against her hipbone.
The state of shock and a bit of fear kept her still as she evaluated Slayde’s intent, which she deemed as benign since the man appeared to be asleep. Perhaps if she merely wriggled out from under him ... not easy in the limited space behind the loom ... and the formidable size of him ...
“I have waited for you, Llyrica,” Slayde said, a notch above silence. With a contented moan, he pulled her closer, moved his cheek to her breast as if he considered it a pillow.
His words proved him not asleep and a different man than by day.
“Waited for me to wash to your shore in a barrel? A woman you have insulted and have called a whore?” She whispered into the dark, dazed at this turnabout.
“Nay, Sweet Softness, I have waited for you to wash into my heart.” His breath, with its cool scent, fanned hotly against her breast, since the linen could hardly be thought of as a barrier between them. “Tell me you will stay.”
“Our agreement is that I stay a sennight, ealdorman, during which time I pray to find my brother. Then I am off to my own pursuits.”
He raised his head, lips hovering above hers as he stroked her arm, inciting a shiver. “I shall be bereft if you go. Therefore, find your brother, but I wish that your pursuits and mine might be shared, that we could remain together. Say it will be so.”
It was hard to breathe, to think, with his flesh so meshed to hers. “I am bewildered by these sentiments, since you have recently disparaged me on all points and seem to enjoy humiliating me in front of your men. And your cruel remark about my potential skills as a mother ...”
He shushed her with a finger to her lips. “If I have harbored even the least ill thought with regards to you, I will be thrashed. I could see in you, at once, only sweet affection, a gift of which there is too little in the world ... and which I value. Now give me your word that you will stay with me always.”
These were words meant for a harlot, perhaps, but highly effective. She remembered Mother once gave a this description of father: equal parts charm, allure and cruelty. Perhaps a man much the same as Slayde the StoneHeart, in whom she could indeed see a measure of cruelty. Now she witnessed the charm and allure. His powers worked on her, made her heart beat faster, brought a rush of pleasure to deep unnamed places within her. She wondered if it had happened this way with Mother the first time she met father. If so, then small wonder Mother had set about weaving a lovesong into a cloak of violet, indigo and harvest gold and then dressed Haesten in it. Llyrica could not help but compose the words she would sing to win a man’s heart. This man’s.
“I await your answer impatiently, so I shall pass the time thusly.” Slayde’s mouth pressed to hers, the mating of soft flesh in firm undulation.
This kiss differed from that on the ship, allowed for participation from the recipient, if she so desired. Curiosity and want compelled her open to the novel taste of the man’s moist and mobile mouth. It produced in her a hunger of the senses, lain dormant in years of solitude until now, signaled to wakefulness by the man’s caress. This newfound need silenced the inner voice that might bid her question right or wrong. She discovered wonder at this male to female joining and moved her body subtly beneath him, seeking closer contact. He responded by stroking her hair.
“Llyrica, I vow you are the softest creature that God has ever made.” With a contented groan, his fingers glided along a thick strand of her hair until they brushed the side of her breast, inspiring an unidentifiable impulse. When she instinctively shifted toward him, causing his knuckles to graze her nipple, Slayde welcomed the invitation. He unfurled his hand and took the whole of her breast in an erotic massage. With a sigh of bliss, Llyrica touched her hand to his face in reply. He turned his head to kiss her palm, then moved his lips
The state of shock and a bit of fear kept her still as she evaluated Slayde’s intent, which she deemed as benign since the man appeared to be asleep. Perhaps if she merely wriggled out from under him ... not easy in the limited space behind the loom ... and the formidable size of him ...
“I have waited for you, Llyrica,” Slayde said, a notch above silence. With a contented moan, he pulled her closer, moved his cheek to her breast as if he considered it a pillow.
His words proved him not asleep and a different man than by day.
“Waited for me to wash to your shore in a barrel? A woman you have insulted and have called a whore?” She whispered into the dark, dazed at this turnabout.
“Nay, Sweet Softness, I have waited for you to wash into my heart.” His breath, with its cool scent, fanned hotly against her breast, since the linen could hardly be thought of as a barrier between them. “Tell me you will stay.”
“Our agreement is that I stay a sennight, ealdorman, during which time I pray to find my brother. Then I am off to my own pursuits.”
He raised his head, lips hovering above hers as he stroked her arm, inciting a shiver. “I shall be bereft if you go. Therefore, find your brother, but I wish that your pursuits and mine might be shared, that we could remain together. Say it will be so.”
It was hard to breathe, to think, with his flesh so meshed to hers. “I am bewildered by these sentiments, since you have recently disparaged me on all points and seem to enjoy humiliating me in front of your men. And your cruel remark about my potential skills as a mother ...”
He shushed her with a finger to her lips. “If I have harbored even the least ill thought with regards to you, I will be thrashed. I could see in you, at once, only sweet affection, a gift of which there is too little in the world ... and which I value. Now give me your word that you will stay with me always.”
These were words meant for a harlot, perhaps, but highly effective. She remembered Mother once gave a this description of father: equal parts charm, allure and cruelty. Perhaps a man much the same as Slayde the StoneHeart, in whom she could indeed see a measure of cruelty. Now she witnessed the charm and allure. His powers worked on her, made her heart beat faster, brought a rush of pleasure to deep unnamed places within her. She wondered if it had happened this way with Mother the first time she met father. If so, then small wonder Mother had set about weaving a lovesong into a cloak of violet, indigo and harvest gold and then dressed Haesten in it. Llyrica could not help but compose the words she would sing to win a man’s heart. This man’s.
“I await your answer impatiently, so I shall pass the time thusly.” Slayde’s mouth pressed to hers, the mating of soft flesh in firm undulation.
This kiss differed from that on the ship, allowed for participation from the recipient, if she so desired. Curiosity and want compelled her open to the novel taste of the man’s moist and mobile mouth. It produced in her a hunger of the senses, lain dormant in years of solitude until now, signaled to wakefulness by the man’s caress. This newfound need silenced the inner voice that might bid her question right or wrong. She discovered wonder at this male to female joining and moved her body subtly beneath him, seeking closer contact. He responded by stroking her hair.
“Llyrica, I vow you are the softest creature that God has ever made.” With a contented groan, his fingers glided along a thick strand of her hair until they brushed the side of her breast, inspiring an unidentifiable impulse. When she instinctively shifted toward him, causing his knuckles to graze her nipple, Slayde welcomed the invitation. He unfurled his hand and took the whole of her breast in an erotic massage. With a sigh of bliss, Llyrica touched her hand to his face in reply. He turned his head to kiss her palm, then moved his lips
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