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“Your mind, too, m’lady. Do not place all the blame on me.”
And so they rode, mostly in silence, toward their destination.
Drifa was in torture. The coarse material of her tunic abraded her nipples. The undulations of the horse between her thighs caused her woman-dew to weep. Sidroc’s smoldering gaze gave her ideas ... erotic ideas.
By the time they stopped for the night in a secluded clearing near a stream, Drifa was so aroused she could scarce stand. She glanced over at Sidroc, whose glowering demeanor told her, without her asking, that he was in a similar condition.
She moaned.
He groaned.
And before she could say, “I yield,” she was lifted and braced against a tree trunk with her legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed her voraciously, and she met him with wet, openmouthed kisses of her own.
At one point he drew his head back and stared at her through passion-glazed gray eyes. And all he said was “I care.”
That was enough.
It was the Perfect Storm ...
Sidroc was shocked at the intensity of his arousal.
He’d been aboard a longship one time during a violent sea storm that buffeted the boat and all the seamen about like specks of dust. That’s how he felt now. A fleck of lust-dust on the wind. Totally under the control of an erotic storm, unable to fight its power. Uninterested in fighting it, truth to tell.
“Should we lie down?” he gasped between kisses.
“Can’t wait,” she gasped back, and surprised the spit out of him by beginning to unlace his braies.
That works for me. He was a quick learner and began to unlace her braies at the same time.
Without any foresport, he surged up into her wet channel and pounded her against the tree. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she was rubbing her breasts back and forth across his chest and making keening sounds of satisfaction.
For a moment Sidroc rested, in her body to the hilt, his ballocks touching her body. He felt the vise of her slick glove shift to accommodate his size and seize at him, as if to keep him inside. He could swear he grew even more.
Sidroc had been with more women in his thirty and one years than he could recount. He’d engaged in some interesting exercises with a few of them, way beyond what Ianthe, or Drifa, would call perverted. But this ... this act of bliss with Drifa ... was like nothing he’d ever experienced.
Even though it was his cock plundering her narrow sheath, every part of his body was involved, from his ringing ears to his tingling toes. He could no more have stopped swiving her than he could have stopped breathing.
In the end, he roared out his peaking in harmony with Drifa’s sweet screams of ecstasy.
Well, that was short and sweet.
And belatedly realized that he’d forgotten to withdraw at the last moment.
And possibly disastrous.
Was this how he was to be trapped into matrimony? Was this something Drifa had planned? Nay, no one in the world could have planned something this spontaneous.
Carefully he eased himself out of her and lowered her legs until she could stand. She stared at him dazedly. “Was that another perversion?”
“Nay, Drifa, that was normal sex. Almost boring.”
Her eyes widened. “Were you bored?”
“Hardly. More like so interested my eyeballs might have been rolling back in my head.”
She smiled then. “Good. I was worried that I would only like perverted sex.”
He could swear his heart expanded as he smiled at her. Was there anything better than a woman who could make a man smile during sex?
