Free Gayle Eden by Illara's Champion Page B

harder and faster, until Illara cried out, falling back while tremors raced from head to toe, a shower of warm pleasure emanating through her body.

     

Chapter Four
    Illara lay under the covers later, where he had placed her. She was on her side and Pagan sat up against the scrolled headboard, dressed still, all save his boots. Her fingers brushed idly at the seam on his breeches by the thigh. If the climax were not enough on its own, her sex still contracted and throbbed slightly with arousal.
    She knew Pagan was aroused, knew it because of his scent and heat, and because after he had laved her sex during, and dipped his tongue deep into her, he had slid her up in the bed, covered her and sat with his back to her, his body slightly bent—and fought to steady his breathing.
    Coming out of the fog, she had asked him to lie beside her, experiencing an odd need to be held. His fingers brushed through her hair now, but she could feel the tight waves of tension in him. She eased her hand atop his thigh feeling the contours of muscles, shaping her fingers to it. Illara rubbed from knee to groin, noting that Pagan had become motionless, his hand in her hair had stilled.
    Carefully she caressed closer to the ties on his groin. She felt the warmth, an amazing heat from him, and arched her neck to look up at him. The hooded face, more in shadow, did not hide the glow in his gaze, half-shuttered but intense. Holding that stare, she palmed the laces, moving up and over both sides, feeling the length and steel hardness of his sex.
    “I have seen men. I have never touched. I would like to make you experience and feel as pleasured as I feel.”
    His lips tensed before Pagan wet them, and his hand covered hers for a moment. His voice sounded darker, raspier, when he said, “I’ve never had a woman touch me.”
    She stilled and rose to her elbow. “Never?”
    “Nay.”
    “You--You are untouched--completely?” She was stunned.
    “Aye.”
    A frown rippled across her brow. “How did you know—”
    “I watched.”
    Her face heated. “Watched whom?”
    “Lovers,” Pagan supplied and massaged her palm against him. “There’s nothing covered when it comes to females who follow their husbands into camp. And less hidden when men bring….purchased--”
    “Whores?”
    “Aye.” He grunted.
    “And you just…stood and watched?”
    “Nay. Not precisely. Certain things I saw through tents, shadows. Others I was on my camp bed not a foot away. I heard a young knight once, with his bride, who was older. She told him boldly where and how to touch her.”
    “I see.” Illara was fascinated by that. She felt a tremble in him, a complete rigidity of muscle that had tightened. “And you did nothing.”
    “I masturbated.”
    She bit her lip.
    “Eased my own loins,” Pagan offered, and rubbed her hand more rhythmically over his sex.
    “The kissing?”
    “Instinct. And witnessing kisses.”
    She said worriedly, “Now I fear I shall do something wrong.”
    Pagan laughed a bit strained. “Nay. That cannot happen. If your hand touches my flesh at all, it will likely have my seed spewing.”
    She raised higher, her shoulder against his and her body more toward him. “You must guide me through this.” Her fingers moved from his and began undoing laces.
    He turned his head and bent to kiss her, and took the task from her, leaving her hand on his thigh as he widened the gap. His touch on her head kept her face toward him. He took her hand again and brought it to his sex. Pagan shuddered and lost his breath a moment, his eyes closing.
    Illara liked the feel of it, the hot silk, and smoothness. Her fingers clutched him lightly and moved down, her hand feeling the fluffy hair at the base, then up to the head, where sticky moisture met her fingers. She watched his eyes open again.
    “Is this—”
    “Aye.” His hand covered hers and Pagan smoothed it up and down leisurely.
    She could feel his heart beat jarring him, and sense his tension