CHAPTER TWELVE
The sword clattered to the floor as Percival's resistance broke and he grasped hold of her by the arms and drew him roughly towards him, in stark contrast to his earlier tenderness. His eyes flicked between hers, as though looking for her agreement, and she parted her lips in acquiescence. And then his mouth was hard against hers as he crushed her against him and she could feel exactly how hard were his muscles through the flimsiness of her shirt.
His arm encircled her, his bicep hard against her, almost squeezing the breath from her as she hungrily kissed him back. His fingers were pulling at her shirt at the back and when it resisted, in frustration she heard it tear. She felt a tugging on the material, more tearing, and soon the linen had been completely removed, sliding across her skin so she could feel the cool air on her nakedness. Tentatively, and oh so slowly, his fingertips trailed across her skin and then his hand felt the weight of her breast, gently supporting as he continued to kiss her.
Seren turned slightly, encouraging his fingers onto her breast and he squeezed it gently, seemingly careful to not hurt her with his strength. But she wanted more from him and clamped her hand over his, forcing his fingers harder against her. He responded, kissing her harder, his other hand clamping itself against her bottom, forcing her against his groin. She started to move her fingers over his skin, catching at the scars, stroking tenderly over them individually, acknowledging their presence and the sacrifices that had created them.
'My lady-'
'Seren,' she interrupted. 'Call me Seren.'
'Oh Seren,' he muttered, but was silenced by another frenzy of kissing.
Realising that they weren't progressing any further, Seren slid her fingers down his body, enjoying the way his muscles undulated under her fingers, and paused at his waist. He withdrew from her, keeping hold of her right arm with his left hand as he tugged at his belt, all the time holding his gaze with her own. The ensnarement was growing stronger as he loosened his britches, his boots skittering across the stone floor as he kicked them off.
And then, still gripping her arm, he drew himself fully upright in front of her. Seren, whose eyes had been briefly following the path of the boots, began to look up the length of his muscular legs, pausing at the sight of his manhood, and then continued up his gleaming torso until their eyes locked once more, her cheeks flushed and her breathing unsteady.
'My lord knight, I . . .' but Seren could not continue.
'You are scared?' he asked, quietly.
'Only that you are so strong . . . but I cannot wait,' and she simultaneously grabbed his manhood with one hand and pushed him back against the armoury bench with the other. Realising she was still wearing the britches, she wriggled out of them until she stood fully naked before him, her hair hanging over her breasts which were begging for his attention. She moved forward so that she was standing between his thighs and rested her arms on his shoulders. He took the hint and leaned forward, nuzzling her breasts with his face, and then his tongue was searching for her nipple. He took it gently between his lips and began to suck, his left hand creeping up to her right breast as his tongue teased her left nipple.
She stroked across his shoulders, softly at first, then stronger, her fingers starting to mould the firm muscles as his tongue and hands caressed her. She massaged him deeply and he responded, matching her firmness with the strength of his ministrations to her breasts, swapping his mouth from one nipple to the other, squeezing and stroking. She parted her legs, pushing apart his thighs, allowing the cool air to caress the tops of her legs. But soon that wasn't enough and she moved to straddle his legs, parting her own wider and then guiding one of his hands to between her thighs.
There was a moment's hesitation before his long strong fingers began to creep backwards. She couldn't help but release a groan as the tips of his fingers began to press into her, and she involuntarily widened her legs further lowering herself onto him. He responded, moving gently at first, and then more firmly as she gripped him tightly by the shoulders, wanting to feel him moving inside her. He responded and she threw back her head uttering a long low moan of pleasure.
She returned to kissing him as his fingers worked their magic within her, strong, but gentle, his thumb pulling forward to catch her bud and then his fingers plunging exquisitely back into her.
Gradually she felt herself inching forward, towards him, and then her knees touched the wood of the bench and she thrust her body against his as she knelt on the bench and lowered herself slowly onto his length. He paused, his breathing deep, and she wriggled down him, onto him, and she pressed his head against her neck, tightening her grasp as she felt him slide into her, with seemingly no end. When she could bear it no longer, she pushed at his left shoulder and he turned and lay down along the bench. She straddled him, looking down first at his chest as his hands grasped her hips, and then up to his face as she began to move slowly, rhythmically, feeling him so incredibly deep within her. He was concentrating, focused, drinking her in with his eyes as she moved above him, finding their unique rhythm.
She wanted this to last forever, looking down on his honed muscles, for the first time blessing the Goddess for the task she had set her, for the first time wanting this experience for herself, not just for the spell. As she increased the pace, rushing headlong towards her crescendo, once more she threw back her head, groaning her peaking with a feral cry and she flung herself forward onto his chest. But there was no release. He was not done with her.
It was some moments before she could gather herself together and gradually pushed herself back into a sitting position, still astride him, him still inside her, watching her closely. How she wished he would be able to remember this. His fingers stroked delicately down the side of her body, tracing her outline, her contours, which responded to his touch, her skin tingling already with delightful anticipation.
'Seren . . . oh dear lord . . . Seren,' he whispered.
She leaned forward to kiss him, to hope that maybe some memory would remain. He sat upright, holding her against him, and easily stood with her clinging to him. She wrapped her legs around him as he cleared the workbench of partly mended weapons and twitched across a cloak before he settled her onto it. He started to kiss her, delicately at first, and she stroked her breasts against his chest, her nipples reacting, protruding, heightened further by the touch of his fingers as he stroked over them. She explored his body with her fingers, stroking her through his short spiky hair at his neck, then over his shoulders, and then down over his chest, revelling in the smoothness of his muscles and their curve and firmness.
He was kissing her deliciously, varying between soft and gentle then harder, then dropping back to barely skimming her lips with his own, occasionally sucking on them, pressing hard against her, only keeping her upright as he was holding her so firmly with one arm. He began to move inside her and she responded, wrapping her legs higher around his hips, angling herself up to him. He reacted, thrusting deeper, hitching up her knees to around his waist, and gently letting her lie back onto the workbench. He grasped hold of her thighs, lifting her bottom from the bench, reaching further into her depths with every movement.
Seren was releasing little grunts of pleasure at every thrust, but it was only when he lifted her knees and placed her legs over his shoulders that she began to shudder with gratification, the grunts becoming louder interspersed with long low animal moans that she could not control as her orgasm took over. He was supporting her back, but she arched up to meet him, driving her hips as hard against his as he was thrusting against hers. She flung back her arms above her head, her head twisting from side to side as he plundered her, still pulling her hard against him with every thrust, driving her orgasm onto a new level, overwhelming her.
'Seren, Seren,' he muttered, in time with his plunging, 'Oh dear lord, oh I can't . . .' and he groaned deep and low as he emptied himself into her, gradually slowing, lowering her back onto the workbench with strong fingers, as, sated, she panted his name.
He wrapped her tenderly in the cloak, pulled her towards him and held her, whispering her name as he rocked her gently. She could have stayed forever in his strong arms. He may not say much, but his body spoke volumes, hard and strong and protective. Eventually she looked up at him, their eyes connected and she could see him withdraw from her as their lovemaking was erased from his mind, the little cloud condensed in her hand. He released her, walked back to the bench collecting his clothes on the way, dressed, returned to where he had originally been sitting, picked up his sword and began to polish it, no longer aware of her presence.
Sadly, Seren pulled her dress and shoes back on and left the armoury, her body still trembling, but his essence safe in her keeping, a bead of truest blue.
