Scarlet Nights. Lucinda Betts
she said. He couldn’t stop now.
“Listen to me.” He ran his hand over her face, his fingers slow and gentle. “No one need know what we’ve done here. We can sit up and compose ourselves. When the guards come, they’ll find nothing but a proper Hand-to-Be and her ever-loyal escort, the king’s second.”
“It’s not possible.” Her core ached for his cock, but desire wasn’t what provoked her to take his hand and pull him closer. “Please, help me see this through.”
Grip didn’t resist her touch, and his cock throbbed in her hand. “Solstice, love.” He lay his body over hers, comforting her with his warmth and kissing away her tears. In their years of friendship, she’d never guessed how tender his lips would be. “I’ll stay, I promise. But you don’t have to go through with this. Truly.”
She wished he were right. She took a deep breath. “I need to do this. Please.” She caressed his solid phallus in her hand, making him groan. “Don’t stop.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I can’t tell you yet. It’s too dangerous.”
Grip seemed to accept the answer. The faint line on his smooth skin vanished, and he lowered his head, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth. He sucked hard, sending bolts of heated pleasure through her.
She arched her back, giving him full access to her breasts. Every part of her ached for him—every part of her except her pride.
He covered the hollow beneath her throat in tiny kisses. “When will you tell me?”
She wished he’d quit talking, but he deserved an answer. At her request, he had arranged this tryst, found the time and place. He knew exactly when the soldier’s so-called random patrol would discover them in this seldom-used part of the palace.
She tipped her chin back, and his kisses traveled up her neck toward her lips. “Tomorrow,” she said. “Tomorrow, I’ll tell you.”
He stroked her neck with strong fingers. His gray eyes met hers, and she saw devotion there. “Let me shield you from whatever you’re running from.”
“Grip.” She wasn’t running from anything; she was running to it. She had to get to Greenhaven and retrieve the Azalea Ring. She had to do it now, and she had to do it without raising any questions from the queen or her citizens.
And she needed his help. The quest would be impossible without his strength and cunning. “This is difficult enough. You can’t change my decision.”
“But the queen.” He ran his hand over her breast and down the length of her stomach, letting his fingers dance over her hips. “She worships you. Why are you doing this to her?”
She parted her thighs, begging him to fulfill her—begging him to stop talking. Her aching heart had no room for doubt. “You said you trusted me,” she said. “Trust me now.”
“Don’t fight dirty.” He wrapped his tongue around her nipple and pressed. She gasped. Grip’s time as a Temple Virgin had been well spent. He knew how to bring a woman into the presence of the goddess. “You know I trust you.” He released her tender flesh. “But if you told me your secret, I might be able to help.”
“You are helping.”
“Some people are helped by fucking me,” he chuckled. “But not the Hand-to-Be.” He pulled away from her then, propping himself on his elbows so the length of his body hovered above hers, leaving her cold. “There has to be a better solution than compromising your—”
She’d had enough words. If he kept this up, the soldiers would discover the Hand-to-Be and the king’s second doing nothing more outrageous than talking without clothes. That would not get them banished to Greenhaven.
She arched her body toward his so that her stomach pressed against his, and his phallus throbbed between her thighs. “The guards will be here in five heartbeats,” she said. “And I want you now. I need you now.”
“Solstice.”
She took his cock in her hands and slid him over her pearl. Once. Twice. Then the orgasm’s promise danced only a stroke away. Above her, she felt his body quiver. Even his temple-trained control couldn’t withstand a woman wet with desire begging for fulfillment, even if it meant the woman’s downfall and their joint expulsion from court.
“I don’t think—” he growled.
She didn’t give him a choice. She sheathed him inside her, and he quit fighting. He plunged into her, deep, deeper. Oh, goddess, her muscles ached with the delicious pain of the penetration.
His lips found her neck and sucked as his fingers danced over her swollen nub. He slid his cock nearly out of her and groaned, but her imminent orgasm demanded more from him.
She dug her fingers into his muscled ass and pulled him into her. “Now!”
He obeyed. He lost himself in the pleasure of her body, and she closed her eyes, trying to stave off the delight of his touch. Maybe the guards would arrive before Grip worked his magic.
But the exquisite delight of the orgasm took hold. It began so lightly she hardly believed it was upon her. Still, as he buried himself in her with perfect rhythm, she felt the fingers of She Who Listens take complete hold of her body, wracking her with pleasure.
Grip slowed his thrusts. Then he pulled himself from her to bury his face in the folds between her thighs. The delicate spirals of his tongue sent bolts of pleasure to her very core. His tongue darted and danced, bringing her closer to the orgasm’s edge.
Then his mouth left the cleft between her thighs and made a heated trail toward her breasts. He sank his phallus slowly into her as his lips caressed her nipple. Again, intense pleasure vibrated just beneath the surface.
He slowly thrust himself into her, and her body responded, almost against her will. The orgasm took a solid hold of her this time.
“Yes!” she shouted into the corridor, her voice echoing off the copper sculpture and the porcelain urn. If the soldiers were close enough, they’d hear.
She wanted this. Her country needed this. Grip met her thrusts, his face twisted in intense delight. Solstice wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled herself toward him.
The orgasm grabbed hold of her core and spread through. For a heartbeat she felt the beating presence of She Who Listens, could almost hear her voice.
That wouldn’t do. Solstice tried to block the goddess, or at least steel herself against her glorious charms. But the feather-light touch of She Who Listens brushed against her mind.
Expecting recriminations, Solstice hardened her heart. She’d lived her life following a true path, one where every word she heard from the goddess or her queen or her friends was positive. She’d have to find that hard part in her heart now to ignore her goddess, to ignore the recriminations.
I am sorry, my lady, Solstice said to the goddess in her mind.
You cannot—the goddess started to say, but Solstice pushed her from her mind.
Go! Solstice demanded. She knew most Temple Virgins couldn’t exclude the goddess, but she needed the solitude. Living with herself would be hard enough without input from She Who Listens.
The orgasm finished then, leaving Solstice’s skin heated and tingling from her face down to her toes. The orgasm’s end closed her to the feel of the goddess’s presence.
Or maybe the sound of the soldiers’ feet clattering up the staircase did it.
“What’s this?” one of the guards asked the other. Solstice recognized his voice. It belonged to her friend, Sergeant Flint.
“I don’t believe it. Not Lady Solstice. Not with Lord Grip. She’d never…” This voice belonged to her closer friend, Sergeant Halide. She’d helped his mother get princeroot once, when the