drapes.
“Ah, Cleve, escort Mistress Alice downstairs. She’s hurt her back. Make certain she’s comfortable, and ask someone in the kitchen to prepare a posset. Alice, you are to drink every drop.”
Larkin watched through a thin gap between the velvet and the bedpost, as Cleve took Alice from Talon.
“Nay, Sir Talon. Truly, ’twas only a twinge. ’Tis gone now. I’ll tend yer bath for ye.”
“You’ll do no such thing. If you injure yourself further, who will keep the pot boys out of trouble? I insist that you rest.”
“But ...”
“Now.” The steel beneath the silky empathy was unmistakable.
“I will see that Alice takes proper care of herself, sir.”
“Thank you, Cleve.”
“Ye’re welcome.”
“Cleve, when you’ve settled Mistress Alice, send some men to remove this screen. I’ll not need it.”
“Aye, Sir Talon.”
With that, Cleve ushered Larkin’s sole hope of rescue from the room. She looked on in tortured wonder as Talon folded the screen closed, lifted it aside, and placed it by the door. He turned back to the tub, directly in Larkin’s line of vision, and removed his loincloth.
Her throat went dry. Her entire body heated then chilled. Goose bumps raced over her skin, leaving a fire in her lower belly and unaccustomed tightness in her breasts.
He dipped a hand into the tub she’d so recently vacated, testing the water.
She began to tremble and closed her eyes, praying that he would not see the curtain shake. Two men came for the screen and left. She heard humming and a splash. When she opened her eyes, Talon sat, half hidden by the tub. It was too small for his large frame, and his knees showed wetly above the rim.
Fascinated, she watched as he lifted one long arm and lathered it with her precious, scented soap. Had she remained undiscovered so long just to be betrayed by a cake of soap? The humming became a song. His slightly off-key baritone stroked over her skin, and sensation tingled through her body and curled her toes. She bit her lip on a groan of frustration. Then the meaning of the words he sang became clear.
“… she bathed my staff with her mouth.”
Is that really what men like? Larkin’s gaze tried to penetrate the wood and water hiding that particular part of his body. How, she wondered, did a woman bathe a man’s staff with her mouth?
“Oh I her breasts did lap and suck she moaning pleas for more.”
Larkin looked down at her own body, saw her pebbled nipples, and felt the extra dampness between her own thighs. Her face heated. She couldn’t be like the woman in his song, could she? The song continued, accompanied by vigorous splashing as he sang of suckings and fuckings and dyings and cryings. That song is positively indecent. Despite the chill from standing wet and naked for so long, Larkin broke into a sweat.
“Once more my sweet, please do you mind, I’ll give you treats, but from behind.”
Larkin’s mouth dropped open and her heart raced. He can’t mean what I think he means.
“She bent and spread, her nether mouth I fed with …”
What? She nearly shouted. What comes next? Desperate to know what had happened, she pushed the curtain farther from the post.
Talon had sunk his head below the water. All that showed was the gleam of his knees.
She’d just begun to think he would drown when he sprang upward, stood straight in the tub, and shook. Water sprayed from his hair and body.
She closed her eyes, then opened them again, unable to resist the lure of his gleaming skin and taut muscles. She would have much to confess to Father Timoras.
Talon grasped a dry cloth, covered his head, and rubbed as he shouted the end of the song. The cloth muffled his voice just enough that Larkin could not be certain what words he uttered. The action she thought he described seemed physically impossible to her, and no doubt Father Timoras would declare it to be sinful.
He tossed the towel aside and stepped from the tub, then strode straight toward the
“Ah, Cleve, escort Mistress Alice downstairs. She’s hurt her back. Make certain she’s comfortable, and ask someone in the kitchen to prepare a posset. Alice, you are to drink every drop.”
Larkin watched through a thin gap between the velvet and the bedpost, as Cleve took Alice from Talon.
“Nay, Sir Talon. Truly, ’twas only a twinge. ’Tis gone now. I’ll tend yer bath for ye.”
“You’ll do no such thing. If you injure yourself further, who will keep the pot boys out of trouble? I insist that you rest.”
“But ...”
“Now.” The steel beneath the silky empathy was unmistakable.
“I will see that Alice takes proper care of herself, sir.”
“Thank you, Cleve.”
“Ye’re welcome.”
“Cleve, when you’ve settled Mistress Alice, send some men to remove this screen. I’ll not need it.”
“Aye, Sir Talon.”
With that, Cleve ushered Larkin’s sole hope of rescue from the room. She looked on in tortured wonder as Talon folded the screen closed, lifted it aside, and placed it by the door. He turned back to the tub, directly in Larkin’s line of vision, and removed his loincloth.
Her throat went dry. Her entire body heated then chilled. Goose bumps raced over her skin, leaving a fire in her lower belly and unaccustomed tightness in her breasts.
He dipped a hand into the tub she’d so recently vacated, testing the water.
She began to tremble and closed her eyes, praying that he would not see the curtain shake. Two men came for the screen and left. She heard humming and a splash. When she opened her eyes, Talon sat, half hidden by the tub. It was too small for his large frame, and his knees showed wetly above the rim.
Fascinated, she watched as he lifted one long arm and lathered it with her precious, scented soap. Had she remained undiscovered so long just to be betrayed by a cake of soap? The humming became a song. His slightly off-key baritone stroked over her skin, and sensation tingled through her body and curled her toes. She bit her lip on a groan of frustration. Then the meaning of the words he sang became clear.
“… she bathed my staff with her mouth.”
Is that really what men like? Larkin’s gaze tried to penetrate the wood and water hiding that particular part of his body. How, she wondered, did a woman bathe a man’s staff with her mouth?
“Oh I her breasts did lap and suck she moaning pleas for more.”
Larkin looked down at her own body, saw her pebbled nipples, and felt the extra dampness between her own thighs. Her face heated. She couldn’t be like the woman in his song, could she? The song continued, accompanied by vigorous splashing as he sang of suckings and fuckings and dyings and cryings. That song is positively indecent. Despite the chill from standing wet and naked for so long, Larkin broke into a sweat.
“Once more my sweet, please do you mind, I’ll give you treats, but from behind.”
Larkin’s mouth dropped open and her heart raced. He can’t mean what I think he means.
“She bent and spread, her nether mouth I fed with …”
What? She nearly shouted. What comes next? Desperate to know what had happened, she pushed the curtain farther from the post.
Talon had sunk his head below the water. All that showed was the gleam of his knees.
She’d just begun to think he would drown when he sprang upward, stood straight in the tub, and shook. Water sprayed from his hair and body.
She closed her eyes, then opened them again, unable to resist the lure of his gleaming skin and taut muscles. She would have much to confess to Father Timoras.
Talon grasped a dry cloth, covered his head, and rubbed as he shouted the end of the song. The cloth muffled his voice just enough that Larkin could not be certain what words he uttered. The action she thought he described seemed physically impossible to her, and no doubt Father Timoras would declare it to be sinful.
He tossed the towel aside and stepped from the tub, then strode straight toward the
Similar Books
