Medieval 03 - Enchanted

“Undo them for me. If I let go of the mantle, the
wind will have it.”
    “I would rather undo your laces.”
    “You already have.”
    “Not those on your shirt,” Ariane
said.
    As she spoke, she ducked beneath the mantle and
probed between the laces of Simon’s shirt with her tongue.
Then she began sliding back down his muscular torso, hungry for him
in a way that she couldn’t name.
    Simon caught Ariane just before her mouth found him
again. Muscles bunched as he lifted her upright once more. In the
flickering light her eyes were wide, dark, shimmering with an
unbridled hunger that made Simon’s body clench. Her tongue
darted out, touching the center of her upper lip as though catching
up a drop of wine.
    “You tasted as wild as the storm,”
Ariane said. “Let me taste you again.”
    “You will undo me,” Simon said through
his teeth.
    “I enjoy undoing you.”
    “As sweet as your hands are, as hot as your
mouth is, I would rather spill my seed inside your body.”
    Ariane trembled. After a moment she found
Simon’s aroused flesh with her hands. Breath hissed savagely
over his teeth at her touch.
    “But you don’t want that, do
you?” Simon said. “You don’t want me sheathed
within you. Why? You aren’t a virgin to fear a man’s
hunger.”
    “No, I’m not a virgin…”
    Ariane sighed and shivered. With one hand she
slowly began drawing up the skirts of her dress. With the other,
she held Simon tenderly captive. The fey cloth came as though
summoned, riding up her thighs and swirling around her waist,
leaving her naked but for the brushing of the mantle’s white
fur lining on her hips.
    “Remember the friend I told you about?”
Ariane asked.
    Simon had difficulty concentrating on anything but
his own heavy arousal and the feel of Ariane’s dress sliding
up his thighs.
    “Friend?” he said thickly.
    Following the instincts of her own need, Ariane
brought Simon to the tight sheath that passion had transformed into
a sultry, aching emptiness.
    “Aye,” she murmured. “My friend
who was raped.”
    Ariane shifted, pressing herself against the rigid
flesh passion had conjured from Simon’s body. She rubbed over
him, moistening him as surely as her mouth had. The next motion of
her hips over him was easier, deeper, sweeter.
    It made her want more. Much more. But she
wasn’t certain how to accomplish it. All she knew was that
the feel of his blunt arousal caressing her made her
want… something .
    Simon groaned as he felt Ariane’s sultry
petals parting and gliding over him. Harshly he fought to control
the need that had become a living thing tearing at his loins.
    “Yes,” Simon said raggedly. “I
remember. Your friend.”
    Clinging to Simon, feeling the cold wind only as an
exquisite contrast to the heat of their embrace, Ariane shivered
with pure pleasure at the feel of him gently lodged between her
thighs. Ecstasy swept through her in a hot, secret storm.
    The breaking of Simon’s breath and the sudden
thrust of his body against her told Ariane that he had felt her
sultry rain as surely as she had.
    “I am she,” Ariane said.
    For a moment Simon didn’t understand.
    Then he did.
    He looked down at Ariane’s face. She was fire
and shadow, half-opened eyes smoldering, her mouth still flushed
from his kisses.
    “You?” Simon asked hoarsely.
    “Aye. My first and only experience of a man
left me torn, bloodied, beaten. Betrayed.”
    “Nightingale. My God…”
    Simon trembled as he bent to kiss Ariane’s
eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. The caresses were both hungryand restrained. They made her feel bathed in tender
warmth.
    “I believed that this,” Ariane’s
hips moved, measuring Simon even as she returned his kisses,
“this instrument of silk and steel was meant to punish a
woman.”
    Beneath Simon’s short beard, his jaw muscles
clenched against the sweet torment of being caressed by her
softness and at the same instant knowing full well that there would
be no release for him within her body.
    Torn, bloodied,
beaten .
    Betrayed .
    “I understand,” Simon said huskily.
    “’Tis why I froze whenever you tried to
touch between my thighs. I was frightened of being hurt
again.”
    “Yes. I understand. Now.”
    Simon breathed kisses against Ariane’s
eyelids and sipped at the ends of her long lashes.
    “But I’m not frightened of you
anymore,” Ariane whispered.
    Simon said nothing, for he was afraid he
hadn’t heard her words correctly.
    “Put your arm beneath