The Barbarian Prince (12 page)

Ualan smiled. It was too much. For the moment, he didn’t care that his home was wrecked or that water was matting his expensive fur rugs. He could afford to buy a hundred more of them. He followed her.

Ualan put one hand on the bathroom door when she would slam it shut. Morrigan glared at him. She tried in vain to push him out. He stood, waiting for her to expend her energies. His hand was enough to stop her progress.

"That wasn’t an invitation, caveman," she grumbled at last, giving up on trying to force him out of the room.

"A slave never bathes before her lord," Ualan said, stepping past her. Sitting on the edge of the natural hot spring, he tossed his dirty hair over his shoulder in challenge. "But, she does bathe her lord."

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Morrigan shook her head and tried to run out the door. "Oh, no--"

Ualan caught her by her long hair and she gasped in surprise. Her hair was still tied into a knot. Frowning, he pulled her back to him gently. Morrigan huffed and mumbled under her breath about barbarians and cavemen and beating them all over the heads with clubs.

Ualan moved her so she was standing in between his massive legs. Squeezing her into place with his thighs, he softly combed his fingers through her hair, unknotting it. Morrigan was afraid to move. She could feel him stroking the locks. Her scalp tingled. By the time he had finished, she was breathless.

"Turn," Ualan ordered, his voice low.

Cursing herself the entire time, she obeyed, coming around between his legs. His eyes were level with her chest. Reaching over, he pushed the door closed, trapping her in.

Her hair spilled in waves down her shoulders like dark silk, framing her wide eyes and pale features. Her lips parted, begging him unwittingly for his kisses. She had a mouth that deserved to be kissed and often. But she had started this game and he was going to be the one who finished it as the victor.

"Undress me, slave," he bid softly. Morrigan was too enthralled to think. Her hands had been itching to explore him since the moment she saw his half-naked body standing in the bachelor line. Biting her lip, she carefully drew her hands to his shoulders. Her fingers quivered.

Ualan could feel her trembling as she ran her fingers along his tunic. His body burned where she touched him. Her chest heaved with deepened breaths, drawing his steamy eyes.

"You’ll have to stand up," Morrigan answered, her voice husky. Ualan stood.

Morrigan was almost sorry she suggested it. He dominated the bathroom and everything in it, including her. Licking her lip where she had bit it, she reached to lift his tunic. She pulled it over his head with much effort. He refused to help, even when she struggled. Seeing his naked chest, she faltered. When his hands came back down, he purposefully grazed her breast.

"Ah," she began in question.

"The breeches, slave, or I will have to send you to the Queen," Ualan said, thoroughly enjoying himself.

She lost her voice. Her fingers glided down his skin, flesh that was drying with the sweat of his excursions. Reaching side laces that bound the breeches to his waist, she pulled them loose. She didn’t push the material down.

"Your boots," Morrigan whispered, doing her best not to look him over, and failing miserably. Ualan kicked the boots off his feet, followed by his socks. Flushing, she turned her eyes away and quickly pulled the black material of his pants to his ankles. Refusing to look, she stepped back. "There. I’ll just get going now."

"You will bathe me, slave," Ualan stepped forward, running his hand over a panel on the wall. Instantly, water cascaded down the rocks in the shower, forming into a pool at the bottom. He stepped into the water, proud and unashamed of his taut nakedness.

Ualan closed his eyes. Already the sweet perfume of her desire was filling his head. This was going to be the kind of torture even the most war-hardened warrior might not survive. Opening them when she did not readily obey, he watched her. She was shivering.

"Come and rinse, the water is warm," he said, as he turned to lay his hands beneath the rocks by the falling torrent. He leaned against the stone, resting his neck forward to let the currents of warm liquid glide over his head. He heard a splash behind him but didn’t move.

Morrigan looked warily at his back, refusing to take off her uniform as she stepped in. Every inch of him looked like it was carved stone. She watched his thick gladiator body. The gold band on his arm glistened in the light from above the waterfall. His bronze skin shone slick.

Reaching to his arm, she gently pulled the bracelet from his bicep and set it behind her on the floor. He lifted his arm back to the wall, rolling his head on his shoulders, and letting water fall and run out of his mouth.

"Soap?" she asked, panting.

Ualan smiled. Her voice was rough with the effort it took for her to speak. Motioning his head, he nodded to the side. Morrigan blushed, seeing the bottle sitting in plain view of them.

She grabbed it and lathered up her hands. Gingerly, she began to scrub him, running her fingers over his taut back and shoulders. Ualan groaned as she rubbed at his neck, easing the tension from him with her fingers. He felt the soaked skirt of her gown slapping the back of his legs as she worked.

Her hands tentatively continued to move over his form, touching, squeezing, and unconsciously testing the firmness of him. Already she was driving him mad and she had only reached his back. When her soapy fingers found his hips he almost jerked painfully. Eyes tight, body stiff, he let her work over his buttocks and down his legs.

Morrigan was enchanted by him. The texture of his skin fascinated her. The look of him heated her blood. Her lips parted, wanting to taste him. He didn’t move to encourage her and she held back. She had to remember this was a chore, not a pleasure.

But, oh, was it pleasurable!

By the time Morrigan worked her way up, her fingers turned from scrubbing to caressing. They glided over him in long strokes, reaching over his legs and buttocks, up his sides, and along his arms. She couldn’t reach his hands without dipping around to the front and soaking her gown completely.

Without thought, she followed her restless fingers to his chest, blocking the water from him with her back. It soaked her clothes and hair, plastering the velvet locks to her shoulders. Ualan’s eyes bore into her as she worked over his arms and neck. The wet material clung seductively to her skin.

Timidly, she met his gaze, captured it. Her breathing deepened. She forgot who he was, where she was. All that mattered was the way he was eyeing her and the aching heat it created in her loins.

Keeping her gaze steadily on his bold, blue eyes, she slowly circled lower on his stomach. The muscles tensed, but he didn’t move. She moved out to his hips, begging him silently to press forward, to trap her to the rough stone with his marble body. Her breasts arched, the warm water rushing tantalizingly over them, the rough material clinging to the heated points.

Having already gotten his legs, there was only one place left. She didn’t look, but could feel the heat radiating near her centering hands. His eyes narrowed into concentrated slits, daring her to go on. She slowly moved forth. Gasping, her fingers glided onto his long, awaiting erection. The size scared her and she pulled back. Had he been that size the night in his tent? Why hadn’t she remembered that?

"Done," Morrigan breathed. The feeble sound barely whispered above the noise of the water.

"You’re dirty," Ualan growled. His devouring eyes did not look away, nor did they appear to want to. "Remove that dress and wash."

"You said that we … that slaves…." Her face reddened.

"Wash for me," Ualan ordered. He growled low in his throat like stalking beast. He inched slightly closer and whispered in a tone that was both deadly and exhilarating, "Strip."

Morrigan began to move to the side to obey. He lowered his hands on the rocks, trapping her.

"Here," he commanded softly, his tone ragged with promise. "Strip for me here."

Morrigan trembled, but she couldn’t deny his eyes. Reaching to her apron, she untied it from her narrow waist. Drawing it forth, she leaned near him to throw it behind his back. It landed with a splat on the floor. His eyes moved to the gown, waiting.

The gown was lifted to reveal her naked body beneath and tossed aside. Her eyes dipped a little shyly before glancing up to see his reaction to her. She wasn’t disappointed. His molten gaze moved to take in every line of her. The water coursed down her overheated skin. It did not cool her.

When he had looked his fill, he leaned slowly closer. Hoarsely, he ordered her, "Wash."

Morrigan blindly reached for the soap on the ledge. Taking some in her palm, she lathered her fingers. Gradually, she worked over her arms and shoulders. His eyes devoured her every move. Next, she scrubbed her face, leaning back to rinse it. When she could open her eyes, Ualan nodded down to her breasts. His lips parted and she saw his tongue lingering just beyond the inner rim of his mouth.

She again obeyed, looking down as she worked. It was a mistake. The proof of his male prowess was reaching for her. To his everlasting disappointment, she quickly finished the rest of her body and then rinsed, turning her back on him. Gazing at her firm backside, he nearly groaned at the torment of watching trails of soap move over the cheeks, down the crevice. His hand flexed, urging him to let it grab hold.

Without stopping to think of the dangers touching her would bring him, he scooped her tightly wrought, wet body into his steady arms. Morrigan gasped at the feel of feel him. Ualan’s hands gripped her flesh to keep his fingers from exploring.

He carried her to the steaming spring before setting her inside the bubbling water. The warm water curled around her toes and simmered up her legs. Ualan reached for a bottle of soap and stepped in after her. Squirting the white, creamy liquid on his hands, he brought the soap to lather.

"You’re still dirty," Ualan insisted, bringing the lather to her flesh himself. If she wasn’t going to do a proper job, he would just have to do it himself. The hot spring steamed and churned around them.

Morrigan hungrily followed his lead, squirting some onto her palm as she began to wash him again. The soap glided over their flesh, aiding their searching caresses. Ualan lathered her hair. Morrigan’s body sung with surfaced desire. Her fingers slithered boldly over rock-hard muscles, washing his locks for him as she explored. Pulling apart, they rinsed their hair and went back on exploring, getting more soap.

Her fingers rediscovered valleys and peaks with urgency. Her body pulled closer as she explored the length of his back, liking the way the soap made her nipples swish unhampered against him.

The agony of her longing was still imprisoned in her flesh, waiting for release from the moment she saw him. Her mouth kissed his thick neck. She let loose a light, feminine moan.

Ualan almost died, pulling her away. The slave/master laws were old and clear. He could not bring her pleasure. For as a slave she was beneath a Prince. But, she could willingly give it to him.

He lifted his soap-covered hand to her lips, running a finger across the swollen parting. Then, leaning over he kissed her deeply, showing her the soap was safe. The taste sweetened their kiss. She moaned against him.

Morrigan’s hands became more insistent. They slid down his body, over his hips. She wanted him to be as urgent as she. She wanted him writhing in desperation. She wanted it to end.

At his hand’s bold urging, her mouth tasted him, moving over his nipples, nipples that were sweetened by the soap. By the gentle force of his fingers, her kiss continued its way down his stomach. Morrigan dropped to her knees in the large bath. Suds drifted from her skin on the water. Her hands glided over his buttocks, grasping and squeezing in slithering delight.

Stopping, she glanced up at him. His eyes were closed. With a growl, he shot her an impassioned plea and lowered himself to sit on the edge. Taking her arm, he forced her kneeling body before him and pulled at her hand so that she could discover the heat of his desire. She boldly wrapped her finger’s soapy length around it. The soap was like a drug in her mouth, exploding on her taste buds, urging her to again kiss his stomach.

Ualan spread his legs, allowing her closer, and with a firm hand on her shoulder urged her mouth downward to his heated erection. He was overconfident, unashamed as he drew the tip of his member to rub at her lips. One hand stayed on her shoulder, the other found itself winding in her hair. Her breath deepened. Her locks tumbled wetly around her shoulders. He locked his fingers on her head, and he pulled her lush mouth onto him.

Morrigan gasped, unsure what to do. But as the sugary temptation of the soap entered her mouth, she sucked the sweet taste from him. Ualan groaned loudly in approval. Firmly, he used her hair to control her, forcing her mouth to journey over his erect member. Morrigan smiled against him, reveling in the size and taste, addicted to the control she gained over him. Her fingers dug into his thighs. She sucked harder, learning from Ualan how to please him.

Morrigan was surrounded in sensations--the warm, gentle caress of water, the hardness in her mouth, the firm insistence of the hand in her hair. Ualan’s passion was loud as he groaned and shouted without inhibition.

Sliding her hands, she grabbed tensely at his hips and began commanding his thrusts. She was lost to Ualan and she knew it. No other thrill compared to what he did to her. He took her desires, taught her how to fulfill them. Nothing mattered. She couldn’t think, couldn’t act beyond the will of his body and she loved it. With him there was no shame, no stopping.

Suddenly, he tensed, jerking her off before he exploded. With a moan of release, he spilled himself into the water. A contented growl escaped his parted lips and he lowered himself into the water to wash off. Morrigan’s hands reached for him. Without pausing, he grasped her firmly by the hips and turned her around so she was on her hands and knees before him in the water.

Leaning over her shoulder, he gently ran his fingers down her spine. She moaned, waiting. Her body was fevered, ready. To her horror, he said, "Thank you, slave, for the gift. You can stay in my home."