Bound by Honor

Marian pulled herself upright on her knees and curled her fingers around the red purple cock. Will started, jolting against her, and then sighed as if catching himself. She glanced up and saw that he was looking down at her with hot, dark eyes, and she smiled up at him as she moved her hand. Once, quickly, suddenly, from head to base and back, she used her thumb to swipe over the glistening drip and ease her way.

He gave a little shudder and his eyes widened in response. “Marian, take care or you will overset me too soon.” His voice was so deep and filled with emotion-warmth, desire, affection-that it set shivers down her spine. He’d always sounded so flat or angry, so demanding or cold. Now he sounded like the rich sable furs in which she wrapped herself during the winter.

Simply in order to be contrary, and to let him know she was in control, she gave another quick stroke that made him suck in his breath again. Then she released him and stood.

When he reached for her, she danced out of his range again. “Nay, Will, you must not touch me. Not until I give you leave.”

“Marian,” he protested in that low, rough voice that sent delicious shivers curling in her belly.

“Now, lay yourself down,” she said. “I want to kiss you. And remember, Will . . . you may not touch me. In fact, you cannot move.”

“Marian, are you mad ?” he said. Yet he followed her direction and stretched out on the bed, lying on his back. His long legs left his feet dangling a bit off the edge, and he was so large he nearly filled the narrow pallet. There would hardly be room for her to lie next to him.

She looked at him and felt dizzy for a moment. So beautiful, so hard and dark and lean and powerful . . . from those broad, angular shoulders to the curve of the muscles in his arms, which he’d tucked behind his head. Dark hair, thick and wavy, fell from his head and half covered his wrists, exposing a face taut with desire . . . but no longer with harshness or frigidity. A shadow of whiskers brushed his square jaw and beneath his chin onto the lines of his throat. His lips, parted slightly, were full and sensual . . . so unlike the flat, disgusted grimace she’d become used to. His face like this was beautiful.

The slabs of chest muscle were covered with the same dark hair that trailed down over his belly and down to rise, thick and dark, between his muscular, corded legs. His cock stood nearly straight up, proclaiming agreement to his previous protestations . . . and she eyed it appreciatively.

This night, she would enjoy the slide of that cock deep inside her, when she could touch it . . . and him . . . and when there would be no other eyes watching and taking. When it meant aught more than a simple physical release. Oh, there would be that too . . . but more.

“Could you not at the least remove your shift so that I may look if I cannot touch?” Will asked.

“But you already know what I look like,” she reminded him teasingly.

He responded with a heartfelt groan. “Please.”

Licking her lips, for the deep sound made her stomach curl again, Marian glanced up at his face, and was delighted to see that he could not seem to pull his eyes away from her. So she pulled her simple gown up and over her head, tossing it into a corner. Her hair lifted as the linen rose, then fell down in a soft, sensual swirl about her shoulders, breasts, and torso. The gentle brush over her taut nipples reminded her how sensitive they were, and how she would like to have his mouth on them. Oh, aye.

A glance at Will, who hadn’t so much as flickered an eye-lash, told her that he would be more than willing to oblige. Smiling, her belly fluttering deep inside and her core already tingling in anticipation, Marian climbed onto the bed. She settled herself over his warm, ridged belly, sliding her bent legs alongside his hips, lifting her hair up and then letting it fall into place.

When she sat, her quim wide and wet over him, he drew in a long, deep breath and closed his eyes. But he did not move, though she saw the muscles in his arms twitch.

Then he opened his eyes, and they fastened on hers, avid and hot. His lips moved soundlessly. . . . Marian . . . I love you. The words were inaudible, as if they were too sacred to say aloud. But she read them on his mouth, and felt the truth of it in his breath and the way it radiated from him . . . now that the specter of John was gone.

She nudged herself forward, feeling the rough texture of his chest hair beneath her sensitive, swollen quim, and, placing her hands around the smooth expanse of his biceps, bent forward.

Her nipple just brushed his lips and he opened them to capture it, but she did not pause and allow him to. She tipped to one side, then the other, and back, and his tongue slipped out and flickered over one taut point . . . then the other . . . and even that brief sensation sent tingles down into her belly and beyond.