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

me again.

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CORDELL'S POV

I can't help it. I still love her. The last time ever I saw her face was days before the barbarians struck my lover's village and I rode out of town to attend to some businesses with King Phillip. My father Blake had always been close friends with the king, and before his death, I was merely looked upon as an "unworthy." But now since I am the heir to all of my father's riches, the king calls upon me regularly to help him with certain matters.

From time to time I find myself still thinking of her beautiful freckled face, wild curls framing a heart-shaped face and big, pretty doe eyes. No woman in the whole entire kingdom could have matched her beauty. The last sighting of my precious Elizabella was told by a house servant. He said that two barbarian warriors were carrying off my Elizabella and one of the housemaids into the forest.

And that was entirely five months ago.

So I went to King Phillip and demanded part of his army come help land an attack on the Stauckana Barbarians so I could win back my woman. He denied me at first, but I thought up a different strategy. I told him of how the barbarians harboured the Silvertongue charm, the one that could help us decipher the Book of Azazel.

The Book of Azazel—everyone knows the story. It is the book with a mysterious unknown language that can only be deciphered with the help of the Silvertongue. Only then would King Phillip…or me…gain world domination.

If I gained world domination, I would snatch Elizabella out of the thieving barbarian's greasy mitts and then spit in his face. I would imprison every single barbarian and treat them as slaves, making them work in fields and whipping them whenever I fancied to. I would make them pay for all of the destruction and pain that damned race has caused.

When I finally convinced King Phillip of these strategies, he gave his daughter, Princess Sera, to the neighbouring kingdom (or queendom) of Pateros. The sickly son of the queen, Prince Titus would marry Princess Sera and form an alliance. Then, with our combined armies, we would attack Stauckana and defeat them.

We have artillery that they have never seen before—cannons and catapults and our famous three-pronged sword. We have our champion fighter, a real-life giant named Brom who can snap the necks of men like a child can pick grass from the dirt. Their arrows, spears and torches of fire will do them no good when they are fighting this war.

I kick another log into the fire to keep it going. The night grows colder and more bitter as winter draws near. "Cordell," my young sister Cordelia Mason speaks. "Why do you keep the windows open? You will catch a cold and wither like a flower shrouded in darkness."

She shuts them and draws the curtains over them. She lets out a distressed sigh and rubs her arms. "I shan't catch a cold, sweet sister," I whisper. "Hearing the whipping wind whistle delicately through the trees reminds me of her voice."

Cordelia looks at me momentarily before groaning and joining me on the long couch. "Why do you still think of the wench, brother?" she asks me. "If barbarians carried her off then she is either dead or being mounted like a hound does his bitch at this very moment."

I cringe, finding that I don't like how Cordelia says such things. "I don't want to hear those words come out of your mouth ever again," I growl at her. "Elizabella is alive and she is well. She has promised herself to me."

My sister laughs humorlessly. "Do you still think she has kept her promise?"

I don't know what to say. My mouth hangs slack until I realize that I'm doing so and shut it. "Of course I think she kept her—"

"Even with all of those men there? They must have already raped her, brother. They keep those women and slaves there just for the purpose of mounting them." Cordelia says matter-of-factly.

I refuse to believe that all my hard work has gone to waste just because my sister believes that my one true love is a whore and would not fight to keep her virtue for me. "She has kept her promise!" I boom at her, fed up by all of the negativity.

Cordelia jumps a little, her beautiful red hair falling into her eyes. "And what if she hasn't?"

My fists clench at my sides. "I will drive my dagger through the man that has taken it from her. I will watch as his eyes scream of death and blood bubbles from his unyielding lips. Yes, that is what I shall do." I see Cordelia's eyes shining with mirth and amusement. It bothers me. Everything she says and does bothers me tonight. "Get out." I say to her.

She looks surprised., but she still hasn't moved an inch from where she was sitting. "Oh Cordell, you know I was only trying to—"

I cock my head and look at her like she is a dog with three heads. "Are you daft, woman? Or are you just stupid? I said get out!"

Cordelia huffs and picks up her skirt. She pompously points her nose towards the sky and rushes past me. "Well I'm quite sorry that you can't handle the truth when it's laid out before you as clear as day!"
Betroth

I stand behind him in the chilly morning breeze, my fingers entwined in his hair, weaving it into a braid for him. It seems like forever since I'd touched those glorious, silky black stands. It's unseasonably cold this morning, but Abigor insists on having the windows left open. The people are up early this morning as well, for I can hear them bustling about the villages.

I tie the end of Abigor's braid with a strip of cowhide leather and let it fall down his back. He turns around slightly and flashes me a brilliant white smile. "Thank you," he says in that deep, husky accent that I've come to treasure. I nod my head and smile at him. He wears a fur vest that shows teasing glimpses of his bronze, muscled chest and deerskin pants that will keep his bulky legs warm.

I am wearing spotted deerskin pants with fluffy sheepskin boots to warm my feet. I also wear a cosy deerskin top, with my hair intricately braided on either side of my head. He looks at me intently for one moment before giving a small smile. "You look beautiful."

I find that my face reddens when he compliments me. He's complimented me so many times before, but the look in his eyes makes sparks fly down to my core. "Do you…like the clothes?"

He pulls me closer, a smirk showing on his lips. His hands find my ass and he squeezes me hard. My pelvis instinctively juts forward and my skin touches his lips. "It's not the clothes I like, 'Eliza."

His fingers dip below the waistband of my pants and pull them down a little further, his lips exploring further. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and the heat pulsating in my core. I take a deep breath to get a grip on myself. "That feels nice," I muse to myself, kind of oblivious to his presence. He chuckles against me.

"Let's take 'em off, then." With a sharp yank, my pants lay at my ankles. I eagerly step out of them, his hands spanning my hips. He takes one hand off of my hips to touch my hot mound, slipping one of his fingers through the moistened cleft.

I lean my head against his chest as he moves over to sit in his bearskin chair by the fire. He unties his breechcloth and lets his cock hang out, standing tall and weeping at the tip. I draw in a shaky breath. He sees my hesitation and nudges me on. "Go ahead. Touch me, honey."

Almost instantly, my hand juts out and I grasp his cock tightly, revelling in the texture of the smooth, hot column of flesh. As soon as my thumb slides over the spongey, wet head, he inserts a finger inside of me and presses down hard on that certain spot that makes me feel so good. I cry out and press myself against him.

ABIGOR'S POV

Her walls clench around my finger as I pump it in and out of her tight channel. My eyes blacken with lust, feeling her draped over my body, moaning softly in my ear as I do my best to pleasure her. The men aren't usually keen on pleasuring their women, but I find that I like doing it more than any of them ever had and ever will.

Her tiny, white hand strokes up and down my cock, dragging fire through my veins with each little moan and jerk of her hand. I buck up into her hand, trying to feel her more, take her in more. She pulls back, curls framing her beautiful face. She's out of breath. I can see it in her eyes, she's close.

I can't help but bite my lip at the sight. A burst of pleasure-pain goes through me as the scene before me unfolds. "Tell me how much you like it," I whisper softly, my voice husky with lust. "C'mon, honey, tell me."

She lets out a loud moan as her walls continue to tighten around me. "Oh, I like it a lot." All of the sudden, I make a quick decision. I remove my hand from her heat and she collapses and groans in reaction to the loss of my touch. It makes me feel fucking amazing when I know I can do that to her.

There's no one in the room, so I decide that I wanna submit to her and get down on my knees. She backs up, rubbing her thighs together while trying to get some friction down there. "What are you doing?" she asks me, her voice feathery and breathy.

I don't answer her right away. I wrap my arms around her waist and stand up with her in my arms, taking those steps to my bed. I throw her down on the bed sheets and spread her legs wide open. I don't even hesitate to ask her what she wants, I just dive right in.

When I kiss her there and hear that sweet moan, I can instantly feel myself becoming more and more aroused. "You're so wet," I moan out loud, tasting her juices on my tongue. She cries out when I press my whole mouth onto those sweet, pink lips and suck them into my mouth, flashing my tongue out between them when she bucks up against me. "Oh, fuck." I slap her ass and watch the spot there turns bright red. Her breathing speeds up as I lap my tongue over her clit, feeling her thighs clench around my head.

"That's it," I moan against her. "Cum for me."

I can tell that she likes when I talk that way to her because as soon as I told her to, she cries out loudly, her pleasure coming crashing down on her. Wetness coats my lips and I taste her sweet, nectar on my tongue, licking her and sucking her to revel in it all.

She's my