Free Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet Sarai Page B

from under the sheet.
    It felt far too pleasant—outrageously so. Amir prised her mouth open and probed deep with his brazen tongue. She could not help imagining that tongue rooting in her cunny. Desire shimmered through her as she opened to him, savouring his flavour of cinnamon and fennel.
    Clearly he sensed her surrender. He released his hold on her torso so that he could trace her bountiful curves, down over her hips to her buttocks. Seizing two handfuls of her opulent flesh, he ground his cock against her mound. His fingernails scored her arse and woke twinges of remembered pain that only fanned her need. Awkward because of her chains and his still-tight hold upon her, Cecily tried to spread her thighs, so that his erection would provide more direct stimulation. The sheet that separated their flesh was soaked by their pooled secretions.
    She wanted to roll away, so that they could remove that barrier. Amir held her fast, determined, perhaps, to frustrate her, while he continued to ravage her mouth with astonishing ferocity. Even Cecily’s well-honed muscles were no match for his strength. She gave up, closed her eyes and allowed him do whatever he pleased. For now, at least, he was in control—and if she was honest with herself, she didn’t mind. Desperate, tingling hunger pulsed in her engorged clit, hunger she knew only Amir could assuage. A fog of lust settled over her.
    “Amir-ji—are you awake yet?” Pratan’s voice broke into her amorous trance. It came from somewhere to her right, where she’d noticed a curtained arch. At the same time, Amir’s finger slid into her still-loosened rear hole. She bucked against the intrusion, wanting him deeper. Pratan released an all-too-familiar evil chuckle. Hot shame washed through her as Amir impaled her with a second finger. Pratan, she knew, could see everything—including the eager clench of her muscles pulling those probing digits farther inside.
    “So sorry to intrude! I didn’t realise you were busy, brother! I’ll give you some privacy, come back later…”
    “No, no! No need for that, Pratan!” The Rajah disentangled himself from Cecily’s clinging limbs sufficiently to assume a half-sitting position. However, he kept one wriggling finger embedded in her bum. “At this point I believe Miss Harrowsmith is far beyond modesty. Besides, she’s as much your prisoner as mine. Care to join us?”
    Cecily quivered with perverse excitement at the suggestion. Thus far in her numerous erotic encounters, she had never simultaneously entertained two men.
    “Thank you for the invitation, but after last night, I’m not sure I’m capable of giving our English guest the attention she deserves.”
    The edge she detected in Pratan’s voice dissipated most of Cecily’s lustful swoon. She opened her eyes to scrutinise the intruder.
    The prince-bandit most definitely looked the worse for wear. His normally-keen eyes were bloodshot, with grey circles of exhaustion beneath them. His long hair was matted and tangled. Dirt smeared his only garment, a pair of homespun trousers, and a long, rust-hued abrasion disfigured his chest, from his left breast down to his navel. A livid bruise darkened one cheekbone. Blood-crusted bandages wrapped both his hands.
    Amir made a noise of concern. Before she knew what was happening, he had released Cecily and tumbled her out of bed, back onto her pile of cushions. The men ignored her squawk of protest.
    “Come here—sit down, brother. You definitely did put up a fight, I’ll admit. Took six of my strongest guards to get you into the cage.” The Rajah’s voice took on a more serious tone. “Has this happened before—changing at the new moon as well as the full?”
    Pratan lowered himself to the opposite corner of the bed from where Cecily was bound. His normally graceful movements were stiff, as though he was in pain.
    “At the Vaishaka new moon, I felt some symptoms of the change, but the beast never arrived. Last