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Her protestations were met with a beguiling mixture of calm determination and fruitful technique. He rose, taking her legs with him, and knelt on the bed. Only her shoulders remained on the mattress, the rest of her was dangling from around his neck. His arms wrapped themselves about her waist, hugging her into an embrace that stilled her. He kissed her inner thighs, pecking at her, until she ceased squawking and pivoting.
The sucks of his lips around her clitoris became rhythmic and less intimidating. Having established the position, and ensuring she wasn’t trying to escape his clutches, he rested his cheek against one thigh, and circled her pussy with his tongue. The leisurely change in pace brought a period of peace. The orgasms rippled on, then away. Exhausted, she might have dozed in that placated state. For, when she opened her eyes, he had moved. She was now lying partially on her side, and he was also resting fully across the lower half of the bed with one of her legs draped over his back, the other spread-eagled in the other direction.
He had ceased the arduous predation of her pussy and clitoris, preferring to softly kiss. She stretched, splaying her legs in such a way he need not hold them. With her fatigue to his advantage, he transferred his body over hers and kissed her breasts.
“You have dainty nipples,” he said abruptly.
“I do?” she murmured.
“I will let you sleep awhile. You’re too tired to cope with what I have planned for you.”
She yawned. “Yes, sleep. Thank you, my lord.”
Chapter Eleven
He let her sleep for an hour or so while he sat in the master chair with his reclaimed robe draped over his shoulders. Content, he watched her from the fireside and allowed her taste to linger in his mouth, but eventually, thirst drove him to wash it away.
He stoked the fire, petted Ivan, his mastiff, who’d nudged open the door and padded into the room while they were in the midst of her oral initiation, and together they waited for her to stir.
She purred in her sleep, moaning occasionally. He’d not covered her body as the room was sufficiently warm. It allowed him the pleasure of a wondrous sight: she orgasmed in her sleep. He thought her sated, unable to continue, but her body was desperate for more, for even in slumber, her mind carried her off into a dream that conjured up sexual images, ones that kept her aroused and her sex pulsating.
Any other woman, one of the many he had taken for his pleasure, would have accepted he was within his rights to take her whenever he desired it, even in her sleep. But Matilda was not of that ilk. Like battle-scarred soldiers, those women of the night had a stamina and courage that few could match. Matilda, young and nubile, was an emotional novice and delicate in body. Her weak flailing, easily contained by his strength, merely demonstrated she probably thought resistance a silly game, and unlikely to please him. What went on in her head was for him to find out—first she had to trust him. As for his dark thoughts, she was not to know the extent of his fantasies, the games he wished to play, and how hard he struggled to contain the beast within him.
The worst kind of beasts, the barbaric men of faraway lands, had cruel natures, often prone to weak control and ill-conceived ideas, and violence. They took, and never gave back. They stole women away, then having satisfied their greed, they abandoned them to their fate, usually leaving them far from home and despoiled.
But not all beasts were evil. Some manifested the physical attributes but kept hold of humanity. They stayed in control, kept a tight discipline of body and mind, ensuring the primeval forces that drove them never ruled in entirety. Those women conquered by such beasts, the Zalim, were never tossed aside and were treated as worthy prizes to be adored and claimed with diligent vigour. They were returned to their homes, and although no longer chaste or innocent, neither were they scarred or afraid. In secret, those ladies wore badges of honour, knowing they were special and an accolade for the men who pursued them.
Gervais wanted Matilda to know the nature of the Zalim within him. She would have to learn to live with it, if they married. At some point during their days of betrothal, he would have to unleash it and hope she accepted it was an integral part of him, and that it would always master her, denying her any hope of equality in authority. It was too late to change himself into a different kind of man. For many years, he had allowed the Zalim to thrive within him, learning from others had to grow it, feed it, and never allow another man to control it. He was more than a lord. Gervais was a hunter, a warrior, and leader of men. But he was also a half-formed human. The other half was wild. None ever saw the transformation, there were no outward characteristics to behold, he remained always trapped in the body of an earthly hunter. What he manifested came from the heart and soul of his being, and only a woman who gave herself to him ever encountered his true nature.
Geoffrey had no beast of any kind in him. How could he possibly satisfy Matilda?
The crackling fire woke Matilda. Gervais was crouched near the fire, turning the meat on a spit. Seeing her awake, he removed the roast and carved it with his hunting knife.
“I thought you might be hungry.” Gervais held out a plate. “Mutton, nothing special.” There was bread, too.
She ate greedily, unashamed by the ravenous wakening. He picked at his food, smiling between mouthfuls. She had wrapped a blanket around her body, and he let her, and from the bed, she’d moved to the hearth. He let her do that too.
Ivan licked their plates clean.
Reaching over, Gervais snatched the blanket from her shoulders and dragged it down.
“My lord,” she decried. “What now?”
“Now?” He dragged her toward him using the blanket as a vehicle. “Now it is time for your cunt to welcome me.” His cock rose at the suggestion. It was easily enticed when the surroundings were appropriately fashioned, and a naked woman was as good a starting point as any.
She blushed at the crude language. “Sir. I can’t possibly... I have not the capacity—”
She had so little understanding. It amused him. “Your mouth managed. Your pussy will stretch, don’t fret.”
Her eyes widened into moons of disbelief. “It can’t. It will resist you.”
“Only if your mind does. Let your body dictate your emotions, not your thoughts. Unless...” He pursed his lips.
She shuffled closer to his chair, keeping part of the blanket across her midriff. “Sir?”
“Unless your thoughts are wicked.”
The blush deepened. “I have no thoughts like that, sir.”
