Tamed by a Knight

“Is—” She squeaked, then clamped shut her lips. At his grin, she narrowed her eyes and cleared her throat. “Is this done?” she finally ground out, her hand still firmly cupping herself.

He inserted a finger between hers, sliding to her nether lips, testing the moisture gathered there, and finding her body more than ready. “Open your legs,” he commanded her once more. He lifted one brow. “Would you deny your husband?”

Her gray eyes blinked. “This will truly please you?”

“Above all things, wife.”

She pondered that thought for a long moment, and her jaws and throat worked as though waging an internal argument. Finally, she withdrew her hand and relaxed her legs around him, letting him shift to plant his elbows on the bed between her splayed thighs until he was braced over her sex.

Her succulent sex. Open wide. Glazed with honey. He leaned close and inhaled, holding her wide-eyed gaze.

“That’s…” Her nose scrunched as she sputtered. “That’s disgusting!” she cried out. “You’re sniffing me like a dog. I swear to you I’m no bitch to your sire.”

“Your scent is rich, filled with the sweet perfume of your arousal.” He marveled he could manage a coherent sentence. Perhaps there was a minstrel inhabiting his skin. He had a sudden urge to tell her how sweet her rosy nether lips smelled.

But he didn’t think she’d appreciate any attempt at prose right now. Wanting to cut short her ability to speak, and therefore distract him, he stuck out his tongue and lapped at the moisture clinging to her velvety-soft outer lips.

Her gasp was thin, reedy. Her subsequent breaths rasped like a jagged breeze.

He licked again, and her mouth opened wide and curved around a deep, guttural groan.

Again…and her belly undulated, lifting her sex to his mouth, pressing hard against his lips.

At her eager invitation, he nestled his mouth between her outer lips and began to lick and suckle the thin, pink inner lips. Her eyes drifted shut, and her hands fluttered to the pillows beside her head.

Roland thought he’d never seen a woman more beautiful, more lost in her passion. He felt powerful—more manly than he’d ever felt before.

If this delicate wanton awaited him each night of his wedded life, he’d never stray from their marriage bed.

While her head thrashed on her pillow and her moans soughed between her swollen lips, he plied her body with sensual tortures, tasting her ripening arousal in the silken juices that spilled from inside her. Her responses were completely natural, completely without pretense. She pleased him deeply, filling him with a tender emotion he wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

Instead, he plunged his tongue into her, lapping at her inner walls, his lust building as her cunt clasped and opened in greedy gulps in response to his ministrations. Soon, he’d take her soon.

His own body trembled with the need to plunge inside her. His skin broke into a sweat, the fever of arousal heating his face and chest. A powerful urgency knotted his groin, overfilling his cock so the skin surrounding his shaft felt ready to split from the pressure.

“Milord,” she moaned. “Please!”

He withdrew his tongue and inhaled deeply. “Roland, wife,” he ground out. “Call me Roland.”

“I’ll call you cruel if you do not end this,” she complained. Her fingernails bit into his scalp, tugging his hair hard.

He grinned, enjoying the flame snapping in her gaze. Not so much a mouse now, and not the least bit acquiescent. He pushed a finger into her tight channel, twisting it into her, wriggling it to scrape his knuckles against her inner walls.

Her hips jerked off the mattress. “Please, more. More. Come inside me, please.”

He pressed another finger inside her and nearly groaned as she spasmed around him, squeezing him tight, her inner muscles milking his fingers.

She was nearly there, nearly ready for the fucking he intended to give his tender bride.

His lips closed around the hard knot at the top of her sex, and he plunged a third finger into her, stroking inside. His little wife keened loud enough to make him wince. When he sucked hard on her love-knot, an unladylike squeal rang in his ears.

“Roland, damn you. Pleeeaase!” The word stretched into a wail.

He snorted, opened his mouth to give one last suckle to her engorged nub, then lunged up her body, covering her before she could catch her startled breath.

Margaret reached eagerly for him, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and pulled him down to her. Her head rushed up to meet his, her lips mashing inexpertly, but enthusiastically, against his.

Then he was pushing inside her, pressing past swollen lips into her heated cunt. It swallowed him like a greedy mouth, slurping, sucking him inward with writhing spasms. He pushed deeper, pulled out, and then slammed forward to seat himself fully. His thighs bunched as he came up on his knees, his buttocks tightened and flexed. Then he was lost in the furious