Elona offered her hand for the count to kiss. ‘I’m afraid the stories are all true, Your Highness.’
That’s honest word, Leesha thought, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
Thamos’ smile was positively predatory, like the wolfish grin of Messenger Marick. Leesha could not stand the thought of Thamos looking at her mother like that. Not when she was right here. Not tonight. She put a smile on her face and gave her own dress laces a tug.
‘Enjoying the festivities, Highness?’ she asked, pulling his eyes back to her and holding his gaze as best she could. His eyes kept dipping lower and then flicking back, but like Elona, she pretended not to notice.
‘I’ve never been to a wedding in the hamlets,’ Thamos said, ‘and I see now what a loss that is. This makes court balls seem dreary by comparison.’
‘Oh, you flatter,’ Leesha said. ‘How can Hollow women in their homespun dresses compare to painted courtesans in silk and gold?’
Thamos’ eyes flicked downward again, and Leesha felt her smile widen. ‘Courtesans care more for themselves than anyone else.’ He smiled and held out a hand as the Jongleurs struck up another dance. ‘They may tumble, but they never reel.’
The next few hours were a blur as Leesha danced and laughed with the handsome count. He shared her with the other dancers grudgingly, always keeping close, and his kisses in the carriage as he drove her home were warm and full of passion. His member was stiff and hard in his breeches, and she pressed close, grinding into it with her hips and thighs. She felt herself growing wetter by the moment, and was considering the mechanics of taking him right there in the carriage when they pulled up to her cottage and the coachman hopped down to set the steps and open the door.
Thamos stepped down first, giving Leesha his hand to lean on as she wobbled unsteadily to the ground.
‘Head back to the revel,’ Thamos said to the coachman. ‘I’ll walk back.’
‘Highness,’ the coachman said. ‘It is night and these woods are full of Krasians …’
‘Come back at dawn, then,’ Leesha said. ‘Just go!’
The coachman shrugged and cracked the reins, heading off down the road.
‘Subtle,’ Thamos said, grinning as Leesha took him by the arm and practically dragged him inside.
She made no pretence, pulling him right into the bedroom. She lit a dim chemical light, then turned and pushed him hard, so he fell onto his back on the quilts. She smiled and hiked her skirts, crawling atop him, kissing his face and lips and neck. ‘And now, Your Highness, I am going to take advantage of you.’
Thamos squirmed, undoing the laces of her dress as he nuzzled his face into her cleavage. ‘Usually it’s the other way around.’
Leesha smiled. ‘Ay, but we do things different in the Hollow. I am going to ride you from now till your coachman returns.’ She reached down, unbuckling his belt, then fumbled with the snaps and laces of his breeches. She’d imagined herself having his member in hand in seconds, but she finally had to break eye contact and look at the last knot before she could untie it. She yanked the trousers open at last, but the member she found had lost much of its rigidity.
She took it in hand, stroking gently at first as she kissed him, but he remained soft. She moved higher, pressing his face into her breasts as she pulled harder, and that seemed to help, stiffening him enough for the deed. She kicked off her petticoats and pressed him to her opening, but again he wilted.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, taking him back in hand.
‘Ahhh…. Nothing …’ Thamos moaned. ‘It’s just late … and the drink … and I didn’t expect you to be so …’
‘Forward?’ Leesha asked, moving down to spit on him, lubing her stroke. The count groaned as she took his moistened member in her mouth, but still he remained soft.
Night, is it me? she wondered. Is Ahmann the only man in the world who truly wants me?
She shook the thought away, moving off the bed.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked. ‘I’ll be fine. I just need …’
‘Sshhh,’ Leesha said, slipping her arms from the sleeves of her dress and pushing it down. ‘I’ll give you what you need.’
He watched her undress in the dim light, and Leesha, glancing down, saw him stiffen again as she bent to step free of her skirts. He had a spear any man would be proud of, and she bit her lip, excited to have it in her. She reached out and gave it a squeeze.
The count gave an animal growl and was on his feet in an instant, bending her over the bed. She went willingly, and cried out in pleasure as he thrust into her from behind. She pushed back at him, grinding against his powerful thrusts as she felt her own pleasure build.
And then, with a grunt, it was over, and he collapsed atop her. Leesha squirmed, trying to get a last bit of friction to push her over the edge, but he had softened again, and slipped free. She wanted to cry, but didn’t have the energy. She wished she’d just told the coachman to wait while they had a cup of tea, rather than trapping the count here for the night. She hoped he would be brave enough to leave.
But Thamos pulled off the rest of his clothes and slipped into bed beside her. ‘That was incredible,’ he murmured as he pressed himself to her back. He pulled the quilts over them and wrapped his thick arms around her, nuzzling her neck contentedly. ‘I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you in Jizell’s hospit, but I never dreamed it would be so good.’
And for a moment, Leesha felt her despair fade, feeling safe and warm in the count’s arms. Perhaps he hadn’t been man enough for her, but she had been more than woman enough for him. There was a strange feeling of pride in that, and she smiled as she fell asleep.
It was still dark when Leesha awoke from a dream of Ahmann, and the nights they had spent in each other’s arms. The magic made him a creature of unbridled passion, and he took her frequently in the dead of night, both of them half sleeping with their eyes closed. He would wake her with kisses and caresses while she slowly stroked him. When she was aroused enough to receive him, he would thrust into her and grind his hips until they both cried out. A moment later they would be asleep again, a quick nap before he took her again to celebrate the dawn.
Creator, she missed him. After twenty-eight years of self-denial, she’d had a week of gluttony, and now her body craved his touch. Any touch, really. She knew increased desire was a common sign of pregnancy, but she had not expected it to be more debilitating than the ever-present headaches and nausea.
Behind her, Thamos snored contentedly, his muscular chest hard and hairy against her back. She squirmed against him, grinding her bottom against his crotch. There was a twitching there, and she rolled him onto his back, taking him in her mouth as she had before. This time, he stiffened almost instantly.
Thamos groaned, still half asleep, but then his hand slipped down, caressing her hair, and she knew he was awake. She was astride him in an instant, still slick with his seed and her own arousal. The count moaned and reached up gentle hands, caressing her hips and breasts as she rode him. She kept her eyes shut, picturing Ahmann.
Every once in a while she felt the count twitch and lifted herself off, bending down to kiss him until his breathing calmed. Then she would resume.
Before long, she felt her own climax building and increased her pace, pinning the count as she had her way. In a moment she was screaming her pleasure, and Thamos held her hips as if for dear life. Pent as she had been, it lasted a long time. When it started to fade, she smiled and clenched tighter, taking a quick steady rhythm, draining the count again.
She kissed him, but they were both panting, and the kiss broke apart with a laugh.
‘Incredible,’ Thamos said again.
‘Ay,’ Leesha said, and meant it, though her stomach did not seem to agree, roiling like a soup forgotten on the fire.