A Sinless Betrayal, Cherie Benjamin [story books to read .txt] 📗

together on his head. It essentially traps his head between my legs. He laughs a deep, sexy laugh and forces my thighs apart with his hand. "Let me see you," he whispers huskily.

And he dives again, locking his lips on my clit and suckling it into my mouth. He tongues it and swirls the little bud in his mouth. "You don't find this sickening?" I ask between laboured breaths.

He pulls back momentarily. "No, hell no. From the minute I first saw you, I knew I wanted to taste your most intimate place, feel your nectar on my tongue when you shuddered around me."

I gasp loudly when he flattens his tongue and licks me from the bottom to the top a few times. The feeling of a slimy appendage probing sweet, tender places makes me moan louder than I ever had before. I throw my head back in pleasure.

He ducks down a little bit further to my virginal entrance, dipping his tongue in and out of the little hole before latching back onto my clit and moaning, sending sweet vibrations through my body.

I reach down between my legs and grab a handful of his hair, yanking him closer to me if it's even possible. He sucks my skin into his mouth, releasing it with a soft pop before spitting on me and rubbing it in with his fingers.

"Oh!" I don't even recognize my voice when I cry out.

"Fuck yes," he growls before diving back into me. His licks and nips and sucks are bringing me to that beautiful edge again. My hips begin to automatically rock against his mouth, meeting each swipe that his tongue makes on my genitals.

I wrap my legs around his head and he grabs my waist tighter as he licks and sucks at me. When I fall, he's there to catch me, and every moan and droplet of womanly nectar I spill. Even after I've come down from my pleasure high, he's still greedily licking away at me. I hold his face in my hands and pull him up my body.

He kisses my lips and I taste myself on his tongue. He pulls back, resting his forehead on mine. "How was it?" he asks softly.

I shake my head, my chest heaving with each heavy laden breath I take. "You don't even know how good that felt," I sigh, laughing a little. He runs his calloused hand over my breast, kissing the underside of my jaw.

"Good."

I sit up and begin to dress again. "How did you learn to do that? Is that what barbarian men do to their women?"

He shakes his head, leaning back on his haunches, his sweaty, glistening chest gleaming in the sunlight that pours through the open window. His hair is tousled thanks to my hands weaving in and out of it, pulling him closer and pushing him. "Not usually," he says. "I normally don't do it to my whores. She's got to be special if I decide to kiss her down there."

I can feel my face reddening like a ripened tomato. "I am…special?"

He just winks at me, and suddenly I know.
Topaz

It's been about one week since Snow Lion had her baby. I frequently had gone to see her, and I still do. She is good company, and it pleases Abigor to know that I have a lovely bond with his only, and most favourite, sister. But each day that I go to her, she gets paler and her voice, softer.

Snow Lion is getting weaker and weaker. She has an infection and is in diminishing shape. Abigor's been doing badly with facing that truth. He's been drinking a lot and worrying himself beyond belief. Three Horses is also worried about his wife but he still sees Cassandra on a regular basis. He does not deserve Snow Lion.

Abigor had told me before that ever since Snow had caught the same disease that his mother and other sister had, she'd never fully recovered the right way. The doctors constantly fret over Snow Lion, even though she's convinced she'll be all right.

They say it's really a slim chance.

I pour Abigor yet another glass of wine. He's been taking his sister's illness very hard and has been drinking up a frenzy to try and get his mind off of it. Taking the glass over to him, I see him staring absently into the fire. When night rolls around, it's cold and can be blustery, even though the days are as hot as the sun.

He takes the glass and downs it in one gulp before handing it back to me. He hasn't cried once, but the wrinkles in his forehead and the biting of his lip is telling me that he wants to but refuses to do so in front of me. That would be a sign of weakness, and god forbid Abigor shows me his weakness.

Snow Lion has been coughing up blood. Her nightgowns are stained with it. After the delivery of the child, she had to be stitched up. The castle medics went about trying to do their bests, but it failed. The wound infected and spread through her body like a prairie fire.

It has taken Abigor all his might not to storm down there and kill the medics where they stand. He crushes his face into his hand, his eyes blazing in the firelight. I dare not say more.

"Did you hear anything else about my sister?" he asks me softly. His voice comes out husky, but wobbly. He turns his head to look at me, black eyes searching for mine.

I shake my head and look down. "She's a strong woman," I tell him, trying my hardest to be of comfort to him. "She'll make it through. She'll make it."

He laughs humorlessly before replying back to me in a cocky, arrogant tone. "She's been fucking weak ever since she was a kid," he retorts. I jump at his harsh tone. "Face the facts, 'Eliza. She's…"

I shake my head. "Don't do this to yourself, Abigor. There's no way of knowing."

He looks away from abruptly, only to bury his face in his hands and grab at his hair. "Don't do this to myself? Right. My sister's dying. You telling me that she's not going to die only burns my wounds even more."

My heart is hammering in my chest. I take a deep breath, leaning my back against the bedpost. "She needs you to be strong for her," I whisper. "If she saw you like this, upset and already preparing her deathbed for her, she'd be terribly shaken and upset."

His fingers tug at the roots of his thick black hair. "Like she already doesn't know that she's going to die…" he groans softly.

My nails dig into my skin. "Oh, I'm not saying that, Abigor. Even if she knows, she wouldn't want to see you broken for her. I know if I were dying, I wouldn't want to see my family members distressed and upset like this. It would only make me more afraid of the unseen and the unknown. I'd want them…to be strong for me, hold my hand and smile, assuring me that everything's gonna be alright before I ascended to a greater place."

He still does not cry. He stands from his chair and turns to face me, all in his near seven-foot glory. As he comes to stand close to me, his towering body sways and he nearly collapses. His hand reaches out and braces his body against the bedpost, trapping me near him.

"Eliza…" he whispers. "Who do I have to lean on?"

I rest my hand on his blazing hot peck and swallow thickly. "You have me," I say gently. "I'll do all I can to be there for you, Abigor."

He leans down a little, taking my face into his hand. "I need you." That's all he says. His eyes blaze with lust as they look down upon me. His breath smells of heavy wine and whiskey and he can't even stand upright.

"I think you should lay down for a little while," I tell him, grabbing his bicep and steadying him on his feet.

"No," he groans. "I want you, Eliza. Will you not give me this?"

I grimace at his grief-stricken tone of voice. I shake my head slowly. "You're drunk, my king. This is not the kind of support you need right now."

When I try to move away, he grabs me roughly and yanks me back to him. "It's all the support I need," he growls.

I look him in the eye and gulp again. The muscles in his jaw tense and bunch together when he grits his teeth, nervously and anxiously awaiting my answer. "No," I whisper. "I want you to lay down and gather your thoughts."

"Oh, fuck me!" He pushes me away so hard that I tumble backwards, landing hard on the floor and cracking my head against the wardrobe. "You deny me even when I need you most. "What a lousy bed thrall you are."

The venom in his voice surprises me. I want to cry, but I realize that he's hurting badly. I hang my head a little and bite my lip. I can feel blood trickling down my forehead. "I'm sorry."

His face softens a little at the sight of my blood. He reaches out to me before quickly snatching his hand away as if the air was poison. "You are to stay here at all times," he hisses. "You shall not speak to another person, you shall not even look at another person. If I come back to see you gone, there will be no end to my wrath."

Then he goes, slamming the door behind him. I slump against the wall. I think it's best to treat the wound before it festers and infects.

0o0o0o0o

I've been locked in my darkening room for over an hour. I've lit a sweet, vanilla smelling candle to help me to see in the darkness I wonder where he is because it is night and it is not like him to wander about in the odd hours. It is not like him to go to sleep past nine o' clock either. He loves his rest.

I wear a wet cloth over the wound on my forehead, my curly hair swept up into a maid's bun. I have become utterly bored due to the fact that over the course of that hour, I have gone about with my candle in hand, reading through every book Abigor has left in the bedroom, exploring every nook and cranny, and just about documenting every particle of dust in the room.

I'm desperate to free myself from this dark and desolate hole. I stand on my feet, still a bit wobbly and dizzy from where I'd hit my head. I make my way over to his desk with my little stub of a candle that has been melted down over the long, treacherous hour, where all his belongings and jewels from the raids sit. I see the little wooden box that holds the Silvertongue, and the ruby and emerald necklaces were thrown into a pile on the other side of it.

I look for a key, anything that could help me. I sift through various parchment scrolls, and jewels, and trinkets from commoner's houses with no such luck of finding that sweet golden key that would