Bewitching in Boots Page 5

  Sides of her he liked. Very much.

  She stepped away from him, retrieved the wooden box with the scarves, and handed it to him. “Take me.”

  Sweeter words were never spoken from sweeter lips. He’d heard those very words from other women, but when she said them, it rocked him, his thick cock jerking hard and hungrily.

  “Sweet Elisabeth, I am going to take you in ways you’ve never been taken before. And you’re going to enjoy every one of them.” He gestured toward the bedchamber. “After you, my lady.”

  Entering the bedchamber with Elisabeth, Tristan spilled the contents of the box on the bed and tossed the box and his cane aside. It occurred to him that for the first time since his injury, his leg was hardly bothering him.

  Impatient, he turned to Elisabeth, hauled her up against him and claimed her mouth. She moaned softly and immediately laced her arms around his neck, her body molding so perfectly to his. She felt wonderful in his arms. His tongue invaded her mouth, plundering the soft recesses, enjoying the way she returned his kisses with equal hunger. There were so many reasons he should stop. So many reasons not to take her. But as he stripped away her clothing, revealing her soft skin a little more with each article he removed, those reasons fell away with her attire. He couldn’t come up with an argument strong enough to make him push her away. Not when he wanted her this much. Not when his sac was so heavy and so tight. Not when his prick pounded in rhythm with his wild heart.

  Her eager hands opened his breeches. Tristan yanked his shirt off, tossed it away and sat down on the edge of the bed.

  Standing before him in her knee-length chemise and caleçons, Elisabeth’s gaze was riveted to his erect cock boldly protruding from his breeches. She bit her lip, her confidence faltering briefly. He hid his smile.

  “We’re going to be the perfect fit,” he assured her. He knew he was big, but he also knew how to use every inch of his length and girth to pleasure a woman.

  He removed the last articles of clothing from her body, then paused to admire the beauty before him. Lush curves, gorgeous breasts with the pinkest most mouthwatering nipples he’d ever seen. At mouth level to him, they were erect and begging to be touched, sucked.

  “You are beautiful,” he murmured and pulled her closer. Her hands gripped his shoulders and he felt her tense, bracing for his touch. She thought he was going to go straight to the sensitive tips that were pebbled and straining for him. Instead, he ran his hands slowly, teasingly around the contours of her perfect tits, purposely avoiding the taut peaks. Her fingers dug into his arms. She closed her eyes and arched to him—her silent demand for more. Watching for her reaction, he lightly brushed his fingertips across her nipples. She gave a soft cry and shuddered.

  He smiled.

  Grasping her hips, Tristan leaned in and kissed around each nipple, building her excitement, her anticipation for when he finally suckled her.

  She jerked and tried to press her nipple to his mouth.

  Tristan pulled away, smiling. “No, you don’t, chérie. I’ll get there when I get there.”

  “I . . . can’t take any more.”

  Despite the urgency thundering inside him, he was intent on savoring her. “Yes, you can.” Then he licked the underside of her breast. She made a strangled sound.

  Tristan turned her around, her pert bottom now facing him. “Give me your wrists.”

  Shaking, Elisabeth put her hands behind her back for him. “Do it. Hurry.” She’d never been so lost to sexual abandon. Never had she been on fire like this. Gripped by carnal cravings, her nervousness had disappeared.

  Grabbing one of the scarves off the bed, he bound her wrists together, then spun her back around. His hot mouth immediately latched onto her breast, sucking her nipple in. She cried out, her knees all but buckling beneath her. She might have fallen to the floor if it hadn’t been for his strong arm around her waist, holding her. He sucked her other nipple and moved back to the first, his teeth and hot tongue creating sensations that reverberated in her sheath, her feminine muscles tightening and releasing of their own accord.

  He was most definitely not hurrying.

  Clearly, he was intent on torturing her with his inflaming mouth in the most exquisite way.

  Securely in his hold, her wrists bound behind her back, she couldn’t do anything other than drown in the pleasure flooding her body. Her head fell back and she squeezed her eyes shut, rapid breaths dragging in and out of her lungs.

  His tongue gave her nipple a final flick.

  “On your belly, Elisabeth.” He rose, thankfully keeping a firm hold on her waist; she wasn’t certain her legs would support her weight. “Keep your feet on the floor.” Moving her to the edge of the bed, he bent her forward, and lowered her torso down onto the mattress.

  The coolness of the counterpane against the overheated skin on her breasts and her belly made her gasp. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him strip away the remainder of his clothing, her eyes drinking in his perfect physique, all muscular and sinewy, and his impressive cock. Arousal quavered in her belly. He moved behind her and skimmed his hands down her arms to her bound wrists.

  “Are your arms all right?” he asked, setting his palms on her bare bottom. She wiggled, her skin feeling extra sensitive. Unable to summon her voice, she simply nodded. Tristan caressed her derrière. “You’ve been driving me out of my fucking mind in those breeches of yours. They show off this fine part of your anatomy. I couldn’t resist having you this way.”

  Dear God, couldn’t he just get on with it?

  “Spread your legs for me,” he ordered.

  At last! Quickly, she complied, widening her stance. The cool air against her wet private flesh made her shiver.

  He lowered himself down onto his knee, her sex open for his viewing. A smooth scarf was suddenly around one ankle, his hands quickly binding it to the bedpost, repeating the same action with her other ankle, securing her legs apart.

  His strong masculine hands skimmed up her legs. “Christ, you’re the most arousing sight I’ve ever seen.” He cupped her slick sex with a warm palm. She gasped and lurched but couldn’t move far. “So wet for me.” Tristan rubbed her lightly, a gentle stroking of his hand over her sensitive flesh, not enough to make her come, just enough to keep her keen. Hungry. Tormented.

  He leaned a little closer. “You look delicious and ready for any way I want to claim this pretty sex.” His warm breath tickled against her bottom. She felt him part her folds, and then came the slow swipe of his tongue. She jerked and whimpered, the bud between her legs aching for his attention. He licked around it, and she suspected he was avoiding her clit on purpose, knowing she was wavering on the edge of a stunning release. Bound as she was, she was unable to press hard against his mouth the way she longed to. She was at the mercy of his mouth, his every wicked lick over her erogenous flesh.

  He slid his hot tongue inside her. She curled her toes, the sound of pleasure bursting from her lips.

  “The sweetest cream,” he groaned. “I could make you come with my mouth, but I’m going to do it with my cock instead.” She heard him stand.

  Before she could rejoice, his fingers slid inside her. She didn’t know how many fingers, but knew he was using enough to create a delicious pressure, his skillful hand lightly pumping her, making her moan.

  “You’re so tight. How do you want it, Elisabeth? Slow and deep? Hard and fast?”

  She tightened around his fingers, desperate and so out of control. So out of character. On unfamiliar ground. “I want it this minute. Right now!” No man had ever touched her the way he did.

  He chuckled, leaned over her and kissed her shoulder. “I see you’ve found your voice,” he said in her ear and then straightened, pulled his fingers out of her and gripped her hips.

  “How’s this?” He butted the head of his shaft at the slit of her sex. A sound shot up her throat, a mixture of a moan and a sob of joy. Tristan pressed forward, his cock stretching her as he fed it to her one slow inch at
a time. She couldn’t hold back the sultry sounds she made. He was so large. This moment monumental. A fantasy come true. A dream brought to life.

  And she was afraid.

  It was suddenly too much. He was too much for her. The moment too intense. Would she be the same afterward—after she completely abandoned herself to him?

  He swore. “Relax. Don’t tense. Take me in . . .”

  You want this. You ache for him! You’ve got to have him. Taking a deep breath, she released the tension in her body. He felt it immediately and drove his cock into her deeper than any man had ever been.

  Elisabeth cried out, so completely filled and possessed.

  “Oh, yes,” he groaned, filling her again and again, driving away any sense of emptiness. Quickly, he picked up the pace and she reveled in it. “You feel incredible.”

  He rode her, hard and fast, his grip on her hips tight, his sizable sex creating stunning sensations, the likes of which she’d never known.

  Her helpless body took every fierce thrust, rejoicing in each one as he plunged and dragged his solid shaft.

  Elisabeth dug her nails into her palms, unable to control the contractions quivering through her sheath. She sagged heavily on the bed. Her legs were shaking so badly, they were no longer capable of holding any of her weight. Yet she arched, lifting her bottom high, straining toward him to take him in as deeply as she could.

  Her release was imminent. She buried her face in the counterpane, not wanting to let go. Not wanting this perfect pleasure to end.

  His powerful thrusts were gloriously unrelenting, driving her closer to the edge. “Come for me. I can feel how close you are, clenching and pulsing around me.”

  She was. She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t stop the orgasm thundering down on her.

  A large hot wave slammed into her, vaulting her into ecstasy. She screamed into the mattress, rapture flooding her body. He drove in harder, ramming her repeatedly as Elisabeth basked in the sublime sensations, her sex wildly pulsating around him with each spasm of her slick walls.

  Tristan suddenly reared. His palms came down hard on the mattress near her shoulders and he gave a long, deep groan, his warm semen shooting onto her back.

  Elisabeth pressed her cheek against the counterpane and briefly closed her eyes, the contractions of vaginal muscles ebbing, her heart and breathing slowly returning to normal.

  Tristan lightly bit her shoulder. She flinched, turned her head, and found herself gazing into his sensual blue eyes. He was smiling, looking so beautiful, it made her stomach flutter. He kissed the spot on her shoulder where he’d bitten her, then straightened, untied her hands and ankles, and wiped her clean with a scarf.

  Elisabeth didn’t move. Her muscles were so lax, she didn’t think she could. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all and deposited her in the middle of the bed. Stretching out beside her, he propped himself onto his elbow and began to knead one of her wrists.

  “Are you all right? Are your arms sore?”

  She’d never felt better. She’d never felt this kind of bliss in her life. “I’m fine.”

  His smile broadened. “That was very good.” Closer to incredible, she wanted to say. In fact, it was beautiful and intense, just like the man beside her. “There is definitely a delicious carnal connection between us.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. The fire between them burned white-hot.

  He tilted her chin up and gave her a long inebriating kiss. “Now that we’ve taken the edge off, I can fuck you slowly the rest of the night . . . and into the morning.”

  Into the morning? He meant to stay the night? No, you should ask him to leave once you’re done. She never allowed men to stay after sex. Neither Selle nor Leymont was permitted to remain. And as for her late husband, he’d thankfully left promptly after their brief one-time copulation. Having consummated the marriage, he departed for his hôtel in Paris and never touched her again.

  The thought of spending the night with Tristan had her body vibrating with renewed hunger. It was astounding that he could inflame her so quickly, so easily, after such a strong orgasm, with just his words. That alone was a good enough reason to refuse and put a bit of distance between them.

  But instead, she told herself it was a better idea to stay with him through the night. She told herself that this was part of her plan; she was, after all, trying to have her fill of this man.

  Then she wrapped her arms around him, snuggled close to his hard body, and gazed into his stirring eyes.

  “I’d love that, Tristan.”

  She told herself she had the situation well in hand.

  Chapter Five

  His cock was in heaven. As Tristan drifted out of sleep and into consciousness, the glorious sensations swamping his shaft became stronger, the wet heat enveloping it—keener, and the soft sucking noises in the quiet room—louder.

  He opened his eyes, looked down his body, and was met with the erotic sight of Elisabeth drawing on his hard prick, her head lowering and rising in a steady, sublime rhythm. He closed his eyes briefly and smiled.

  Is there a better way to greet the morning than waking up to a beautiful woman sucking you off?

  Last night had been delicious. Today was starting out just as fine.

  She gently cupped his sac, and he groaned. She looked up, his cock popping out of her mouth when she met his gaze.

  Her smile was radiant, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Good morning.” She sat back on her heels, yet still held on to the base of his shaft. Rays from the morning sun shone into the room, allowing him the pleasure of seeing her lovely naked form in the bright light of the day.

  “Good morning, Elisabeth.” Images of her bound by silk scarves, wet and eager, filled his mind. Memories he’d never forget. Last eve wasn’t the first time he’d engaged in that kind of sex play, but with Elisabeth, it had been different. She was different from any woman he’d had.

  She was different from the woman he’d believed her to be.

  And she made him feel different than he’d been feeling the last three months.

  Since his injury, he’d felt depleted and diminished. It didn’t escape his notice that not once since her arrival had Elisabeth treated him as anything but whole. Not like a man with an infirmity. She’d treated him simply as a man—fully capable. And had even demanded fencing lessons. Lessons he intended to provide her with—proper lessons this time.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, leisurely stroking his cock from base to tip in her warm fist, his greedy prick luxuriating in the pleasure radiating along its length. “But I noticed this particular part of your anatomy—of impressive proportions, I might add—was awake and looking for attention.”

  She drew another smile from him. She was the only one who’d made him smile since his injury. “I don’t mind at all,” he said. “By all means, help yourself.”

  Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “Thank you, sir. I must admit I find you rather delicious.”

  He chuckled, but his laugh was choked off by a gasp the moment she lowered her head and gave the tip of his cock a lush lick.

  Elisabeth plunged him deep into her mouth. He closed his eyes and hissed out the air from his lungs. Intent on delving his fingers into her soft dark hair and guiding her movements, he reached for her, only to have his hands stopped short.

  What in the world . . . ? He snapped open his eyes and looked up. His wrists were bound with silk scarves to the outside posts of the bed.

  He shot a look at Elisabeth.

  She drew him from her mouth. “It’s just a sex game. I thought I’d return the favor.”

  He was a leader. Dominant by nature—in and out of the boudoir. “I don’t get tied up.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “Really?” She was doing a poor job of hiding her smile. “I’d say, by the looks of things, you do. Now just relax and enjoy the experience.” Merde. Those were the very words he’d said to her last night.

  “Elisabeth.” There wa
s a distinct command in his voice, a sharpness to his tone that always arrested anyone’s actions.

  Except the woman kneeling between his legs.

  Lowering her head, she plunged him back into her hot moist mouth, tearing a groan from his throat, and immediately resumed her rhythmic sucks.

  He glanced at one of the posts he was tied to and tested the binding by giving it a yank. To his surprise, the knot gave. As he tried the other knot securing his other arm, it gave, too.

  Tristan glanced back at the spirited woman pleasuring him, completely unaware that he could, with moderate effort, free himself.

  She pulled his prick from her mouth, and licked her lips. His rock-hard cock pulsed, famished for more. “You know, I don’t know what I find more delectable—your taste or having the mighty Tristan de Tiersonnier tied to my bed, at my mercy.”

  He hid his amusement. She wanted to play games.

  Oh, he’d play. His way.

  Looking adorably smug, she crawled up his body, her sweet face stopping inches from his. “I can do whatever I want to you,” she teased. Her palms were pressed into the mattress on either side of his chest, her knees on either side of his hips. He detected the faint scent of her arousal. She was wet; her little sex play was exciting her.

  He looked down and took a moment to admire her pretty breasts. Her nipples were hard, looking like two tempting berries he just had to taste.

  “Put one of your nipples in my mouth.” To toy with her, he purposely worded the phrase as a command.

  A slight frown pulled her delicate brows together. She was clearly dismayed over his lack of submissiveness. “You are in no position to dictate—”

  “The left one. I’ll start with that.”

  “I don’t think you understand. You’re tied up . . .”

  Angling his head, he bent his knees, the tops of his thighs bumping her soft bottom, sending her body forward—one tasty teat landing in his ready mouth.