Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(100)

“I cannot know this and you will not speak of it again,” he said, kissing Atia’s unhappy face before turning to his elder daughters. “I have just seen Pullum over near the kitchens and she is finished binding the lady’s leg, so go and prepare the empty cottage for her. Get along with your tasks and I will see you later.”

The girls nodded and he headed off, moving in the general direction of their cottage. Lygia turned in the same direction, pulling her sisters along.

“You have heard him,” she said. “Let us prepare Drucilla’s old cottage for our guest. Atia, did you find something for her to wear?”

Atia made a face at her sister but that face quickly changed into a fake smile when Lygia turned to look at her. Lygia knew her sister was upset with her but that couldn’t be helped. Strangers in their midst had them all edgy with excitement and some fear, for it was extremely rare for them to have any visitors at all.

Truth be told, Lygia was already thinking ahead to the meal that night. She and her sisters would help supervise the meal, as daughters of the tribal chief, and she was already wondering how she was going to keep Atia from making a fool of herself over the handsome strangers.

Secretly, Lygia thought they were fairly handsome as well.



Gaetan had bedded many women in his life, but not like this.

Never, like this.

In the old woman’s hut, as the sounds of a gentle rain began to fall outside, Ghislaine and Gaetan were only partially disrobed as their bodies came together in the ancient primal mating rhythm. Because of Ghislaine’s bad leg, she ended up on her hands and knees, her tattered trousers down around one ankle and her cote and shift up around her shoulders as the bulk of her tender white body was laid wide for Gaetan’s touch.

Her buttocks were elevated to him as he held her aloft by the hips, his manhood deep in her body as he thrust repeatedly into her, trying to keep any pounding off of her right leg. It was tricky, to be sure, and Ghislaine was contorted rather oddly, but the beauty of the moment, the sensuality of it, was beyond measure.

Having been married before, Ghislaine knew how to welcome a man’s body. She knew how to move with him, and how to give him pleasure, because the moment Gaetan had entered her, she’d tightened up the muscles of her slick sheath to maximize his bliss. Gaetan had groaned with delight when he felt her body contract around him but the excitement of it, and her expert touch, very nearly threw him into a climax at the onset.

He had to still himself, slapping her buttocks gently to distract both him and her from what she was doing, but the slap against her buttocks had given Ghislaine the first of what had, so far, been two releases. Gaetan had felt them both against his manroot, that great throbbing that signified a woman’s satisfaction.

He wasn’t able, at the moment, to touch any other part of her body because of the way he held her hips elevated against his, but that didn’t matter at the moment. Everything he was doing below the waist, with his manhood as he ground his pelvis against her buttocks, was enough for the moment. He never knew lovemaking could be so euphoric to his heart or so satisfying to his soul.

It was heaven.

But he could feel his climax coming on and he had been for some time; it had been an effort to hold it off, to enjoy the moment. This was the woman he had fallen in love with, that he would marry, and that would bear his legitimate children. That knowledge was the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world to him.

As he carefully lowered her onto her left knee to take the brunt of her weight while he kept the right leg elevated, his left hand roamed her soft and tender body, fondling her sweet breasts, listening to her groan with pleasure. Breasts that will nurse my children, he thought, but a body that belongs to me.

Me!

He found himself wishing she would conceive his son this day; that his seed would find its mark. Surely God would listen to his prayers as he prayed for a strong son to carry on his legacy from this powerful brave woman who was very quickly consuming him.

When his hand moved to the moist junction between her legs, Ghislaine endured her third and most powerful climax yet. It was enough to throw Gaetan over the edge and he released himself deep into her body. But even then, his hips continued to move as if he didn’t want the moment to end, drawing it out, savoring it, gently thrusting into her until he could thrust no more. Then, he lowered himself down next to her and very carefully took her into his arms.

Ghislaine was sure that she was only half-conscious. She was in a dream state, somewhere between life and death and utter bliss. Her eyes were partially open as she lay wrapped up in Gaetan’s arms, staring at a stone wall that had pots and buckets shoved up against it. Gaetan’s mouth was by her ear and he kissed it, gently.

“Considering how ill and injured you have been, I should be considered quite a brute for forcing myself upon you as I did,” he murmured. “I pray you are not injured further.”

Ghislaine put a hand up, holding his head against hers and savoring their closeness. “I believe I am the one who instigated it,” she whispered. “I pray you do not think less of me for it.”

“Think less of you? God, no. I think you are a goddess.”

She smiled, laughing softly when she heard his gentle laughter in her ear. “Thank you,” she said. “You are most kind, my lord.”

“You did not answer me – I did not injure you further, did I?”