Free WarriorsApprentice by Alysh Ellis Page A

When had he
removed his shirt? Before she had started the wild ride with Ty? During? It
didn’t matter. What mattered was the feel of skin so warm and supple it felt
like silk stretched over the solid planes of his muscles. What mattered was the
way his lips nuzzled into her hair and slipped slowly down her face to nibble
their way hesitantly towards her mouth, stopping just before they reached their
target as if Huon were giving her the chance to turn aside, to reject his
advances before they really began.
    The arms that held her trembled, just a light shiver of the
skin that could have been due to nervousness, anticipation, the fight to remain
in control or all three. Judie couldn’t tell and she didn’t care. Huon’s
intensity and the darkening of his eyes as his pupils widened and his lids grew
heavy, so different from Ty’s ruthless taking of her, stirred her to arousal
again. A different type of arousal, one that touched her emotionally and made
her crave the tender touch of emotional intimacy and connection.
    The zip of his pants presented no barrier to her questing
fingers. She slid it down and slipped inside. He wore no underwear, letting her
hand wrap instantly around his hot, throbbing cock, but she kept her gaze on
his face, absorbed by the way his lips parted, his nostrils flared and twin
spots of red flared on his high, sharp cheekbones. A soft susurration of air
rushed from his lungs and his eyes closed.
    “Good?” she asked.
    “Oh yes,” he sighed. “Please don’t stop.”
    She felt the curve of a smile forming and didn’t try to
fight it. If Huon was not a virgin, he was certainly inexperienced. How someone
who looked like he did could have reached this age without being inundated by
floods of women intent on seducing him was a question she would think about at
some other time. Right now, she was grateful. Her ego welcomed the chance to lead
him, to take him to the peak of pleasure and bring him back again, certain that
he would not get up, walk out and leave her feeling like she had been used and
discarded.
    * * * * *
    Huon looked at the woman sleeping soundly beside him. He’d
read about sex, practiced solo in the privacy of his own room, but nothing had
prepared him for the intensity of the hot, wet clasp of another’s body. Alone,
he knew with unerring accuracy what rhythm made him come quickly. Tonight, with
Judie, the process had been prolonged, unfamiliar yet so much more pleasurable.
Fitting his movements to another person’s, her pleasure as much sought after as
his own, a heady mixture of give and take.
    But he wasn’t here for pleasure. He had to lull Judie
Scanlon into telling him what she knew, into taking him to places where he
could get the information he needed.
    She snuffled slightly in her sleep and curled her hand under
her cheek. Guilt and disgust unfurled in his stomach, sending tendrils into his
brain, taking root and blossoming into conviction. Damn it, no matter what he
looked like he was Dvalinn and he would not take an innocent life if he could
avoid it. If he gained her trust, got the information he needed, he could leave
her alive.
    No. Not if he gained her trust. If they did.
Tybor had to repair the damage he’d done.
    Huon slid gently out of the bed, checked to see he hadn’t
woken Judie, then, grabbing his clothes and taking a quick survey of the
apartment, tiptoed out into the streets of Venice.
    Ten minutes later the door of his rented room on the
Fondamenta Santa Lucia slammed shut behind him. Tybor, still fully dressed, was
stretched out on the bed, his arms folded behind his head, eyes closed,
ignoring Huon.
    “What the fuck was that about, you bastard?” Huon spat at
him.
    “I left you alone. You said you didn’t want me critiquing
your performance,” Tybor answered, keeping his eyes shut.
    “There’s a difference between critiquing my performance and
making a woman feel like she’s been used.”
    “Oh, and you’d know, would you?” Tybor’s