empress of storms (5 page)

To her surprise his cock was already stirring, rising from its nest of curls. It promised an impressive girth when erect. Her earlier fears began to dissolve, reassured by this sign of male desire.

Her nipples had become sensitive and she felt the brush of her silk nightdress like a caress as a pleasant heat grew between her thighs. She took a deep breath, wanting to reach out and run her fingers over his chest, feel the solid warmth of him. After years of fantasizing, she was going to lie in his arms, feel his body enter hers, hold him close as she flew with him on the wings of pleasure.

A hint of her earlier distress returned.
Yes, except that he's only doing this to fulfill the treaty. And what in the gods’ names did he mean by not bothering me again?

The down-filled mattress dipped as Matthias climbed in beside her. In the dark the scent of his skin, a pleasant woody scent underlaid with clean male, seemed more intense. She breathed it in, savoring it. He moved closer to her, his erection pressing like a hot stone against her hip.

“I believe this would be easier if you removed your shift,” he said gently.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Embarrassed, she sat up and yanked the delicate silk over her head, tossing it to the side. Laying back against the pillows, the chill air of the room brought goosebumps to her exposed skin. She inhaled when Matthias laid a hand on her stomach.

He moved his hand upwards, running his fingers along the underside of her breast, then cupping it. A thumb brushed across her nipple, sending a delightful shiver across her skin.

His head dipped, lips brushing against the hollow of her neck and nuzzling the soft skin there. She touched his hair cautiously, stroking it. He lifted his face, eyes closed in a brief spasm of pleasure that soon turned to grief. 

She realized that the dark was for his benefit, not hers, but not for the reason she’d thought. Without the light, he could pretend that the hair against his face was blond, not black, that the body he caressed was Ypresian, not Hellene.

Her heart ached in mingled dismay and sympathy.
Oh, my love. I can’t be Hanne, and I am sorry for that. But I can help ease your pain, if you let me try.

His lips trailed down, closing over her nipple and sucking. She couldn’t help arching into the sensation, the heat of his mouth and velvet touch of his tongue even better than her fantasies. He let the nub go with a tiny pop, laying soft kisses across the valley between her breasts before repeating the act on her other breast.

His other hand moved down her stomach, stroking the skin and sending tingling bursts of pleasure deep between her hips. His touch paused at the top of the crisp curls between her thighs, and he raised his head from her breast. 

“May I touch you here?” he murmured.

Her breath came faster. “Yes.”

His fingers slid between her thighs, a bit too slowly for her taste. Danaë was wondering if she should urge her hips up when he stopped.

“You’re wet,” he said, sounding puzzled.

She frowned at the bizarre statement. “Well, yes. Does that surprise you?”

“I didn’t—” He paused, then cleared his throat. “I thought I’d have to wet you in other ways.”

She had a sudden image of his mouth leaving a trail of kisses down her body, nuzzling between her legs, licking and suckling the soft flesh there. Was he one of those men who enjoyed the taste of a woman?

“But if it’s not necessary—” To her surprise he shifted until he was lying between her legs, urging them wider. She pushed away disappointment and reached down to caress him.

He stiffened at her touch, and not in the way she wanted. “What are you doing?”

“I—don’t you want me to touch you?”

“You don’t have to do that.” Not ungently, he moved her hand to her side. “Just lie there. I’ll be quick.”

A dull sort of horror crept through her. Was a handful of kisses on her breasts and some fondling all the attention she would get? Surely he wanted more. “Matthias—”

“Please, Danaë. I said I’ll make this quick.”

She bit her lip.
This can’t be all that’s between us. There has to be more.

She wriggled out from under him, leaving him fumbling in the dark. “Matthias, we need to talk,” she said.

“Now?” He frowned at her forehead, unable to focus in the dark. “You want to talk
now
?”

“I think it’s important.”

She watched him grind his teeth. Stopping right before sex wasn’t her favorite activity either, but she was determined. “Please, Matthias.”

“Fine. I’ll light a candle.” Rolling away from her, he groped along the side table for the candleholder.

“It’s a handspan to your right, and the flint box is on its immediate right.”

He stilled. “How do you know that?”

“I can see it.”

“You can … but it’s dark as night in here.”

“I know. Light the candle, Matthias.”

He did with a bit more fumbling, grabbing the now-lit taper and turning back to her. In the dim bronze glow he seemed stunned. “How did you see where the candle was?”

She tugged her blue hair lock. “I’m a mage. Darksight is one of the adept-level skills.”

Matthias’s mouth worked for a moment. “Then … you saw me?” he said, sounding strangled.

“Yes.”

“I ….” He sat back against the headboard, his boggled expression shifting to one of embarrassment. “Gods. I’m sorry, Danaë. I had hoped to spare you that.”

It was her turn to be confused. “Why? You’re a fine figure of a man. I wish you had let me look at you in the light.”

“You can’t mean that. I’m old enough to be your father, for the gods’s sake. And next to Lukas ….”

The light dawned. His remote kiss after the ceremony, his intention to not “bother” her, and now this paltry excuse for intercourse. He thought he was being compared to his son, and was afraid of coming out the loser in that comparison.

Her own fears faded under this realization. She sat up, making sure the cover was tucked around her breasts, and folded her hands in her lap. “I believe I need to correct a few misconceptions between us,” she said, her tone kind but brisk. “First, I wasn’t in love with Lukas. I liked him well enough, and I would have married him to fulfill the terms of the treaty, but there were never any tender feelings between us.”

That earned her a narrowed look. “You didn’t love him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He shook his head, thick brows coming down. “All the girls in Mons were mad for Lukas. He could charm the very birds from the trees. I’d assumed you were in love with him as well.”

“No.” Lukas had been charming and handsome, yes, but there was a streak of something unpleasant in him, a childish impatience that had grated on her. “I’m sure that we would have formed an affection for each other over time. But as it stood, no, I didn’t love him.”

“Oh.” Matthias sat up as well, running fingers through his hair. “I’d thought—well, I’d thought that you must have been disappointed. Having to marry me instead of him.”

Danaë heart warmed at his abashed admission. Most noblemen she knew who had taken younger wives were delighted with their good fortune and thought themselves the cock of the walk. “That’s not the case at all,” she said. “I wasn’t upset at all when I found out I was to marry you. You’re a wise ruler and a good man.” She allowed herself a smile. “And you’re very handsome, of course.”

He ducked his head at that. “I’m an old soldier with greying hair and scars,” he murmured.

“All true. But you’re still a handsome man, and one I desire.” She gave him a languorous look. “As I believe you discovered.”

“Ah. Yes, true.” Wariness tangled now with hope as he considered her. “You want me, then?”

She wanted to smother him with kisses until that self-doubt melted away. “I do. But not for a brief tumble, and not for one night. If I’m to be married to you, I would like you to make love to me every night while we’re together.” Sliding back down, she let the coverlet slip from her breasts, giving him her best ingenuous smile. “Unless you’re not interested.”

“Gods.” His eyes darkened as he stared at her breasts. “You’re not what I expected, Danaë.”

“So I gathered. You’re different as well. And I’m very pleased with that.” She reached out and tugged at a curl of his chest hair. “So, shall we try this again?”

“I think we should.” He held up the taper. “With the light or without?”

“With, if it’s all the same to you. I want to enjoy the sight of my new husband.”

“I suspect I’m the one who will be doing the bulk of the enjoying, but as you wish.” Matthias put the candle back on the side table. He was now cast in shadow, but Danaë could still see him well enough. He slid down until he was on his side facing her. “I’m afraid I’m out of practice with bedroom matters. What would you like to do now?”

She thought. He hadn’t kissed her yet, at least not above the collarbones. “I’d like a proper kiss. The one you gave me after the ceremony may have been acceptable for public consumption, but I hope it’s not how you kiss in private.”

“It isn’t.” He moved closer, stroking her shoulder with a finger. “And my apologies for that. I suspect I’ll be apologizing for much of what happened this day.”

“No apologies are needed if you kiss me.”

He did, a sweet brush of lips that made her mouth tingle with anticipation. The next kiss caught her lower lip between his. He sucked gently on the plump flesh, letting it slide free with a soft pop. Their faces were too close to see him smile, but she could feel it somehow. 

“You have honey in your kisses, Danaë,” he murmured.

“Only for you, Matthias.”

“Flatterer.”

She dimpled. “Kiss me again and find out.”

This time his kiss was stronger, hungrier. She responded with an equal need, cupping his cheeks and immersing herself in the intoxicating taste of Matthias’s mouth. He tasted of wine and the roast from dinner, and some secret flavor that was unique to him, something dark and very male. It was perfect, sating a hunger she hadn’t known she possessed. She fell back against her pillows and he followed, their tongues sliding against each other in a twisting dance.

He finally pulled back, gasping. “It’s a good thing I didn’t kiss you like that earlier today,” he said. “I would’ve taken you in front of the entire cathedral.”

“Perhaps a bit more than the nobles of Ypres needed to see,” she agreed, breathless. “Not to mention my brother and Patriarch Reniel.”

Matthias tilted her chin up, nuzzling the soft skin of her jaw. “He would’ve had me building shrines in atonement to the end of my days. And your brother would have run me through.”

“Which would have caused an unpleasant international incident.” She arched when his mouth hit a sensitive spot on her neck. “Not to mention I would have to have him executed for killing my husband.”

“It’s a good thing we avoided all that, then,” Matthias agreed, licking delicate spirals on her skin down towards her breast. He stopped at the point where the flesh began to mound and kissed his way to her nipple. Dragging the very tip of his tongue around the areola, he then flicked it across the stiff little nub. “Best we save such things for the privacy of our bed.”

“Agreed,” she gasped as his mouth closed over her aching breast and sucked once, hard. “Matthias.”

He responded to her unspoken plea, alternating between running the flat of his tongue over her nipple, flicking it with his tongue, and sucking it, before repeating the same sensual torture on her other nipple. The flesh between her legs was already aching with desire, and she could feel wetness sliding down the inside of her thighs. 

Turnabout was fair play. She ran her palms over his broad shoulders, caressing the curves of hard muscle there, before slipping down to the firm flesh of his back. A long valley of muscle ran down the length of his spine and she explored it with her fingertips. Bringing her hands up in a caressing stroke, she ran her nails over the skin of his upper back. It was meant more to stimulate than scratch, but from the way his head jerked from her breast and he groaned in pleasure she knew she’d found a special spot.

“Gods, yes. Do that some more,” he begged.

She started dragging her nails in circles, observing in delight as a blissful expression bloomed on his face. “That feels astounding. No one’s ever done that to me before,” he confessed.

“I think it’s because it’s the one spot on our body we can’t reach by ourselves, so we need someone else to attend to it. It’s very sensual, isn’t it?”

His answer was a deep, lusty kiss that lit up her own nerve endings with sparks of joy. Wonderful as his muscled back felt under her touch, however, there was much more she wanted to explore on her new husband. She let her hands trail down, stroking the curve of muscle and bone along his sides. One hand slid underneath and in towards his groin, cupping the thick, hot shaft there in a teasing grip. “What a wonderful wedding gift you have for me here.”

He made a sound that was half-chuckle, half-gasp. “I’m pleased you like it, my dear. I’m rather fond of it myself.”

The skin was pure satin, but underneath it was warm, heavy steel, ribboned with veins that she wanted to trace. Sliding up to the bulbous tip, she rubbed a thumb over it and felt the first drops of his own pleasure. The movement made him close his eyes again and hiss in appreciation.

She started a deliberate, playful stroke up and down the shaft, rubbing his foreskin back and forth. When he hardened even more in her grasp she abandoned her new toy for a moment, sliding her hand down further and cupping his bollocks. They felt full and heavy, ripe with seed.

He reached down and clasped her wrist. “Danaë, if you don’t want me spending in your hand like a virgin boy, please stop.”

She allowed him to move her hand away, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against the furred skin of his thigh. “My apologies. But you do feel wonderful, husband.”

He snorted.

“I mean it.” She grinned up at him. “Would it shock you to learn that I’ve had the most marvelous fantasies about you? The two of us alone in a moonlit pool. Or on a blanket in a secluded glade, or teasing each other under the table at a dull banquet—”