With a grin, Lionel snatched it out of the air and threw it up to catch it by the hilt. “Tremendous form, I must admit. Quite like Arthur.”
Cecilia rubbed at her wrist, which was not sore but felt as though it should be.
“How on earth did you do that?” she gasped.
“Your brother never taught you that?” Lionel tutted, reversing the blade and offering it to her, hilt first, “try again.”
Cecilia did. The rain slowed as she demonstrated the skills that Arthur had taught her. Skills that Lionel was certainly impressed by. Sweat darkened her hair as he watched and gave her tips, taking up a blade himself and sparring with her, though slowly to accommodate his easily fatigued leg. Cecilia found the exercise exciting in its novelty. But there was also something intensely erotic about engaging in mock-combat with a man who was her lover.
When their sparring drifted from the sheltered colonnade to the open square, the ground became treacherous. Lionel slipped and Cecilia could not help but laugh at the expression of comical surprise on his face as his balance wavered. He recovered and pulled a face at her barely concealed laughter. Then he came at her with renewed vigor, making her back up towards the pond.He gave a wicked grin as she realized how close she was to the water, deftly stepping aside.
At that moment, a wave of dizziness swept through her. A riposte went awry as a result and she stumbled into Lionel. He dropped his blade as he caught her faltering body.
“Are you well?” he asked, suddenly concerned, “perhaps this was not such a good idea after all.”
“I am, I think,” Cecilia breathed slowly.
The dizzy spell had passed as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her slightly queasy. Paradoxically, she also felt suddenly ravenous for strawberries, an image of the fruit popping into her mind without warning. She frowned. To feel queasy in your stomach and hungry at the same time was a peculiar combination. She looked into Lionel’s eyes and was lost, as she always was when he held her in his arms.
“It is nothing,” she repeated, softly, “and no exertion is too much if this is how it ends.”
Lionel smiled. The embrace which had been purely to hold her onto her feet became something more. His arms were strong about her, his hands caressing and stroking her back. His lips found hers and the heat of them ignited a fire within Cecilia. She allowed her body to go limp in his arms, something she liked to do simply to experience his strength, to let those steely muscles carry her.
But this time, the embrace came after their fencing exertions. Cecilia felt the tremble in Lionel’s right leg where it was pressed against her. She opened her eyes just as his leg gave way. Lionel tried to arrest their fall but the rain-slick floor was too treacherous. He slipped and twisted and both of them went into the pond.
The warmth of the fire was heavenly against Cecilia’s goose-pimpled skin. She lay on a luxuriously soft, deep rug before the hearth in the library. The curtains were drawn and the fire provided the room’s only light. She lay face down, completely bare, still glistening damply from the escapade in the pond. At a sound, she looked over her shoulder as Lionel entered the room in only his breeches, carrying a tray with two, steaming goblets and a small, ceramic pot.
“Two hot possets to warm us after our drenching,” he began, putting the tray on a table beside the rug, “with extra honey if you would care for it.”
Cecilia reached up for a goblet, tasted it, then picked up the honey. As she did, she exposed her breasts and bare stomach to Lionel. He watched her unashamed, his own Herculean physique on display. She dipped her finger in the honey and tasted it, instantly closing her eyes in sheer delight.
“This is heavenly. I will be happy with this alone,” she sighed happily.
Lionel got down on the floor beside her with difficulty, stretching out his legs as he lay on his back.
“You should rest. Do not exert yourself any further,” Cecilia told him.
“Faith, am I to be chided for this again,” he chuckled lightly, referring to Cecilia’s earlier hammering at him for pushing himself too far during their fencing session, when he ought to have been resting.
Noting the guilt in his voice, she scuttled over to him. “You know I am only looking out for your health,” she pouted, before crossing her arms. “Besides, I cannot be giving you massages if you will squander all of my good work in an hour of hopelessly entertaining me. You ought to rest for your muscles to settle so they can work properly.”
“Is that my treat then? Free massages?” Lionel laughed.
Cecilia nodded vigorously. “Yes. And perhaps more…”
Lionel raised his head to face her. “There is more?”
Teasingly, she dipped a finger into the honey, then put a hand on his chest, leaving a trace of honey there. Seeing the glistening drop, she then lowered her head and licked it away. Dipping her finger once more, she laid a trail of honey down between his pectoral muscles and up and down his ribs. She followed the trailwith her hungry tongue while Lionel softly moaned her name, running his hands through her long, slick hair.
When she reached his navel, she looked up at him, an idea entering her mind that was so wanton and wicked that it shocked her even while it excited her. Lionel looked up, meeting her eyes as she lowered his breeches and upended the pot over his waiting manhood. He sat bolt upright as the golden honey oozed into the air and then touched his skin, flowing slowly but inexorably down. Cecilia put a hand to his chest, pushing him down and then straddling him. Her loins met his and the honey poured over him began to coat her. She kissed him, long, hungry kisses that made his body respond with quivering urgency.
Then her lips once more began to move down. Lionel cried out in agonized joy as her questing mouth found the core of his manhood, engulfed it. She began to pleasure him in every way she could think of using lips, hands, and tongue. He writhed and jerked, whispering her name and crying it out until he could contain himself no longer. She finally sat back, panting and satisfied with her efforts, even while her body craved a different kind of satisfaction.
After a moment in which Lionel’s chest heaved and his breathing was as hoarse as an animal, he sat up, looking at her. Without a word, he seized her about the waist and lifted her as he fell back into his previous, prone position. At first, Cecilia could not fathom what he was about. Then, with a gasp of shock and a furious blush, she knew. She felt him, beneath her, beginning to lick at the honey that had been smeared over the heart of her womanhood. She felt his tongue, thrusting and dancing, making her squirm and writhe. She closed her eyes to the ecstasybuilding within her, becoming a being of pure, sensuous, sinful pleasure. Caring not for anything beyond the four walls that surrounded them. She reveled in that pleasure.
CHAPTER 21
2 WEEKS LATER
