Conquered: Spoils of War Ch. 06

"I don't think I can let you both go," he told her finally, a heavy sigh escaping him.

"You said-"

"I want you to be my Queen."

She bit down on her lips to stop their trembling, and tasted tears. He didn't want her, but he wouldn't let her go? Finally she managed "I don't understand."

"I have petitioned the council to have you crowned as my Queen. My request has been officially granted."

"But why?"

"Because they had no choice but to grant my request, no matter how much they thought otherwise."

"Not that. Why me? Is it because of Isaleen?"

"Isn't it enough for now that Isaleen would grow up knowing her mother as my Queen, and not my love slave?"

Could she bind herself to him for the sake of their child, watching him go to other women's arms and never hers? What if he fell in love with another, and begrudged the day he had taken her as Queen?

"I don't think it could be enough," she told him sadly.

"What would be?"

"A partnership. Freedom to be who I am, to do as I feel, even if it displeases you at times. For you to share your thoughts with me, not just your body. Don't ask me to say any more. I know you do not offer these things to me."

"What if I promised to try?" His thumb traced the side of her cheek to gently rub against her soft lips.

Jolie, stunned, was unable to answer. After long moments passed, he settled her on one of the shallow tiled shelfs on the pools edge. Then he was gently unclasping the golden disc where it dug into her flesh just below her breasts, and drawing the damp cloth from her body and letting it float in the water that reached just below her belly button.

His gaze roamed hungrily over her glistening skin, almost as if he was touching her. Heat gathered between her thighs.

"I want you more than I have wanted another" His lips quirked at the confusion on her face. "It was unheard of for a king to bid against his own warriors, but I could not let another have you. You stood so proud and brave on the dais before hundreds of warriors in nothing more than an enticing scrap of silk. Now, I could not imagine my life without you and Isaleen."

"Oh."

"Oh?" he asked with gentle amusement, but his eyes were silent, serious, waiting. Her heart was racing. It seemed his eyes were telling her more than his words that he cared for her. If she said yes, would she lose herself? Yet the thought of being by his side, perhaps having more children, was temptation itself.

"I know enough about your customs to know that your Queen must be a - a certain kind of woman."

"You are that certain kind of woman." He smiled slowly, his hand running up the outside of her thigh, and she blushed.

"Do not make me say it."

His eyebrow quirked.

"I am not a virgin," she said with a huff.

"Ah, but there are witnesses to testify that I had your maidenhead." Jolie's blush deepened and she wiggled slightly as his thumb rubbed back and forth over her hip bone. "Or are you now telling me it was a pretence?"

Jolie's mouth fell open. "You know very well -"

His mouth settled over hers, kissing her fiercely. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders and cupped his jaw as she kissed him back. He groaned against her mouth, then the kiss changed, gentled. His lips parted as her tongue shyly pressed against them. Her hands explored him, luxuriating in the silken heat of his golden skin. She tugged on his tunic, and he helped her, lifting his arms as she dragged the soaking cloth over his head. She flung it away, hitting the water's surface with a slap, then he was drawing her knees wide and settling his hips between them.

She shimmied her breasts against him as her hands fumbled with his breeches, her mouth on his. She struggled with the wet leather ties, yanking them apart, then pushed them down his thighs brutally as far as she could reach, which wasn't far. He half grunted, half laughed, before capturing her mouth again.

Her hand was between them, sliding down over his belly to grasp his quivering length. He was hot and hard, and her sheath clenched with longing. She guided it to her to her wet gate, but he held his ground, growling "not yet. I want to taste you."

"Now," she commanded, but his hand circled hers in protest. Her other hand grabbed his left cheek, her fingers digging into the firm flesh of his bottom. They gazed at each other, their stares unwavering. She drew her hand up and down along his thick shaft. His eyelids dropped, his hips jerking slightly. Biting back a triumphant smile, she lodged the blunt head against her glistening flesh.

His breath rasped out. "Slow would be good."

She squeezed him. "Later," she breathed. "I need you now."

One heartbeat, two. Then with a groan he surged against her, hard and swift, sliding deep with one fierce thrust. Jolie cried out, her body clenching around him in welcome.

His forehead pressed against hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Her legs wrapped around him, her heels pushing down on the back of his breeches.

He drew almost fully out of her then slammed home again. She cried out. Then he was driving into her with long, demanding thrusts from which there was no escape, his hands holding her firmly by the hips. Her arms tightened about his shoulders as she held on, lost in the wildness of him. The water churned around them, buffering against her sensitive flesh. Her teeth sunk into his shoulder, her nails into his back.

It wasn't until she felt the cool water against her back that she realised he had pried her hands from his flesh and laid her out before him, her weight on her lower arms. His thickness stole deep, burning a path in her. His hands found her glistening breasts, molding them, his fingers pinching and rolling the hard nipples.

"Harder," she cried, her breasts jolting with each hard thrust. Her body arched in the water, her head tipped back, sensual heat fanned out in mounting waves of ecstasy. He drove into her, bumping against her womb with a thrill of pain that was lost in the pleasure.

He bucked within her melting tightness, affording her no mercy. She cried out as exquisite joy burst between her thighs, sending shockwaves of rippling sensations through her. "Hell," he groaned as she gripped him fiercely, his body unable to hold out against the incredible sensations. He jerked in her clenching hold, pouring hot warmth into her.

Jolie felt like melted wax. After an age, she ran a the tips of her fingers leisurely over his chest, luxuriating in the feel of his strength and warmth. She surveyed him lazily, loving him like this. Tussled, his breeches down around his knees in the water, far removed from his usual king-like self. She ran her foot up the back of his thigh teasingly. He caught her ankle, drawing it to his front so that her knee pressed against her breast and lifting his prize to his mouth. Gently he nipped the under flesh of her big toe, then sucked on it, causing her to moan.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked her softly, his thumb finding the thatch of curls between her thighs.

She shook her head, her thick mane twirling in the water at her elbows. His gaze licked over her, the curls where their bodies joined, the flat belly and tiny waist, the creamy handfuls with their puckered rosy peaks. His eyes dragged back to hers, heavy with sensuality. "Say yes." He gazed at her with serious intensity as he rocked his hips slightly against hers and dragging a soft moan from her. His thumb slid between her folds to press against her tiny ridge of flesh, making her throb.

He watched her close her eyes, then slowly open them. His breath caught at the intensity of emotions swimming there.

"Yes."

"Thank the gods," he muttered, his fingers sliding in the hair at her nape to cradle her head as his mouth took hers. His hardening flesh began to ease in and out of her, making her moan against his lips.

~*~

Jolie pressed both hands against her belly in an attempt to stop the flutters. It had been barely three days since the time in the harem when Arik had asked her to become his Queen. On one hand, not enough time to think, on the other, too much.

Now she stood in floor length topaz silk that draped her curves from a breasts to toes. Her hair fell to the small of her back in a tumble of gold, tiny sparking jewels intertwined in its silken depths. Instead of a slave collar at her throat, dozens of ropes of fine gold strands circled her throat and spilled down over the thrust of her breasts.

A half dozen slaves fluttered about her, adjusting her gown, rubbing fresh scented oils into her skin until it glowed. Finally a soft horn blew, and the servants squealed and chattered about her as they drew her to the entrance of sumptuously decadent tent. At whispered words, two guards pulled back the white silk curtains, revealing the mass of people turning as one to gaze upon her.

Jolie swallowed hard. Guiding hands pushed her forward, and she slowly began to walk down the narrow path between the hundreds of faces towering over her, her bare feet stepping on pale flower petals.

After an age, the crowd thinned, and then she spied him. He stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking canyons that were glazed in shades of blues and pinks in the settling dusk. The wind whipped at his black tunic and strands of his hair. She couldn't take her eyes off of him as she walked toward him. When she drew close, he held out his hand, and she slipped hers in his larger one. His lips quirked, and she smiled nervously back, her heart loud in her ears.

At her side, holding Isaleen, was Jolie's sister. Then the words of the ceremony began, brief yet binding. Arik and Jolie then took a longish wooden pole, or taepeair, with it's end bound in silken ties, and together they lit the cloth from a small waiting fire. Hand in hand, they then walked to the large, towering sculpted stone cauldron in the shape of a wine goblet. Together threw the pole into its heart. There they waited, until finally, with visible relief of those around them, the cauldron's flame grew. Arik's gods had blessed their union with passion and longevity.

Arik smiled then lifted her up into his arms. Jolie hadn't been instructed about this being part of the ceremony. A squeak escaped her, and she clung on, her feet kicking his shins. Arik strode back down the path, and men slapped him on the back as they went, their roars and laughter making her pinken.

When finally he ducked beneath the tent entrance, the flaps fell behind them. She slid down the length of his body, and they both turned their heads to watch as ribbons were used to bind the tent flaps together from the outside, from top to bottom. Then a cheer went up.

Jolie knew about this part. They would remain uninterrupted in the tent until the third day, when the cauldron, or Vier Alire as it was traditionally known, burned down to ash. Then they would emerge King and Queen.

Jolie squealed when she was again scooped up into strong arms. Arik carried her over to the large circle of soft pillows and furs and tumbled her onto her back. She struggled upright, pushing back her hair. Arik stood over her, watching her as he pulled his tunic over his head and threw it half-way across the tent.

Her thighs clenched as his tugged at one boot, then another, and they too went flying. His hand went to his breeches, and he pushed and shoved at them until the fell about his ankles and he kicked them away. In a matter of moments he was naked, and unquestionably enthusiastic.

His was so big and tanned, with sprinkles of black hair narrowing down over his ridged belly to circle the thick, heavy shaft rising from their depths. His thighs were thick and muscled and long with the occasional white thin scar that made her fingers itch to trace.

"I love you," he said, and her shocked eyes hesitated in their intimate perusal, before flying to his. He seemed kind of embarrassed and boyish, for all that he was King.

Then the moment was broken as he knelt on the edge of the circle and caught her ankles. He dragged her toward him until her bottom abutted his thighs, then swapping both ankles to one hand, he held them pinned against his chest.

"Arik!" she gasped, half with laughter, half with shock. His determination had forced her gown to ride up, revealing her creamy legs and bottom and a glimpse of blonde tufts to his interested gaze.

Arik seemed awed at discovering her naked beneath her gown, and taking advantage of his distraction, she kicked free and scrabbled along pillows as she laughingly wiggled away from him, and rolled over onto her front and pushed up onto her hands and knees. He leaned over her, his hands catching her upper arms and drawing her up onto her knees, his fingers brushing the sides of her breasts. She rubbed her bottom against him teasingly, and he growled in her ear, his face rubbing against her neck.

"Jolina," he groaned, his hips pushing against her bottom where she incited him, he need evident. Her hands resting on his, guided them to the aching swells of her breasts.

She turned her face up to his. He needed no further instruction, his mouth devouring hers, his fingers tormenting her sensitive flesh through the silk. She tugged the gown apart, freeing her breasts to his attentions. Her nipples budded under his attentions, tight and needy. The gold strands of her necklace was cold against her flesh, soon warming. Without warning, he ripped the gown from her and threw it aside.

One large hand slid down over her belly and threaded through the golden haze at its base. Her body bucked against him when he massaged her in small, slow circles. Heat trickled from her, her hips arching. His other arm was crossed against her body as he plucked and rolled a nipple, his fingers tangled in her chains.

Her hands found his hips, and slid down, finding him. He was hot and hard beneath her caressing fingers. He groaned into her hair, his hips pressing into the grip her fingers made about him.

She gasped as two fingers sunk into her, stretching her, her head falling back against his chest.

Without knowing how, but feeling slightly dizzy, she found herself twisted and pressed down until she was on her back on the soft cushions. Arik threw her legs wide, and settled his shoulders between them. Jolie quivered, sucking in a deep breath.

His mouth was warm where it pressed against the soft flesh of her inner thigh. And ticklish, when he gently nipped then and swirled his tongue over the reddening flesh. She whimpered, not sure she was able to withstand for long the tortures of his devilish mouth.

"Ari-k," she gasped, ending on a high note when he licked her swollen and glistening valley. Her back arched off the floor, then sunk back down again when he merely gazed down at her flesh.

She bit the back of her hand to keep from begging. Again he licked her, slowly, maddeningly, before his tongue returned to delve in her pink folds. When his tongue pushed inside her, her free hand sunk into the thick black silk of his mane. Somehow her thighs found their way over his shoulders, her toes pointing. His mouth nipped and sucked at her, his tongue tormenting. She melted on a flood of warmth, her body exploding into shudders, a hoarse scream escaping her.

She was boneless when he rolled her onto her belly. His hands beneath her hips, he lifted her bottom until she rested on her knees. Her flushed face pressed into the pillows.

His hands shaped her bottom, molding its softness with circular motions. She turned her face to the side, brushing the hair back from her eyes, but still she could not see what he was doing.

His hands spread over the small of her back, sliding down over the creamy column of her back, then up again, until they firmly gripped her hips. She felt him then, probing her glistening folds, until his blunt head came to rest at the heart of her.

She reached one hand back, pressing it flat against his rock hard belly, letting her senses guide her. Then he was slowly pushing against her, making her lips part on a soundless gasp as his thickness stole deep. The intensity of sensations was overwhelming as she was slowly taken, her yielding heat stretching gloriously.

He began to rock back and forth in tiny, teasing surges. His deep breathing and clenching fingers were the only evidence that his control was not as he would have her believe.

His hand slipped down around her hips, his fingers discovering her curls. Then he was parting her, one finger drawing up along her wetness. Over and over, until she could stand it no more and began to pull and push on him with a fierceness that appeased her quickening body.

"Arik," she cried. His hips bucked against hers, his thick hard length ramming deep into her quivering sheath, then dragging out, drawing moans from both of them. Her need was winding tighter and tighter in her belly, until she felt she would die from the intensity of it all.

Again she came, more compelling than the first, glowing heat fanning out in endless waves. He thrust deep, grinding himself inside her before easing back, over and over, pushing her pleasure on.

He finally groaned, his hands on her hips dragging her back until his thickness was lodged in her to the hilt, his warmth spilling deep.

They collapsed onto the pillows, his body twisting so they lay on their sides, his leg thrown over hers. His face pressed against her hair, his rasping breathes stirring the golden strands.

She lay with her lashes closed, feeling overwhelmed by his closeness. His hand brushed over her collarbone, then down her arm. Goose pimples followed.

"I love you too," she told him, her smiling widening when he completely stilled against her. Then he was turning her onto her back, his mouth finding hers with a groan.

The end.