Dark Warrior (MFM)
[Ménage Amour: Erotic Historical Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, voyeurism, bondage, sex toys, HEA]
When Nicholas Herron the Duke of Berwick and his best friend, Rolf Torgesson, two of King Edward III’s most powerful and respected knights, discover a badly beaten young woman hiding in the forest, they swear to protect her.
By the time they learn that she is Lady Kathryn Weston, and that her attacker is none other than her betrothed, Robert Walford, the powerful and ruthless Duke of Pemberton, it is too late. They have both fallen in love with her and she with them—a love so forbidden it could cost them everything, even their lives.
Set amidst the turmoil and pageantry of 14th-century England, Dark Warrior weaves a vivid tapestry of three lost souls bound to each other with a deep, abiding love. But will that love survive Walford’s evil plan to attack Berwick Castle, take it apart stone by stone, and ultimately destroy everyone who lives there?
A Siren Erotic Romance
Rage twisted inside him as he took in her ravaged appearance, a rage deeper than anything he had ever felt in his life. It surged through him in dark, stormy waves, glittering fiercely in his turbulent gray eyes. This girl had been beaten so savagely it was a wonder she had survived. God’s teeth, what in the name of all that is holy is wrong with a world that allows such things to happen?
“Will you tell me your name,ma belle?” he asked, softening his voice even further.
Her lips opened, but the only sound that emerged from her mouth was a harsh croak. Swallowing painfully, she tried again, with the same result. A despairing look crossed her battered face and she began to cry. Deep, guttural, open-mouthed sobs ripped from her throat as she sucked in desperate, heaving gasps of air to fuel them. Hot tears tracked down her dirty cheeks.
Bloody fucking hell. Galvanized into action by the sight of such abject misery, Nicholas bent down and swung her up into his arms. She let out a yelp of pain. “Rolf,” he said, addressing the tall lanky knight hovering at his right elbow. “Make haste to Berwick. Alert Sir Richard.”
Without a word, the knight turned and strode swiftly away through the crisp undergrowth. Vaulting into his saddle, he wheeled his charger and galloped away.
“And Ellen, too,” Nicholas yelled after him. Rolf’s only acknowledgement was a slight wave of his hand before he disappeared over the rise.
The girl’s head dropped onto Nicholas’s shoulder, as if she no longer had the strength to hold it up. Moving with a lithe, catlike grace, the Duke crossed the distance to his own horse in powerful, ground-eating strides, his burly Master-at-arms following closely behind him. “God’s blood, Thomas, who on earth would do something like this? She’s little more than a child!”
Thrusting the still-sobbing girl into the older man’s arms, Nicholas mounted his black destrier, Lucifer. Then, leather saddle creaking, he leaned down to take her from his marshal. Resting his forearm on his thigh, he accepted her slight weight, the awkwardness of the movement wrenching another low cry of pain from her lips. Lifting her up, he seated her in front of him, astride the great animal.
His arms came forward on either side of her, holding her upright. Taking the reins from Eric, his squire, he wheeled his mount and urged Lucifer forward with a light touch of his heels, guiding him expertly through the dense undergrowth.
He looked down at the girl in his arms. Even though her head barely came up to his chin, he was suddenly aware that this was no child he was holding, but a young woman. Beneath her pathetic attempt at a disguise, her feminine curves were now patently obvious—the sweet fullness of her ass cheeks riding against his groin, the soft mounds of her generous breasts rising and falling as she struggled to get her sobs under control—Christ Almighty! He felt the cool silk of her glorious hair against his skin as the wind sent the loose strands flying wildly about her head. He bit back a groan. Never, not even in his dreams, had he felt anything so soft and smooth. He wanted to wallow in it, sift the golden strands through his fingers like a miser sifting his gold, and let it cascade over every inch of his skin like a silken waterfall…
Holy Christ. Here he was rhapsodizing about a phantom woman, when the real woman was shivering so hard her teeth were chattering. Hunching his shoulders forward, Nicholas released her just long enough to pull his fur-lined mantle more closely around him so that it partially covered her as well. He tightened his arms over her abdomen, just beneath her breasts, loosening them immediately at her sudden hissing intake of breath. He’d momentarily forgotten the injury to her ribs. Loosening the curve of his arms, he pulled her back against him, trying to transfer some of the heat from his own body into her shivering form. But it was not heat that she needed. Her body was already an inferno, hot enough to melt iron, blazing with the fever that was raging through her.
She was seated partially on the saddle and partly on his lap, her firm round bottom pressing back against his groin. God’s blood, she feels good! He hadn’t so much as touched a woman in over a year, much less held one in his arms. He’d almost forgotten how good they felt. How soft, and smooth, and curvy. Unable to help himself, he rubbed his cheek against the silk of her hair.
His body suddenly hardened with a need so primitive, so fierce, and so unexpected he was barely able to control his gasp of surprise. He groaned inwardly, aghast at the way his unruly body was reacting to the feel of this soft female riding his thighs. His hardening cock fitted itself neatly between the cheeks of her buttocks, and a wave of shame swept over him.
Sweet Jesu! How could this wounded bit of humanity stir such a carnal reaction in him? He, who had sworn a knight’s oath before God and King to honor and revere women? By the Virgin! What was he thinking? If he didn’t do something to control his reaction to her, someone would have to protect her from him!
Bloody. Fucking. Hell.
Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he looked down at her again. She was still, slumped back against him, limp as a rag. And he realized that she had lost consciousness. His lips thinned, turning his mouth into a grim slash across his face as he spurred his horse to an even faster pace. His erection softened as fury once again tore through him. Woman, child, it matters not. She’s been beaten so savagely, it’s a miracle she’s still alive.
His eyes narrowed. He hoped she stayed alive, at least long enough to tell him who had done this to her. Because he needed to know what kind of bastard would dare to beat a woman so viciously. Because when I do find out who he is, I’m going to kill the son-of-a-bitch! A grim smile lifted one corner of his full, sensuous mouth. His eyes glittered in anticipation as he galloped toward Berwick Castle, his ancestral home.
“Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” he asked
She licked her lips. “Nay.” Her voice was a frayed thread of sound.
“I am going to put my mouth on you and feast on you until you spend.” His voice sent shivers of anticipation racing up and down her body. Her hips lifted, seeking the pleasure she knew was coming, desperately begging for the scorching heat of his touch.
“I am going to fuck you with my tongue.” His eyes were so black no light reflected there. “Do you want that?”
“Oh, aye! God! Aye!” Her hands gripped the bedclothes. She was writhing, bucking her hips in silent entreaty.
“Say it, Kathryn. Tell me what you want.”
“You!” she cried. “I want you to—to fuck me with your tongue!” By now she was sobbing uncontrollably as need ravaged her senses. “Oh, God, I want that. I need that. Do it, Nicholas! Please!” It was a fierce demandimprecation for him to put his mouth on her glistening slit.
“Oh, aye, sweetheart,” he said, satisfaction filling his voice. He gave her a lascivious grin. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to eat you alive. And you’re going to watch me.”
The breath left her body in a harsh exhale. Pleasure spasmed through her.
He parted her with his thumbs and bent to place a kiss on the fleshy folds just peeking out from between her wet, swollen lips.
“Unhhh–h–h–h!” The breathy cry was wrenched from her as she arched violently up off the bed. Blessed Virgin!
He parted her wet outer folds, slick with her gushing juices, revealing the wet slippery channel with the hard little pleasure nubbin at the top and the beckoning portal of her cunt beneath. He touched the hyper-sensitive little bud with the fluttering tip of his tongue and began to circle it lazily.
“Hngh! Hngh! Hngh!” Her breathing was harsh, coming in short sharp pants. She opened her mouth to shriek, but jolts of pure pleasure robbed her of the necessary breath, leaving only weak, breathless cries in their wake. Her eyes closed defenselessly. She was going to die from this.
“Watch me, beloved,” he commanded as he began flicking his tongue rapidly and firmly back and forth across her little kernel of ecstasy. “Know who is pleasuring you.”
“Hngh–h–h–h!” Her hips erupted off the bed, thrusting against his face as she screamed out her pleasure. She was lost in the wonder of the thrilling sensations coursing through her.
Chuckling deep in his throat, Nicholas spread her labia wider and pressed the flat of his tongue all the way into her furrow, licking hard up the entire length from her opening to the tiny, throbbing button of flesh just above it.
Another raw scream of mindless pleasure was ripped from her throat. “God, Nicholas! That’s so—that’s so—”
He reached beneath her and gripped the firm globes of her buttocks, lifting her hips, pushing his face into her creaming, gushing sex. And then he was feasting on her, sucking, licking, slurping noisily as though she were a banquet and he were a starving beggar. He flicked his tongue across her throbbing, pulsating pearl, closing his lips over it, pulling it into his wicked mouth.
She was sobbing and moaning, pressing her feet flat against the mattress, bucking her hips wildly against him, pressing her slick folds hard against his foraging tongue, reaching for the completion that was just out of reach. She tightened, hurtling blindly toward the fiery abyss.
And just as she was about to burst into flames, he backed off, wiping his dripping mustache and goatee against her inner thighs. “Nicholas!” she howled, panting in frustration. She tried desperately to grind her hips against him, but he held her still with his hard hands, easing her away from her climax.
“Nay! Nay! Do not stop! Oh, God, Nicholas, don’t stop!” She was begging, her hands coming up to grab his head, trying to— “Hngh–h–h–h!” A scream locked in her throat as he slid his rasping tongue down her succulent slit. He pushed inside her opening, stabbing her with his tongue, fucking her with it, thrusting it in and out as hot ecstasy pulsed through her.
The thick, slippery juices of her bottomless lust gushed from deep within her cunt and he lapped them up like a cat lapping up cream, burying his face in the melting honey of her slit. “God, beloved! You taste so good!” he cried against her.
She could feel the exquisite tension coiling anew. Desperate to come, she sank her fingers into the soft thickness of his inky black hair. Holding his head against her creaming sex, she moaned and writhed violently against his mouth, never wanting this ecstasy to end.
Abruptly, he pulled out of her fluttering, sheath and she screamed in protest. She clutched at him frantically, trying to pull him back in. “Oh, my God, Nicholas,” she moaned, tears flowing down her cheeks. “By all that is holy, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please.”
He raised his head and looked at her. “No need of such haste. Don’t be in such a hurry, beloved,” he admonished tenderly, his eyes glittering with the love he felt for her. “I’ll get you there. Pleasure is not just about the arrival, you know. ’Tis also about the journey. Take time to enjoy it. I promise you it will be worth the wait.”