Desire
Pierre stepped into the room. The night had fallen and outside there was calm and quiet. He suddenly saw her, there, reclined on the bed with her long ebony hair cascading down her soulders. Although she wasn't the youngest lady of the kingdom, she was stunningly beautiful, with her high cheekbones, skin as pale as the moon, Roman nose, an those thin and crimson lips that pleaded for someone to kiss them. She looked like Cleopatra.
He walked towards her and she srank, frightened.
He smiled, fondly, and stroked her pretty face with his cold hands.
" Tsk, tsk, what have we here?" He asked, smiling " The great Baroness Rodmilla de Ghent scared?
She jerked away from him as a cold glare emited from her eyes.
" I'm not a Baroness anymore"
" Yes, darling, I know" He catched her hand and kissed it "But you have always attracked me, aeven now that you are poor."
" Umm, I though you were mad about that little brat Danielle."
" You are right, but she is no more than a child and well, she is now the future queen of France, but you know it quite well."
He touched her cheek and brought his hand down to her collarbone and the beginning of her bossom. She closed her sad hazel eyes, trembling.
" She is not like you, the elegant and sophisticated Rodmilla de Ghent, the beautiful widow, the eternal dream of desire."
" You are just being polite" She anwsered, coldly.
" I have not to be polite with my servants, darling. I'm eager to fell your love and skin down my body, to see how the haughty former Baroness gives in."
She stared at him, furious, as he marveled at how attractive did she get when she was angry.
" Don't dare to touch me, Le Pieu, I'm of noble blood, and you are no more that a slimy bastard."
He laughted, loudly.
" Belive me, Rodmilla, I'm not more slimy than you." He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. "Maybe I should remind you that your precious Marguerite is locked in one of the rooms. And we don't want the little Marguerite hurt, do we?"
She opened her eyes, alarmed.
" If you touch her, Le Pieu, I swear you..."
"SHUT UP!"
He wrasped her by her hair and pulled her back to the mattres and stradled her.
"Now you belong to me"
He placed his lips onto hers and kissed her. Her taste was so sweet, delicate, like a rare wine. He rested his hands on her bossom, stroked her pale throat, sucking and nibbling it.
Rodmilla wanted to scream, to run away, to cry. But she knew that her daughter's life was in danger and, furthermore, they were only servants. So she choosed the best decision.
Le Pieu blinked hard when she began to return the kisses. She slepped her tongue into his mouth and flicked it across his lips.
He tried to get more
from her, but the skin would not allow it to be. The desire was still
there. He wanted to get inside of her and lose himself in her tender
yet powerful grasp. Pierre almost instinctively pulled her legs apart
and raised the nightgown so he could
get closer to her, almost
into her.
She winced, feeling his strength into her, and it hurt. When the contractions came, she began to scream. But he silenced her with a savage kiss. She closed her eyes, criying.
She felt so lonely and impure. There, laying netx to him, with her face hidden behind her long hands. She started to cry. Then, she felt his skin, touching her lips again. She lay, frozen.
" Take away from me."
He kissed her hand and move to the other side of the bed. She closed her eyes and sobbed, quetly until she fell asleep.
To be continued...
