“Good evening, mistress. I heard there was an attempt on your life tonight. I’m glad they failed.”
Ignoring the handful of guards behind me, I stride up to her, reach out, and lift her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her big, baby blue eyes stare back at me, and her lips part as the soft patter of her heartbeat quickens. The sweet perfume of her desire wafts from her, telling me she isn’t here just to check up on me. This woman wants me as much as I want an outlet for my ire. A little physical exertion is just what the healer ordered.
“Join me?” I whisper against her lips as I move in for a kiss.
Behind us, a couple of the guards clear their throats while others gasp in shock. Male pheromones add to Marra’s heat, creating an odd mix of scents. I don’t much care for the smell of a man’s arousal. It’s distracting me from her. Quite annoying, really.
Marra stiffens at first, but after a few moments to recover from the shock of my public display, she answers my question in the form of a hand on my tit, cupping and caressing the supple leather covering it. Her mouth opens for my tongue, and I gladly slip it in, pressing my body to hers until she’s backed up against the door. I unlock it blindly and hurry her in. Before I shut the guards out, I turn back and wink at them. “Don’t wait up, boys.”
She jumps when the door slams shut behind us, and I can’t help but giggle. “Come, now, afraid of a little noise?”
Marra recovers quickly. “I’m not afraid of making noise, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Excellent.”
Lifting her by her hips, I carry her to my bed and lay her down. Marra’s golden hair splays on the mattress, glinting in the light from the fireplace. She squeals as I lower my weight onto her. Our breasts press together, her hard, pert little nipples a sign that she’s more than ready for me. My hand slides between us, rubbing her through her skirts, causing her to squirm. Her moans light a fire in me that has nothing to do with the Sun God’s gifts, spreading from my core throughout, until my whole body vibrates with need.
Marra’s not without her own skills. This young lady, who feigned innocence when she first got hired as a servant, removes my clothing with expert hands. When my pants are loosened, her hand slides in as if guided by divine sight. I grind against her probing fingers, reveling in the sensations shooting through me at her touch.
I don’t understand the Elders’ distaste for my preferences. This is as natural as breathing, as vital to my person as air. Only the strength of Solari’s light brings a better balance to my soul.
Eager to see, feel, and taste more of Marra, I stand to rid myself of the rest of my clothing. “Off with the skirts, young lady!”
Marra shoots me a sly glance and tugs at the laces on her bodice. “As you wish, mistress.”
All the servants call me “mistress” or “princess” or something equally formal, but when Marra says it, a shiver runs up my spine.
Once our clothing is out of the way—a hasty act of almost comical proportions—I crawl up between her long, smooth legs, peppering the pale skin of her thick thighs with kisses before settling with my face at the soft patch of hair where they meet. Her entrance is deliciously wet, the sweet odor tickling my nostrils as I start to lap at her bud. Marra shrieks again and arches her back, which puts her full, round breasts on display. I reach up and cup one, teasing her nipple while two fingers from my other hand slide inside her damp slit.
Her hands lace in my hair, tugging me closer to her core, and I gladly bury my face in her sex. The scent of her is intoxicating, and she tastes delightful. More sweetness flows the more I pump my fingers, and her screams reach a crescendo as I focus my efforts. She comes with a heady rush, and I rub her spasming thighs to calm her while I lick her clean.
When I’m done, Marra leans forward and beckons me to come closer. I raise to kiss her, and our tongues twirl together while she fingers my clit with a skill beyond her years.
“May I try something, mistress?”
I raise a brow and give her a dubious glance. We’ve not been together many times. It’s bold of her to suggest experimenting at this stage. “What did you have in mind?”
Marra grins and reaches for her clothes, revealing a hidden pouch I hadn’t noticed among her skirts earlier. She produces something long and slender, wrapped in leather and tied with twine. “I thought we might put this to use. I bought it from a friend who owns a woodworking shop in the next town over.”
She unties the twine and unwraps the leather, revealing something that has me in stitches: A wooden phallus, polished to a bright sheen and complete with a textured leather grip at the balls-end of it.
Marra frowns. “Why are you laughing?”
Unable to articulate my response in between peals of laughter, I roll over and slide open a drawer in the table beside my bed, displaying an assortment of similar devices.
Her eyes widen. “Oh! You have some already …”
“Indeed. However—” I recover enough to shoot her what I hope passes as a lecherous glance “—it never hurts to have more. Besides, that’s a, erm, style I’ve not yet tried. Whose idea was it to carve the ridges along the shaft?” I run a fingertip along said ridges, contemplating what it might feel like.
A smile returns to her pretty face. “Mine.”
“Well, then …” I grab a tin of special oil I keep nearby for just such an occasion, dipping my fingers in and coating the wooden toy. “Let’s try it, shall we?”
Though I have no desire to experience a real phallus, the toys provide sensations a woman can’t otherwise produce. I spread my legs for Marra, wrapping them around her generous hips, and she teases my entrance with the tip of the toy. Her plump lips press to mine in a lusty kiss as she slides it in, and I arch and gasp, sucking in her breath as I experience the ridges massaging my inner walls.
Marra starts slow, but after a few minutes she’s a wild thing, pounding into me with the toy while we kiss. I move my hips in kind, rising to meet her eager hand. I can’t help but scream and moan as the toy hits deep inside, and when she starts to thumb my clit with her other hand, I explode with the force of the orgasm that pulses through me. My walls clench and throb, and before I can come down from the high she’s given me, Marra brings forth another climax by pumping through the aftershock of the first. All the while, my hands roam, clinging to her hair, cupping her chin, palming her glorious, perky breasts.
Can’t do that with a man.
