Bound by Honor

Then she settled with one breast over his mouth, her hair falling down to pool on either side of his torso. He lifted his head to close his lips around her. Marian sighed at the warm, slick sensation, the pressure, the tugging and pulling and the sliding of his tongue.

She closed her eyes and felt the familiar pooling of dampness at her quim, the sharp, tingling spiraling down from her belly to center there. Her fingers wrapped around his biceps, and she felt the smooth sensitive skin inside his arms and she bent to kiss him, tracing her tongue gently and delicately over the light-colored flesh. She took a lock of her hair and swept it lightly over his other arm, noticing how the skin leapt and trembled.

He tensed beneath her, his belly, his mouth, his arms . . . then relaxed, sucking harder on her sensitive nipple. Marian felt a twinge between her legs and a wave of delicate tremors from her little pearl . . . and she sighed as the pleasure flowed easily over her, surprising her with its intensity.

Will need have no concern that she would overset him too soon.

When she pulled away, her breast stretching a bit, he lifted his head to go with her, his muscular shoulders rising from the bed . . . but she reminded him with a sharp, “Nay, Will . . . surely you have more willpower than that.”

He gave a soft, tortured laugh and collapsed back onto the bed. “Not so much, when you are wriggling and writhing over me. Have pity, Marian.”

She smiled back, delighted to see his mouth curve in real humor, and bent to cover those full lips with hers again, briefly, sweetly. She pulled away when he began to shift beneath her, his breathing growing deeper and faster. Easing down his body, she found that his skin was now warmer and shiny with a faint sheen of damp . . . and musky from her own scent. She kissed a trail through the springy hair on his chest, and paused to flicker her tongue over his nipple for a moment.

But she really wanted to move lower, and though she took her time kissing and nibbling over his hard stomach, she kept moving. At the tender crease between thigh and torso, she slid her tongue down and around and finally arrived at her destination.

With a quick glance up at him, she settled between his splayed legs and cupped his erection with both hands, sliding them slowly up and down, using more of the glistening drops from its head to slick her way. Then she had an idea and, with a mischievous glance at him, slipped one of her hands into her own warm, wet folds and pulled slick fingers back out with a soft, wet sound.

Will watched avidly, heavily, as she wiped her own juices over his cock, his face raised, eyes fastened on her movements, breathing audible. She felt the surge in the hot flesh she held, felt the little rising and shooting sensations inside the warm shaft, and began to stroke . . . long and slow . . . easy . . . so easy.

She watched him, felt his body tremble and gather, focused on his face as her own body tightened, swelling and pulsing, while his face grew darker, more taut and arrested. He flushed, his nostrils flared, his lips parted, and she moved faster and faster, watching, building up and up. . . . Her heart beat harder, her breathing rose, her hand flew up and down, up and down. . . .

“Marian,” he breathed, his gaze flashing to hers, eyes bright with desire, holding her as if he were touching her with his large, tanned hands.

Her chest tight, she gave in to his unspoken plea, releasing him but moving just as quickly to lift herself over his hips. Hands positioned on his trembling belly, she spread her legs wide and lowered herself onto him . . . slowly. . . .

“Lord,” he hissed, “I cannot. . . .”

“Don’t . . . move,” she managed to say as the sweetness filled her. Nothing like the long, sleek slide of Will, filling her, up into her center. . . .

His chest glistened, his face shone, his eyes burned, yet he remained still, his hands caught behind his head, his pulse visible in the lean cords of his neck, his belly shuddering beneath her palms.

Marian settled on him, down, low, and paused to catch her own breath and steady herself. Naught that she’d experienced in the chambers with John had prepared her for this delicious warmth . . . the beauty, the connection, the sense of completion . . . of purity.

So clean and pure after the tawdriness of the Court of Pleasure.

He moved inside her, a little twitch, catching her by surprise, and she couldn’t help a soft gasp of laughter. “Did I give you leave to move?” she asked, hearing in her own ears how low and dusky her voice was.

“Nay,” was his rumbling reply. “But I trow the game is over.” With a flash of white teeth, a humorless, fierce smile, he surged up . . . and the next thing she knew, Marian was on her back, hair tangling in and around them, and Will was poised over her.