Courting Kel (6 page)

His flat nipples rose in her plucking fingers. His shaft
rode between her labia. His balls felt so tight he felt they would explode.

“Would your ass like my finger inside it?”

“Not now. If you touch my ass, I’ll come before you touch my
shaft.”

“Do you want me to lick your cock, Aren?”

“You know I do.”
Blast it! She sounds so damn coy…so shy.
As if she’d never witnessed what a woman’s mouth can do to a man.

“Yes.” She licked from his balls to his cockhead. Lapped all
around it. Sipped precum from his slit. Unable to keep from touching her, he
turned her, spread her thighs and labia and sucked her clit.

Her soft moans drove him wild. He tested her, rolling his
tongue into a blunt prong and prodding her core. Purring, her juices flooded
over his tongue. Eager to taste more of her nectar, he flattened his tongue
then laved her from channel to clit then back again to drive deeper into her
tasty cunt.

She seemed to lose focus on what she was doing to his shaft.
With harsh pants, she buried her face in his groin. Smelling his cock as if it
were a feast, sounding breathless, she said, “You want me to suck you, Aren?”

“Yes. Suck and lick. Do it, Flame. Do me now.” By all the
gods, he’d never begged like this. Had never felt as if his next breath
depended on having her mouth surrounding his shaft, her hands on his swollen
balls.

“Mmmm. You taste a little salty, Aren. You smell like sex.
I…oh my gods, Aren, we are coming together.”

Her surprise made him want to laugh. But his nearing climax
and her trembling overrode all thought save the pleasure they gave each other.

Her hips ground against his face. He pumped harder and
faster until he erupted in her mouth. She made smacking noises, each compression
around his shaft milking him. When he could breathe again, he pulled her down
beside him, licking his cum from her lips, tasting her sweet juices on his
tongue and lips.

Snuggling, she draped one leg over his. His half-erect cock
pulsed, making them both laugh.

“It is only that it still hopes for fucking,” he whispered
against her soft cheek.

Through her yawn he thought she said, “So do I, Aren. So do
I.”

* * * * *

She awoke in total darkness. Odd, since last night Aren had
left a nightlight for her. But tonight… Earlier tonight he’d taught her a
valuable lesson. Her body craved everything he did to her. He weakened her.
Another week or day or minute and she’d lose herself in him, lose all desire to
escape.

The darkness gave her the only chance she might ever have to
leave him. His gentle snores told her he slept deeply. Cautiously, she eased
from under his arm. Groping her way across the room, she found the clothing
they’d discarded earlier. She gathered them to her chest and tiptoed out of the
sleeping room. She’d sort through the clothes then dress once she was safely
away.

When he’d taken her to The Choosing, she’d counted their
paces down each hallway leading to the outside. As long as she focused and
didn’t lose track, she’d be fine. Once she escaped, she’d find someplace to
hide.
The Herald
appealed. Sooner or later Tage would finish with his
princesses and head out for somewhere. She’d convince him to take her home—even
if she had to threaten his
personal wealth
.

Using touch, she figured out which cape was hers. Donning
it, she placed her left hand on the wall and started to count. At five hundred
paces, she felt a shiver of doubt that made her breath hitch and her heartbeat
quicken. By now she should have reached the intersecting hallway that led to the
outside doors. Knowing she hadn’t passed it, she crept along until her hand
groped open air.

“Ahh,” she sighed, just as the lights in both corridors
blinked on.

“Ah ha!” Aren crowed, grasping Kel’s arm and hauling her
back to his sleep room. Once there, he tied her to a convenient decorative
column.

Knowing protest was futile, she didn’t bother to swear at
him. She did test her bindings and silently cursed him for tying her so
securely. Under other circumstances she might confess admiration for his skill.
But when he left her, Kel shouted and fought to get free. Fearing he intended
to punish Drew instead of her, she cursed, made promises she never intended to
keep and cursed until she went hoarse.

In the morning he freed her and went about courting her as
if nothing had happened. Even Drew treated Kel as if she probably hadn’t taken
a beating on Kel’s behalf.

Either Ondricans were truly strange or Kel’s imagination had
conjured monsters. Given the stories she’d heard as a child about her
grandmother personally whipping reluctant lovers—something Basalia had made
illegal—Kel bet on her imagination. And sighed in relief.

But last night, when Aren courted her, he’d had a similar
expression of…what? A little lost, very relaxed and even wanton. Had he lost
control as well? Had she done to him what he’d done to her? Could she use his
lust to convince him to let her go?

Chapter Five

Over the next week, Kel learned so much about Ondrican
courtship she thought she might never walk again. When they awakened in the morning,
Aren carried her to their bath, his fingers deep inside her pussy. He kept them
there while, one-handed, he bathed her, licking and sucking her nipples until
she screamed his name and her pussy clenched his fingers.

She ate perched upon his lap. If her back rested against his
chest, he toyed with her breasts and nipples until she came. If she straddled
him, he licked and sucked, stroked and massaged them until she reached her
peak. Always crying his name.

The chaise became a favorite trysting place. There, Aren
spooned her body, using his thighs to hold her legs apart. He stroked her clit
until she begged him to finger-fuck her. Sometimes, he only held her while they
watched the princesses and their men mate. Often only one man shared a bed with
the woman. And yet it seemed to Kel that just as often both men were with her.

“If you would let me bring Tage here, you could have those
pleasures. He could kiss you, stroke and suckle your breasts while I drink your
juices from your delicious cunt. He could fuck your ass while I fuck your slick
cunt.”

She could imagine it. Far too easily. “If I am truly your
wife, why would you share me? And why—when the princesses are allowed to
choose—won’t you grant me choices?”

It was difficult to ask when they were sucking each other,
but she’d learned to space the words between Aren’s thrusts and retreats. And
he seemed to like the gentle pressure of her teeth when she talked.

“I would share you to bring you greater pleasure. I don’t
grant you choice because I don’t trust any man but Tage to leave your cunt for
me to fuck.”

“Even if it pleased me to be pussy-fucked by another man?”

“You are my wife.”

They inevitably ended the argument where it began. When they
argued, Aren would leave on some errand or other. Sulking, imagining him mating
with another, Kel endured Drew’s prattling while the girl dressed her hair.

Jealousy is a bitch!
One she should ignore. But this
whole courtship ritual seemed yet another means to control her. As if Aren and
every other man on Ondrican thought sex the be-all, end-all. That if a woman
believed only one man—or two—could give her pleasure, she would behave just as
he, or they, wanted. A more pleasant way of obtaining obedience than a beating,
while still gaining the upper hand.

What Aren failed to recognize was that lust was a
double-edged sword. One that she would use to free herself from this unwanted
marriage.

“There,” Drew said, patting a final curl into place. “You
look beautiful, Kel.”

Drawn from her own thoughts Kel complained, “It does little
good, Drew, to make my hair look so lovely. It’s the first thing Aren musses
when he returns.”

“Not today,” Aren announced, striding into the room, a smile
so wide it made Kel’s jaws ache. “Here.” He plopped a large box in her lap.

“Shall I pack now, Aren?” Drew seemed anxious to leave,
shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“Yes. And be sure to bring Kel’s green sarong.”

With Aren’s nod, Drew scampered away.

“Are you going to open the present?” He looked and sounded
like a kid at Gavigainm, an occasion when Amazonians exchanged presents and
feasted all day.

She stared at the package. Foil-wrapped in swirling colors
of pinks and oranges and emoln, an enormous bow festooned the lid.

“I haven’t a gift for you, Aren.”

“Why would you? It isn’t my birthday.”

“Oh! I had forgotten. Oh…how did you—?” Unwilling to let him
see how his thoughtfulness affected her, she fiddled with the bow.

“How old are you today, Flame?”

“Twenty-two—if you count the months in my mother’s womb.”

“If that is how you count on Amazonia, that is how I shall
count. Open it.”

“It’s so beautiful, I don’t want to ruin the paper.”

“Here. I’ll do it.” He produced a dagger. With a quick slice
the wrapping draped over her lap. The bright pink inside the wrapping made her
a little dizzy. Before she’d drawn a breath, Aren tucked the bow behind her
left ear.

“Leave it,” he ordered, guiding her hands and helping her
lift off the box lid.

A swirl of blue-green and red-gold fabric gleamed up at her.
“Oh my,” she sighed, lifting it up to hold against her chest. Soft as a zephyr,
it shimmered over her skin. “It’s beautiful. Tak, Aren.”

“There is more.” Digging deeper, he produced two additional
garments—one a formfitting, sleeveless vest that resembled his own black one.
The second, a pair of trousers that might cover from her navel to her knees.
Both were of a soft as silk leather-like forest green material. A pair of
matching boots appeared as if conjured by a master magician.

Stroking the soft material, she met his eager gaze. “They’re
lovely.”

“Put them on now. We’re going to the country.”

“The country? As in real horses and bare riding?”
By the
Goddess, don’t sound so excited! He’ll think I’m imagining mating while we
ride.

“Yes, the country. Away from Storr’s daily questions as to
our courtship’s status. Away from vids that make me wonder what arouses you—the
ménages or me.”

You do.
Kel could have told him then and there. But
deprived of choices, a woman had the right to keep some secrets.

While she dressed, Aren paced the room. He seemed more anxious
than usual for her to hurry. She’d just finished drawing on her boots when he
grabbed her hand. Running together, laughing like children freed from school,
they raced outside.

Kel had barely recovered her breath when Aren lifted her to
the wide, horse-like back of a pegagryph. Leaping up behind her, he fastened
them both into the saddle. Making clicking sounds, he urged the great beast
skyward. Silvery wings tipped with gold-brown fur spread at its sides. A single
pumping of its wings took them high above Storr City. Soon even the turrets of
Castle Storr looked like a child’s blocks. Usually afraid of heights, Kel
reveled in the feeling of utter peace and nearly soundless solitude. A gentle
breeze ruffled her hair, a soft soughing.

The cityscape disappeared, giving way to fertile green and
gold fields.

“Crops to feed our animals. Grains to make our bread,” Aren
explained, his voice its normal volume despite the rushing wind.

“And forests. The trees are enormous.” Except in Amazonia’s
swamps she’d never seen any so tall or round. Basalia could have a dozen houses
built from just one Ondrican tree.

Aren made a chuckling sound and the pegagryph swooped lower.

Feeling like she’d left her stomach in the clouds, Kel cried
out and clutched Aren’s forearms wreathed around her waist. Realizing they were
safely above the soaring treetops, she said, “I feel like I can touch the
highest branches.”

“Do you want to?”

“No!” If they flew lower the limbs might tear them from the
saddle, leaving them to break bones as they fell. They could die.

“Warm enough?”

“Yes. So long as your arms remain around me, warm enough and
safe.” Snuggling closer, she sighed. “What smells so good?”

“A little of this. Some of that. If you like the scents up
here, you’ll love my gardens.”

“I’m sure I will. How long before we reach them?”

“Not long. See where the trees end and the snow begins? See
that tiny spot of blue? When that spot looks as big as the lake it is, we’re
there.”

She gradually became aware that they were gliding in
circles. As they flew lower, individual trees stood out—even those growing in
copses, their silvery bark mirror-bright in the lowering sun. The mountains’
white-capped peaks cast gold and red shadows over the valleys below. The lake
seemed to cover almost everything else. Clinging to Aren’s forearms, she
expected a watery landing and braced for it.

The pegagryph landed like a mother’s hand stroking her
babe’s cheek. Turning its massive horse head, it snorted. To Kel’s delight, it
sounded like laughter and its bright brown gaze seemed to smile.

When Aren set her on her feet, she made a small half-bow,
saying, “Tak. It was a glorious trip.”

The horse furled its wings then sat upon its lion-like
hindquarters. Its whip-like tail twitched from side to side. Kel stepped back,
fearing the tail might lash her.

“He wants his treat,” Aren said, plucking a round purple fruit
from his vest. “Want to feed him?”

“Oh yes. He won’t bite me, will he?”

“Only if you bite him first. Put the plape in the palm of
your hand. Perfect.”

Baring its teeth, the pegagryph sniffed her hand. Then its
tongue darted out, lifting the fruit delicately, like Kel imagined a lady selecting
dainty teacakes would. It seemed not to chew at all, returning its velvet soft
nose to her palm and snorting at finding nothing.

“Come along, Peg. More’s in your barn.”

Peg sort of growl-purred but followed Aren like a puppy on a
leash.

“Too many animals,” Kel said to herself, thinking about
lions and horses and dogs as she trailed along behind but to one side. She
wouldn’t risk her new boots if Peg dumped like a horse. Obeying Aren’s signal
to wait, she stopped outside the barn doors and watched another pegagryph land
a short distance away. Drew dismounted.

Aren came outside again just as the girl raced up. A very
young pegagryph trotted at her side. Without prompting, it went into the barn.

“I put everything inside. May I go see Laurette now?”

“Yes. You may stay three days—if her mother can stand you
that long.”

“Tak, Aren.” She started off but suddenly stopped. “Can you
do your hair, Kel?”

“I believe so. If not, Aren will help me. Won’t you?”

“Yes,” he said to Drew. To Kel he muttered, “Until I muss it
again. Be gone, child, lest you lose your way in the dark.”

Laughing, Drew scampered away, the other adult pegagryph
following her.

Kel turned toward the lodge. “By the gods, your house is on
fire!”

Aren caught Kel’s hand. “It is only candlelight. Surely you
have candles on Amazonia.”

“Energy powered, yes. Not those that flicker like real fire.
Our buildings are made of wood. During dry times we must take care not to burn
ourselves to the ground.”

“And when it’s wet?”

“We lash the beams together to make rafts and float to
higher ground.”

His soft laugh made her stop mid-stride. “You don’t laugh
enough, Aren.”

“Neither do you.” He looked up. “Five moons circle Ondrican.
Tonight we have the crescent. She’ll remain with us a few days longer. Her
older sister, half-moon, will light our paths for a week or so.”

“How long to see all five?”

“A month on Amazonia—six weeks or so. Here, it marks a newly
married couple’s sweetmoon. It is here I intended to bring you once Storr
acknowledged our union. We cannot see the moons so well from our cities.”

“Yet—despite our not being married—you have brought me here
anyway.”

“I told you why.”

“You want to fu—to mate.”

“I want to make love. To and with my wife.”

“You have done everything except mate.” By the Goddess, she
sounded resentful. Was she?

“
We
have, yes.”

“By your choice. By your idiotic courtship rules! I would
have copulated with you anytime you wished.” Perhaps a change in terms would
make him see the difference. “It’s your own fault we haven’t!”
Definitely
resentful.

Ignoring her outburst, he swept her into his arms and
carried her inside. Kicking the door closed, he continued into a large room
that reminded Kel of Basalia’s hunting lodge. It had dark wood walls that
gleamed like precious jewels in the flickering candlelight. Plump cushions
covered divans and chaises and straight-back leather chairs. Every soft surface
called to her, reminding her of Aren’s favorite use of such softness. They
might as well call every piece of furniture courting beds.

“There is enough fuel in here to create a conflagration,”
she said.

Aren’s grin tempted her to box his ears.

“We’ll bathe before we eat.”

“T-together?”

“Yes. As we have this last week or more. All that’s missing
from this house is the vidscreen. I’m sure we can find some way to amuse
ourselves.”

Placing her on a wide, well-padded bench, kneeling at her
feet, he pulled off her boots. Until today, she had only worn sandals or had
gone without shoes of any kind. Enjoying the renewed freedom of bare feet, she
wiggled her toes and watched Aren jerk his feet from his own boots.

“Ahhh,” he sighed. “Since I don’t have to report to Storr
morning, noon and night, I shall not wear shoes again until we leave here.”

“When?” She didn’t want to be alone with him. He tempted her
to give in, admit they were married and mate all day and night.

“We just arrived, Kel. Are you that anxious to return to
voyeurism?”

“No! I’m curious about how long we’ll stay, that’s all. As
for wearing shoes…if we go outside, won’t we need them?”

“We’ll find out in the morning. The gardens are magnificent
in early sunlight.” Slanting her a sideways glance, he untied his leather vest.
“I…um…I think it’s stuck to my chest. Peg’s spittle always does that.”

“Hmph. Sink under water. That should fix it.”

“Or shrink it tighter. My shaft shrivels at the thought of
what might happen to
it
.” His droll expression warned her he was
teasing. “Besides, the tub is outside.”

Glaring, she said, “Why? If this house is so much like your
palace—?”

“It is a hot spring. It bubbles and soothes aches and pains.
And loosens glop-covered clothes.”

“Then let it soothe and loosen your stuck garments.”

Grinning wickedly, he reached for her vest. She slapped away
his hands.