by Dara Joy
Green had wondered about the limits of his abilities. Now she knew.
Jorlan was indeed a high Sensitive. And she had purposely provoked him.
She knew it would be best to stop this now, but it was too late. Jorlan was beyond rational choices. He would react strictly to his tactile impulses until he had played out the erotic passion brought out of him. Green closed her eyes as she reared off the bed in response to his ministrations.
His tongue insinuated itself and slid the length of the seam, swirling against the folds in a very dedicated way. The tip of his tongue wriggled up and down, dabbing the throbbing center of her desire. The hardened nub pulsed stronger and stronger.
Green bit her lip to keep from screaming out a release. She needed to hold back.
He flicked the tender, central spot, tapping strongly. A moan escaped her clenched jaw. Jorlan craved more than that from her. Strong, long fingers dug into the front of her thighs. With steady pressure, he curved her back into him—so he had the exact access he wanted. Full access. His chin rubbed teasingly into her mound, grinding against her opening.
The intense, rotating pressure—an unbearable pleasure—elicited the reaction he sought. Green tried to break his hold, but the odd position made it impossible. He had the upper hand. In more ways than one.
Molten, satin lips covered her entirely. A ruthless kiss of passion. Then he suckled sharply—right where she throbbed the most.
Green screamed. Her entire body convulsed. Without thought, she covered his hand on her thighs, clawing desperately at him, trying to get him to free her. He pressed his tongue inside her and stroked. With each slick plunge, he propelled her internal spasms on and on.
The shudders racked her over and over. She had never experienced anything close to this ecstasy in her life. How long could he keep her like this? As long as he desired, she realized.
Hot lips skimmed over her buttock, sultry and wet. A deep groan of unbridled hunger etched along her skin, half plea, half conqueror.
At the base of her spine, Jorlan pressed his mouth, drawing tightly on the delicate curve. Caught fast in his grip, Green emitted a soft cry of wanting.
Swiftly, he shimmied up her back, mouth recklessly laving her backbone, her shoulder blades. She felt him slide totally under her now; the damp skin of his chest grazing provocatively along her spine. Arousing with every contact.
When his lips reached the back of her neck, his arm came around her to firmly hold her on top of him. She squirmed wildly in his embrace.
"Is this submissive enough for you, my Marquelle?" His low voice was rough, breathless.
The tiniest of smiles curved Green's lips. Despite her demeanor, she was still the one in control. She deliberstely replied, "Not quite."
Jorlan's pupils flared anew.
"No? Perhaps I can be more submissive, then, just for you." He bit her shoulder before flipping them both over on the bed.
He was now on top of her.
Green did not like this position. She was facedown on the bed, while his hips rode snugly against her buttocks. She had never heard of a man being allowed to take such a position! She had never imagined how vulnerable it made a woman.
Green turned her face to the side and bucked against him, grazing his erection with her behind. "Let me up!
He smiled humorlessly against her neck. "It seems to me I asked the same of you once. I do not regret what you did—only the manner in which you did it. Perhaps you will feel the same... later."
He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head.
"This is unlawful—you must obey me!"
He laughed low against her throat. The vibrations of the sensual drawl skittered along her spine. "I do not think a Marquelle who is so unconcerned with proprieties as you are will sound the alarm. It may look bad to your friends," he whispered provokingly.
It was good Jorlan could not see her expression i that moment. For it was an expression of near-victory.
"You will be punished for this."
"Will I?" His wiry curls brushed against the rounded globes of her backside as he ran his member back and forth along the crease of her buttocks. A tiny moan issued from her lips.
"By you, Green?" He stroked against her again. "Are you sure?"
Green sucked in her breath. This was getting perilous!
His sensuality was awakening a dangerous need within him to both conquer and enslave himself. The wild erotica of a Sensitive.
"Try me," she responded as coldly as she could.
"I intend to." His manhood, feeling like razor rock encased in Ramagi silk, glided possessively over her back. He rose up on her and traced the back of her neck in the same manner, deliberately letting the pulsing tip of his member skim over the edge of her earlobe and along her jaw line.
"What the rut-bid do you think you're doing?"
"I'm not sure." He wrapped her hair around his wrist and yanked her head back toward him. "But I like it." His mouth slammed down on hers. He feasted on her. Wild. Inflamed. Released.
Green knew she was walking a fine line as to what would be viewed as acceptable behavior by the Slice. In firing up Jorlan, she was running the risk of pushing him into areas that might be better left unexplored by a man whose nature was so rebellious. That was, if she had the choice. She did not.
"What do you hope to gain by this?" Green spoke around his fevered kisses.
"The question is: What do you hope to gain by it?"
Does he know what I am doing? Green gasped as his tongue forced its way between her lips and penetrated her mouth.
Then gasped anew when he immediately penetrated her from behind. He was full and throbbing inside her, buried to the hilt! She cried into his mouth.
Releasing her wrists, his arms tightened about her narrow waist to pull her up, tightly into his groin. Green arched and screamed at the same time, her hands ineffectually pulling at the strong, muscled arms that embraced her. His mouth slid off of hers to feverishly lave the side of her face and jawline.
He groaned a hot ragged breath next to her ear, pressing even more into the wet canal. Wildly, he buried his face in the strands of her hair, inhaling its scent, biting the edge of her lobe right through the mussed-up tresses.
Green had never felt such penetration. It was deep, dark, erotic.
This was what she wanted from him—a Sensitive's uncontrollable desire.
Jorlan was enslaved by his own passion; he surged, Strong and deep. Powerful and fast. Lifting to her cadence, her sighs, her cries of "more."
"Yes, yes, yes... " Green could feel the ends of his hair flicking her shoulders, the strands shifting along her spine. He rose up higher on her, arching his back to grind into her. Again and again. In that moment he suddenly reminded her of a Forus arc storm. Elemental, raw. An explosion of mysterious force, gathering strength out of nowhere until everything was touched by its magnetism.
Under such a storm. Green clutched the sheet in her hands. "Come, my blaze-dragon! Come to me now!"
Jorlan moaned incoherently and leaned completely over her to bite the edge of her breast. "Green," he rasped.
The man was lost. It had to be now. Her provocations had held back whatever special sense he had, but it wouldn't much longer. She rotated her hips as she pressed sharply back on him. Her hands encircled his wrists, which he was using for leverage next to her head.
He groaned long and low—somehow holding back. This was not the time to hold back! "Jorlan," she croaked, "show me your ecstasy... !"
Eyes closed, he shuddered violently. Still, he held back. Sweat trickled down his brow. He rested his damp forehead on the curve of her shoulder.
"I know," he murmured raggedly. "I know what you are doing."
Green inhaled unevenly. He knew? Rut-bid!
"What did you do?" he rasped.
Green turned her head and stared into the pale eyes so close to her own. What had she done? She had used his Sensitive's nature against him. The very gift that warned him of he
r state, enslaved him to it.
Yet he also was a man of his own determinations. She thought it over. Which would ultimately rule him, his logic or his Sensitive's nature?
Green ceased her motions as well and calmly viewed him over her shoulder. A She-Lord in her prime and very much in control. Of her house and of herself. "It is your call, Jorlan. Do whatever you will."
He closed his eyes and the emotion that ripped through him was sublime agony.
With a raw groan he sank into her. He pounded against her forcefully, pulling them both suddenly higher and higher. It was Green's victory. As he rode faster, harder, stronger within her, giving her the child she needed for the continuation of her house, Marquelle Tamryn carried him on the crest of hot desire.
When he yelled his release, he was the captive. Her scent was all over him. In him. He had her in his hold, yet it was she who held him.
His Sensitive's nature was hostage to the emotion it craved.
Her love.
"You played me."
"As you played me?" Green got out of bed and reached for her robe. "I know there are things you are not telling me, Jorlan. Yes, I played you. I simply did it better than you. You had a choice. You could have stopped. You didn't."
An angry gust of air exited his nostrils. "A choice! You used my Sensitive's passion against me!"
No, I used it for you. But she could not tell him that. "I met you in a challenge. You lost."
He sat up in bed and furiously kicked the entwined coverlet off his legs.
Green raised an eyebrow. "Take heart. Perhaps you are not as virile as you surmise." He threw her a look.
Green picked up the hormomitor she had left next to the bed. A series of beeps sounded. A small smile graced her lips. "Then again, maybe you are."
For an instant, Jorlan forgot his anger and stared at her, awestruck. "Are you—?"
"Yes. You have given me a child."
He was unnerved. She could see the warring emotions on his face. Wonder. Trepidation. A flash of speculation. Quickly followed by intense fury.
"I did not give you a child. You took it."
Green's features hardened. He had no idea of the danger they were in. She had not wanted to do such a thing, but after everything he had seen of her, he should have known she had the most important of reasons.
Not that she needed them.
He was her name-bearer; it was his duty and ordained place to give her children. An heir was vitally important to the Houses of Tamryn and Reynard.
Suddenly she was very tired. Tired of every responsibility that had been placed on her shoulders. Tired of having to make choices she abhorred. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Perhaps you do not wish my touch anymore?"
His breath stopped in his throat. "No. I did not mean that at all. I—"
She did not let him finish. "Very well, Jorlan. If that is the way you feel, you will not be bothered again."
Her meaning became clear to him. He paled, then flushed in anger. "You—you would seek pleasure elsewhere?"
She didn't bother to answer him. Tying the sash on her robe, she left the room.
Jorlan paced the bedroom like a Klee before an arc storm.
Why? Why did she do such a thing?
Do what? a small voice inside him asked. Act as any Marquelle would have under the circumstances?
He thought she was different! He thought she understood his beliefs. He had even half convinced himself that a part of her agreed with him. He slammed his palm against the wall, unseating an overhead urn from its place on the shelf.
He caught it in midair.
The last thing he wanted was a concerned servant checking on him at the moment. Extraordinary reflexes had been his birthright. He had just never realized why until recently.
Green would bear their child in three months—he was certain she had already taken a natal accelerator, which would shorten the human gestation period by two-thirds. Natal accelerators were the rule rather than the exception. No woman wanted to prolong her pregnancy. The state was draining and at times uncomfortable. For each month that passed, she would pass through a standard human trimester.
The by-product of the acceleration would be extreme tiredness and Green would have to take precisely balanced nutrients to sustain her own health as well as the child's.
He rubbed his forehead. He was not ready to be a father! How could he ever live his life the way he hoped? How could he effect the changes he sought within the society if he was tied down to his children? Did she not care about his feelings at all? Perhaps he had been fooling himself into thinking he was more to her than simply a man who carried her name and title. More than just brood seed to ensure her line.
Green. A sheen of tears came into his eyes. Did she not know him at all? He loved her with every particle of his Sensitive's soul!
He always had.
There was something in him that recognized the perfect blending of their spirits—like the seasons of Forus, ever changing, yet ever constant. It was something he had only recently come to fully understand.
And it was revealed to him through their lovemaking. Their joinings were powerful and often elemental.
He thought she knew him.
Now they would be estranged.
He sat on the edge of the bed. He did not want that.
Was it so important to her house that she had to beguile him into this at this time? For the first time Jorlan wondered about that. Oh, he knew she had fastened him for that purpose—all She-Lords did.
For some strange reason Marquelle Tamryn had decided that he was the one to father her line. He wondered about that, too. Green had never shown the slightest inclination to fasten before meeting him. Could she have fastened him as a favor to his grandmother?
His heart sank.
She might have.
He thought she had some tender feelings for him—the proof of that was the unusual freedoms she had given him. How was he to open her to the complete love he knew they could share if she ended up banishing him to a remote Tamryn estate where he would see her only rarely?
How could he bear to think of her in the arms of another man?
Where would his child go? With him or with her?
A small lump formed in the back of his throat. Despite his objections to this, he would not want to be separated from his child.
He ran a shaking hand over his face.
Wisely, he realized that, despite his beliefs, he did not want to lose his family.
He grabbed the tumbled coverlet in his fist. It was still slightly warm from their bodies. Burying his face in the material, he inhaled the mingled scent of their passion. It covered him like the warm cloak of home. Once again he was betrayed by his nature. He could not override the longings of his heart. That heart would have to trust her.
Green took herself to the farthest reaches of the house. The topmost floor.
From there, she used her chatelaine to open a private stairwell that led to a rooftop cupola. The round room was open to the elements. In olden days, it had served as a lookout against any unknown indigenous species that might prove hostile to the settlers. None had ever made itself known. So rooms like this, called visionaries, acquired romantic reputations, for they were often used as rendezvous places by amorous She-Lords. Green had always used her visionary as a place of refuge.
She leaned against the railing and stared out at the expanse of Tamryn land.
The night sky silhouetted the peaks of the hills.
Arkeus was setting.
What she had done, she had done, in a sense, for this land. For this land and for her name-bearer. Jorlan is the Tamryn legacy.
But had she sacrificed their happiness to protect it from the Septibunal?
She prayed not.
Her hand went tentatively to her stomach. It was n now but would not be for long. Already the first stirring of the natal accelerator was making itself known in her body. Their beloved child.
A precious life that should have been a symbol of more than the power games of state. A single tear traced its way down her cheek.
He found her in the study.
She was sitting by the flamelight, perusing a vid-tome. She did not even look up when he entered, although he knew she sensed his presence.
"Yes, what is it?" Her voice was efficient; not cold, yet devoid of warmth.
Jorlan hesitated briefly. He was not a man who generally accepted what was put before him. He took a deep breath. "I would not want you to seek pleasure elsewhere, Green."
She closed her eyes in relief, then held out her hand to him.
He came to her, dropping before her chair on his knees. "Forgive me."
She stared at him wide-eyed, not believing what she was seeing. This was a huge concession. He had taken the traditional stance of a contrite name-bearer before her chair.
He embraced her, enfolding her in his arms. As he spoke he covered her face with small kisses. Again, a very time-honored way of apology. "I never meant what I said to you. I can't bear to think of you in the arms of another. I—"
She covered his mouth with her own.
He lifted her out of the chair onto his own lap. Not traditional.
Now, that was more like the Jorlan she knew. Green smiled to herself. Her fingers reached up and combed back his long dark hair. He captured her hand in his and brought it to his lips.
"Don't ask me why, Jorlan, for I cannot tell you."
"I will not." His intense aqua gaze bored into her. "I have already reasoned that out."
He had learned to trust her. Somehow he knew that her actions had not been arbitrary. Their relationship had just taken a major step forward.
Green cupped his beautiful face and stroked the side of his firm jaw. "I know you don't like this. You have already told me it is not what you see for yourself. So, if you prefer, you can give the daily care of our child over to a scinose."
Jorlan froze.
"It is often done in the Slice."