The Princess and the Huntsman (13 page)

Brandywyn raised her hips a bit, and Tom took that as a sign. He smiled above her and began to move within her. Tiny strokes at first as she gentled to his movements, then larger and longer thrusts. Brandywyn’s channel got more and more slippery, and he slid inside her easily. Heat rose from that secret place, and her breasts swelled, their nipples rubbing against Tom’s chest. Every sense in her body was awakened to the friction within and without, and she writhed beneath Tom, gasping and moaning with each new motion.

Tom kissed her face, her eyelids, stroked her hair. He whispered sweet things to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how precious, and how much he loved her.

All these things came together, focused between her legs. He thrust faster and faster and finally, slippery and full, Brandywyn’s body burst with pleasure. She cried out and wrapped her legs around Tom, drawing him in deeper, and deeper yet. “Oh, Tom! Aye, my love!”

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured. He thrust for a short while more, until he pressed her fully once, twice, and grunted deeply as he took his own satisfaction. Brandywyn could feel him pulsing inside her and it reminded her of their one time before when her bottom had been their meeting place, but this was better, much better.

They arranged themselves so that Brandywyn was snugged against Tom’s chest. A feeling of contentment stole over her, and her eyes grew heavy.

Brandywyn slept beside him for a time. ‘Twas the middle of the night when she woke, but Tom had lit a candle and was sitting at the table writing on parchment. Brandywyn had not realized that Tom could read and write, and it brought her pleasure to know that somewhere down the path that was his life, he had learned his letters. She made a vow to herself to learn more about him, his childhood, and his life before her. It was obvious from their previous sexual encounters that he had considerable knowledge of such things, and that made her uncomfortably jealous. Telling herself that one could not change the past mollified her somewhat, but she still hoped she would never meet one of his previous lovers on the village street.

Even as she lay there and gazed upon him, he folded up his note like a letter and sealed it with wax and a seal ring. He had not worn the jewelry in her presence, and was not wearing it now, but he used it and then put it in a small wooden box in the bottom of his trunk. It was quite the curiosity. How would a simple huntsman come upon a signet ring? And to whom was his missive addressed? Brandywyn was about to alert him to her awakening and ask him for an explanation, when he turned and saw her resting on her elbow, watching him.

“How now, my love?” he asked, putting the note in his money pouch. They both knew she would never venture there, so it was safe. Brandywyn’s curiosity rose. It was a secret, and she had hoped Tom would keep no secrets from her. Secrets were insidious, popping out at the worst possible moments to bite like an adder.

“I am well, Tom. Missing you. What do you do?”

“I was writing a friend to tell of our marriage. He will be greatly pleased.”

Well, that explained the note. “I saw you had a seal ring. How came you to have it?”

“It is of little matter. Especially when I am presented with the pretty picture of my wife in dishabille.”

He meant to distract her, and they both knew it. Brandywyn wondered why he was keeping things to himself. Perhaps the ring was stolen? Perhaps he found it in the street and did not know where to return it? No, Tom would not steal, but he could have discovered it along a pathway. That would be like him. Not knowing to whom it belonged, he would keep it, perhaps file it here and there to make it his own seal. Aye, that would be more likely. ‘Twas a tidbit to ask about sometime, but not now. Now she wanted him back in her arms.

Brandywyn let the blanket fall and her breasts were freed to his gaze. The candle cast light on one side of his face, but she could see both of his eyes glittering with lust. He removed the shirt he’d worn to keep the chill away, and smiled his wolfish smile at her.

* * *

She was so lovely, his wife. Her breasts were soft and fit his hands well. Her hips were round, ready to cradle a babe. Ripe lips and loving eyes drew him like a siren’s spell. And she had the sense to leave matters lie when it was clear that he had his own business to attend on occasion. The letter had been necessary, though he thought there was a chance he would be caught writing it. Still, she let it go, and matters would be set aright soon enough.

In the meantime, there was lust to satisfy. Tom went to the basin and wet a cloth, coming back to the bed. He sponged off her body, removing the smell of their earlier coupling from her, though it was a deep enticement to him. He wanted to thrust within her again, but that could wait. Tom was extra-gentle between her legs, knowing that she would be chafed and sore, but Brandywyn reacted with seductive movements of her hips, small moans and gasps. His wife was exquisite, and he was a lucky man.

After washing her sex and then his own member, he tossed the rag back to the basin, and lay with her, kissing her until she was breathless. He loved kissing her. Brandywyn’s tongue was not shy with his, her mouth tender beneath his lips. And it was that mouth he intended to use.

But first, he would use his to good effect. It delighted him to show her new sensual play and it honored him that he was the first man to do so. The
only
man, he vowed. If he had to live to a century to be with her always, he would.

Tom licked, sucked, and kissed his way down Brandywyn’s body, pausing at her nipples and navel. Teasing her navel made her giggle and the sound gave him great joy, but he was not finished teasing her yet. He trailed his tongue lower on her belly and smelled her excitement. She smelled sweet and rich, like fine wine and honey. As he traveled lower, he pressed her thighs apart. Pressing a kiss upon her lightly furred mound made her gasp and protest.

“Tom! What do you do? Stop that!”

He chuckled. “Decry it not, sweeting, for you will beg for it soon enough.”

“I will not!”

He licked the seam of her womanhood gently.

“Oh!” Brandywyn pulled on his hair and tried to squirm away, but Tom held her hips firmly and pulled her back down to his mouth. Another lick, this one deeper, and she cried out again, but this cry was less of a protest and more the sound of reluctant pleasure.

Thinking her squirming was not to escape any longer, Tom moved his hands from her hips to between her legs, where he pried her slit open. More of her scent tickled his nose pleasantly, and her wetness winked in the candlelight.

“Tom,” she protested weakly. “‘Tis not proper, what you do.”

“‘Tis no more improper than our first loving, Brandywyn. Do you enjoy it as you did that and you will see.”

She gasped again as Tom slipped his tongue between her lower lips and tickled her opening gently, mindful of her tenderness. Now she was fully engaged and moaning. He thrust his tongue into her, licking her, sucking at her channel, tasting her loving cream. Although she was still pulling his hair, there was a subtle difference. Her hands encouraged him, beginning to attempt to guide his movements to further her pleasure.

He let her to an extent, but his goal was in sight and he did not take offense at her manipulations; she was an innocent to this love play. Tom slid his tongue upward a tiny bit and found her swollen, dark pink bud. One tiny lick and her hips rose from the bed, her cry both surprised and ecstatic.

“Oh! Oh, my love!”

Tom said nothing, but went about seducing her pleasure center with gentle strokes and gentle nibbles. Her desire flowed as the sweet wetness from her womb. She writhed beneath him and arched her spine to encourage him. After a short time, she cried out and found her woman’s peak, shuddering and moaning. He licked for a minute more as she rose back up again to a smaller height and then begged him to stop. This time, he did relent. She had had enough for the moment.

The bed creaked as Tom crawled up beside her. He kissed her long and deep, sharing her taste with her. At first, she tried to withdraw, but at his insistent kissing, she soon relaxed and explored his mouth with innocent wonder.

“You can give me pleasure in the same way,” he whispered against her hair. “You can use your mouth on me.”

“I can? How?”

“Crawl down between my legs and explore with your tongue. Taste me, sweeting.”

Apparently, she remembered how he had forged a path down her body, because Brandywyn did the same for him. She paused at his nipples and teased, and though it was not a huge pleasure for him, ‘twas enough to make him excited. His rod was already hard from the tasting of her, but it grew more and began to throb. He hoped this lesson would not take too long.

Brandywyn tickled his belly, but unerringly followed the arrow of his narrow line of hair down to his erection. She did not pause there, but skirted it at the base and licked at his tight ballocks, and that made him moan. He wrapped her long hair around one of his fists and pulled her gently up where he wanted her to play.

One lick and he groaned again, guiding her with his hand in her hair. “Suck,” he told her.

“Will I not hurt you?”

“No. Gently, and I vow you will delight me no end.”

Licking again, she found her way to the bulbous head that screamed for her encasing lips. Still, she teased, hesitant. “Do it, Brandywyn. Now.”

“Tell me if it hurts, Tom.”

He nodded, and didn’t care if she saw or not. Tom wanted her mouth around him and with no delay! The wait was short. After licking a drop from the tip of his cock, she kissed him and finally drew him into her mouth. It was a slow, slow process as she wrapped her lips around his throbbing head, but oh, the pleasure! He wanted to tug on her hair, to push her head down and force her to take him in fully, but he was mindful of her inexperience and her need to explore at her own pace. Eventually, though, after some sucking and more licking, she took him deep, wrapping her little tongue around the sides of his cock, enticing him to lose some of his control and press his hips upward to deepen her kiss. She did not demur, but took him as deep as she could and then sucked.

“Up and down,” he ground out. “Move as I do when thrusting into your channel, Brandywyn. Fuck me with your mouth.”

There was a sweet shudder through her body—desire, he thought—and she did as bid, raising her head and lowering it in a shaky rhythm at first. But soon her motions became more fluid and she held him with her hands while she moved. He felt the pleasure drawing up through his ballocks, tingles through his pelvis and up his belly. Tom tried hard not to pull too hard on her hair, but she moaned, perhaps with the sting on her scalp, perhaps intuitively knowing it would be his undoing. Whatever the cause, he could hold back no longer, and drove himself deeply into her welcoming mouth and came inside her. Spurt after glorious spurt filled her mouth. And then she did the most loving thing; she swallowed. He groaned, finding himself breathless at the sensations she caused.

“Brandywyn…”

“You taste… salty…”

He laughed. “I have heard that.”

She tensed. “From whom?”

Oops. “No one I remember. For me, there is only you, my love.”

It took a moment, but Brandywyn relaxed and crawled up to lay beside him, resting her head on his chest, stroking his belly. “I liked that,” she told him.

“I liked it as well.”

“Can we do it again? Or is it like the first time, something we do only once?”

“All of these pleasures can be enjoyed many, many times, sweeting. There is no limit.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” He petted her hair, tired after the pleasure. “But for now, we should rest.”

Yawning, she nodded and lay still. Within a few moments, she was sleeping gently on his shoulder and Tom was more than content.

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Brandywyn woke late. Her dreams had been interrupted by a gentle loving, making the sleep that came after much sweeter, and keeping her abed later. The sun was streaming in the window fully. Tom was not in sight. Thinking that he was probably seeing to the horse, milking the cow, or gathering the eggs, she got up and washed. A loaf left over from the evening meal before was missing a rather large chunk, and the milk bucket stood full near the table. So he had already milked the cow and broken his fast. Brandywyn would have preferred to share the morn with him, but thought it sweet of him to let her sleep.

As she moved closer to the table, she saw a note upon it. It had her name written in a bold hand at the top.

Brandywyn, my love,

I thought to let you sleep, for you were so peaceful, and our exertions last e’en must have exhausted you. Alas, as much as I would have enjoyed spending the day abed with you, I must go about my business and take my wares to the village. This day will take me deeper into the forest in order to avoid depleting the local game. I shall be gone for much of the day, but will return with a string of fish and a fat goose for our sup tomorrow.

Know that you are in my heart as I work.

Your husband,

Tom

Knowing that Tom was such a dutiful provider somewhat softened the edge that pressed Brandywyn as she thought of a longer-than-usual day without her husband. Nonetheless, she went about her business.

As the afternoon shadows lengthened, she thought again and again of Tom’s letter from midnight, and the signet ring he kept in his chest. Did he realize she had watched him long enough to see the ring? Surely he did. And, did he know it, then ‘twould be no great sin to find it and examine it. It was possible that she would recognize the seal and be able to tell him where to return it. It would not do well if he was discovered with it. Thievery was swiftly and firmly punished in Ring.

Brandywyn stepped outside the cottage and looked around. Tom was not about, nor did horse’s hooves approach. She tried to tell herself that she was married to Tom now, and secrets did not belong in a happy marriage. Finding the ring was her right as his wife, and would not bring his wrath should he catch her at it.