Selected for Sport Ch. 17

His lips swallowed her furious reply, and he thrust his tongue down her throat, hips rocking gently.

Ok. He didn't want to talk about this any more. Maybe he wanted something else now? Alanna's blood exploded, the simmering desire surging back full force. Her fingers twisted in his hair while he deepened the kiss, nudging a knee between her thighs and twisting them apart.

She let out a strangled, hoarse cry of disappointment when he lifted off her, only to gulp it back when she realised why he had. "Quiet!" Xanir grunted almost absently. His heated gaze was fixed between her chest and his, watching his fingers part the neckline of her gossamer gown, freeing her breasts.

She panted harder, moaning at the look in his eyes. He shaped her breasts with his hands, squeezing, brushing his thumbs across the tips, a small smile on his face as he watched her reactions. Then he moved up and shut her up again very effectually.

A moment later, she managed to turn another cry into a kind of gulping moan when his lips moved again, beginning to slide down her neck and collarbone towards her aching breasts.

Xanir paused, snorting a laugh into her skin, "Do you not remember me telling you to be silent?"

It took her a second to gather herself, but he remained still to let her, quivering with smug humour. "Do you not remember promising to gag me?" Alanna gasped in retort, shooting him a look.

Xanir came back to lean nose to nose over her, grinning. "I love how irresistible you find me."

She stuck out her tongue, pulling a face. Then moaned when he suckled on it. The need in the breathless little voice evoked another quiet chuckle, and Xanir bent his head sideways, smiling as he nuzzled the tip of his tongue down the pulse fluttering frantically in her throat. "Before I gag you I think I should first check that my little maia can keep my secrets even under torture. So: who will you inform about my being here tonight?"

Alanna arched up into the fierce, fiery pull of his lips against her pulse, blood rioting. "No-one!", she managed to gasp when he drew back, straining to twist her hands free so that she could pull that kiss down again.

"Are you sure?" murmured her torturer, shifting her small wrists together into one palm above her head then gently pushing her soaked nightgown off her shoulders while his lips began to drift down. "Which people can you trust?"

Beautiful, plump mounds heaved in the shadowy light. He suckled the dusky tip of one gently, then smiled up at the breathless, needy cry that escaped his glassy-eyed, gasping princess.

"Alanna?"

She blinked.

He'd stopped.

She blinked again. Scowled down at the teasing face framed by her heaving breasts, collapsing her crown back onto the lawn. Xanir smiled to himself as he watched her playing back the last question in her head.

Then: "Xandar or Limaq, you horrible man," she growled, trying to twist out from under him.

The clouds parted over the moon and Xanir drew in a long breath, fierce eyes transfixed by the pale curves bouncing in the moonlight. His cock surged against her.

She stilled.

"Did I pass? Do I get my reward now?" A needy whisper from his princess.

Xanir laughed into her skin. "The first round," he growled, mouth tracking down to graze her shoulder while he urgently tugged her clothing away and threw the sodden mass onto the gravel path.

She groaned in protest when he paused to just look, holding her down, drinking her in. "If this is the carrot-and-stick interrogation method, I vote for stick."

Xanir's eyes shot up to hers, face creasing, and he collapsed down to hide his face in her neck, shaking with silent laughter.

Alanna smiled back, taking advantage to hug him and kiss as much of his skin as she could reach, stroke a hand down over that surging bulge. Xanir whispered, "I think you deserve a reward, my beautiful little maia, even if you have not finished your report." She gasped as he released her hands and rolled onto his back, taking her with him and easing her upright with warm palms against her waist, eyes hooded while he looked up at her, smiling. His eyes dropped to the tips of her breasts, aching in the moonlight, and his cock surged deliciously against the crease of her. Alanna arched her back to his harsh intake of breath, then smiled, leaning forwards over him so she could brush her lips against his.

"Let me look at you too," she whispered against his lips.

She drew back, looking pleadingly at the belt of his loose trousers.

Xanir smiled but rolled his eyes. "I am covered in scars," he grimaced. Then his eyes widened at the pulse of moisture against his erection in response to his words.

His bride was blushing and bit her lip before leaning back down to whisper against his mouth, "You are a warrior." Gently she licked over the full lips.

Retreating upright again she shivered at the light, wondering touch of his fingertips against her straining nipples.

"And you like that." Xanir's voice had deepened. His hands went to the belt. He paused, a naughty smile creasing his face. "If I let you look, do you promise to kiss every scar before I reward you?" There was one very close to his groin. His cock pulsed again in eagerness.

Alanna groaned softly, "All of them? I'm not feeling that patient."

"They are feeling neglected," he teased.

She snorted in indignation and sat back fully, hands on hips, glaring at her tormentor. "You have no idea what neglect is, Oh Absentee Husband."

Her Absentee Husband wasn't listening, eyes roaming over the moonlit figure above him. His cock surged to press harder against the sensitive, dripping place between her legs, rubbing the coarse fabric of his trousers against her delicate flesh.

Alanna let out a whine, head rolling back, then grabbed the belt herself, muttering, "That does it!" as she hauled at the dusty cord.

A second gasp and she was on her back again, naked, while Xanir's mouth closed demandingly over hers. "Forget kissing my scars," he murmured, hands busy below his waist, "You can do that later."

Then he rolled her back on top, warm palms grasping her hips to slide her down and poise her above his naked, thrusting flesh.

Alanna arched, groaning at the light brush against her dripping flesh.

"Say please," whispered her horrible husband.

Her head rolled around on a groan then she dropped her eyes back to glare at him. "Dammit, Xanir. Play nicely."

Xanir grinned, nudging at her so she groaned again and fought to break free of his hold, squirm closer.

"Obey your lord and master," he taunted.

Alanna's heart was bursting; she loved him playing with her but not now. "I can't hear you past the ache in my nipples," she managed to retort, panting. Unable to stop writhing.

Her vague plan didn't work. True, Xanir did surge up to slick his tongue over each aching tip, but her brain fogged over at the raw, easy strength, the gleaming ripple of taut muscles in the moonlight. By the time she tried to tip her hips the required amount while he was sitting up, he was already retreating.

"Please!" the moaned escaped her, and a moment later her head threw back, body rippling as slowly, smoothly he sheathed her over him. She stilled, panting, absorbing the almost-painful stretch, so deep; so full. So missed.

Rough palms smoothed up her sides and framed her cheeks, stroking gently. Xanir's black eyes gleamed up into hers. "I have missed you too, little maia," he breathed. "Come kiss me."

Alanna's eyes shone as she dipped her head and caressed across those full, soft lips licking gently, almost shyly. There was a lump in her throat, and she couldn't speak. Then she grunted when Xanir thrust his hips up hard, eyes gasping wide.

Firm hands grasped her buttocks as she reared, and Xanir began to drill his hips up in rapid, deep bursts, watching with a gleam in his eyes as she writhed, arched in delight and panted above him, small hands steadying herself against his torso.

"Touch your nipples," he ordered.

"I -," she gasped at a particularly hard thrust, moaning as she circled her head while he jerked back.

Glazed eyes dropped to his. "I want to last long-." A second gasp broke the end of her sentence.

Xanir pulled her hips in tighter and tilted them to penetrate deeper. Her loud moan had him abruptly twisting her beneath him, palm across her mouth. "Shh, oh disobedient one" he whispered, leaning over, "You are not going to last long."

Then, looking down between their bodies as he sheathed himself again, hard, he felt the first delicious ripple of her inner walls, and paused: "Pull your knees up for me."

He pulled almost out and watched with hooded, gleaming eyes as her trembling hands hooked behind her knees and pulled them up and out, opening herself fully. She hissed against his palm at the tightness as he slowly slid home again, eyes gleaming down into hers. Xanir lifted his palm to kiss her softly, then the look in his eyes flashed and he smiled lustfully, lacing both of his hands across her mouth and settling his full weight against her stomach and thighs. "You are not going to last long at all. Don't let go of your knees."

At this angle, he could stroke the full length of his rock-hard cock in and out of her with full force, ratcheting up the pace with every stroke until he was hammering away like a jack-hammer. She shrieked, muffled, on the third stroke and arched, passage stroking deliciously around him. Eyes glazed, writhing, she lost her grip on her right leg and it convulsed out.

Xanir paused again, fully sheathed, eyes hooded as he enjoyed her body's fluttering under and around his, watching her chest heave. He parted his hands and gently kissed her lips. "Bad wife," he whispered teasingly. "Let me help you."

Her eyes were dazed when he drew her right leg up to secure it under his arm at full stretch beside her head, pleased that her stretching practise allowed this full depth of penetration. "Bite me if it hurts," he whispered. Excitement jolted down his spine as her passage rippled unstoppably at his words, kittenish pleading noises escaping from behind his hand.

Pulling out, he began to slam in again, holding her convulsively writhing little form down for his penetration. Within moments she lost her grip on her other leg, but he slammed it beside her head without pause, mounting her with his full weight to hold her fully folded while he worked deeper and harder, feeling the pleasure mounting down his spine.

The muffled shrieks from behind his palms were delicious, and he bit his lip at the roar he could feel building. Not a sound.

Mikla, he was going to explode so hard. Her hands were scoring at his back, and he dropped his head and bit savagely, managing at the last second to turn from her soft skin to her hair, growling his disappointment at not marking her into her neck as he jerked and his cock spasmed within her.

Again. Again. So deep. So good.

Gradually, thought resurfaced.

He was crushing her. Not just his full weight, with her body fully folded, his hands were also crushing her head back at an awkward angle. Trembling fingertips were drawing circles over his spine.

He let out a heavy sigh, nuzzling a kiss against her damp throat before releasing her head and legs to bend and nibble at her soft, trembling lips instead. Soft kisses were returned, and the hands continued to stroke gently over his back while he felt her heels glide slowly down his spine. She folded them loosely beneath his buttocks. He smiled against her lips, feeling himself harden. Already. Her eyes shot open.

He took her mouth, hard, swelling at the thought of what he would like to do next.

Alanna broke away from his kiss, gasping, "So I don't have to earn another reward?"

Her breasts pushed delightfully into his chest. His cock throbbed, hardening further.

"We have a few minutes to talk." There was a laugh in his voice, and he smiled at her glare. Yes, he was being inconsistent. "Different rules for me."

Her fingernails dug into his back and she snapped her teeth when he approached for a kiss. He smiled again.

"Pay attention."

She rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, listen." He learned over her. "I was lying earlier."

His bride stilled, her eyes wide on his. He lifted his weight onto his elbows, looking down into her sweet little face. The intelligence in the eyes warmed him now.

"Me riding to Merind to subdue the Lord Justin is the first layer of lies; those who dig beyond that will find I am actually with the Dwerfi defending besieged Jaifa, trapped by the traitor Faisal."

She blinked. Jaifa: the main trading port on the east coast; the key access point the rebellious Lords would have to secure in order to succeed in setting up a breakaway state and their own trade with Siane. Or, to support a Sianese invasion.

"That is the second layer of lies," Xanir continued quietly. "Only Raqi and Em Feliz, Zander and Limaq - and now yourself - know that I was with Zander when he slipped through the lines. In the city Em Feliz is impersonating me, showing himself to the enemy beyond the walls, and keeping distant from any traitors within."

Raqi was his bodyservant; the final member of his innermost circle of loyal, trusted friends. Alanna trembled underneath her husband, and he bent and nuzzled another kiss over her lips.

"Zander has ostensibly been demoted to your guard, but half the empire will disbelieve that, and speculate instead as to what he carried to Haman that will take my brother on an urgent journey into the desert tomorrow morning."

She smiled. So the spies would be watching Haman. Good.

Xanir took a deep breath. "I am actually riding to another secret mustering to take support to Jaifa and lift the siege."

Alanna's eyes flickered.

Xanir froze. She knew about the warships. Tension clenched his muscles and he smiled, not at all nicely. Further proof that she had another line of communication beyond the invisible writing Em Feliz had uncovered. But this was serious. He bent his lips down to hers, hovering a hair's breadth above their full softness, eyes locked onto hers.

"Do you know where I am going, little bride?"

She blinked a few times. Her eyes had widened in fear at the taut readiness atop her. She nodded nervously, breath shortening under him.

She hadn't lied. Xanir let out a long breath.

He kissed her softly. Pondered.

"Keep it to yourself."

Her breath exploded out of her and tears moistened her eyes while she nodded. She lunged up for a kiss.

"I will," she promised, voice a thread.

Drawing back, Xanir looked down, assessing those drenched eyes. No subterfuge was visible.

But he should silence her. His life, the empire, might depend on it. That he was not riding to Merind, nor at Jaifa, even that he had been to the palace -- none of that information was critical; there were a thousand other places he could be. But this, this was dangerous knowledge, that she knew his route from the palace; the balance in this rebellion/ invasion was precarious, she knew too much.

Her eyes were shining so.

His stomach was heavy. Much of what he knew, he knew because of her; both the information encoded and hidden in her letters but more what she had observed, what she had deduced and shared with him. He couldn't afford to trust her. Yet she had proved trustworthy to date. It was his duty to silence her - he couldn't risk everything on a woman's promise - when had that ever ended well?

Her eyes were shining so. Xanir closed his own. Fuck his duty.

She hadn't betrayed him yet. Something melted inside him.

"I will trust you on this," the whisper was wrenched out of him, heart fighting head. His eyes snapped open again, glaring down at her, the fear in his bones hissing out between his teeth. "But if you tell anyone anything I will hunt you to the ends of the earth, and your death will not be swift."

He didn't fear betrayal or bloodshed, defeat or death. What scared him was this soft feeling that was staying his hand, the hope fluttering inside him.

His bride lay frozen beneath him, watching him warily. He didn't like her looking at him that way.

"I won't," Alanna breathed, eyes steady on his. "I will not endanger you."

He blinked. That was not exactly the answer he had expected.

She strained her head up again, moisture in the corners of her eyes, trying to reach his retreating lips. "I love you, you idiot," she whispered.

Xanir's heart chilled, and he yanked his head back, snorting. He had heard this a thousand times. He looked out over the shadowy garden, assessing the burgeoning warmth in his blood. Dammit.

Those words, but without that irreverent form of address. A little smile curved his lips.

He bent and kissed her.