The Virgin Proxy (16 page)

“Everything was taken away from us. Whatever we had once is no longer ours.” She sat up, hugging her knees. Assuming he didn’t believe her, she exclaimed, “Why would I be at the convent if I was a peasant’s daughter? My father sent me there until he found me a husband.”

“And he did not find you one?”

“Would I be here if he had?” she snapped.

He reached for her with both arms, pulling her close. “No.” His voice was muffled in her hair. She thought she felt him laughing, but surely not. “You may have your horse, Deorwynn,” he murmured eventually, his voice drowsy. “You won the wager. I had to touch you today.”

It occurred to her that this was his way of apologizing for last night when he tricked her. But did he still think he could share her as he shared his wife?

“Can I ride out with the hunt tomorrow, my lord?” she asked softly.

He was, it seemed, fooled by her demure tone. “If you desire it, I will allow it,” he replied, smug and sanctimonious, planting a quick kiss to her hair. “But you will stay tonight with me and tomorrow you will keep back with the other women and not put yourself in danger.”

Now he thought her tamed to his bidding, his rules.

Deorwynn smiled into the darkening night. She was only just beginning to understand exactly how much power she had over this mighty warrior. Somehow she had to prove it to him too.

Chapter Twelve

Squinting hard he watched the damnable woman race her horse across the field at reckless speed. Her gown blew up over her knees, exposing her riding boots and a great deal of leg. She threw her head back and laughed as Thierry raced at her side, both headed for the same leap over a wide ditch. Her long hair, gleaming in the white winter’s sun, fell loose from its bindings and fluttered behind her like a knight’s pennant.

Guy’s heart lurched up into his throat. Hadn’t he fucked her hard enough to keep her out of the saddle today? Most women would politely decline from riding or any major exertion after a night like the one they’d shared.

She was an excellent rider, fearless. He might have known after the way she rode him.

He shifted in his saddle, readjusting his cock as he felt it thicken at the very pleasant memory of her tight, hot pussy clinging to it. He knew he would never get enough of her.

Deorwynn of Wexford. Could it be true that fate had brought her back to her home and she did not recognize it? Scowling he watched the two distant figures on horseback take off and soar over the ditch, more interested in racing one another than they were in chasing the stag.

He tightened his hold on the reins, eased the restless stallion around and urged him forward, leaving the pack of riders. His own interest in the stag had waned. He had other prey in his sights and she was currently disappearing into the forest riding side by side with Thierry.

Leaning forward, eyes focused on the woman in the distance, he nudged his mount into a gallop. The ground thundered by beneath him, great hooves slashing through the brittle, frost-streaked grass. Fresh wind tore at his face.

Thierry evidently heard his approach and turned, slowing his own horse, but Guy gestured that he should follow. The woman did not look and continued forward at her own pace.

His stallion moved powerfully under him, so fast and slick now that he, the rider, was almost still, suspended in time and air, crouched in the saddle, giving the animal his head. Finally she looked over her shoulder. Guy saw her brown eyes flare, but she urged her horse faster, thrusting through the trees, dappled light catching on her streaming hair, her laughter echoing through the forest.

He smiled stiffly. The woman liked leading him on a chase it seemed. She flaunted her disobedience and he had a feeling he knew why.

Somewhere behind him Thierry still followed. Guy’s heart was beating hard and ruthless, thrusting against his tunic like an angry fist. Today he would test himself. He must know if his need for Deorwynn was different or if he could share her easily with his friend. There was no other way to put this matter to rest between them. But his sight was already foggy, sweat breaking on his chest. Something was tearing its way free inside of him and the agony was worse than anything he’d ever felt.

* * * *

When they started out that morning the sky was overcast. Now the winter sun was out and it filtered down through the last few copper leaves that clung to the tangled branches above her head, spattering the dead grass and bracken with drops of cool gold. It was all very peaceful and beautiful.

Breathing hard she slowed the horse to a canter. The forest became dense. Thick, gnarled roots stuck up from the earth making the way more treacherous. The canter reduced to a trot and then a walk.

Suddenly Guy Devaux appeared directly in her path, astride his sweating stallion. “I win,” he said.

“I did not know it was a race,” she replied pertly. Of course she’d known he would follow and she’d instructed Thierry to do the same. She had to know if Guy’s feelings for her were different to those he’d had for any other woman.

With a sigh she swung down from the saddle and led her horse through the cluster of sprawling limbs and thick old trunks. He too leapt from his saddle, walking after her, but he had no need to lead his horse by the reins; the animal followed placidly, as if it had not just chased her down with flaring nostrils and churning hooves.

Suddenly Devaux reached for her hips. She turned to face him. His heavy hands moved to her bottom and pulled her hard against him. “Time to punish you, wench, for your continued disobedience.” His hands cupped her buttocks through her gown, settling her even more firmly against his groin. He teased her mouth open with his tongue and continued down her chin and throat, peppering it with light kisses. He licked her nipple through her gown, his hands squeezing and stroking her bottom. “That is what you wanted, isn’t it? Punishment?”

He spun her around to face a tree and quickly gathered her gown and shift in one fist, lifting it until she felt the brisk air on her legs above her riding boots, then her bared bottom. His hand stroked her right buttock, his leather glove rough against her skin.

“Do you question me, woman?” He spanked her. Hard. “You are mine, Deorwynn. This we agreed last night also. Don’t run from me again.”

“I didn“It run. I rode.”

Another spank. And another. She gripped the rough bark of the tree before her and bent further, her blood alive with wanting. She knew her bottom must be crimson and she was already trickling sexual juices, the vibrations of his big hand shaking through her body, making the tiny beads of lust drip to her inner thighs.

He breathed harshly. “Spread for me.”

She did not immediately obey and received another spank. She wriggled her hips, taunting him, laughter husky in her throat. Oh yes, this is what she needed.

He forced her legs apart with his knee and cold air kissed her damp cunny. With one long finger he flicked her labia from one end to the other and she knew her passion would dampen the leather of his glove. She shivered, excitement overtaking her so that she no longer cared where they were or what he did to her.

A sudden appreciative whistle caught her attention. She turned her head.

Thierry propped his shoulder against a nearby tree, watching the two of them, staring at her bent over, stark naked, lower half. Surely Guy had heard that whistle, but he made no sign; instead he knelt in the dry, fallen leaves and mossy tree roots at her feet and feasted on her cunny like a man starved of sustenance for days. Her knees weakened, but his hands gripped her ass and kept her from swaying, as the sensual curl of his tongue found her core and pleasured it devotedly. She watched Thierry remove his gloves, toss them into the bracken and slowly rub his own straining shaft through his breeches. His eyes burned into hers and he smiled slowly. Deorwynn remembered what she’d seen last night, the energetic way he fucked Sybilia, the pleasure on his handsome face when he delivered his seed into his friend’s wife.

Clearly no woman was out of bounds for these two.

Guy sucked on her nether lips, first one side, then the other; then he took them both together, tugging gently with his teeth, sending an exquisite stabbing heat through her pussy to her womb. She ground back into his mouth, silently pleading. He answered, thrusting his tongue inside her, flicking it hard across that tiny hidden key to her complete undoing.

Through misty eyes, she looked over to watch Thierry now pumping his exposed cock rapidly with one hand. She saw the tip shining with the first drop of his spunk. She licked her lips, staring at it, while Guy’s stiffened tongue thrust again and again into her throbbing sex.

Thierry delayed his ejaculation, suddenly taking his hand away, leaving his cock rearing up, the head an angry scarlet.

But her own fevered rush began, Guy working her mercilessly with his incredible tongue. Suddenly, before she could finish her ride, he withdrew his mouth from her, turned her to face him and lifted her against the broad trunk. She mewled in protest at having her climax interrupted, but then his cock pushed into her, filling her with one thrust. Her legs gripped his flanks, wrapped around him, the leather of her riding boots squeaking as her crossed ankles rubbed together. She knitted her fingers through his dark curls, until he commanded that she unlace her gown and let him have her breasts. Once again he did not ask politely, but she was in no mood to quibble over niceties this time.

Thierry moved closer, now standing less than an arm’s reach from the two of them. Her fingers fumbled over the laces at her throat. Suddenly simple knots were impossible conundrums. She couldn’t think with Guy savagely moving her up and down on his cock, her loosened hair catching on the tree bark, his breath scorching the base of her throat.

He growled at her for tangling the laces and then shouted, “Thierry! Come get her bubbies out.”

His friend stepped up with a grin and speedily untied her laces. Guy didn’t even break his rhythm. His shaft felt twice as large at this angle and with her weight supported only by his hands gripping her ass.

He grunted, thrusting his hips, pushing her harder against the tree. Thierry had her bodice unlaced and ripped her under-shift in his haste to expose her breasts. With a lean, cool hand he fondled her right breast, his thumb skimming the nipple; then he held it, while Guy took it into his mouth and sucked. Through half closed eyes she watched Thierry’s face. Somber, he observed his friend nursing at her breast, as the fucking steadily continued. Then he walked around the tree to her other side, cupped her left breast and muttered something in French. Guy grunted a reluctant reply that fluttered like a butterfly’s wings over her roused, swollen nipple. Thierry thanked him, bent his head and licked her left breast. She gasped, the walls of her sheath contracting on Guy’s broad shaft, as she advanced to her summit yet again.

Thierry closed his mouth over her areola and now they both suckled, their rhythm alternating so there was no respite from the delicious wet tugging. She peaked, squeezing her thighs around Guy’s waist, moaning loud enough to startle a flock of crows from the branches above. His teeth closed around her nipple, holding it without biting. As the last quake shook her body, he lifted her off his still hard cock.

What now? She opened her eyes just as she felt something else sliding in. An unfamiliar cock.

It was Thierry’s turn.

Guy stood to one side, watching, his eyes stern. “Don’t spend inside her,” he muttered, one hand stroking her hair. “That pleasure with this one is mine alone.”

Thierry smiled. “Can
she
come? Or is that forbidden with anyone but you too?”

“She’d better not.” He glared at her. “She climaxes when I allow it from now on. The little kitten is altogether too fond of pleasuring herself.”

Looking into his face, she knew he was trying to convince not only her, but himself, that he could do it this way, as he’d done with others.

Today she would make him see the truth.

Deorwynn stuck out her tongue over Thierry’s shoulder. “I’ll come when I like and as often as I like. With or without you.” And she moved herself faster on Thierry’s prick, wrapping her arms around his neck, pumping her hips. Laughing, Thierry stumbled back and sat on a tree stump. She arched her back, writhing madly, knowing what that would do to the man who watched, when he looked at her ass and the print of his hand upon it.

* * * *

Thierry grabbed her hips, trying to control the pace, before he erupted too quickly. But the result of her frenzied bouncing and Thierry’s anxious guiding of her buttocks, was that Guy had a full view of his friend’s darkened shaft disappearing inside her delicious pussy, to its full length and then back out again, right to the head. In and out. A steady, controlled rutting. Thierry’s balls were heavy and full, quivering each time she landed back down on his root, her delicate pink labia wetly kissing the furry mounds.

Usually this sight would excite him all the more, but sharing this woman was a different matter.

He warned her, “You’ll get another spanking.”

The gleam in her eye proved he’d just aroused her even more. She laughed, grabbing Thierry’s hair and pulling his head to her breasts as she bounced harder in his lap.