The Conqueror

Neither did he. Whatever intensity was in him, it was in her too. And all it wanted was more passion, more fuel to the fire of his deep and intense desire for her. Not just her body. Her being, her heart, whatever moved her and animated her.

He wrapped her long dark, silk-entwined braid around his palm and dragged her head backwards.

“What do you want to do, Guinevere?” he asked in a low voice. Her face was tipped up to his, her breath hot.

“Whatever you want,” she whispered back.

He descended, plying her mouth wide beneath him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, her tongue meeting his every almost violent lash with one of her own, kissing so hard their teeth clicked together. Mouths still locked, his hand still wound amid her braid, he made her walk backwards until her legs hit the mattress and she sat.

Then he stood in front of her, wordless, their eyes locked, swiftly unwrapping her braid with one hand. He pushed the other, without warning or permission, down the front of her dress.

“Like that,” he said almost roughly, as her hair came spilling out. “That is how I like it.”

“Then that is how you shall have it,” she said, her whispered words as rough-edged as his own. She reached forward and moulded her slender fingers around his erection. He dropped his head and closed his eyes, one hand resting gently on her head, the other still down the front of her dress. Her hand slid up and down the length of him, hard.

“Lean into me,” he ordered hoarsely.

She did, until her forehead rested against his stomach. This gave him more space to push his hand down her bodice and trace the puckered areola of her nipple. Then he pinched it gently.

Her breath exploded out of her in a deep moan. He closed his fist around her hair and pressed his hips forward, into her mouth. Her warm, moist breath pressed into the material of his hose, at odds with the sharp edges of her teeth. Her tongue flicked out against him, a pushing wet pressure, doing to him what he’d done to her so many times, coaxing her into desire through her clothes.

“Jésu, woman,” he growled, and gently pushed her back onto the bed. He tore at his clothes, flinging each item away. She was tearing at hers just as wildly, and he knelt on the bed beside her, helping her cast away her gown and chemise, his fingers fumbling where they were usually so sure.

“I love you, Gwyn,” he said hoarsely, and swung one leg over her body, a knee on either side of her now trembling body. A tear spilled from the corner of her eye. It made him angry. He dashed it away with the back of a knuckle and bent his full attention to her body, stretched out on the furs for him to take.

Lowering his head, he sucked her breast into his mouth and sent his tongue flicking hotly over the taut red bud thrust up for him. She cried out as his teeth tightened around it, just enough to make her gasp. Her body arched with a moan and she reached for him, but he caught her wrists together and pressed them to the pillow above her head. With his other hand, he pressed a long, thick finger to her wetness, just one, swift stroke.

Her body bucked into the air, her head back.

Slippery, hot and wet, he sent his fingers plunging into her again. Her knees fell apart and her spine arched up, pushing her body up to him. He rolled to his side, his chest pressing against her sweaty ribs, one hand holding her wrists, the other driving his fingers in and out of her wet heat. He nipped at her breast, a sharp bite followed by a smooth, hot lap of his wicked tongue, taut and tight. Her breath came out hot and fast and ragged. She tugged sharply on her hands, to free them. He tightened his hold. Evidence of his desire pressed velvety and hard against her hip, and she shifted towards it.

“Please,” she moaned, her mouth against his shoulder.

He reveled in watching her body writhe and buck at his command, in her long black hair tossed and knotted about on the pillow above, in hearing the small, breat

hy sounds shudder out of her. Her whimpers were growing more rhythmic, more gasping, less controlled.

He rose up between her legs and in one swift, rocking movement, sheathed himself within her, thrusting to the hilt. She flung her head back and reached for him, crying out.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered hoarsely. She did, holding him between her slippery, trembling thighs. Then, ankles locked behind his back, she pushed up onto her elbows and dropped her head back, her hips high in the air, meeting each pounding thrust of his.

Wet and tight, her flesh was hot, swelling, sweet womanly depths. He felt release barreling down on him. He plunged deeply into her again, then held, pushing steadily high inside her.

“Oh, aye,” she cried. Her body was slicked with sweat, and she pleaded for him to move again, more. He could feel it coming for her, tightening her body, making her cries more reckless and rhythmic.

“Please, Griffyn, please, aye, please,” she was moaning.

He rolled them over, holding her torso and hips close to him, until she was straddling him, stretched out over his belly and legs.

“Come on, my love,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers, his wide hands on her hips. “Now.”

“You,” she panted. “You too.”

A passion-wasted laugh came out of him. “Oh, I will.”

She sat up, straddling him, knees bent on either side of his body. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back, her hips rocking on him. He felt the tickle of her long hair drift across his bent knees and down his shins. He slid his hand down between them, pushed his thumb in to caress the swirling, wet nub. Her movements sped up, driving him deeper inside her pulsing, hot body. The room was silent, the only sound was pounding flesh, his grunts of pleasure, her gasps and mewlings. She lifted her arms and crossed them at the wrists, rested them on the top of her head, then arched back, her breasts jutting out, her lush mouth open and panting, and drove herself into him hard, whimpering with each thrust. Goddess.

He reached for the back of her neck and pulled her down to him, locking their mouths together in a deep, endless kiss. When he released her, she stayed bent low over his body, her chin up, eyes closed, hands splayed on the mattress, intent now on only one thing. He lifted his hips in rhythmic sweeps, watching her face, aiming for that spot high and deep inside her with every carnal thrust.