Godiva: Unbridled Page 6

  “Oh, it’s so smooth!” she said, reaching to touch it.

  “Ah-ah-ah,” Thomas stopped her, removing her hand before she made contact with the skin. “No touching until you’re completely bare.” For the first time, he smiled up at her, and she could tell that he was enjoying this. “Also, you need a little trim. Some of this hair is too long to simply scrape away.”

  Thomas reached into a little case on the floor and retrieved a miniature pair of scissors. Lady May laughed; she had never seen such a small set of shears before in her life. With great precision, Thomas gave her nether lips a bit of grooming, before he started the process of dipping his hands into the basin, and smoothing the cream onto her excited, tingling mound again. In clean, exact paths cut across her pubic bone, he scraped the sharpened shell until she was bare. She looked down her belly, then up to him when he was finished.

  “Can I touch it now?” she asked, so excited she could hardly stand it.

  “Not quite yet,” he replied. “That was the easy part. Now I have to do the underside.” Now it was her turn to be surprised. Thomas just smiled and set down his tools. He reached to her thighs and gently pressed into them with his thumbs. “Spread your legs, and tip your hips up toward me,” he instructed. “Lean back on the counter if you need to. You’ll have to hold quite still.”

  The lady May did as she was told and for just a moment, felt vulnerable and awkward. Then she looked down at her shaven cunny, thought of how exciting it was going to be to feel it and rub it against Thomas, how he would react and how he would be pleasured by her, and she felt powerful and beautiful, and she felt proud to be in such a revealing position. She saw that he was still erect, and this reinforced her confidence. She ached and tingled almost painfully to sheath the length of him within her newly-shorn lips.

  Holding her swollen folds flattened, Thomas repeated the steps he’d used on top, lathering up her skin and hair, then scraping away the curls, leaving moist, slick skin. The friction of the seashell against her sent vibrations through her whole area, titillating the nub of nerves at the top, and she knew that she was growing damp not from the heat of the cloth that Thomas used to soften the hair for shaving, but from the pearls of desire that seeped to lubricate her so that she could fill herself with his hardness. After he had removed all the hair, Thomas held the warm cloth against her once more, and the heat and the pressure was all at once soothing and stimulating. When he finally removed the cloth, he looked up at her from his spot kneeling on the floor.

  “Can I touch it now?” she asked.

  Thomas shook his head. No.

  He moved his hands to the small of her back, holding her hips in his palms, examining her up close, breathing over her sensitive, bare skin. She shivered all over from the tickling delight of his warm breath on her. His lips grazed her belly, low over her hipbones, moving toward the newly shaved skin.

  “Such a pretty peche,” he whispered, letting his lips barely touch the top of her folds, then move to the side again, kissing lightly all around the zinging flesh. “So soft,” he continued, moving back, planting a kiss squarely at the center of her, humming gently against her, sending the slightest vibration into the nub of nerves. He kissed her there as though he were kissing her mouth, gently at first, not invasive, light, tentative feather-kisses, then a tiny bit more direct. Then, he dragged his bottom lip over her underside, so it barely grazed the aching rosebud at the top, once, twice. And then it was time for his tongue to taste, to dip teasingly into her, lick lightly over her nerve center. Her breath caught in her throat, and though her one hand steadied her against the table, her other hand clutched at her breast, the nipple which throbbed for attention. Thomas’ mouth feasted openly now, tongue lathing the full length of her private lips, pausing to kiss and suckle at the top, only to start over again in a maddening rhythm of passion. His thumb pressed against her inner walls, parting her, and she pressed down against him, wanting so, wanting everything, wanting to be filled, to be drained. A deft finger found its way into her slippery entrance, and she bucked against him as he kissed and sucked at her womanhood. Curling his finger against something inside her, the gasp caught in her throat and a long, low moan escaped her mouth. Responding to her reaction, Thomas deliberately continued his tortuously slow manipulations with his fingertip, pressing against a spot within her core that made her continue to gasp as he sucked lightly on her hairless mound, tongue swirling ever-so skillfully around the engorged button of pleasure right at the top.

  In her wild gasping, the Lady May opened her eyes, looked around the small chamber. She caught a glimpse of them in the rough, jagged mirror that hung on the wall, able only to see Thomas where he kneeled on the floor before her, and part of her own naked body, caught in the moment of ecstasy. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders, tumbled wildly about her body as her breasts jiggled, nipples standing taut and straining, the dark blond waves of Thomas’ head swaying rhythmically as he pleasured her, held her steady with one strong hand, the other, exploring her inside, making her gasp and grind against his palm. And in that moment of seeing herself, naked and so vulnerable, in a curtained off area of a barn, a man’s hands holding her in place, gripping her, controlling her, an emotion washed through her that she recognized as the feeling of complete safety. Amid her spiraling passion, pleasure so acute from the pinpoint tingle at the tip of Thomas’ tongue to the deep throbbing that began to rock her inner walls, she felt totally happy, at ease, secure. The kernel of sensation at the top of her bare lips began to twitch, connected to the throbbing deep within. Thomas dragged his lower lip slowly along her slippery, engorged flesh as her body shook, moans came loudly from her lips, her head thrown back, breasts quaking, hips tipping, then frozen as the ebbing peaked and subsided.

  Chapter 10

  Thomas moved his hand around to her lower back, supporting the Lady May as she collapsed against his palm, and he kissed lightly all along the top of her bare skin. His fingers slipped out, and he held them, warm and wet against her inner thigh. The scent of her filled the humid chamber, smelled erotic and clean, like fragrant water with a slight hint of musky depth. Thomas looked up at her as he kissed her, moving along her pelvis, his nose and lips glistening with her juices. She wondered how she tasted.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered, pulling him with one arm up toward her. He rose, his erection standing straight and ready, straining toward her. Wrapping an arm around his neck, she kissed him deeply, smelling herself on his face, tasting her own salty blandness on his lips. Licking his top lip, she kissed his cheeks, darting her tongue out to taste herself on him, and it fueled a primal need within her. She pressed her sensitive mound against his stiff member, and it bobbed in reaction to her rubbing against him.

  “Your turn,” she said, leaning back, a vixen-like smile playing over her lips.

  “My turn?” he replied. “For what?”

  The lady tipped her head and bit her bottom lip, reaching to the shelf where Thomas had laid the sharpened seashell. She smiled up at him as she dipped her other hand in the little bowl of frothy foam.

  “Oh no, that’s not for me,” he said, but he didn’t move away. It was fun to watch her be so crafty and playful.

  “But why not? Don’t you think our bare skin would feel lovely sliding against each other, like slippery bar soap in a bathtub!”

  “But don’t you think it strange? A man with no hair? Wouldn’t it feel… obscene to you, lady?” Her eyes sobered as she gingerly turned the seashell over in her palm.

  “I’ve never felt so safe and so happy as I have here with you, Thomas,” she said. “I don’t know what my other life was. But I love this life right now. Nothing about us is obscene. When I give myself to you, it’s not just for the pleasure of the flesh but because I feel happy with you. Your body is beautiful and manly, no matter how it appears.”

  A small smile crossed Thomas’s lips. He gestured at a kettle set over a pot of hot stones. “Fetch me that kettle.”

  She watch
ed as he poured the hot water over the same cloth he’d held against her, rinsing it out over the bathtub and then wringing it. He pulled a wooden chair from the corner, where it had served as a hanging place for his clothes, and sat back in the chair, draping the warm, wet cloth over his now semi-hard phallus.

  “Would you like me to do the honors, or would you like to learn to do it yourself?”

  “Oh, teach me, please!” She exclaimed, and positioned herself on top of the folded towel on the floor, between his open legs. She handed over the shell, and held the bowl for him. He folded back the cloth, exposing just one side of his pelvis, and he shook his head.

  “Nay,” he said, “too thick, too long. Must be trimmed first. Then we use the shell. Shears, please?”

  She handed him the tiny shears, watched as he trimmed away the length of his own furry mound, moved his shaft aside as he snipped the hair on his lower belly, until finally he seemed satisfied. After another soak with the cloth, he reached for the bowl.

  “Now, you dip your fingers in, and get a nice little scoop there, on your fingertips. There you go. Now… rub it into the hair, just right there, above the thigh. Mustn’t get too ambitious. Slowly, slowly. See how nice and slippery that is? All right. Now, you hold the skin tight, like this,” Thomas reached down, held the skin of his thigh taut, and scraped the sharpened shell along the growth of hair. It disappeared in a clean swipe, and he reached to swish the edge in the basin of water. He repeated this a couple of times as the Lady May watched, transfixed, and then he handed the shell to her.

  “Just do it like I showed you,” he instructed.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, suddenly worried that he skill wouldn’t be up to this delicate task.

  “I trust you completely,” he replied.

  She looked down, rubbed the slippery, shiny soap into his hair and held the shell exactly as he’d shown her. In a precise scrape, she sheared off a swatch of hair, and noticed that now that she was the one doing the shaving, his softened sex was beginning to stir. Focusing totally on the sharpened edge, she continued her handiwork with the seashell, scraping off all the hair from base to thigh, until he was as bare as she. Afterward, she held the heated cloth against his sensitive skin, remembering how that had felt for her the first time he’d pressed the hot, damp cloth against her, how it tingled and warmed her to the core. Beneath the cloth, his shaft stood fully erect now, brought to life from her gentle touches and movements as she manipulated around it to shave him clean.

  She trailed her fingers lightly over the smooth surface of his skin, from the sparsely haired inside of his thigh to the spot where he became silky and smooth. The cloth had lost its warmth, and she removed it, revealing his rock-hard member, standing stiff along his belly. It looked long and thick, so proud and almost on display now that it was cleared of all that hairy distraction. A curve in the shaft made it arc just slightly inward, as though it pointed toward his muscular stomach, and the tight bulb at the base of him seemed full, like an inflated ball. A low groan escaped his lips at her caress, exploring this new version of a man, soft and sleek yet undeniably masculine and powerful. He smelled slightly of citrus, the scent from the soap lingering on his skin. She bent her head to inhale the fragrance, all at once clean and sweet but mixed with his own smell that she had grown familiar with. So captivated by the softness of his skin, she examined it up close, and found her lips longing to kiss him. She pressed her mouth against his lower pelvis, felt the bulging weight of him against her nose. Under her lips, his skin felt warm and soft, and she kissed all over the area that she’d shaven. Her cheek slid along the side of his hardness, her long hair falling all around his naked belly as she moved across him. Moving her hands up, she cupped her palm against where his legs met, gently tickling him as she kissed and playfully licked him. His hips moved toward her, in need, in offering. She planted a feathery trail of kisses along his straining shaft, starting at the bottom, working toward the tip and she had a curious thought as to whether this was natural behavior the way they had been acting. From deep within though, she wanted to taste him as he’d tasted her, wanted to pleasure him in the same way, share the vulnerability of trust. She wrapped a gentle fist around him, slid her hand up and down a few tentative times then finally enclosed her lips around the swollen tip of him, moving her hand rhythmically as she took him into her mouth.

  Another breathy moan escaped his lips and his fingers wove into her hair, caressing the back of her neck, her scalp, as she moved. She listened to him, watched how he reacted as she slid his hardness in and out of her lips, mimicking the movements that she might make if she were actually making love with him. The taut smoothness of his shaft felt strange and invasive in her mouth, but as she looked up to see the pure ecstasy and joy her sucking and licking were bringing him, it fueled her, brought her a new kind of pleasure and power of her own. A sticky, salty droplet leaked from him, and she swirled her tongue around the swollen tip, watching his reaction. Slack jawed, he seemed so relaxed, yet so intensely pleasured. His eyes opened, looked down to where she knelt, watching her, and his hands moved from her head to gently caress her back.

  “Come here, my beauty,” he said, his voice rough and low. She smiled slyly, closed her eyes and plunged her mouth over him, lips and tongue working together to control him, and another unchecked groan growled from his throat, more sticky, salty drops leaked willfully onto her tongue.

  “No, no my darling, please…” he gently pushed her head away from him, guided his hand to her shoulder, while the other reached to remove her fist from his stiff shaft. “Please,” he repeated. “I want to join with you. If you continue what you’re doing now, I’ll have no control and I want to feel you next to me. Come make love to me.” His eyes, so sincere, they beckoned with not just his lusty will but with his heart. She allowed him to pull her up, unfolding against his hard, naked body, her own nakedness soft and supple, melting against him. Instinctively, her legs moved astride him, and he pulled her into his lap, where she realized how she was once again slippery from her own want of him. Their bodies connected, and she surrendered her control, allowing him to move her hips, position her on him, slide easily into her heated depths. She shuddered and sighed, full, complete, wrapped her arms around his sturdy neck and fell totally into his kiss. Under her bottom, his palms moved her, and she thrust in time with his guidance, already feeling the tightening of her inner walls, coaxing him, willing him toward release. After a time her inner thighs felt weak, but her passion drove her, the deep touch of his hardness tickling against a spot inside that made her continue, his own pace quickening, deepening. And suddenly he broke from their kiss, his head flung back, and pressed her tightly against him, grinding up inside her, fingers squeezing tightly on her bottom, and he cried out as his shaft thumped and twitched inside her. This triggered something within, and she felt her own body respond, her nether lips gripping him, insides convulsing, her body stilling as she cried out as well.

  Exhausted, she collapsed against him, clutching him as she quivered, legs spent and unable to support her. He stood, carried her against him, both their bodies covered in a sheen of sweat. They kissed as he passed through the curtain, walked the short distance to the bed and laid her down, lowering himself next to her. Long wisps of her hair stuck to her forehead, and he pushed them away, watching her intently as they both caught their breath. She stared back drowsily, returning his contented gaze.

  “I’ve a confession,” he whispered, reaching for her hand, kissing the knuckles as he twined his fingers with hers. She laughed softly.

  “Really? Are you sure this is the right time for confessions?” His gaze didn’t change, he still stared deeply into her eyes.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you, my lady,” he said. His words ebbed through her chest, warmed her deep inside. But her mind was clear even in the hazy aftermath of their lovemaking.

  “Are you certain this isn’t just the earthly pleasures speaking? Lust and passion are pow
erful forces.”

  “I cannot deny my lust for you, or that your beauty captivates me. But what I love is more than that. It is how you love. How you love Niklada, how you helped with the lamb tonight. Your love of the garden and for the food it gives. If you love me someday, I hope it will be open and unashamed, like that.”

  “And how do you know I don’t love you already?” He shook his head, but not sadly.

  “No, ‘tis important that you know yourself first. Rediscover who you are. Then they’ll be time to find love with me. If I’m still to your liking, when you do.”

  She ran her fingers over the swell of his bicep, then looked up to him in the flickering light of the lantern by the bed and wrapped her arm across his chest. “Good night, Thomas,” she whispered, squeezing him tightly.

  Chapter 11

  The Earl stared at his calendar, his brow set in a perpetual scowl. Two weeks had passed since his wife had disappeared, and he had given up looking for her, knowing that he had to keep his search utterly discreet, and knowing that by doing so, he would have almost no way of figuring out where she was hiding. He’d played over their last argument in his mind a hundred times and he felt certain that she would appear on the designated day, the fifth of June, naked as the day she was born and riding her ever-present horse. He’d made a formal announcement; that would show her his expectation for her to follow through. That he’d ordered the town’s windows to be shuttered was a strategy which would accomplish two things; his wife would retain a semblance of modesty, and nobody would be able to see the men at the edge of the town who would escort her home, in the event that she attempted to run away again. The Earl was through with her childish antics. It was one thing to voice her stubborn opinion on the matter of taxes. And if she showed up for her bare protest, he would keep his word and abolish the taxes. But he would also teach her a lesson on how those taxes help her to afford the life she enjoys, all the modern conveniences and the comforts of the manor. The Earl figured that it was about time that she became a mother, also. A baby would keep her attention, so he would see to it that this was accomplished as quickly as nature would allow. Then maybe his life could get back to normal, and she wouldn’t be paying so much attention to the taxes and affairs that the wife of an Earl shouldn’t be involving herself in at any rate. William, his valet and closest man, and Leofric, his brother, walked into the room just then, with a drawing of the town. William rolled it out on the desk in front of the Earl and pointed to the places he’d marked.