Read Online The Staff and the Blade: Irin Chronicles Book Four by Elizabeth Hunter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Hunter
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his fist and held on with everything in him. Their passion roared to life, like brush thrown on a bed of coals. Hot and sharp and flaring. Her mouth was demanding; she bit the edge of his tongue as he drew back. Then Damien’s mouth plunged down her neck.
He plumped her breast beneath her bodice and slicked his tongue over the soft flesh that swelled along the edge. Her back arched and she clung to his shoulders.
“Damien!”
He said nothing, starving for the taste of her skin. He pulled down her dress and cupped her breast as his other hand threw up her skirts until he could feel the firm curve of her bottom in his palm. He squeezed hard and felt her gasp as his mouth closed around the rosy red blush of her nipple.
Sari was no delicate female but a strong, lush woman. He feasted on her breast, even as his other hand explored between her legs. She was wet and slick, and his body was already hard as a randy lad’s. She had stripped him bare of his control. When she spread her legs for his exploring fingers, he did not hesitate.
My eyes have seen too much to ever look on that which is lovely again.
He pushed the thought away, along with the guilt of touching Sari’s body with blood-stained hands. She was eager and hungry and he could satisfy her. He was made to satisfy her. He would do anything, be anything, sacrifice anything to give her what she needed. That was his only thought as he teased her flesh with his hands and tongue.
“Ah!” Her soft cries of pleasure fed a deep longing within him. “Damien… Damien, please .”
He lifted his lips to her mouth and caught Sari’s cries as she came in his arms. His fingers were slick as he softened his touch and eased her down from the height of her pleasure. He slid his hand back and cupped her again, smoothing his palm over the supple skin of her buttock and thigh. Furious kisses turned lazy and languid. Her heart was still racing. He closed his eyes and pressed his ear to her chest, listening to the sweet rhythm, then turned his head and feathered kisses over her breast.
“Sari,” he whispered, “you are so lovely. In every way, lovely.”
“Take me home.” She leaned against the wall of the library as Damien rested against her breast. Her fingers threaded through his hair. “Warm my bed.”
He ached with wanting her body, but he wanted her heart more. “Are you ready to be mine, Sari? Completely and utterly?”
She paused in her caresses. “You mean…”
“You can try to deny it, but I know . We are reshon. Once I have taken you, you will have no other,” he said. “I will not let you go. You know what I want, so be sure, Sari.”
She wasn’t sure. He could tell by her stiff posture and the pounding of her heart. Damien stepped back and carefully covered her breasts before he eased her skirts down, smoothing them until they fell to her feet. But he didn’t let her go. He put his arms around her and held her close, kissing her forehead before she buried her face in his neck.
“I am patient, milá ,” he whispered. “My lovely one. My dearest.”
※
Damien was checking on the flocks the next day, watching the dogs round up the stragglers to move them closer to pastures near the village. His mind wandered to the night before and the taste of Sari’s mouth. The feel of her flesh under his hands. He frowned and examined his palms.
Sari was no shy girl, so he doubted he’d been the first to put his hands on her body, but he wondered if her other lovers had been scribes of learning or men like him. Warrior. Farmer.
Damien’s hands were rough. They had always been rough, ever since he’d held his first blade at ten years old. His palms were callused and his nails ragged and gritty. Some nights Damien stared at them in the candlelight as he held his quill and saw them dripping with blood. He would wash them—soak them in near-boiling water—but the blood lingered. It lingered because he knew these years were only a reprieve. It had taken
He plumped her breast beneath her bodice and slicked his tongue over the soft flesh that swelled along the edge. Her back arched and she clung to his shoulders.
“Damien!”
He said nothing, starving for the taste of her skin. He pulled down her dress and cupped her breast as his other hand threw up her skirts until he could feel the firm curve of her bottom in his palm. He squeezed hard and felt her gasp as his mouth closed around the rosy red blush of her nipple.
Sari was no delicate female but a strong, lush woman. He feasted on her breast, even as his other hand explored between her legs. She was wet and slick, and his body was already hard as a randy lad’s. She had stripped him bare of his control. When she spread her legs for his exploring fingers, he did not hesitate.
My eyes have seen too much to ever look on that which is lovely again.
He pushed the thought away, along with the guilt of touching Sari’s body with blood-stained hands. She was eager and hungry and he could satisfy her. He was made to satisfy her. He would do anything, be anything, sacrifice anything to give her what she needed. That was his only thought as he teased her flesh with his hands and tongue.
“Ah!” Her soft cries of pleasure fed a deep longing within him. “Damien… Damien, please .”
He lifted his lips to her mouth and caught Sari’s cries as she came in his arms. His fingers were slick as he softened his touch and eased her down from the height of her pleasure. He slid his hand back and cupped her again, smoothing his palm over the supple skin of her buttock and thigh. Furious kisses turned lazy and languid. Her heart was still racing. He closed his eyes and pressed his ear to her chest, listening to the sweet rhythm, then turned his head and feathered kisses over her breast.
“Sari,” he whispered, “you are so lovely. In every way, lovely.”
“Take me home.” She leaned against the wall of the library as Damien rested against her breast. Her fingers threaded through his hair. “Warm my bed.”
He ached with wanting her body, but he wanted her heart more. “Are you ready to be mine, Sari? Completely and utterly?”
She paused in her caresses. “You mean…”
“You can try to deny it, but I know . We are reshon. Once I have taken you, you will have no other,” he said. “I will not let you go. You know what I want, so be sure, Sari.”
She wasn’t sure. He could tell by her stiff posture and the pounding of her heart. Damien stepped back and carefully covered her breasts before he eased her skirts down, smoothing them until they fell to her feet. But he didn’t let her go. He put his arms around her and held her close, kissing her forehead before she buried her face in his neck.
“I am patient, milá ,” he whispered. “My lovely one. My dearest.”
※
Damien was checking on the flocks the next day, watching the dogs round up the stragglers to move them closer to pastures near the village. His mind wandered to the night before and the taste of Sari’s mouth. The feel of her flesh under his hands. He frowned and examined his palms.
Sari was no shy girl, so he doubted he’d been the first to put his hands on her body, but he wondered if her other lovers had been scribes of learning or men like him. Warrior. Farmer.
Damien’s hands were rough. They had always been rough, ever since he’d held his first blade at ten years old. His palms were callused and his nails ragged and gritty. Some nights Damien stared at them in the candlelight as he held his quill and saw them dripping with blood. He would wash them—soak them in near-boiling water—but the blood lingered. It lingered because he knew these years were only a reprieve. It had taken
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