Ajest, page 5
In the interests of keeping things real, he told himself once again that he’d be gone come morning, never to see her again. That didn’t stop him from snaking a hand deeper between her splayed thighs. Once again by accident, he bumped into the rumored spot at the top of her sex, the elusive unicorn he’d heard tales about from more sexually forward …and yes…confident guys than himself.
She arched her back. “W-w-what is that?”
Clit was way too clinical for this faux medieval period, so he said, “I’m courting your magical spot.
“I possess no m-m-magic,” she sputtered, more than a little upset. “I pray you, mercenary, testify not to my having mystical powers. In the present clime, I could go to the stake.”
Huh?
“Drolan would have me burned alive for witchcraft.”
Oh. Now he understood. At least, he thought he did. Way back in the way back, even playing around with herbs was a deadly offence.
“Say you were a magical being, sweeting…”
“I am not!”
“But just, for argument’s sake, say you were. I’m no snitch. Relax.”
After he gave her a few more well-placed strokes, she did finally settle down. In fact, she really got into it, grooving with his rhythm. There on out, she trustingly met all his moves, even feverishly going at his untidy hair like actresses did in internet porn, which she could know nothing about. Since none of that had been invented yet, either, she definitely wasn’t faking it.
Neither was hers an ego-boosting performance to coax more coins out of him. Her staccato breaths and moans were genuine. She was the real deal.
Just like Ria.
He hunkered over her. Peering into her eyes, not the back of her head – a view with which he had more personal familiarity during quickie sex here– Ajest released his erection, took himself in hand, and…
Hit a roadblock. Though willing and slippery too, she was locked-down-tight. This confused him.
Then, he figured out what the resistance was all about.
He hung his neck. “Ever done IT before?”
“Pardon?”
He reverted to archaic vernacular. “Ever lain with a man like this on the furs before?”
“In the dark, with an unseen stranger shoving himself between my legs – no,” she cried aghast. “What do you take me for?”
A prostitute. Isn’t that the business we’re conducting here?
Guess not. Her shocked question said it all.
“I take you for a virgin. That’s what I take you for,” he said glumly, pulling away.
“So? Have you something against our breed, sir?”
“Yeah. Matter of fact I do. Virgins make me damn nervous.”
“Silly. Why ever? We all start off virgins in the beginning.”
True. He still felt like one. A few grunts with a prostitute didn’t count for much. “You’ve got this maidenhead thing going on. You know, a hymen. “
“Dispense with the impediment, I say!”
What was up with her imperial tone?
He wasn’t her knave. And this sure as hell wasn’t any damn royal audience at any damn royal court inside any damn royal castle. What was up with her snooty, take charge, condescension?”
“The problem is…I didn’t bargain on being your starting off point in carnality, sweeting,” he explained. “You’ll need somebody else to perform that service for you.”
“Why?”
Time to dig deep. “Because I’ll only disappoint you. And you want your first time to be special.”
Do a virgin?
Un-un. No way. Not him. The force of his mighty sword was staying far, far away from her love-gate. He sucked at most human interactions. What was more human or interactive than sex?
He inched further away from the virgin.
She clutched at his departing hips. “Wait! Where are you off to?” Her breath caught. “Going back on your word?”
“I don’t recall giving you one of those, and I don’t hand them out lightly,” he said, taking offence. His word was his crooked bond. How dare she cast aspersions on his lopsided honor?
Unlike herself, he at least had not been pretending to be something he was not.
Tilting his jaw, Ajest rethought that inner declaration.
Pretending to be something he wasn’t was exactly what he was doing. Even his name was a fraud.
Though, with practice, he did excel at snarling like the real medieval deal. And…and… a few fair maidens had said he looked hawt in chainmail. Not in so many words, but the inference was there. And he was hot too. The weighty metal made him sweat. And manly, yet appealing-to-the-ladies, stick deodorant hadn’t been invented here yet.
In the dark, and regardless that she couldn’t see him, he glared at her in reproach. “Apparently, I am damned if I do here and damned if I don’t.”
“What mean you? No one is damning you for anything,” she said majestically.
Helluva nerve! He didn’t need her queenly pardon.
To add insult to injury, she pulled at his arm as if he were her subject. “Get back here, mercenary. I granted no permission for you to take your leave of me.”
Women! They tied a man up in knots. After making up their minds, they changed them again and untied the tangle, getting pissed if the mess refused to unravel.
Ria Ria Ria. There were times when she’d seemed to give him the green light, only to back off. When, he slammed on the brakes, she acted all hurt and stuff.
“I promised not to hurt you,” he said defensively. “And if I continue, I’ll need to break that oath and your maidenhead, simultaneously. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
“Your hard place gladdens me, mercenary.”
What a little flirt! Let her woo him with double entendres. Let her flatter him by praising his prowess. He wouldn’t weaken.
Would he?
“Continue, mercenary.”
He snorted. “And your wish is my command, I suppose.”
Hells. Whatever it fucking took…
If exasperation got a guy hard, his dick would’ve exploded a thousand times over with Ria. His sperm would’ve decorated every wall in the dorm.
Upon suspecting her intact state, he’d pulled back. Reared back, as if she’d up-ended a cauldron of boiling oil onto the oh-so sensitive head of his pride and joy. But had his retreat been all bluster? Showmanship? Something to prove he was one of the good guys, a knight in shining armor? Did he protest too damn much?
Sure, he gave a believable impression of being noble and all that, but he ached. And because he ached, he waffled. “Why give your innocence away so cheaply, and to me, a stranger? The truth,” he warned.
A hollow threat, because what would he do if she lied?
His balls hurt. And she was his shot at relief. Only a hero would give up the feel goods. He wasn’t one of those.
She thrashed her head back and forth on the furs, and murmured, as if to herself, “You even refuse my invitation to provide you with a warrior’s comfort? And here I thought meat pie would be sufficient inducement for you to take me with you.”
“Huh? Meat pie?” He wagged his head. “Huh? You want me to take you with me?”
“A tremendous imposition, I know. But I have decided to take up whoring all on my own. However, before I can proceed, I require a carnal introduction. That is where you come in.”
“I’m no authority on the subject but, as I understand the process, the experience can go dicey for a virgin. Her first time,” he said pointedly, “may not be a lot of fun. So – if you’re looking for a barrel of monkeys, you’re not likely to find it, especially not with me. I’m not all that good at the sex stuff…”
“I beg your pardon? A barrel of monkeys…?”
“The initial penetration hurts,” he bluntly explained.
“Oh?” Her brow crinkled, then straightened. “Oh! I see. Even so, I would have the hurt done by you. I trust you. And I am sure you are only being modest. Doubtlessly, you excel at this and everything else you undertake.”
He didn’t share her trust. Obviously Ria had sensed he’d make her a lousy lover and so hadn’t wanted to start anything up with him. He couldn’t blame her.
How could he? He loved her…
“Pray say you will help me, mercenary. Pray say you will take me with you when you leave here on the morrow.” Her lashes fluttered. “Providing it is in the opposite direction to Drolan’s camp. I prefer not to go north. Actually, not anywhere near the river up ahead. I promise to make the detour worth your while.”
Whoa, boy! He’d hit the jackpot. The cat was out of the bag now:
The warlord’s encampment was nearby! North, by the river, in fact. He’d been stumbling around in the woods looking for it.
Hmm. But what made her think he was en route there?
Uncertainty crossed her features. “Unless – do you find me repulsive?”
“No!” He scoffed at that absurdity. He could see in the dark, and what he saw was far from repulsive. She was beautiful by any time period’s objective standards.
“Then, you will continue the carnal introduction, as you called it? And you will take me with you when you leave? I shan’t let you down. I shall make up the bounty you would have received from Drolan for my return ten-times over.”
He was many things. He’d like to say a liar wasn’t one of them. But, he wouldn’t delude himself. What was bluffing if not a lie of sorts? And bluffing was what he’d been doing since his arrival here in faux-medieval land.
This whore in-training had just handed him the best cover he was likely to find to infiltrate Drolan’s camp. In returning her to the warlord, from where she’d just evidently escaped – the Big Bad Dude took female hostages all the time to use as playthings for his men – he’d get the opportunity to go stealth. Spying would maximize his chances of success in his next attack against the warlord. In addition to a pat on the head, there’d be a nice reward in it for him too. Money meant he could feed his loyal soldiers something other than pep talks. Any way he sliced and diced it, a double-cross was too good to refuse.
This was warfare. And warfare wasn’t fair. She’d offered herself to him in exchange for a ride out of Dodge. She wanted something from him, the same as he wanted something from her. No reason for him to feel guilty about her mistake of giving him the upper hand in the bargaining game.
Trust was a bitch.
If he refused to bust her cherry tonight, another warrior would come along and do it sometime soon. Such was the life of a wanna-be-whore, her chosen career path and by her own words.
Apart from that rationalization, bringing down Drolan would save too many lives to consider the emotional wellbeing of one foolish maiden hell-bent on prostituting herself to the first available man she could find on the road.
He could dig that.
Chapter Seven
In summation, after all his back and forth should I or shouldn’t I waffling with himself, Ajest returned to his original positioning…which was up on his knees, in the missionary position, about to take the whore-in-training’s virginity, after conning her into believing he’d help her pursue her prostitution career elsewhere.
She thought he was just so easy. How could he not take advantage of her gullibility? So sure of suckering him, she hadn’t even bothered to close up her legs.
Her freewheeling attitude went counter to everything he knew about medieval sexuality. Legitimate 12th century types were not exactly party animals. For the most part, they were a humble, God-fearing folk. According to Church rules and regs back then, even marital intercourse was only for the begetting of children. And here was this virgin willing not only to put out, but super forthcoming about her desire to become a whore. Proving this was no ordinary village wench. Her pathetic attempt to seem unsure of herself and her own worth only reinforced what they both already knew:
She had it all going on.
Oh, yeah. A fairy godmother must’ve been watching over this conniving cutie at birth, magic wand dinging the air, pretty glitter flying…
In his travels, Ajest had met many females, slept with a limited few, but not in all the land had he discovered one quite like this bold little hussy. Why she hankered to enter the prostitution trade, when she could’ve had the world at her feet, was her own damn business.
The sooner he got this over with the better. For her. Prolonging the wait would only tense her up.
Ajest gave a gentle thrust, and he was in. Not all the way. A shallow penetration only. After her muscles relaxed some, he moved higher. Deeper. Seating himself comfortably before beginning a circumspect pumping. Not too fast. Not too slow. Moderation was key here.
He thought. But she was his first virgin, so what did he know?
Only that he wanted her. Like really wanted her.
Peculiar, that sudden rush of intense physical desire. Because…what about Ria?
He loved Ria. Longed to get back to her. And here he was feeling something unexpected for the whore-in-training, a chick he didn’t even know existed until a little while ago. And it, the sex, the emotions, those didn’t even seem like two-timing. In four years, he’d never even held Ria’s hand. And now he was putting it to this other girl. Going crazy for it, too. He should feel like a cheat. Only, he didn’t.
“How ya doin’?’ he asked while he still could, his own muscles tight with holding it together, holding himself back, sweat popping out on the back of his neck, beads of brine rolling down into his ass crack, his twenty-first century Boston accent breaking through with the stress of keeping the pace sedate.
Don’t let her down, man. It’s her first time.
He was surprised his hard-on didn’t deflate – he was that fucking strung out. Not on drugs. None of that theriac, a medieval opioid, not for him. It was her. He was strung out on the little whore. She’d gotten to him in a big way.
Something had to give, and he didn’t want it to be her. Not only because she was part of his plan to do in Drolan but because she brought out tenderness in him he thought had atrophied from lack of use, what with all the mindless killings he’d been doing in battle.
He fought against sensation. Even as his surroundings faded away, he hung on. If he lost it, his strokes would get sloppy. He might accidently ruin it for her. Screw that!
But not her. He wouldn’t screw her.
Just as she’d done before, she writhed beneath him. However, he thought maybe the provocation had changed. Before, she’d writhed due to her genuine arousal. Now, he suspected pain caused her to squirm.
She was her own worst enemy. Impatience to get it done and over with had caused her to clamp all over again. Forcing what should have been natural had made everything worse. Her pathetic attempt to please him, so he’d take her away with him when he left, didn’t help.
“Don’t fight it. Go with it,” he rasped, the ill-prepared coaching the unprepared. “Let the waves wash over you.”
He grabbed her hands, working to make this good for her. Was he getting that point across?
He was useless at reading women. This era. Any era. And despondency over being here, not there, had smothered his wonder, his joy in life.
Until now.
“Know this: Being with you means a lot to me,” he whispered.
“Really?”
“Really,” he said, committing to this one moment in time.
Stomping on his primal urge to go for the gold, he added, “So – ya wanna stop?”
“No.”
Her voice was rough. Gravelly. On the edge of tears. But adamant.
Mid-slide, he decided to ramp up the pace and finish up quick. Drawing it out seemed like an ego boost to him. Cruel to be kind was a better way to go.
His hips flexing, he bucked and jerked his way to climax, coming on a raucous squirt.
Peeling an orange would’ve taken him longer and been more sentimental.
His abstinence a thing of the past, he shook off, wiped himself clean, and rolled onto his side faced away, prepared to call it a day and crash. Though it was a cold thing to do, he needed his sleep, and so when her muffled weeping broke the stillness, he blocked it out, fingers-in-his-ears.
She wasn’t the first ever civilian causality of warfare. Plenty of women had cried before her. But if he did what he intended to do, she might be the last woman to weep as a by-blow of men battling. What were one female’s tears compared to many?
Not his fault her career choice sucked. That her decision to prostitute would help him out was coincidental. And that she didn’t want to return to Drolan’s camp and he was taking her back anyway, well…
That was life, and it mostly shat. She’d just have to deal with it.
That all neatly decided, Ajest zonked out. Not until almost dawn did he come to again. When he finally beat back sleep, he found himself entwined with her, his arm wrapped tightly around the girl he’d just made a whore.
Christ. He held her possessively, as if he didn’t want to ever let her go, like he’d kill anyone who tried to pry her loose from him. What was that all about?
He was also cupping her breasts, another surprise. In light of what came before…namely him…did he loosen his hold on her?
Nope.
As uneasy as a Red Sox fan during playoffs, he nuzzled her neck, an elegant and refined neck that her thick hair, the pretty brown strands with a life of their own, left uncovered.
“Mmm,” he grumbled sleepily, his drowsiness all pretense. His eyeballs were practically bulging, he was so wide awake.
And, no practically about it, that was not all that was bulging.
When she rolled obligingly to her back and split her legs, he scrambled over her and was inside her, his ass pumping.
He couldn’t help himself. Not much of a defense, but there it was.
She was tight. Narrower than even the first time. Possibly swollen from his penetration of the night before.
No complaints left her lips. She held him close, keeping up with him, not just hanging on, sounds of what could’ve been pleasure joining his unmistakable calls of, “So good. So fucking good.”
