A Knight In Her Bed(6)

“My friends,” she cried out. “Tell me what you did with my friends.”

He nuzzled against her, and whispered in her ear, “They are safe. Trust me.”

“How can I?” she said, more tears falling.

“There was a man called Henry who threatened to fight me, and a girl called Leonora who looked at him with adoring eyes, and an old man called Renton who creaked when he laughed.”

She gaped at him. “You . . . you could have found that out before you killed them,” she said at last, suspiciously.

He gave a huff of disgust. “Why would I kill harmless minstrels, Juliet? Trust me. You trusted me last night in this very bed. Trust me now.” The last words were a command, as if she was one of his army of men.

She wavered, but he must have thought that was answer enough, because his hands became busy with her gown, unlacing it, pulling it over her head. At the sight of her nakedness he made a sound of appreciation and cupped her breasts in his hands, squeezing them before he began to suckle upon them, twirling his tongue about her budded nipples. When he sucked hard she clung to him, her fingers tangled in his dark hair, her body arching toward him.

Trust me.

She told herself she wanted to get up and run away, but his hand was sliding between her legs and he smiled, feeling her ready for him. His fingers caressed the warm slick skin, delving inside her inner lips, into her core. The sensation catapulted her body into such pleasure that despite her fighting mind, she widened her thighs to give him better access. He took instant advantage, finding the hard nub of her clitoris and squeezing it gently between his thumb and finger. Wild pleasure spiralled through her, and she reached up to kiss his face, letting her tongue trail down over the line of the scar, down to his muscular neck and the hollow of his throat.

Her fingers brushed the Celtic cross on his bicep, and she saw it wasn’t new but faded from time. Whatever story was attached to it was old, from a time before the boy became the man. Wolf was a loner, like her, and he had suffered, like her. They were two of a kind who, through a quirk of fate, had found each other.

Wolf was tugging at the ties of his breeches, and then the hard length of his cock was in her hands. She curled her fingers around him, revelling in the sensation of iron covered in velvet.

“I want to be inside you.” His voice was ragged.

“I want to taste you.” Juliet shimmied down into position, her tongue sliding up the length of his cock from root to tip, before her mouth covered the head of it. His hips arched involuntarily toward her and he groaned. She could have carried on, licking and sucking, but he was lifting her back onto the bed, setting her on her hands and knees. Startled, she tried to turn, but he was kneeling behind her, his big body covering her back and hips, his cock pushing blindly against her buttocks.

Juliet had heard of being taken like this but she’d never tried it. Now, with the muscular feel of his body heavy on hers, his thick thighs widening her own, she was eager to experience it. His hand cupped her mound, before his fingers slid down through the soft hair and eased inside her slippery sex and began to stroke her.

She cried out softly, her body clenching, and moved back against him, seeking relief. “Wolf,” she moaned, “please.” With a grunt he replaced his fingers with the hard length of his cock. Just the head at first and then more, pushing in until she felt as if he was filling her entirely. His fingers continued to rub against her clit, and she moved jerkily as he thrust inside her, faster now, his warm breath on her nape.

She was enveloped by him, held safe in the Wolf’s embrace, and she knew with joy mixed with despair that it was a sensation she had been seeking all her life.

Then Juliet forgot everything as, with a powerful climax, her body clenched around his cock, tremors running down her thighs and into her belly as she spasmed and gasped. A heartbeat later he too came, big hands gripping her thighs, thrusting jerkily until he gave a deep groan and collapsed, him on top of her, both of them panting for breath.

After a moment he rose and, using the cloth from the bowl of water, sprawled beside her on the bed and began to gently wipe her most intimate places. She allowed it, even rejoiced in it, as if they truly were a wolf and his mate.

His silver eyes observed her, and he said, “Were you hunting me, Juliet? Were you seeking the Wolf?”

She began to shake her head but then changed her mind. It was too late for lies. “I was looking for Lord Wulfrich,” she admitted, “but I did not know he was you. Not until you told me.”

He read the truth in her face and nodded his head.

“You must tell me what happened to my friends,” she said breathlessly, needing to know and yet afraid of what he might say.