“You will eat, yes? We assumed it was your group we saw on the trail, so we made plenty. Most of us have already eaten, including me.” Ascar patted his flat belly and tilted his head toward the large pot that had a rather appetizing scent swirling around it.
“If there is enough, then.” Arto gestured to his men to serve themselves. He watched the tiny blonde serve, her movements slow and measured. She didn’t look his men in the eye, but concentrated on each spoonful as if it were about to leap off the utensil and attack.
She was lovely. For some reason, she made his body take notice. Particularly his cock. He would have to see if he could convince her into his tent tonight.
At the jerk of Arto’s head, Tors gave Arto a bowl instead of serving his Duke. Arto made his way over to the little woman and bowed to her. “Have you eaten, little sola?”
“No, your Grace, I have not.” Her voice was sweet and clear, though her eyes were lowered. He thought he detected a bit of court accent in her voice, not the lazier tones of a kitchen maid. Odd.
“Well, we can’t have you going hungry. Would you join me?” Arto asked, trying his best to seem harmless.
She stilled as she considered. “As you wish, your Grace,” she said with a formal nod of her head.
She served him his meal and gestured to the camp bread at the side. He helped himself and watched as she served herself a small portion.
She was wearing a plain blue gown with a modest scooped neck and long sleeves. It didn’t reveal much of her creamy skin, unfortunately. Examining it, he noted that though it lacked embroidery or other adornment, it was well made and of high-quality cloth.
Up close he noticed her clear blue eye, when she dared look up, that is. He also saw her hands. They were strong, with long fingers, but lacked the roughened, chapped look that a kitchen maid’s should have. She lacked any real calluses.
Who was this little blonde flower?
Balancing his plate in one hand, he placed the other on the small of her back. She jumped and nearly lost her own meal.
“I’m sorry, sola, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Arto rubbed her back a little. He wondered whether she would be so tense when he had her beneath him. He would certainly do his best to ensure she wasn’t.
Her eyes flicked to his face, then down to her food again. “No apologies needed, your Grace. I am…somewhat clumsy.”
Having seen the careful way she moved, Arto knew she believed this. He wasn’t so sure she was innately uncoordinated. He seated his little sunshine on one of the smooth logs and settled beside her, his thigh touching hers.
“Ah, I see you have met your charge, Duke Arto.” Ascar smirked at him from the next log.
His little sola said nothing.
Arto cleared his throat and stood. “I should have asked for you at once, Lady Cella, er, Lady Vallant.’ He bowed low. “My apologies, and it is my privilege to serve you.”
Cella was silent for a moment, then stood and gave Arto a curtsey. “No apologies are needed, Your Grace. I do know the custom in Kerban is to address me as Lady Cella and I do not expect anyone to change that.” She sat.
“May I ask why you are acting as a kitchen maid? I thought you may have been resting from your journey.” Arto started on his supper. It was very flavourful.
There was a brief silence as Cella tapped her cup with her finger. Arto got the feeling she was weighing her words carefully.
“This is a small party and everyone seemed to help in some way, your Grace. I did not have too many useful skills to employ, so I asked the cook to direct me in helping her. She has been very patient with me.” Cella started in on her meal as well.
They ate quietly for a few minutes. The other conversations between his men and those in Ascar’s party could be heard over the pop and crackle of the fire.
“Your Grace, may I ask why you call me ‘sola’?”
Arto almost didn’t hear Cella’s quiet voice. He had been paying attention to a conversation about hunting gerto between two of his men.
Arto turned to her. She was looking at him, but her eyes lowered when he tried to hold her gaze.
“‘Sola’ is an old term for sunshine, my Lady. I thought it suited your blonde curls.” He considered whether to add his next thoughts. Ah, to hell with it. “It was meant to make you at ease, a term of…affection.”
Her pale cheeks coloured. They would be beautiful flushed with arousal.
This seduction was foreign to her. Her past couplings had been hasty fumblings under the covers in a dim room. This admiration of her body was new and she didn’t know how to respond to it.
“Thank you?” she responded, the politeness that had been drilled into her surfacing. She tilted her head as she looked up at him.
Arto smiled. He grabbed her head for another kiss. Then his arms swooped down to pick her up and set her down again in the bed. He didn’t immediately join her, and Cella started to rise.
Arto shook his head at her and she stilled. He shucked his trousers and Cella sucked in a sharp breath.
His erection was huge.
Larger than her last lover, than any man’s penis she had seen—not that she was a connoisseur. It stood up from the thatch of hair at its base, reaching almost to Arto’s navel. The head was darker than the shaft but it was difficult to see the colour in the low light from the fire behind him. His balls were tight to his body and a generous size as well.
“I’m glad you like what you see.”
Cella shut her mouth and looked up at Arto. He had a small, amused smile on his face.
“I’d be terribly hurt if you were unimpressed,” he continued in a lighter, teasing tone.
He crawled onto the bed. Cella involuntarily leaned back. She was suddenly too nervous to speak. What was he planning?
As if he could read her mind, Arto spoke. “Nothing terribly exotic will happen tonight, sola. I’ll save the ropes and games for another time. Tonight, we’ll just get to know each other.”
Cella let out her held breath, realizing she was both relieved and disappointed. Part of her had deeply desired the mastery he had hinted at.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not in charge.” The soft, deep voice was back and she shivered.
Arto laid his body down on hers. They were skin to skin from collarbone to ankles. Cella moaned with the pleasure of it. The smell of the soap from the bathing room and the musky man-scent of Artohimself filled her nose.
He was warm, almost hot, against her, and his body hair tickled and scraped in the most delicious way. The strange combination of soft skin and iron-like hardness of his cock rubbed against her thigh. He was heavy on her, but obviously holding much of his weight on his own.
She felt pinned, trapped, and it was wonderful.
“Talk to me, sola. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
Cella squirmed and the friction made her moan again. “You feel incredible. So…so manly. Hot. Hard.”
Arto made a rumbling sound that Cella interpreted as pleasure.
His arms caged her and his mouth lowered to her body. He licked his way over her collarbone and trailed his tongue down between her breasts.
Cella mewed and writhed, wanting him to move his attention from the valley between her breasts to the organs themselves.
“Ah-ah, little sola,” chided Arto. “Put your hands above your head and keep them there.”
Cella did as she was told. His command and her compliance created more fire in her body.
Arto continued his exploration down her body and around her belly button. He headed back up, finally twirling his tongue around a nipple, then latching on. Cella gave a cry and bowed off the bed, her hands clenching in the sheets above her.
Arto alternated between one nipple and the other for a bit. Cella felt lost in the pleasurable sensations. She had never had anyone pay so much attention to her breasts and she found them to be quite sensitive.
Every suck, lick, and nip made her pussy clench and beg to be filled. Forcing her hands to remain stretched above her heightened the experience made her feel more vulnerable and drove the physical sensations deeper into her body.
Just when Cella thought she could take no more, he slid further down.
Arto ran his hands up the inside of her thighs and parted her legs. She relaxed a bit, thinking now he would fill her pussy and give her the relief she needed so badly.
Instead he lowered his mouth to her slit.
She knew men and women did this to each other, but her previous lover had not. He was happy to have her suck him, but told her in no uncertain terms that he would never reciprocate.
Arto used his thumbs to spread her wide and licked from her anus to her clit. The lick reverberated through her body, she could feel it in her belly, her chest, her nipples, everywhere.
He swirled his tongue around her pussy, finding every inch of skin and tasting it. He suddenly stopped and Cella begged, “No.”
“Then put your hands back,” Arto commanded. And this was a command. A deep-voiced, calm, yet forceful order.
She realized she had let go of the sheets above and had grabbed his head.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, a little ashamed she hadn’t obeyed. Her hands went back to position.
Arto caressed her belly, a small smile on his face. “Do you need me to tie them in place?”
Cella moaned at that offer and she could feel moisture weep out of her pussy.
“I would assume that’s a yes, but I will hear it from your lips, Cella.”
“Yes,” Cella all but whimpered.