A Knight In Her Bed(3)

This man’s skin.

Startled at her own thoughts, Juliet looked up and found his eyes upon her. They were pale. Blue? No, grey, silver grey. She wondered whether his mouth would be rough against hers, where the scar crossed it, and whether he would be eager like Henry, or practised and bored, having had so many women.

Suddenly it didn’t matter.

She was alone and lonely and he was well made and generous. She could take what she wanted and be on her way, with a few pleasant memories to take with her. It wouldn’t mean anything. It wasn’t as if he could touch her heart.

“Will I have to pay for my meal?” she said, her voice sing song from the wine, but she wasn’t drunk. Rather the wine had made her see her life for what it was, and her loneliness was suddenly acute.

He sipped from his goblet and for a moment she swore his hand was shaking. But it could not be; it must be a trick of the light. “The food is free, Juliet, but if you wish to stay

longer . . . ?”

She stood up, smoothing down her dull green skirts. Her dark hair was loose about her shoulders and she twisted it and tossed it back, out of the way. Juliet was a small woman and curvy in all the right places. She had admirers, many of them, but she was choosy. She could count her lovers on one hand and there had never been a man who captured her heart.

Slowly, watching him, she made her approach. He sat perfectly still, observing her, but there was a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Standing before him, she hesitated a moment, suddenly doubting herself. Perhaps he didn’t like women. There were men like that. But as soon as she placed her hand lightly upon his shoulder he pulled her down onto his lap, and she forgot everything in the heat of desire.

His mouth was bumpy where the scar crossed it, but she hardly noticed in the bolt of hot lust his kiss produced in her. Her blood burned, her heart pounded, and she felt completely alive for the first time in a long time. He was clasping her hip and as she moaned and pressed closer, he pulled her around so that her thighs straddled his on the chair. Now she was facing him directly, and he ran his fingers through her escaped hair and held it back from her face, so that she had no way of hiding her expression from him.

“You are sure?” he said.

Juliet laughed and kissed him again. Her hands went to his breeches, tugging at the ties but he was there before her, opening the flap so that she could delve inside and find his cock, already hugely erect and eager for her attention. He was tugging up her skirts, hands gliding over her thighs, fingers seeking between them and finding her wet and hot. She pushed against them, rubbing her sex against his fingers, making little satisfied sounds in her throat.

Juliet could have stayed like that, pleasuring herself against his calloused hands, kissing his mouth. But he was impatient. Abruptly he took hold of her buttocks and dragged her forward, his cock sliding into her pussy and not stopping until he was deep inside. She knew her eyes were wide, her lips parted in a soft gasp. He was a big man.

“Juliet,” he said in that sexy husky voice. Just her name and nothing else.

She moved against him, testing him, and found he fitted perfectly after all. He pressed deep inside her, making her melt and moan, her clit a hard little bead of pleasure. She shifted so that his shaft was rubbing against it, sending shivers of delight through her. He used one hand to tug down her neckline, finding her naked breast, and bent to place his wet open mouth on her soft flesh.

Her hips quivered, her belly tightened, and she let her head fall back as he suckled on her breast, her long dark hair almost reaching the floor.

Juliet could feel the end coming, that burst of pleasure that left her feeling that the world was a wonderful place and she was grateful to be alive in it.

And then suddenly he was lifting her, still joined to him, and carrying her to the bed. Surprised, she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held her tight, his cock embedded deep inside her.

He lay her down on the furs of his bed and she felt herself sinking into them, trapped. The chair was one thing. A quick, hard tussle and she could leave without looking back, but here in his bed, in his arms, looking up into his ruined face and silver eyes, she was suddenly very much out of her depth.

“I . . .” she began.

But he was already thrusting deeply into her, taking her words, stripping her of whatever objections she had. She tried to turn off her feelings, but it was impossible. Her body was rushing toward its climax and nothing could stop it, certainly not when he seemed to know exactly how to touch and caress her to make her come.

Moving quickly now, his strong back arched, his hands tugging at her hair almost painfully, his body grinding between her thighs. She revelled in the sensation of his skin against hers, their bodies striving to be as one.