Ajest, page 6
His outburst definitely wasn’t poetry. A good sign?
Probably not. There were no good signs to be had in this. But – this was as real as he’d been since his arrival here.
No! Not just since arriving here. Since forever. He was never real with anyone. Especially not Ria.
The same as before, Ajest finished up quick, pulled out, and rolled off.
“I very much liked what we did,” she whispered shyly afterwards.
He could’ve laughed. Or cried. Or both. He didn’t believe her for a minute. She was playing him. Her enthusiasm had “fake” engraved on each vowel and consonant. No way could she have liked doing it with him. He was a stranger. And not very good at sex.
He didn’t show her up. Maybe because he wanted to believe what she said, wanted to believe she’d gotten something out of the fuck. That it wasn’t all about him giving her a ride out of the woodlands.
Newsflash: She wasn’t getting that ride. Did that make Ajest, the antihero, a total prick?
Not strictly speaking. He hadn’t promised her shit. Cut her no deal. He just let her believe what she wanted to believe. None of what happened was on him.
Balancing on a bent elbow, he amused himself with her hair. And breasts. And belly. He dawdled over her nakedness, especially her naked nipples straining upwards to meet his strokes. He was about to go lower, to that snug little inlet between her legs that seemed made just for him, when she caught his wandering hand in hers.
“May I bathe, mercenary?”
Classic avoidance if ever he heard it, proving herself no fangirl of his. She was playing him.
“Don’t bother washing, sweeting. I’ll only make you sticky all over again.”
She released his hand. Then, she turned her head.
Too late. The disappointment he’d anticipated was there in her eyes.
And still he couldn’t stop.
“Again, okay? There are more coins in it for you. Any way, you want it.” Under the furs covering her, he moved his muscled arm downward, until his fingers were there, right there, at the notch, one digit moving inside.
Slick with his spent ejaculate, she was far easier to delve now than before. “My lady’s preference.”
“I am too new at this to know my preferences.”
Oh, bad form!
This was a game and, as in all games, there were unspoken rules of conduct. In reminding him of her recently lost innocence at his hands, she’d violated the most important one:
Holding him accountable.
He hit back hard. “Hey, you wanted this. And one way or the other, you were gonna lose your cherry anyway inside Drolan’s comfort tent.”
“Mayhap. But my escape guaranteed it. The warlord threatened me with the tent as punishment should I ever run off. You see, Drolan captured me on the road. Verily, I had no thought of pursuing the life of a prostitute until then.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Knowing that would have cast a different light on my taking your virginity. Maybe, I wouldn’t have gotten on you. But you didn’t tell me ‘til now because you wanted me to feel bad for you, the pitiful set upon virgin. You wanted to use me to make your getaway.” Nasty, nasty, nasty. Why was he being so fucking nasty?
Guilt over what he’d done, over what he still intended to do. He was no hero, and he was about to live up to his own poor opinion of himself.
“I can see my bid for your sympathy failed, mercenary.”
“You set me up,” he accused, self-righteously.
“I am begging you, mercenary, pray keep me with you. You must see it is the only proper thing to do under the circumstances. Now, especially.”
So – Drolan had captured her, and she hadn’t been a whore at the time but a virgin. Tough break. The fact remained, though, that she had whored.
The coins he’d tossed at her were nowhere in sight. She’d scooped them up fast enough as payment, and payment named her a prostitute. In a manner of speaking, she’d taken the easy way out. She’d chosen to escape the rigors of serving a multitude of men-at-arms in line outside Drolan’s comfort tent by only serving him – one customer. Knowing she considered him the lesser of two evils didn’t exactly win her any points with him.
Still – who could blame her?
Unfortunately, he had other concerns, larger concerns than the unfair and heartbreaking plight of a former maiden caught up in the middle of warfare and doing what she must to survive. She was a single victim, he reminded himself again, while he sought to save an entire country from Drolan’s maniacal subjugation.
This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for, an excuse to get behind enemy lines to assess the warlord’s troop numbers. She – this plotting opportunist –had given him that opportunity, had unknowingly dropped it smack-dab, right in his lap. He couldn’t ignore his chance to save hundreds of lives doomed to die in warfare…regardless that he’d just been inside her a short time ago.
That short time ago seemed a hell of a lot longer to him, he mused, giving her another finger, his long middle finger.
She arched her back, accepting the intrusion, even as she grimaced. “For pity’s sake, take me with you when you leave, mercenary!”
“Yes.”
No lie. When he left today, she’d ride in the saddle before him. But with a slight difference:
He was going in toward Drolan’s camp, not away from it, returning her to a captivity she’d only just escaped.
This was how it would go down: This young woman would be sacrificed so that many others could live in freedom under the rightful queen of the land, the little girl he’d abandoned to the wolves long ago – if she were still alive and he could find her. An interim ruler would govern until then. Killing Drolan also featured prominently on Ajest’s to-do list.
Bottom line – he owned his allegiance to the future queen, not to some random hookup. And maybe if he told himself that often enough, he’d start believing it.
What would help with that was leaving Drolan’s camp carrying a plan of attack in his head. Having a solid strategy would justify Ajest’s betrayal of the little whore. The warlord would fall, and this woman would recover from her mistreatment inside Drolan’s comfort tent. She’d move on with the rest of her life, a life made better due to the warlord’s defeat.
What the hell. She’d probably end up thanking Ajest for making her part of history, for giving her the distinct honor of participating in the downfall of a murderous dictator…
“You wish to come inside me again, mercenary, do you not?”
He thought that more than a little apparent. But, recalling her recently lost innocence, he said patiently, “Yes.”
At which point, she stretched out her knees for him, nice and wide. “Then, do have me again, Master.”
Her new way of addressing him sounded just so…right. Add in her meek and docile attitude, and she fulfilled his every horny adolescent fantasy.
As a role-playing geek, he’d skirted the subject. Or, at least, naming it as such. Back then, he hadn’t known BDSM was a thing. But there’d been plenty of power play scenarios, and those scenarios involved dominant warriors and submissive damsels, not an enlightened dude or feminist wench among them. And to a one, the submissive damsels all had big tits and a distinct inability to say, nay; while the dominant warriors were all about scoring.
That wasn’t him in real life. He wasn’t dominant by nature. He wasn’t greedy either. And his turnaround here couldn’t all be about her. Yeah, she was beautiful and everything, but he was not one to believe in instant attraction. Look at Ria. His unrequited love for her had built up slowly, over four years at college.
He couldn’t explain it – but he wouldn’t be putting this little damsel in distress aside easily. And Ajest could tell she dug him too.
Why?
He hadn’t offered her much of anything last night. Except his dick. He didn’t want to be that guy, the selfish asshole that always put himself first in bed. Not with any woman. If he concentrated on only himself, how could he ever hope to make Ria happy?
He was desperate to get home and make Ria happy. He’d lacked the self-confidence to go full throttle in his courtship of her before. But things had changed. Now, he knew who he was and who he was not. And he was strong enough to face rejection. He intended to lay himself bare before her and let her decide if he had a chance. As to where he’d find her…her craft beer brewing company had been located in Boston, so she wouldn’t live far from operations, especially as she put in such long work days. And besides, he intended to look her up where the business was located, anyway. Anything else smacked of stalking.
He had to return to her. No! He would return to her. Whatever it took, he was leaving this place and going back where he belonged.
The little whore smiled up at him as he hovered over her. “Why do you delay, Master? What you did to me before…I…I liked it.”
“So you said.”
“I lied.”
That put a different spin on things. “Oh?”
“What I felt then, and now too, is more than any simple like, Master.” She demurely lowered her eyes. “I could come to crave it. What is it called, what you did to me?”
“Hooking up. I hooked up with you.” Though, it went deeper.
“And with others, this hooking up will feel the same?”
Lumping him together with her future paying partners almost stung his pride. But knowing who he was now, he flashed an assured grin and said cocky as hell. “Not even close. I’m the best you’ll ever have. But don’t get too attached. I’m not the staying kind.”
He owed her, but the most truth he could offer was they’d have no happily-ever-after. Wasn’t right to keep a thing like that to himself. He stopped short of telling her it was because he was hung up on another girl.
Funny, though, how this girl drew him despite all that…
Saying he was conflicted was no stretch. If not for his obligation to seat Queen Whatsherface on the throne and crush the usurper who stood in the way to that royal ascension, he would’ve been content to hang out in this hut a while, sleeping with the little whore around the clock, if there was a clock for him to sleep around, which there was not.
He’d made plenty of mistakes in his life, failed plenty too, both now and before, but he’d do the right thing by that little girl. He wouldn’t fail in his duty to the rightful ruler of the land. But he didn’t want to string this little whore along either. She didn’t deserve to get dumped.
He gave her the lowdown. “Just so you know – we leave at first light. Gather your things together and make ready to move out then.”
She parted her thighs. “Another occasion should not put you off your plans, Master.”
And there went his sense of responsibility out the window…if the hut had windows, which it did not.
To win a war, strategical adjustments must sometimes be made. This wasn’t the same as conceding the enemy a small victory in order to win big in the end. This little whore wasn’t his enemy. He didn’t exactly know what she was to him, but not that.
After carefully placing his big hand under her hips, he lifted her to meet him before sliding inside. “How’s the fit for you, sweeting?”
Making it good for was quickly becoming his obsession.
A dangerous fascination, a fixation he had to break. For her sake.
He was leaving. Going back home. She couldn’t count on him, not for anything. He had to make her see he’d only let her down if she did.
Being impersonal with a girl, while being intimate with her, was a tough gig. Not that she noticed his Jekyll and Hyde routine. Other things occupied her at the moment…
“Oh,” she moaned.
“Hurts?”
“N-n-no, Master.”
“Like hell.” He kissed her nose, licked down the side. “Here on out, speak up if I make a misstep in bed. We’ll keep this nice and slow. No gymnastics. Stick to my rhythm, okay?”
After that bit of coaching, she matched his steady beat. Soon she ground against him with escalating need. Her former moans of discomfort turned to mewing cries of surrender, then to plaintive sobs of upheaval, then to screams of abandon, her uninhibited hollers unlike any he’d ever thought to hear from a woman.
Music to his fucking ears.
But what if Drolan’s men-at-arms patrolled nearby?
They’d hear them carrying on in here.
As a purely precautionary measure, he covered her lips with the hard press of his mouth.
Christ, the kiss was something. The grinding and pulsating of their bodies damn near shook the house down.
She went off like a rocket. Ditto for him. Luckily, the kiss smothered most of the racket.
The afterglow was…awkward. Rather than hold her and caress her, murmur gentle reassurances in her ear, like he wanted to do, he pushed violently away, snapping, “Garb yourself.”
What a hero.
A request for sentimentality, for closeness, shone bright in her eyes.
He closed himself off from her need. “I said, get dressed.” For good measure, he added a terse, “Whore.”
Rather than slug him, which was what he deserved, she wobbled to a kneeling position at his spread feet. “D-d-did I do something wrong, Master? What is it? Pray tell me and I shall endeavor to correct my error.” She reached toward him, her fingers almost touching him.
He locked his knees in a military position as he stood over her, his hands clasped behind his back. He would not take her in his arms and hold her. Just hold her. She looked so lost and alone...
“Shameless hussy,” he said harshly. “Look at you! Legs akimbo, cunt wet and sticky with cum, and still you demand more of the same.”
“I am not fickle of nature. It is you, only you I desire, Master. Only you make me wet between the legs. My cunt, as you call it, weeps for you. Not for any other man. Such is the extent of your power over me.”
Her voice was throaty, yet cultured. Her poise elegant, her manner refined. She was one uncommon little whore. And unbearably sweet.
His obsession for her grew.
To counteract it, he tossed another coin at her. The piece of silver landed a yard or so removed from where she knelt. “Retrieve your fee, whore.”
She started to straighten, maybe to dress.
He stopped her. “No. Hands and knees. Crawl as you are, naked and sticky from my leavings.” Yep, he was a prince, all right.
“Yes, Master.”
With more dignity than he could’ve mustered under similar circumstances, she brushed her hip-length hair back over her shoulders. Lowering her eyes, she began the trip.
Rapture spread over him like wildfire. Closing his eyes would’ve helped fight the flames. But no. He watched her every swaying move.
Her bare breasts bobbed. Her naked hips undulated. Her ass…
Remained a mystery. Positioning himself behind her or, better yet, circling her as she approached, would’ve corrected that oversight but, guarding against such weakness, he stayed right where he was in front of her, not moving a muscle. Not daring to. Too afraid of what he might do.
She took his breath away.
What the hell went on here?
Unable to stop himself, he funneled a hand under her hair as soon as she arrived within reach. Twisting his fingers in the strands, he pulled up on a thick lank.
“Open your legs,” he said.
Soon, she would belong to an army of men-at-arms and possibly a ruthless warlord as well. The thought sickened him even as she as did as directed and spread herself.
“A fine bulge you have there, Master. May I taste it as you tasted the skin on my nose?
No need for her to ask twice, he took himself out.
At close range and in the dawning light that now crept through the chinks in the hut’s walls, she examined him. The sweetest of torture.
She looked up at him from under the sweep of her lashes. “Give over, Master.”
If his hold on her was cruel, hers on him was more so.
With a sigh for himself and for her, and for the twisted fate that had pushed them together, he complied.
No tease, she tongued and kissed and licked, and then eventually gobbled his agonized flesh up whole.
“Ah,” he said on a heave, and exploded, an eruption she swallowed without any indication from him. He knew her to be a novice at all of this, but she behaved like a season pro.
“Garb yourself. Now. Right now,” he rasped afterwards, tottering on his feet, barely keeping his sea legs. She had unbalanced him so. “I’m finished with you.”
“But only for now?” She swiped at the leftover slick on her chin. “You are only done with me here?”
“We gotta leave,” he said evasively.
She crossed an arm over the elongated tips of her breasts. “Does it have a name?”
“Does what have a name?” he croaked, because he knew, he knew, what she wanted spelled out.
She tossed her head, pulled at a darkly smudged nipple, discolored from all his pinching. “What I just did to you – what is it called?”
Heaven, paradise…hell. Your pick. They all describe where I’m at with you.
In his own time and place, he would’ve laughed and said, “It’s called me getting lucky.” Here, he grumbled the sanitized Latin term for a woman going down on a man. “Fellatio. And put your hand down at your side. No one said you could cover your tits. Or pull at the ends.”
Or drive him crazy. But she did, all the same.
She lowered the offending arm. “Excuse my mistake, Master. This is all so new. I shall do better.”
Impossible. How could she improve on perfection?
She rang all his bells and blew all his whistles.
Her gaze never leaving his, she rose to her feet and backed up to the hearth, where she dressed. A fast affair, as she wore only a single garment.
He smiled at how cute she looked, his lips hard, his dick harder.
She started toward him, a graceful glide. Even so, with her every step, her unsupported breasts shifted. The nipples, sticking straight out, poked at the nubby cloth of her peasant tunic. When she bent to retrieve the coin he’d forgotten all about, he stepped on the silver, covering it. “What do you say?”
