us. I can promise
you, my lady, I did try.”
“Okay, let’s stop talking about that,” she returned.
He gave her a squeeze and reassured, “They were rough.
Hooligans. No training. We were never in any real danger. I delight you still
want me regardless of the flaws I know you sense in my character, so I feel
relatively secure in sharing, in situations like that, Marlow and I work well
together.”
“Did you two learn that when you were quashing dissidents in
Lunwyn?”
Loren froze.
Entirely.
“Uh-oh,” she whispered.
“Who told you that?” he all but barked.
“Honey—”
He shifted, cupped her jaw on both sides, tipped her face to
his, even if he couldn’t see her, and shared, “You are not in trouble. I’m not
angry at you. But I’m angry. And I’m angry at whoever told you about that.”
She made excuses instead of answering him.
“I think he might have done it so I would know you a bit
better, and maybe, um…have a care should things happen like…erm, tonight.”
Since Marlow was with him when they went to attend Tor, that
only left his father, unless Middleton, Holton or Rycroft came to visit her,
which, considering none of them were close, was unlikely.
Though they were possibly getting closer due to the
announcement of his betrothal and the knowledge they could rightly assume they
were all to attend his wedding, something not one of them would miss.
And Ansley undoubtedly did it for the reasons she stated.
But considering this knowledge threatened the realm’s
security, it still was the wrong thing to do.
“This is highly confidential information, Satrine, do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“We took pains not to leave any trace. Men died for that.
What is done is done, it’s been years, but what happened was not with the
knowledge of the ruler of Lunwyn. She has since
passed. A good queen. Even more clever than you, which means she’s the only
woman I’ve known who is such.”
“Wow, thanks,” she cut in softly.
“Darling, I’m pleased you grasped the compliment. However,
I’m being deadly serious. Realms do not like other realms sending soldiers in
and meddling with their citizens, ever, and perhaps especially not in secret.”
“Yes, I can see that,” she agreed.
“We share a border with Lunwyn.
Good relations. Trade treaties that benefit both realms. Should trouble arise,
and it always does, our militaries would fight side by side. King Viktor is
young. Smart. Stable. His father is a born leader in more ways than anyone on
this planet, and a very fine man. His mother is nearly a warrior herself, and
almost as cunning as her mother was. But he’s still young. Youth can mean
impetuousness. He’s just learning to trust us as his allies and—”
“Baby, baby, baby,” she fussed, pushing up to touch her lips
to his. “I get it. Loose lips sink ships. You’re heard.”
“Loose lips sink ships?” he asked, and before she could say
anything, went on, “That’s most ingenious.”
“Well, stick around, buddy, I got a million of them.”
He chuckled.
She cuddled closer to him and tucked her face into his
chest.
When she did, he thought, this would be their nights. After
he had her, they would tangle together to sleep.
In fact, this would be their lives.
They may have a babe squirming between them if it fretted in
the dark. Dogs (who would eventually learn better and remain at the foot) when
they got them.
But in that moment, with Satrine
in his arms, Loren vowed that whatever his future brought, it would not take
him away from Satrine and their bed in the nighttime.
He’d sleep by her side every night.
Until he died.
“That’s where the dark started, isn’t it?” she asked his
chest, taking him from his thoughts.
He bent his neck and pressed his face into her hair.
There, he admitted, “Yes.”
“Thank you for your service, honey.”
He again went still as her words flooded through him.
Simple.
Meaningful.
More light in the dark before it faded away.
“You’re welcome, my love.”
She shifted against him, and this time when Loren
opened his eyes, he saw the dawn stealing around the drawn curtains.
He also smelled her.
Felt her.
Was still entirely tangled in her.
And realized his folly of asking her to stay.
As if sensing him awake, Satrine
shifted again, stretched, and felt his morning readiness, he knew, for she
stilled.
Then (he should have known), albeit gently…
She attacked.
He was on his back, she was draped down his good side, her
mouth on his, her hand on his chest, her breasts pressing in.
He pulled his mouth from hers and warned, “Darling.”
Hers was not a warning.
It was a plea.
“So you won’t hurt yourself, you’ll need to be creative. I
know you’re creative, baby. Be creative.”
He framed one side of her face with his hand, being both
relieved and pleased from her behavior from the first kiss they shared that
there was one aspect of life and living it that her mother did not hesitate to
be open about. Satrine was not at all afraid of sex.
And this was not a surprise to him. She and Corliss had a very close, honest,
open relationship.
However, being secluded all her life, she was still a
virgin.
“Satrine—”
Her hand strayed down his stomach.
He caught her wrist and chuckled. “My dearest, you know not
what you toy with.”
“I haven’t toyed with anything yet.”
He pulled her hand up his chest.
And then he got serious.
“If it is your wish, I will gladly bring you to release.”
“It is my wish, and I will gladly return the
favor.”
He felt his eyes widen.
She used hers to roam his face, his neck, then she turned
her attention to his chest.
“Gods, do you have any clue how beautiful you are?” she
asked in an awed, breathy voice that scored from his throat straight to his
cock.
All right.
Enough.
He took her to her back.
“Loren, your wound,” she snapped.
“You wish it, my love, I’ll give it to you,” he promised.
Her gaze heated.
He lost that beauty when he took her mouth.
Then he took her neck, her chest…
Pushing up her shift, he spent quite some time on her
breasts.
She was writhing under him, her fingers buried in his hair,
so he knew she was ready for what was next.
He ran his lips down the lovely outward swell of her belly
at the same time he pulled her knickers down her legs.
She kicked them off.
He spread her thighs.
And took her sex with his mouth.
She gasped a gasp he felt in his shaft, mewed a mew he felt
drive up his arse, and after he threw her legs over his shoulders, she moaned a
moan that made him bead.
She rocked against him, wanton, abandoned, her taste,
sounds, smell, reaction, all of it was more than he’d imagined, more than he
could have hoped. And with Satrine, he knew he could
hope for a great deal.
And when she climaxed against his tongue, her heels digging
into his flesh, her fingers clutching his hair, he nearly came himself.
He lapped until it left her, and only then pulled himself
over her, holding his weight on a forearm in the bed, giving her his warmth,
and nibbling at her neck as her breath steadied.
He shifted his mouth to her ear.
“Okay?”
“You’re…that was…I can’t even…you’re, um…”
He lifted his head and grinned arrogantly at her.
“Talented?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been robbed of the ability to think.
I’ve never experienced anything like that.”