The Virgin Proxy by Georgia Fox Page A

and as she began to suck his cock under the tent of her veil, it grew, stretching to fill her mouth. His sac hung beneath like two goodly sized eggs in a nest. Already they had released their load twice. How much more did he have to give before he might fall asleep and make it safe for her to leave his bed?
    Moving restlessly beneath her, he pushed his hips off the bed, sliding his shaft in and out of her mouth, while she suckled cautiously at first, her tongue exploring the taste. Then she took control. Sitting on his thighs, she pressed her hands down on his hips and held them still while she milked his organ with a hungrier rhythm, listening to the harsh sounds of his breathing. His balls were hard again, gathered up at the root of his shaft. Each time she paused her sucking to nuzzle and kiss them gently he let out a groan that shuddered the length of his body, and then she licked back upward to work her tongue over the little slit on the head, lapping up the salty bead of his liquid. He grunted a warning, but she smiled and took him fully into her throat again, massaging with her lips, stroking with her tongue. It was not difficult to learn. She simply copied what he had done to her.
    When he came, his hips and his shoulders rose up off the bed. He grabbed her head with both hands and tried to pull her away, but she wanted to swallow him down. The last thing she needed was yet more of his seed in close proximity to her womb. So she clung on, tightening her hold, sucking greedily. His body flexed under her as he cried out, as if in agony, shooting a creamy load into her throat.
    She almost choked, but swallowed it and then finally released his cock.
    He lay there panting. A shaft of moonlight, drifting through the nearest arrow slit, found his eyelids closed.
    “Are you asleep?” she whispered, hoarse. No reply. “Have I killed you?”
    She touched his lips with her finger and found them smiling.
    “Not yet,” he said.
    Deorwynn flopped down on the bed, struggling to claim some of the furs. She turned onto her side. So did he.
    They lay together, his front to her back again, his strong, heavy thigh laid over her legs, as if he thought she might make a run for it. Just like a bear, she thought again, remembering her first impression of his powerful size. He swamped her in that bed and the way he held her made Deorwynn feel prized for the first time in her life.
    He had called her “my love”. She’d tried to block it with her shield, but it kept swinging back to hit her in the chest.
    It was easy to forget he was not her husband. Easier still to forget he was the enemy.
    Until he said suddenly, “Your handmaiden, Derwyn. I like the look of her.”
    She froze, her eyes opened wide, staring at that one blob of fluttering yellow—the candle across the chamber. “Oh?”
    “She must join us in bed one evening.”
    Deorwynn could not believe her ears.
    “Make the arrangements as soon as possible,” he added.
    She wriggled, turning over to face him, fighting against her veil and his hard arms. “Firstly, my lord. Her name is pronounced Deorwynn. And secondly…am I not enough for you?”
    “Why settle for one wench when there are two to be had?” Unable to see his features fully, she just caught the gleam in his eye, as he added, “Besides, wife , your place is not to question.”
    “But… Deorwynn is….”
    “Mine now.” He leaned closer to the veil, almost biting her nose through it. “ My property . My serf.”
    “You don’t understand,” she said carefully. “Deorwynn is a proud Saxon. You are her enemy.”
    He had the gall to sound surprised. “I have done nothing to her.”
    “The Normans have ransacked, raped and pillaged all across this country. Of course she hates you.”
    “ The Normans ? You speak, my lady Sybilia, as if you are not one yourself.”
    She sucked on her tongue, damning herself for the slip. “I was merely repeating what she says. To demonstrate how heartily she despises men