Hunted: A Claiming Novella (The Claiming) (19 page)

Penelope learned as the day progressed
that her wedding day was easily the best day of her whole life. She and Ryon
were seated at the king’s table—something she’d never experienced in all her
days. She and her sisters came from common stock. They knew it, and had no
qualms about it. Their parents had instilled in them at a young age not to want
after those with the most—that it was a dead-end cause in which you’d forever
crave more and forever be left feeling empty. It had been a dark lesson, but
one she’d taken to heart.

To sit at the king’s table was an honor
unto itself. Only special guests were invited. Their goblets of wine and cups
of water were kept full as the night raged on and the people of Tarlè danced to
the lively music and swayed to the slow songs.

Her belly was full of delicious cuts of
meat, fruit and vegetables. Ryon had selected the choicest pieces and put them
on her plate for her, as was tradition. Only one little problem caused Penelope
to wish the day would end sooner rather than later.

The longer she sat next to her husband,
an excruciating problem developed. His thigh would brush against hers, and she
could feel the strength in his legs. Every so often his hand would stroke the
middle of her back, or touch her waist as he leaned in to say something. When
they danced, he would pull her close—to the raucous cheers of the drunks—and sneak
in kisses to her neck.

It was wickedly flirtatious and
delightfully arousing. With all the merriment going around, she could not keep
from smiling until her cheeks hurt. Ryon had never smiled so much either.

It was late into the night when the band
began to tire and stop playing to eat and get rest. Worn-out party-goers made
their well-wishes known to the bride and groom, then shuffled out of the arena.

Ryon leaned over again to whisper in her
ear, the scrape of his jaw against her skin sending a shiver over her. “I
believe it’s safe to leave, love.”

Lyle, who’d spent much of the
celebration looking barely above stoic, lifted his gaze from the glass he’d
been staring a hole into. “Ah, yes, I suppose it’s time to see the bride and
groom off. My congratulations to the both of you. You’ll make a fine pair. I
can already see it—two children,” he predicted.

Penelope’s eyes about bulged from her
face.
Two!
She’d never even thought of
one
. For Ryon, well, maybe
she could see herself having his child.

Ryon pulled her to her feet. When she
wobbled, giggling, he hugged her close. “Thank you, my friend. This couldn’t
have been a better wedding celebration. We’re honored to have been a part.”

Lyle stood and shook Ryon’s hand. “See,
it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Ryon laughed in agreement. “Not so bad
at all.” He squeezed Penelope’s waist in meaning. She sucked in a breath—that
meant—
soon
they would be together.

“Until the trial,” Lyle said, referring
to Lysse’s trial which would continue tomorrow with the king’s testimony.

“Go on now and have a good time. Make
her happy.” Lyle turned and left, leaving the rest of the table to stare at his
exit.

Chapter 18

Ryon led Penelope to his black stallion
which the stable hand untethered for them.

“Let me help you up,” he said and gave
her a push. Up and over she went, followed soon by Ryon’s larger body behind
her. The horse shook its head and whinnied.

Ryon snickered a command at the horse
and off they went into the night. The occasional peel of laughter floated from
the arena, the sounds of merriment too contagious to be ignored.

The strength of the horse pressed
against her legs. Penelope dropped her head onto Ryon’s shoulder and, sighing
dreamily, stared at the midnight black expanse of space speckled with
glittering stars.

“It’s beautiful.”

“What is?” Ryon asked.

“The stars.”

He leaned down and spoke in her ear.
“Not as beautiful as you.”

She elbowed him playfully. “That’s
ridiculous.” Still, his compliment charmed her and he knew it. Joining in on the
laughter, he wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her closer to him. The
night held a bite of chill to it, but his heat more than made up for it.

“This is the best day of my life,” she
told him.

He replied after a moment. “Mine too,
Pen.” His thumb stroked against her stomach.

Her body took that touch and went
wild—making her nipples pucker and her breath catch. Nerves, it was just
nerves. About tonight.

“Ryon?”

“Heh?” he grunted.

“Do you think that woman is evil?”

“What woman?” he asked, distracted.

“Lysse, the traitor.”

“I don’t want to talk about that right
now. Not on our wedding night. Do you know how good you smell?” He buried his
face in her shoulder and inhaled deeply.

Amused at his sweetness, she gently
pushed him away. “You can’t steer the horse and flirt with me, you know.”

“Want to bet on that?” You could hear
the challenge in his voice.

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“What are we waging?” Kisses, warm and
damp trailed across her neck to her shoulder sending rushes of sensation down
her body. She shuddered but not because of the chill.

“I’ll wager we’ll never make it home if
you keep on touching me like that,” she said, breathless.

His own voice had grown deeper, huskier,
the tone something she’d heard only when she’d had his manhood in hand.
Literally.

So much anticipation had her nerves
rattled like jumping beans. She was already aroused, her quim ready and needing
to be touched. Oh, how she wanted his hands crawling across her body. She
didn’t know if she could take any more of his kisses with the way he was
holding her tight, pinching her waist and arching her back into his heat.

Penelope shifted slightly and gasped.
Ryon groaned.

“Found it,” he muttered.

Sure enough, his cock, hard as a lead
pipe, was ready for her. More than prepared. Heart fluttering in the chaos of
rising emotions, Penelope tilted her head back and met Ryon’s lips in a bold
kiss. Soft moans interspersed as their tongues tasted, thrust to feel, and
plunged to mimic passions simmering beneath the surface.

She murmured his name as he ended the
kiss. His lips were wet and hers puffy from the kissing. They locked gazes,
low-lidded with passion and hunger. His wet lips beckoned her, enticing.

She kissed him again, unable to control
herself. His hand on her stomach pushed into her, owning her with
possessiveness. Their tongues lashed in a seductive duel as they strained to
move even closer.

Breaking away, she panted trying to
catch her breath. That’s when she noticed the horse had completely stopped
walking.

“I’m getting down now,” she said, not
giving Ryon a chance to protest before she slid off the horse.

He watched her with that hungry gaze,
tracking her like prey to be pounced upon. She noticed that he examined the
surrounding area with careful eyes, making sure they were alone. They’d made it
a few miles from the arena. There were some village houses around the area but
most people weren’t home from the celebration yet. But otherwise, they were
quite alone.

“We should wait until we get home.” He
sounded as if he hated the idea.

Well, he may be correct, but that didn’t
mean she agreed. Turning around, she spotted a secluded portion of woods that
looked dark and private. She headed toward it without a backward glance.

“Penelope!”

Head held high, she marched on. She
heard him jump down from the horse, cursing. He quickly tethered Dominic to a
tree. Soon, his footsteps fell in line after her. Charging after her more like.

“Love, this isn’t any place to—”

Penelope ducked into the woods,
sprinting along like a fool. He crashed through the woods behind her. She
turned at the last minute and they nearly collided.

She gazed up at the man she’d just
married. At the man she loved. The quiet woods surrounded them like a bubble.
Soft grass squished beneath her slippers. The time had never felt more perfect.

In seconds—she didn’t know who acted
first—they slammed together, lips mashed in a bruising kiss. She ran her hands
over every inch of him she could reach and he reciprocated, cupping her bottom,
lifting and squeezing it until her quim quivered.

The kiss grew wetter. Hotter. Every hard
inch of his muscles she gloried in touching, in kissing. He kissed his way
along her shoulder, pushing her dress over one shoulder as he did. The dress
sagged and he kissed his way across her other shoulder, slowly pushing the
material out of the way as he did.

He moved purposely, slowly. Taking his
time.

The dress sagged and the tops of her
breasts caught the material from slipping down further. His breathing was
harsh, hands squeezing her roughly, almost impatiently as his control began to
slip. Fire lurched in her veins. Unable to control herself, she bit his neck
and licked the delicious salt from his skin.

“I want you naked,” he growled. He
tugged on her dress and her breasts popped free.

He stared at her like a thirsty man
about to have his first drink of cool water. Lips parted, eyelids drooping at
half-mast, he lifted his two strong hands to smother her breasts, embracing
them. Penelope’s head collapsed back at the pleasure. He palpitated her,
manipulating her tits until her nipples beaded into fine, ultra-sensitive
points.

A finger brushed each aureole making her
breath catch in her throat.

“So beautiful,” he said.

She wanted to laugh, but could only
gasp.

She wanted him so badly, ached deep
inside her body for him.

Then he finally did touched her how she
wanted, finally giving in to the hunger calling them both.

Two fingers snapped her hard-peaked
nipples and tugged wickedly. She sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation.
Little spikes of erotic pleasure burst through her nipples to someplace deep in
her belly. A place that ached to be filled and jerked against him at his
ministrations.

“So sensitive, too,” he praised. “I’ll
never be able to get enough of you.”

Penelope held onto his shoulders for
dear life, lest she fall and end his glorious touch. She never wanted him to
get enough of her either!

“Please,” she murmured, unable to voice
any of her deeper thoughts.

He chuckled—the sound of deep, male
satisfaction. It was the kind of laugh that made her quim spasm. For him. It
was all about him. Her husband.

“Please, what?” he asked, plucking at
her nipples. First one, then the other. Then his touch vanished from her
breasts, leaving her turgid nipples to strain into the cool breeze, puckering
for more.

When she opened her mouth to protest, he
gave in and squeezed her breasts roughly, wringing a throaty moan from her.

“Please, what?” he repeated, still
taunting her. “Please suck on these sexy little nipples?”

She nodded so quick she almost
head-butted him. He chuckled at her before that glorious head of dark hair
lowered to her breast and his lips parted.

Yes, please suck on me!

The first sensation raked her stiff
nipple. A lick. Wet and velvety soft. Another pass, this one twirling around
her puckered flesh. He moved to the other breast, ignoring the nipple straining
for his attention. He worked them both up to equal hardness, until she was
squirming and panting against him. Mindless but to the pleasure he gave her.
Mindless for
more
.

“Nice and hard, just how I like them,”
he praised.

After they were sufficiently hard enough
for him, and she finally thought he was going to suck on them and end her
agony—he surprised her by taking her to the ground. Penelope was more than
ready to have his weight bear down upon her, to take him inside her body.

But he did none of those things.

Ryon proved just how patient he could
be—and how infuriating—when he followed her down to lay at her side. His hand
spanned her waist applying pressure to keep her flat to the ground. He couldn’t
keep her legs from scissoring in need though, nor her pelvis from undulating.

He watched her from behind heated
lashes. His gaze raking over every inch of her, lingering on her bared breasts
for a pause. “You’re so beautiful. Makes a man question how lucky he is.”

“Lucky enough to take his time,
apparently.” Her snarky comment didn’t go unnoticed and earned her a meaningful
smirk.

“Patience leads to rewards, love.” The
way he said it made her tremble. The kinds of rewards he could give her would
be incredible.

Leaning down, he placed a swift kiss on
her mouth before grazing the corners of her mouth with his lips. He made his
way down over the slender expanse of her neck, over the bones at her collar,
then ever southward over the tops of her breasts. His lips skimming the surface
of her flesh, his tongue darting out to flick her nipple.