Medieval 03 - Enchanted

my hips,” Ariane
said, remembering how Thomas had carried Marie from the armory.
    Simon bent and did as Ariane asked, too surprised
to ask why. The feel of Ariane’s resilient, sleek bottom
against his arm sent sensual lightning through both of them. Her
knees gave way, making her cling all the harder to Simon.
    “Help me,” Ariane whispered.
    The wind took most of her words, but Simon
didn’t hesitate. Her body was telling him everything he
needed to know, more than he had ever believed he would have from
his dark nightingale.
    “Lift me,” Ariane whispered.
    Simon turned his back to the wind, letting it fold
the mantle around both of them. As he took the weight of Ariane on
his arm, her own arms went around hisneck and
clung. Her thighs parted and her legs wrapped around his body.
    “Fill me, Simon,” Ariane breathed
against his lips.
    With a throttled sound that was her name, Simon fit
himself to Ariane as he had in his dreams, pressing gently and then
harder, pushing slowly, deeper and then deeper still, feeling her
sleek and wet and tight around him, welcoming him.
    A long, unraveling sigh rippled from Ariane as she
felt Simon parting her, penetrating her, stretching her…but
not hurting her. The wonder of the sensuous joining trembled
through her, ecstasy delicately raking her, calling a shimmering,
passionate rain from her depths.
    The sultry eagerness of Ariane’s body drew
forth a single hot pulse of response from Simon. He eased his way
even more deeply into her, until he was locked within her, fully
sheathed, more perfectly coupled with a woman than he had ever been
in his life.
    Ariane whimpered and clenched around Simon so
tightly that he could barely breathe for the pleasure she gave him.
The sensation of being held within a sleek, loving vise was
extraordinary.
    Suddenly Simon remembered what Ariane had said the
first time she had held his naked, aroused flesh in her hands.
    I am afraid of this.
’Tis made to tear a woman apart .
    “Nightingale,” Simon said hoarsely.
“Am I hurting you?”
    When Ariane opened her mouth to answer, all that
came out was another of the odd, broken cries that had alarmed
Simon.
    Sweat bloomed beneath Simon’s clothes as he
fought against his deepest needs. Ariane was so hot around him, so
tight, so sleek, she seemed to beg for an even deeper joining.
    He knew he should spare her, yet he wanted only to
delve more deeply, pushing himself in to the hilt.
    Slowly he began to withdraw.
    Unable to speak, Ariane clung to Simon, shivering
with the violence of her response to being filled so perfectly by
him, if only for a few moments.
    “Ariane? Is even this too much?”
    “Again,” Ariane said finally,
raggedly.
    As she spoke, her nails scored against
Simon’s neck and she locked her legs more tightly about his
body, trying to force him back inside her warmth.
    Her strength was no match for his. He held her
away, wanting to be certain that he wasn’t forcing himself
into her tight sheath.
    Torn, bloodied .
    Simon set his teeth. “Talk to me,
nightingale. Tell me what you want.”
    “I—I must—have you.”
    “Like this?”
    Ariane’s breath caught as she felt herself
stretched and stretched while Simon slowly penetrated her again.
His name splintered on her lips.
    “Am I hurting you?” Simon asked,
withdrawing.
    She shook her head. “Not—like
that.”
    “You cried out.”
    “It was the beauty of—”
    “This?”
    Simon pressed into Ariane again, watching her eyes,
and this time he didn’t stop until they were so completely
joined that the silken knot of her passion was drawn tautly against
his body.
    “Ariane?”
    “Dear God, yes. Simon .”
    The sound of his name breaking on Ariane’s
lips destroyed Simon’s control. His arms closed even more
tightly around her, locking her against him while he drove into her
again and again, drinking the wild cries that came from her
lips.
    Ecstasy trembled inside Ariane, then burst,
trembled and burst again and again, spilling through her to Simon.He gave it back to her pulse for pulse,
caressing her soft depths even as he spent himself within them.
    Then he held her, simply held her, until they could
breathe without unraveling all over again.
    Gradually the sound of the wind and stray lashes of
icy rain reminded Simon that he was on the battlements and the
sentry might come by at any time.
    Reluctantly Simon began to lift Ariane off his
body. Her legs locked with surprising strength.
    “We must go