A Final Night in Cambas. #5
“With you?” I questioned, flattered but confused.
“No, with Bash,” she giggled. “Fletcher was telling me about the soldiers’ sleeping arrangements—it doesn’t sound very private for lovers.”
My heart stammered at the mere thought of sharing a bedchamber with Bash, but the promises I’d made to Fitzroy loomed over me like a storm cloud, casting shadows upon this fleeting moment of light.
“I cannot,” I said, suppressing my own desires. I couldn’t let my liege down on the eve of war. “Once Margaret has finished reviewing Fitzroy’s plan, I must relay her counsel to him.”
“Leave it to me,” Fletcher interjected, appearing beside Emma. “I’ll wait until she’s finished and report her verdict.”
“Are you certain?” I asked, glancing between the pair. A smile appeared on my lips at the thought of spending a night alone with Bash.
They both nodded eagerly.
I abandoned my half-filled tankard upon the bar and crossed the chamber toward Bash, who lounged by the hearth, his eyes focused on the amber flames.
“I thought you were getting another ale,” he remarked, turning from the fire to meet my gaze.
I shook my head and extended my hand to him. Without hesitation, he took it.
“Where are you leading me?” he asked with a gentle chuckle as I guided him beneath the curtain.
I ushered him through the middle door into Emma’s chamber and swiftly closed it behind us.
Bash’s gaze swept across the candlelit room, taking in the stale air, stained sheets, and bucket of murky brown water near the bedstead.
Despite its dim state, I couldn’t help but feel gladsome—it was a place where, at last, we could be alone.
“Why have you trapped me in here?” Bash teased, his hands slipping softly around my waist.
“I’ve arranged for us to lodge at the finest inn Cambas has to offer,” I replied, a playful smile curling my lips.
“We’re staying here tonight?” he asked, his merry tone filling me with joy.
I nodded.
Bash released his hold on me and flopped onto the mattress with a delighted groan, as though this dingy hovel were grander than any royal palace.
“I cannot wait to rest on a proper bedstead,” he exclaimed, patting the space beside him.
I removed my cloak and crawled onto the sheets, lying down, my gaze fixed upon his kind gray eyes. He reached over, his fingertips brushing my heated cheek in a tender caress.
“I cannot wait to spend the night in your arms,” I murmured.
Bash rolled onto his side, and I followed suit, resting my hand gently upon his hip.
His eyes darted between mine as I held my breath, anticipation quickening my heartbeat, willing him to make the first move. Tentatively, he edged nearer, his fingers curling around the nape of my neck, drawing me in. Our lips met—each kiss tender and slow, but quickly, desire took over.
His hands drifted down my body, leaving tingles in their wake, until his grip settled firmly on my waist. With an effortless motion, he rolled me atop him, and I straddled a leg on either side of his torso.
As I sank down, his stiffening manhood pressed against me, and I couldn’t stop myself from gently grinding against it.
Bash groaned, reciprocating my movements as he pushed his hips upward to meet mine.
Then, his fingers fumbled with the string on the front of my tunic—impatience driving him to thrust them beneath the linen. I trembled as his warm hands traveled up my body, cupping my breasts in his palms. Softly, he squeezed them, his thumbs tenderly brushing over my stiff nipples.
A moment later, Bash moved on top, swiftly switching our positions. His hand reached inside my breeches, toward the part of my body that yearned for his touch.
Gently, his fingertips traced the contours of my passage, coaxing a whimper from me as his lips brushed against my ear.
“I’ve imagined the noises you’d make if I touched you between your legs on more occasions than I care to admit,” Bash murmured, his stroke growing more intense with each word.
I tilted my head, pressing my mouth to his ear. “And I’ve imagined how it would feel to have you inside of me countless times,” I confessed, my heart thumping with eager anticipation.
Bash licked his lips, leaning back as he hastily unbuckled my breeches. Once he pulled them off—I sat half exposed—I instinctively pressed my legs together, overcome with shyness. Bash had a way of stirring butterflies in my stomach unlike anyone else.
“Open them for me,” he said softly, his fingers delicately parting my knees.
I knew I was safe with Bash—he’d never use my vulnerability against me.
Letting my legs fall open, I unveiled myself for him. For a moment, he held my gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, before he glanced downward and groaned at the sight.
“Every time I learn something new about you, Smith, you become unimaginably more perfect than I thought possible,” Bash said, taking one of my feet in his hands.
He slipped off my slippers and stockings with care, tenderly pressing kisses to the soles of each foot. His lips tickled my skin, eliciting giggles from me with every touch.
His hands traveled up my legs, his nails digging into the meat of my thighs as if he’d just caught a wild animal and was ravenous for its flesh.
Eagerly, he spread my legs until there was enough space for his head to nuzzle in between.
With tender kisses, he edged along my inner thighs, each brush of his lips making my skin tingle.
I ran my fingers through his hair, pushing it back so I could see his face.
Gradually, he inched toward the place where my need for him pulsed.
He briefly caught my eye as his tongue glided across my slit, then he tended to my throbbing pillar.
“Oh, Bash,” I moaned out, longing for him to know how delightful his tongue felt.
Keeping his mouth sealed around my mound, he slipped two fingers inside of me—gently gliding them in and out. My legs shook as Bash, buried between my thighs, groaned. His noises made me feral; I wound my fingers tightly through his hair, holding him close as I ground myself against his face.
Desperation surged within me—I needed his lips back on mine. With a firm tug on his locks, I drew him away from the warmth of my thighs.
“Kiss me,” I pleaded, and he claimed my mouth in a passionate embrace.
My hand drifted toward his manhood, squeezing Bash’s solid cock through his breeches.
He sat back, pulling me upright to remove my tunic.
Once mine was off, I wrestled with his, sliding the linen over his head.
I ran my fingertips over every groove of his toned torso, before moving my hands up to squeeze his muscular chest. I’d wanted to touch his body for so long that finally being able to do it felt like a dream.
“And the rest,” I said, pulling at his breeches.
Without hesitation, he stood, unbuckling his belt before sliding them down.
My mouth dropped at the sight of his broad shoulders, chiseled torso, and strong legs.
As I glanced at his large, hard member, my cheeks blushed.
I covered my eyes, peering through my fingers at him—he looked better without any garments on.
If I had his physique, I’d find any excuse to be nude.
“You’re unflawed,” I breathed, beckoning him closer.
Bash smiled as he made his way toward me. “I’m glad you think so.”
I crawled to the edge of the bedstead, kneeling before him while keeping our gazes locked.
With my belly aflutter, I reached for his hips and pulled him closer, spitting on my palm before gripping his thick shaft.
Slowly, I stroked the length, eliciting a whimper from Bash—his noises of pleasure were just as arousing as if he were touching me.
I moved forward and pressed gentle kisses against his tip.
“You tease,” Bash murmured, a flush of pink spreading across his cheeks. As I smoothed my warm tongue over his swollen head, his eyes rolled. “Uh, heavenly,” he uttered, his breath hitching.
In a firm motion, he brushed my hair back, clutching the strands atop my head as if they were reins. Tentatively, he edged his tip between my wet lips before pushing himself down my throat—stopping when I resisted.
“You’re divine,” Bash groaned, using a handful of my locks to bop my head up and down on his cock.
As I sucked, I gazed past his toned chest to meet his eyes. Bash’s mouth was slightly open as he focused on using me to pleasure himself.
“Your mouth’s a blessing from the gods,” he said, tilting his head back in ecstasy.
A moment later, he pulled me away—saliva stringing from his hard cock as it sprung free from my flushed lips. “If you keep doing that I’m going to come,” he panted.
I smiled smugly at the idea of making Bash lose his composure so quickly.
He leaned over, his lips grazing my neck as we tumbled back, our bodies entwined upon the bedstead. With each deepening kiss, my desire for him consumed every thought—I couldn’t feel truly satiated by our closeness unless we melted into one.
His strained tip teased my opening, like it was urgently trying to get inside of me.
Quivering, I moved my hips upward, yearning for him, too.
I fumbled around between our bodies, trying to guide his cock between my folds.
Bash let out a breathy laugh at my desperation, his hand finding mine to help.
He took his shaft in his fist and gently glided his whole length inside of me.
The sensation stole my breath, while Bash’s groan caught in his throat. Holding my gaze, he slowly thrust—each stroke sending a tingle down my spine, overwhelmed by the meaningful glint in his eyes.
“You feel marvelous,” Bash panted out.
I nodded, overcome with sheer bliss—this was, without a doubt, the most glorious sensation I’d ever known.
“Ride me,” he murmured, withdrawing himself.