He Calls Her Jasmine (3 page)

Dry and naked, he lay back in the massive bed and watched her dry her hair. The thought of tangling it about his body, binding her to him with those silken ebony strands made his mouth go dry.

Jasmine looked her fill at the dark knight.

Her savior. Her fallen angel. The knight she’d dreamed of yet never imagined she’d e’er possess.

The bed linens, bleached white with age and many washings, contrasted with a coverlet of marten furs and his sun-kissed, lightly furred body.

His rampant cock stood erect, blue-veined and throbbing. The ring through its ruby tip reflected the flickering light from beeswax candles burning in silver sconces about the room. It held her gaze as though it had cast a warlock’s spell upon her. Looking at him that way and imagining taking his huge sword deep inside her cunt made her love juices flow, wetting her with slick, hot liquid.

A sweet smell of incense permeated the air, and a breeze from the arrow slits took the edge off the white-hot heat of her desire.

“Come to me, Jasmine.”

The deep sound of Rolfe’s voice poured over her like honey and mead, sweet yet seductive, at once gentle and fierce. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked her fill at his handsome face…his massive, powerfully muscled body. A huge man, he bore few battle scars, but she recalled the apparent ease with which he’d dispatched her attackers and imagined he had left his mark on many an unfortunate knight. The pelt of dark hair on his broad chest narrowed to a thin line at his waist, then fanned out again to surround his huge, rigid cock.

She shuddered. That jeweled sword would soon pierce her, and though she wanted to take it deep within her cunt and feel its strength, she felt a frisson of unease.

“What if I am yet a virgin, my lord?” she whispered as she lay her head on his chest.

“I will take care, my sweet. If I must deflower you, ‘twill hurt but for a moment, ere joy washes the pain away.”

She shifted her head, and her lips came in contact with a pebbled nub. When she took his nipple in her mouth the way he had suckled her in the bath, she caught the small ring with her tongue. With one hand, she searched out and found his other flat male nipple, similarly raised at its tip by a thin gold ring that passed through his flesh.

“More gold, my lord?”

“‘Tis usually a woman’s adornment, but the rings can bring pleasure to a man, as well. Come, my Jasmine. Ride me as you would a mighty stallion.” He lifted her at the waist, settled her astride him, and drew her down until their lips met.

‘Twas carnal, all sensation and little else, the way he thrust his tongue into her mouth and sucked hers deep into his throat while he used his fingers to coax more of the slick juices from her throbbing cunt.

Rolfe inserted one finger inside her, his touch gentle as he probed her depths. “Sweeting, you will be mine alone,” he murmured against her lips before sealing them to hers once more.

So no man’s sword had yet pierced her. He would be the first. She clutched his shoulders, urging him ever closer.
Hurry, my dark angel
. Impatient, she wanted to beg him to rid her of her innocence. Show her carnal joys she had so far only glimpsed.

When he broke the kiss, she felt bereft. But then he shifted and positioned himself to enter her, and she rose on her knees to give him room. The feel of his hard, hot cock pulsing against her sopping inner lips, throbbing wildly and tipped with rigid gold, made her squirm. Made her yearn for more.

“Take my hands, sweeting.” Arms extended at his sides, he entwined their fingers when she did his bidding.

She lay sprawled atop him, the hard, aching tips of her breasts stabbing his chest. The soft hair on his legs tickled her inner thighs, and the blunt, thick tip of his rigid cock pulsated as though knocking at the door to her soul. She needed all of him, wanted to take his hot flesh and fill the aching void inside her.

“‘Tis the coitus of the gods.” He shifted his hips and slid a fraction of an inch farther inside her.

She gasped. Stretching. Hot. Wet. Like a water lily in a pond, her body opened slowly yet distinctly enough that every contact, each nuance of sensation shimmered, spreading through her body and ohhh…

Beeswax and musky incense filled her nostrils and mingled with the heady scent of clean male flesh. His muscular neck tasted salty as fresh sea air when she sampled it with her tongue. The ring in one of his nipples gently abraded her shoulder. When a rumble of pleasure erupted from deep in his throat at the contact, she experienced a heady feeling of sensual power.

Power and surrender. Her surrender to his greater strength as he grasped her hands harder, his big callused fingers entwining with hers. Anchoring her in a compelling yet strange new world where all that mattered was satisfying the white-hot desire for him to quench the fire he’d ignited inside her.

He arched his hips and thrust upward. He tore through her maiden’s barrier and buried his jeweled sword to the hilt. With his lips he captured her mouth and muffled her cries.

“The pain is done with, sweeting. You are mine. ‘Twill be naught but pleasure now,” he murmured as he kissed away her tears.

His obsidian eyes reflected the candles’ glow and seduced her soul, as surely as his body possessed hers.

His hot gaze penetrated her, the passion there tempered with apparent concern. His big body shook, as though it took great effort for him to hold back. She sensed what his restraint cost in the tight line of his sensual mouth, the bulging muscles in his neck and outstretched arms. But the searing, stretching sensation where he filled her was almost too much to bear.

Then the pain gave way to wonder. A sensation of fullness, of heated male flesh throbbing within her body, taunted her with the unspoken promise that there was more to come. More than the delicious sensation of having his huge, hard cock buried within her, its strange adornments heightening her awareness and sending shards of pleasure deep into her core.

She strained to take more of him, but he shook his head. “Later we will explore passion’s many pathways, my Jasmine. For now, let me lead the way.”

With her thighs caressing his and their hands clasped and arms stretched outward, she lay still above him and savored each gentle thrust, striving for the ecstasy she sensed lay just outside her reach, until he stiffened beneath her and flooded her with his seed. She flexed her hips, wanting to take all of his massive length, but he rolled her over and disengaged their bodies, then spread her legs and rested his head between her thighs.

Alarmed, she tried to sit up, but he stilled her with a gentling touch. “Be not afraid, sweeting. I would drink at your fountain of love, that you may find the heights of joy you have just given me.”

His hot breath tickled her thighs, ruffling the short soft hair that hid her secrets. She held her breath as he took her outer lips between his fingertips and pinched them together slowly, deliberately. With lips as soft as velvet he kissed the captured flesh, forcing his tongue through the opening to probe her trembling cunt.

Need bubbled within her. She rose against him seeking more. He drove his tongue in, then withdrew it, going deeper with each plunge. Slick, soft, sensual, his tongue soothed her while he ground his face against her slit, lightly abrading her sensitized flesh with his shadow of a beard. Embarrassed when she felt more juices gush from her cunt, she tried to slide away, but he held her fast.

What he was doing must surely be forbidden, but he seemed not to care.

He feasted on her. With every swipe of his tongue, each erotic scrape of his teeth against her cunt, he drove her higher. The pressure began where he suckled her around the swollen bud where her woman’s pleasure centered. It spread, curling like an insistent flame low in her belly until it encompassed her. She gained temporary respite only when he paused now and then to sample the nectar that flowed from her womb.

When he took her nipples between his fingers and tugged them lightly, she burst amongst searing waves of pure pleasure.

He brought her down slowly, so slowly she thought she would die. Then, as though he were servant instead of master, he took a warm wet cloth and cleansed away her virgin’s blood and his seed first from her tender flesh, then from his own still rigid cock.

She was more than he had dreamed of, all he had ever sought. Rolfe knelt between Jasmine’s widespread thighs and cupped her firm, satiny buttocks.

Aroused again already at the sight of her spread warm and willing in his bed, he bent and probed her navel with his tongue. She tasted of sweet soap and salt. That taste fed his appetite. God’s blood but he’d never get enough of her.

Her soft belly cradled his cheek. No peasant wench could be so creamy smooth, so exquisite. And no serf as beautiful as she would have been untouched. Guilt nagged at Rolfe. He should have withstood temptation, however eager she’d been to relinquish her virginity in his bed.

Then she ran her fingers through his hair and sighed. As though asking for something more, she rolled her hips upward toward his seeking mouth and, guilt or no, he was powerless to resist her invitation. He slid down her luscious body, tasting as he went, rotating his tongue in the archway to where the love-god dwelled.

Slowly, gently, he lapped her cunt, sampling the erotic juices. Her honey, his seed, flavored with the spices from their bath and her own womanly essence. His own lust dulled for the moment, he savored the tickling sensation of her pubic curls brushing his cheeks. The silky smoothness of her thighs.

He loved the way she grasped his head, urging him with little moans and whimpers to take her higher.
“
Yesss
.
Oh, yes, that feels so good,” she hissed when he nibbled her clit and flailed it with his tongue.
“Oh my
Goddddd
.”

When she writhed with pleasure, he felt ten feet tall. Wanting to hold her, he lay beside her and gathered her in his arms. Surely she could want no more.

She reached down and stroked his cock with one hand. “Why did you not seek your own release again, my lord?” she asked, her expression curious.

“I would not hurt you, sweeting. Your honeypot needs gentle initiation, and I am not a small man. My cock can wait, for the pleasure it promises you is worth a few days’ deprivation.”

With one finger, she rotated the ring through his flesh, making him swell again to full erection. ‘Twas good the damned thing appeared to fascinate rather than repel her.
Unfortunately what she was doing had him hot to fuck her again. Closing his eyes, he made a futile effort to relax and go to sleep.

“I would do for you as you did for me.” She smiled, then found one of his nipples and gave its ring a gentle tug. “May I give you pleasure?”

“You need not. I will survive.” His cock twitched, as though to dispute what he’d just said.

Jasmine bent and wet his distended nipple with her tongue, then raised her head to meet his gaze. “You please me greatly. I wish to serve you, to learn how I may please you in every way, my lord.”

“Rolfe.” He had the sudden need to hear his name from her sweet lips.

“Rolfe. I wish to please you as you please me.” Smiling, she bent again and caught one of his nipple rings between her teeth.

He found he could not say her nay, that whatever his beautiful Jasmine wished would be his command. “I am yours. Do as you will.”

He caught a handful of her hair and brought it to his face to savor the sweet smell, the silky softness of her, before letting her slide down the bed and lie between his legs. He nearly came when she flicked her tongue along the underside of his cock while cupping his seed sac in both hands and squeezing gently.

“Like you this?” she asked.

He loved it. Loved feeling her breath, her warm slick tongue… He groaned.

She slid her hands upward, found his nipples, and tugged playfully at the sensitive nubs before rotating the rings slowly through his flesh. “This?” Her breath blew warm and damp against his straining sex.

It took all the self-control he could muster to keep from drawing her into his arms, spreading her legs, and driving himself hard and deep into her. If she were not a virgin just now deflowered…

“Oh God. Know you how your touch inflames me?”

“As yours does me, my lord.”

She took the head of his cock in her mouth and sucked it, her tongue worrying first one, then the other of the pairs of beads an infidel healer had promised would restore the sensations lost when his captors had circumcised him. He’d been right. His balls tightened, and the pressure to let go built with every swipe of her tongue on his cockhead, each tug of her fingers on his nipples and the rings that pierced them.

He could take no more. Choosing the position least likely to cause her pain, he set her on her knees and pressed her breasts and forehead to the bed. Very carefully he positioned himself behind her, raised her buttocks, and guided his cockhead into her sweltering cunt.

“Don’t…stop. Fuck me, please fuck me.”

“Yes, my lord.
Oh,
yessss
.”
While he remained still inside her, she clenched him, milked him. The pressure in his balls intensified, then released as her sweet
cunt
sucked out his seed.

Sunlight streamed through arrow slits in the solar, illuminating tapestries and jeweled chests that bespoke great wealth. Not altogether unpleasant aches reminded Jasmine how she and Rolfe had passed the night. She reached between her legs and stroked the sensitive flesh he’d awakened with such care and skill.

“Good morning, sweeting.” He stood in the doorway to the solar, clad in a black velvet bed robe. His smile made him look young, almost boyish.