The Virgin Proxy(43)

His stallion moved powerfully under him, so fast and slick now that he, the rider, was almost still, suspended in time and air, crouched in the saddle, giving the animal his head. Finally she looked over her shoulder. Guy saw her brown eyes flare, but she urged her horse faster, thrusting through the trees, dappled light catching on her streaming hair, her laughter echoing through the forest.

He smiled stiffly. The woman liked leading him on a chase it seemed. She flaunted her disobedience and he had a feeling he knew why.

Somewhere behind him Thierry still followed. Guy’s heart was beating hard and ruthless, thrusting against his tunic like an angry fist. Today he would test himself. He must know if his need for Deorwynn was different or if he could share her easily with his friend. There was no other way to put this matter to rest between them. But his sight was already foggy, sweat breaking on his chest. Something was tearing its way free inside of him and the agony was worse than anything he’d ever felt.





* * * *





When they started out that morning the sky was overcast. Now the winter sun was out and it filtered down through the last few copper leaves that clung to the tangled branches above her head, spattering the dead grass and bracken with drops of cool gold. It was all very peaceful and beautiful.

Breathing hard she slowed the horse to a canter. The forest became dense. Thick, gnarled roots stuck up from the earth making the way more treacherous. The canter reduced to a trot and then a walk.

Suddenly Guy Devaux appeared directly in her path, astride his sweating stallion. “I win,” he said.

“I did not know it was a race,” she replied pertly. Of course she’d known he would follow and she’d instructed Thierry to do the same. She had to know if Guy’s feelings for her were different to those he’d had for any other woman.

“I thought you agreed, Deorwynn to stay back and out of danger. I thought we had a truce last night.”



Her horse was trapped in a narrow spot between trees. There was no space to turn and he blocked their path.



“Where were you going?” he demanded. “Trying to run away from me?”



With a sigh she swung down from the saddle and led her horse through the cluster of sprawling limbs and thick old trunks. He too leapt from his saddle, walking after her, but he had no need to lead his horse by the reins; the animal followed placidly, as if it had not just chased her down with flaring nostrils and churning hooves.

Suddenly Devaux reached for her hips. She turned to face him. His heavy hands moved to her bottom and pulled her hard against him. “Time to punish you, wench, for your continued disobedience.” His hands cupped her buttocks through her gown, settling her even more firmly against his groin. He teased her mouth open with his tongue and continued down her chin and throat, peppering it with light kisses. He licked her nipple through her gown, his hands squeezing and stroking her bottom. “That is what you wanted, isn’t it? Punishment?”

She was wet for him, opening already for his prick.



“Spread your legs,” he grunted. “I’m coming in.”



“Out here?” she protested mildly. “Anyone could see us. Any of the hunting party could…”



He spun her around to face a tree and quickly gathered her gown and shift in one fist, lifting it until she felt the brisk air on her legs above her riding boots, then her bared bottom. His hand stroked her right buttock, his leather glove rough against her skin.

“Do you question me, woman?” He spanked her. Hard. “You are mine, Deorwynn. This we agreed last night also. Don’t run from me again.”

“I didn“It run. I rode.”

Another spank. And another. She gripped the rough bark of the tree before her and bent further, her blood alive with wanting. She knew her bottom must be crimson and she was already trickling sexual juices, the vibrations of his big hand shaking through her body, making the tiny beads of lust drip to her inner thighs.

He breathed harshly. “Spread for me.”

She did not immediately obey and received another spank. She wriggled her hips, taunting him, laughter husky in her throat. Oh yes, this is what she needed.

He forced her legs apart with his knee and cold air kissed her damp cunny. With one long finger he flicked her labia from one end to the other and she knew her passion would dampen the leather of his glove. She shivered, excitement overtaking her so that she no longer cared where they were or what he did to her.

A sudden appreciative whistle caught her attention. She turned her head.

Thierry propped his shoulder against a nearby tree, watching the two of them, staring at her bent over, stark naked, lower half. Surely Guy had heard that whistle, but he made no sign; instead he knelt in the dry, fallen leaves and mossy tree roots at her feet and feasted on her cunny like a man starved of sustenance for days. Her knees weakened, but his hands gripped her ass and kept her from swaying, as the sensual curl of his tongue found her core and pleasured it devotedly. She watched Thierry remove his gloves, toss them into the bracken and slowly rub his own straining shaft through his breeches. His eyes burned into hers and he smiled slowly. Deorwynn remembered what she’d seen last night, the energetic way he fucked Sybilia, the pleasure on his handsome face when he delivered his seed into his friend’s wife.