The next morning I awoke to the sight of Geralt's ass flexing as he kicked the pile of clothes by the door. I blinked, looking from him to the empty bed beside me. "Are you trying to sneak away?" I yawned.
His head snapped up, yellow eyes wide. "I didn't mean to wake you," he muttered.
"That doesn't answer my question," I said, stretching. Groaning as my back cracked.
"No."
"Then, what's the matter?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbows.
"Clothes are still damp where they've been wadded up on the floor."
I giggled, glancing at the window as lightning flashed. "I can get you some of my father's. You won't be fighting anything til this storm let's up anyway."
"That won't be necessary," Geralt said, picking up his clothes. Water still dripped from his trousers. He frowned.
"He won't mind," I said, tossing the blankets aside. Goosebumps broke out across my skin, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I climbed from the bed. "Thankfully he is a very open minded man." Crossing the room, I took the clothes from him and threw them back into a heep with my dress. "And I can't imagine sitting around in wet leathers all day would be comfortable."
His thin lips twitched, and he looked over my head as he nodded. "Alright."
With a bounce in my step, I turned to my wardrobe, pulling out a simple grey dress with a plunging front revealing the white bodice beneath it. I could feel Geralt's eyes on me, roaming over my back. His gaze, just as much a caress as his fingers. A shiver ran down my spine as I pulled the dress over my head that had nothing to do with the chill in the room.
His footsteps somehow sounded louder as he returned to the bed. One hand went behind his head as he stretched across it, and the other wrapped around his hardening cock. I couldn't help but stare. My mouth began to water as I watched it grow with his heartbeat.
Tightening the laces up my back, I made my way back to the bed, sitting down beside him. "How am I supposed to go do anything when you've presented me with something so tempting?"
Geralt hummed, his hand stroking up his shaft. "Don't go," he answered. I sighed, leaning forward to lick from the base to the tip, running my fingers through the thick black hair surrounding it. Air hissed from between his teeth as my hand replaced his and my mouth closed around him, and I looked up just as his eyes fluttered shut. Unlike the night before, I wasn't in any sort of hurry. I sucked on him slow, savoring the way his hips swifted.
My eyes never left his face as my head bobbed. The muscles in his jaw. His hands turned to fists at his sides. Smiling, I hummed around him, taking him deeper. His back bowed, and he bared his teeth. "You're a wicked woman."
Finally losing control, he arched into my face as I pressed my vibrating tongue to the pulsing vein underneath. Quickening my pace to match the shallow motion of his hips. One of his hands wrapped itself in my hair, guilding my actions.
His cock began to swell and twitch. I moaned as it pressed to the back of my throat, and his legs jerked. The pulse of his shaft alerted me to his orgasm only seconds before the salty, bitter taste of cum flooded my mouth, swallowing before it had a chance to settle for long on my tongue.
A tremor ran through him as I released him, coming off his cock with a pop. Eyes still closed, a slow smile spread across his face. I patted his thigh. "Let me go get you some clothes and then we'll get you fed."
"You're going to spoil me," he purred. Standing, I moved up the bed to quickly press a kiss to his lips, but his arms wrapped around me, pulling me in for another. And another.
"I have," - his lips cut me off - "more people to feed," - he tried again, running his tongue along my lower lip - "than you."
He pulled away with a sigh. "Fine," he muttered, still smiling. His fingers lingered in the air after me as I moved away from him.
"I'll be right back," I promised, slipping on my shoes. I left him there on the bed, closing the door behind me as I wandered out to the kitchen. My fingers combed quickly through my hair before I turned the corner.
Lara was kneading bread dough at the far table, surrounded by her usual mess of bowls and utensils. Flour covered her apron and whispes of her pale blonde hair curled away from her face and the braid piled on top of her head. "Lara, have you seen daddy?"
She looked up, pausing to wipe the back of her arm across her forehead. "He's out behind the bar."
"Already?" I asked.
"Your friend from yesterday is back," the 'k' made a click and her grey eyes rolled. Shaking her head, she went back to kneading, folding the dough over and pressing it into itself.
I sighed. "Perfect." Peeking around the archway out to the main hall, I zeroed in on the drunk sitting alone at the bar, hands flying as he rebuked my father. Both eyes were surrounded by deep purple bruises that met across the bridge of his nose. It didn't look like it was broken, but it was as swollen as the rest of his face, fading down from purple to bright red.
Father stood in front of him on the opposite side of the bar, pitcher in hand and a weary expression on his face. A handful of men sat scattered about the room, watching. Jaskier being one of them. Teeth clenched, I pivoted towards the chopping block. "I need a knife."
Pulling the butcher knife from the wood, I stomped out to the bar, holding it up my forearm and out of sight. The second the drunk saw me his puffy eyes narrowed. "If it isn't the bitch who done the damage," he sneered, flashing his nasty, yellow teeth at me. "I was just tellin' ya pa someone should teach ya some manners."
Faster than his bloodshot eyes could see, I had the knife at his throat. "It certainly won't be you, since you clearly have no idea how to behave. Now, I'd like you to leave, before I do a lot more than black your eyes."
He leaned away from me, teetering to his feet and knocking over his stool. His busted mouth twisted as he looked from me to my father behind me. Then, he spit on the counter. Father wiped it away as the drunk stumbled backwards, bumping into chairs and tables. The small crowd laughed, and his neck turned as red as his nose as he glared around the room. He didn't turn his back to us until he'd made it to the door.
"Someone is feisty this morning," Father chuckled. Crows feet appeared beside his dark eyes and his mustache curled as his smile would have if you could see his lips.
"Yes, well. I'm having a good day today, all things considered, and I'm not about to let him ruin it."
"Well, thank you for coming to my rescue," he said. My father was far too kind a man. Battle scarred and war weary, he never raised a hand to anyone if he didn't have to.
"You're welcome, but I actually came for a favor."
"Oh?" He raised a furry brow.
"The witcher's clothes are still wet from helping me in the stable last night. I was wondering if he could borrow some of yours?"
He blinked at me, his face falling. Then, he nodded. I followed him from behind the bar and back through the kitchen, unconcerned with his reaction. After all, no father is ever happy to think of his daughter spending the night with a man, even one as lenient as mine.
Lara's head snapped in our direction as I stuck the knife back into the chopping block as we passed. She shot me a wink and a cheeky smile.
Upstairs in his room, Father opened a trunk at the foot of his bed, pulling out a pale grey tunic and chestnut brown trousers from inside. "Will these do?" He asked, holding them out to me.
"They should work just fine," I said, smiling. They'd suit him quite nicely actually, but I didn't want to tell him that. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." As I turned to leave, he said something that made me pause. "You and the witcher disappeared last night…" he trailed off.
I smiled at him over my shoulder. "Don't ask questions when you know you're not going to like the answers."
For half a second, his eyebrows rose. "Right," he nodded and smiled, looking to the painting of him and my mother on the wall, young and beautiful. I remembered her with beginnings of wrinkles around her brown eyes and laugh lines. A shock of white in the front of her long, dark hair.
It was something she used to say when I was into mischief as a girl, and it still worked. Probably because I looked so much like her. He sat down on the trunk, still staring at the painting as I left him.
Geralt looked to the door as it opened, and warmth blossomed in my chest as recognition lit up his face. Grinning and pink-cheeked, I stepped inside, pressing my back against the door to close it. "You really are beautiful, for a man," I told him.
The curve of his spine. The way his hair reflected the light. Of course, his eyes. The angle he was standing at in front of my mirror provided a full view of everything.
"You have a strange definition of beautiful," he purred. And oh, that voice. He didn't seem to mind my staring as he crossed the room, taking the clothes from me. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," I said softly. I followed him to the bed, laying down on my back to watch him. He tossed the shirt down beside me, intending to put the pants on first, but then he stopped. His gaze traveled from my lingering eyes, down to my lips, to the line of my cleavage, and then he tossed the pants down too.
"One more time," he breathed, moving to stand between my dangling legs. I lifted them as he lifted my skirts. Trembled as his hands found my thighs. I heard him inhale, checking to see if I was ready without having to touch me.
A shiver ran through him as he exhaled. "I can't describe the way you smell."
"Here's to hoping that's a good thing."
He chuckled. "It is." My back slid down the blankets as he pulled me towards him. The head of his hard cock nudged the pearl at the top of my womanhood, and I gasped. Geralt grinned, shifting his hips so that his cock slid down to tease my entrance.
I wriggled beneath him, trying to inch him inside, but he stayed just out of my reach. Teasing and taunting. His cock stayed poised at my opening.
My teeth nashed together. "Geralt -" His name turned to a shrieking moan as our eyes met and his hips surged forward. Again and again, he dove into my body. Each thrust sharp and concise, hitting the same spot over and over. It made my legs shake and my toes curl in my shoes.
His long hair swayed with the motion. Neither of us blinked as we watched pleasure twist each other's faces. Even in the dim light of day, the candles having long since burned out, his yellow eyes seemed to glow.
Sweat began to bead across his forehead, and I could feel it doing the same across mine. A single drop ran from above my temple to wet my hair. My dress began to stick to my skin as the heat of passion built in my stomach, and every sound from my lips was louder than the last.
One of his hands left my thighs, planting itself over my shoulder as he leaned over to mold his mouth to mine. My body curled, my knees coming up by my chest as our mouths met in broken, sloppy kisses. The hand that wasn't holding him up found my breast, kneading it through my dress. A quick pinch of my nipple sent me into spasms.
I writhed against him as wave after wave of pleasure rocked my body, like electric explosions along my nerves. His rhythm changed as I clenched around him, becoming fast and wild. The hand on my breast joined the other over my head, his mouth still locked with mine as he jerked. Warmth flooded my womanhood as his cocked pulsed; the gush of his orgasm coating my insides.
My head fell back against the bed. "Well then," I panted, "fast and fulfilling." Geralt's breath fanned across my face as he huffed, a warm, satisfied smile curling his lips before he shook his head and placed a kiss to my forehead.
It would've been a sweet gesture had his sudden withdrawal not left me feeling empty. A shudder ran through me at the loss of his heat. The sweat sticking to my face and neck seemingly turned to frost and to glue beneath my dress. Groaning, I tossed my skirts back down around my ankles as I sat up. "I should've just gotten naked."
I decided to change while Geralt got dressed, washing my face and neck (and everything else important) in the basin on my vanity, making a mental note to change it later. He was ready well before I was, as often happens with men and women, but he didn't seem to mind. I had half expected him to leave, but he stood patiently by the door, gazing out the window as I pulled the pumpkin orange fabric of my new dress over my head.
"I think I prefer that one," he said, startling me. My eyes found the reflection of his in the mirror, soft and appraising. I turned to look at him over my shoulder as I pulled the front laces shut.
"Thank you. It's my favorite actually." The color was unusual for an innkeeper's daughter to be wearing, but it was cut short enough that it wouldn't drag the ground when I walked. Pretty but practical as my father liked to say.
Geralt opened the door for me, leading me out into the hall. My cheeks were scarlet when we turned the corner into the mercifully empty kitchen. Stepping closer, I wrapped my fingers in his shirt. Papa's shirt, I mentally corrected.
The baggy tunic did little for his physic but the pale grey color suited his fair complex and snowy hair better than I had thought it would, and the warm brown of his trousers brought out the honey color of his eyes. For all my chastising about my duties, all I really wanted was to take him back to my bedroom and hide. To strip him naked and climb back beneath the covers, but I could smell Lara's bread baking.
"Alright," I sighed. "Go find a table and I'll bring you and the bard breakfast when it's ready." He nodded and bent to press a quick kiss to my lips, but just as they met, the back door flew open. Geralt pulled me behind him, ready to fight, but it was Genson standing in the doorway, a horrified expression on his face.
I stepped around Geralt. "Gen, what's the matter?" He didn't look to be physically harmed, but that meant little.
"You…," he hissed to my surprise. My feet froze. "and the witcher?" Tears pooled in his green eyes and before I could begin to move, he turned on his heels and darted out into the rain. I ran to the door after him, calling his name, but he was gone.
My jaw fell slack as I turned to Geralt, my eyes wide like a fawn's in a wolf's gaze. Of course where there's one, there's many. Before either of us had a chance to speak, there was a commotion in the main hall.
Both our heads turned towards the archway as chairs scraping across the floor echoed the front doors bouncing off the walls. Then the drunk's grating voice carried all the way to the kitchen, "You lot think you can make a f-fool out of me!" Lara threw herself against the doorway.
"Kass, he's back and he's brought men with him."
Panic seized me. I couldn't leave my father and Lara to fend for themselves, but someone had to go after Genson. My gaze met the witcher's. "I'll deal with your disturbance. Go find the boy. He couldn't have gotten far."
My heart shuddered, squeezing so hard I heard the blood rush through my ears. A shaky breath of relief left me. There was no time to thank him. No time to think. I pivoted towards the door, barreling out into the storm just as thunder shook the earth.
The stables appeared to be nothing more than a brown blur through the downpour. My feet slipped through the muck as I hurried across the grounds, my skirts balled in my fists. "Genson!" I tried again. "Gen, please, come back inside!"
The stable doors creaked and slammed as the wind whipped, scaring the horses. I reached out to stop one of them from hitting me, but just as my hand touched the wood it flew back and a horse nearly trampled me. Stumbling back against the wall, I watched as Genson rode passed me at full gallop, running for the road and then passed it into the trees.
"Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!" My throat suddenly felt tight. Jerking my rain heavy skirts higher, I burst into a sprint, my body moving faster than my thoughts. I quickly pushed one of the doors shut, digging my toes into the dirt floor. It knocked me back as I bent to slide the bolt at the bottom into the ground.
My foot slammed against it, and then down into the bolt, burying it deep in the dirt. I looked up to find Roach watching me over his stall door. "We have to get Geralt," I cried, scrambling to my feet.
He seemed to understand me, stepping back as I yanked it open. The second I was settled on his back, he was moving, running from the stable with sure hooves. As we rounded the inn, the front doors flew open and a man sailed from inside, sliding through the mud to stop in front of us. Roach jerked to a stop, nearly throwing me from his back.
I threw my arms around him, hanging on as the horse backpedaled. Peering through slits, I watched the drunk bounce off the doors, stumbling over the threshold with Geralt behind him, dragging a body. It thumped to the floor as a scream echoed down from the mountains, bouncing back off the inn and trees.
His name tore from my throat just as loud. "Geralt!"
"Fuck."