Chapter 3
'Oh gods, where was he?' The shimmer of the cymbals muffled any noise that may have been made by footsteps on the thick floor rugs. The lack of footfalls seemed to press upon her, the knowledge of his presence, without knowing exactly where he stood, and Alanna squirmed slightly, easing upright, squeezing her thighs together against the faint ache between her legs.
A soft chuckle came from in front of her – not at all far in front – and she gasped, sitting bolt upright. Abruptly she was sliding helplessly forward, fingers clutching unavailing at the smooth sheet, when she heard two swift steps and strong hands clasped her waist and lifted her to steady her, placing her back on the bed. A knee nudged between her own, twisted, and before she knew how, Alanna's thighs were open beneath her skirt, and the Tahl had advanced between them, up against the edge of the mattress, spreading them further.
Shocked by the sudden advance, she recoiled backwards, but was restrained by the hands holding her waist, and found herself bent, bow-shaped, over his firm clasp, breasts thrust upwards toward his face. Before she could react and jerk upright, he muttered something husky in his own language, and she sensed his body leaning closer over hers. One arm swiftly shifted to support her lumber, and he entwined the fingers of the other in her hair, holding her still in the arch. Xanir then pushed against her back, lifting her belly and breasts further towards him, perfecting the curve as he bent her over his arm. He watched the ripe, perfect globes heaving repeatedly against the fabric to the time of those short, panting breaths and could feel his swelling, surging cock aching with the need to pound into her, to make those breasts bounce to a new rhythm, set by him.
Zjama, Xanir cursed himself, he should have taken Bezella before he came in, he was going to split this girl in two with his lust. But for once the dancer hadn't interested him. He wanted this one. Zjama!, but he wanted this one. A slight, twisted smile lifted the corner of his mouth. Half the world wanted this one. And he was going to have her.
His fingers tightened in her hair as he tried to ignore the enticing rhythm of those breasts, to remember that she needed arousing, that she was new to this, and untrained, and she would be sore for weeks if he did what his body was urging and just pushed up the skirt, freed himself, and took her. Now.
Angrily, and a little fearful, Alanna squirmed to escape the tightened hold on her hair, and heard the sharp intake of breath above her as her movement caused her breasts to bounce free from the encasing fabric, the intense arch of her spine curving them from the top of the stiff bodice cups. Xanir cursed something, and barked out a bitter laugh, before bending forwards to fasten his lips fiercely on the delicate skin of her neck, suckling hard as he yanked her up towards him, hauling her hips in to cradle his while he surged urgently against her.
'Slowly. Slowly', he cursed himself, struggling against the pulse of lust that washed over his senses as the girl whimpered, a mixture of fear and fervour. 'Control measures the man.' Quoting proverbs at himself was not helping.
But he gentled, his fingers brushing delicately over the aching peaks of her breasts as his lips explored her neck and shoulders, nipping and licking over her sensistive flesh. Alanna could feel the shiver of his fingers over her nipples causing sensation to ripple down into her belly, to tighten and tease the molten ache within her. The shiver of apprehension at being touched so intimately, awareness of the barely leased fierceness, was swiftly followed by an ripple of pure want.
Separate, sensual touches teased at her skin, and she had a feeling of being tugged slowly into a vortex, her senses beginning to spin out of her control. Lips against her pulse; teeth grazing her jawline; fingers plucking at a taut nipple as his other hand caressed her naked back. Gods, he was good at this. 'He should be, the number of times he's so-called married', Al reminded herself, trying desperately to hold onto some vestige of herself, of dignity, against this onslaught. She was a Kjeldahl. She would remain a proud Kjeldahl, and he would return her in a year.
She gasped and arched involuntarily as his nails grazed an aching peak, but then she stubbornly dragged her thoughts back from the edge she could feel looming. He had had her brought here only to be a plaything in his bed and she was damned if she was going to act the part to his satisfaction, she reminded herself faintly, trying to ignore the intoxicating tingle of his fingers on her skin, pulse leaping at his touch. He had even had her blindfolded so she wouldn't be reminded how ugl...
His skilled lips whispered down her collarbone toward the valley between her breasts, and her breathing hitched, heartbeat staccato thundering in her chest, as her defiance was shrouded in a shimmer of blind heat. She was surrounded by the musky scent of him, the sense of him, and no longer noticed that she could not see, as her other senses were slowly overwhelmed.
Stroking slow laps to frame her full, sensitive breasts, circling, nearing, but never reaching the peaks; blowing gently on the taut nipples, nipping at the soft flesh surrounding them, his hands caressed down the back of her bodice, and teased apart the hooks. Alanna sank into a tide of lust, skin tingling fiercely from the onslaught of his possessive teeth and tongue, moaning gently as he grazed along the edge of her breasts. Suddenly she arched involuntarily, a cry escaping as his mouth closed fully over an exposed mound, swirling his tongue in a circle once, twice, before sliding back to tease her tingling, aching nipple with his teeth. He lapped at the taut bud, his hands on her forearms and weight across her thighs holding her steady as she writhed, whimpered, and thrashed her head.
Xanir closed his eyes, savouring the squirms of the girl beneath him as he tormented her exposed breasts. He had been aching to expose them since she had first been presented to him yesterday, and the perfect spheres of smooth white flesh, the small red peaks, were begging for his touch. His raging cock was pressed firmly into the crease of her hip as he arched over her, and he experimented to see what would make her arch and writhe most fiercely, masturbating his member between their bodies until he had to retreat to regain some control again. He had seen her resistance in the proud jut of her chin, a silent defiance, and it had aroused him, amused him. Now he wanted her molten; not wet – molten, begging yet incoherent, when he finally mounted her.
Xanir lifted his head, and pulled Alanna upright again, her bodice falling to her waist, knees still held wide around his thighs. He admired the tousled blonde hair, escaping around her shoulders, tendrils framing her flushed cheeks with the delicate, slanted bones disappearing under the blindfold. But her heaving breasts drew his gaze back and his mouth watered, cock throbbing as his eyes stroked over the proud peaks. He would have her painted like this, a stray thought passed, as he stepped back, narrowing his eyes, following the curves of her waist down to the folds of golden silk. Wanton, aroused, slightly bewildered; a beautiful white lily in his rich bed. His eyes dropped lower, to where her thighs were spread wide under the shimmer of cloth. Even through the silk, and muffled by the scent of the kora whispering from the bowl by the bed, he could smell the first slight musk of her arousal, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. A responsive wife; a blessing from the gods. Then, drawn, his eyes lifted back to her breasts. His cock throbbed.
Alanna whimpered slightly – he had lifted away, and paused, and the maelstrom of feelings were slowly cooling, awakening her to awareness of sitting exposed before her new lord on the bed. She felt strangely lopsided. He had paid much more attention to one breast than the other, and the one breast was aching fit to burst, swollen, her nipple throbbing fiercely as it poked its hard tip towards the man in front of her. The other breast was also aching, but the throb was of neglect, echoing through the plump mound as it yearned to feel as fiercely as its twin. Alanna could barely think beyond the coupled, opposing aches in her breasts, although she was dimly aware of how wanton she must look, spread legged and half naked, with her wet nipples poking forward. She knew that he was looking, standing over her, appreciating his view, but she ached too much to care. She lifted one hand, without thinking, and moved it to soothe that throbbing, neglected breast.
Her wrist was grasped and he laughed, huskily. "No", he admonished her, one of her few words of his language, and she writhed to hear it, shame blushing her cheeks as she realised she had been about to fondle herself in front of him.
And he wouldn't allow it.
He leaned forward and she was pulled to her feet, guided firmly but gently to the post at the corner of the bed, then both wrists were pulled up above her head and swiftly tied to some kind of fixture with a soft cloth.
Her blush deepened as she was left there, gown about the waist, while he stepped back and walked around her, murmuring appreciative words she didn't know the meaning of, but did understand. His fingers or lips occasionally tweaked her nipples, so that she moaned, aroused, and a little frightened of this man's power over her. The dampness between her legs had spread so far that she could feel it sliding onto her thighs, and she surreptitiously pressed her legs together to ease the ache, rubbing sinuously. Another husky laugh, and he stepped away to return a second later. A soft, oily dampness slipped suddenly over her neglected nipple and she gasped, arching towards the sensation, rubbing against the item he was teasing over her flesh. He ran it around and around, in tantalizing slow curls, then teased her jaws open with his fingers. The slippery piece of pungent fruit left her nipple and was placed in her mouth. Obediently she chewed, then swallowed abruptly, half choking, as his smooth lips enclosed the aching peak of her breast. It seemed to swell to double in size, treble almost, as he suckled gently, then harder. Sharp little cries escaped Alanna, and she rubbed herself sensuously against the pole behind her, pushing into his mouth in time to his rhythm.
Another piece of fruit was traced around the other nipple as he sucked and played, lapping at the first. She begged him to put it in her mouth so he could then lick the juice off her aching peak, and heard another husky laugh as instead he dropped his hand to push down her gown slightly, and tease the segment into her belly button to swirl in slow, tortuous circles.