The Slow Dance Ch. 02

Ivy watched as Luke closed the door firmly behind him. The second it had shut, her knees gave out entirely and she sank to the floor. She was still shaking uncontrollably and tried to take deep breaths in order to steady herself. Her emerald green dress fanned out like a pool around her, the creamy lace edging creating a striking contrast against the dark wood of the floor.

She did a mental check of her body - its reactions. She was fascinated by science, by anatomy, by any information she could gleam at all from the books that lined her bedroom walls but nothing she had read had prepared her for this.

Her hands were shaking and clammy, her breath laboured, her stomach tight yet fluttering. She listed these things off in her mind as if it were a check-list of symptoms. Her thighs were trembling and she could still feel the hot flush that had overtaken her face. Her breathing was laboured, coming in short gasps.

Her nipples were hard. She could feel them still, tight and insistent against her bodice. The soft fabric of her under-shift suddenly seemed too soft; the delicate fibres tickling the sensitive nubs. That had been the last thing that had tipped her over, she remembered.

During the game, against the wall, that was when the symptoms had started. The heady feelings had overwhelmed her in a sudden rush, she had barely been able to comprehend it, it had all happened so quickly. But then, when he had touched her nipple, she had felt a flash of something more, even more than when his thigh had pressed between her legs. It was as if the layers of her skirt had dulled the contact and therefore her reaction. But not her bodice. At the delicate touch of his thumb against her breast she had felt her mind swaying.

In that moment, it had felt like her sense of self, maybe even her sanity, had been teetering atop a high precipice and she had been about to tumble. Amongst everything else, THAT had been the moment, the direct jolt of fear that had truly terrified her. What on earth was happening to her body?

And this last symptom: the place between her legs, the place she so little thought about. It was still burning. The jolt of fear that had been intertwined with his touch on her bosom had seemed to shoot straight there, setting alight a sensation that had been building since he'd first pinned her wrists together, ending the furtive chase. It has been so strong, almost painful, but not quite... there was something else. But what?

She quickly lifted her skirts, running her finger up between her legs, along her trembling thighs. She hesitated once she reached the top of her legs, her hand resting just before the juncture where they met. She stroked her fingers along the inside of her thighs, trying to comfort herself in a desperate attempt to stop them trembling. The shaking had begun to get more intense again and she could see her legs vibrating, her usually pale skin painted a flush red.

Building up her courage, she traced her fingers higher. Looking directly into the fire, she reached out with the tip of her index finger and touched herself as lightly as she could. She was so sensitive that the intense sensation that coursed through her upon contact almost made her double over and she quickly wrenched her hand away. She looked at her fingers, startled. They were wet.

She searched every dark recess of her mind that she could access to try to distinguish what was happening to her. It seemed to resemble intense fear. The shaking, the feelings in her stomach. They must come from adrenaline. Yes, the fight or flight reaction. But she couldn't remember any information about why that would cause this reaction between her legs.

And regardless of the reaction between her legs, why would she become so terrified of Luke? She had never feared him before, never with any of their chase games. He had never hurt her. Even when he'd pressed her against the wall today, it hadn't hurt... or, not exactly. The memory caused another intense surge of heat to lash through her groin and a moan fell from her lips before she could catch it.

Frustrated, no, infuriated at her lack of knowledge, her inability to understand, she forced herself to stand up and quickly moved to her closest bookshelf. She squinted hard at the titles but in the dying light she couldn't make out the words. She shot a glance at the window, saw that the sun had now almost completely fallen down to hide behind the hills; leaving her room in near-total darkness, save for one candle. Of course, the fire - it hadn't been lit.

She ran her fingers through her hair in anguish. She moved to the servant's bell by the door, reaching out to tug at it, summon someone to light the fire, but stopped herself. She couldn't bear to do it, to have anyone in the room right now would have been too much but especially to light the kindling that Luke had set up, as he did every night. It seemed wrong, intensely wrong.

She swirled on the spot and scanned the room. A chest of drawers sat beside her bed and she rushed to it, pulling out the drawers frantically, searching for the matches that she was sure she kept in there. She often read late into the night and needed to be able to light the candles by her bedside. She just hoped she hadn't used the last match.

The drawers were empty and she resisted the urge to scream. She quickly dropped to the ground, scanning the wooden floor for any hint of matches. And then she saw the cardboard box under her bed. She must have simply dropped them down a night or two before, absent-minded from whatever book she'd been caught up in.

She moved over to the fire, matches clasped in her still-trembling hands. The first few matches she tried to strike snapped. She was being too vigorous. Obviously the adrenaline was still surging through her delicate frame. She took a moment to steady herself, taking a deep breath in and holding it for a few moments before allowing it to trickle out of her lungs slowly.

The next match burst into flame instantly. She carefully lowered it down to the kindling, lighting first one corner, then the next, as she had seen Luke do so many times before. The thought made her squeeze her eyes shut with an over-whelming emotion that she couldn't put a name to. She shook herself mentally and carried on with the fire.

Eventually, the entire kindling structure was roaring with flames, heat licking at the sides of the hearth. She quickly rose and began to frantically pull books down from her shelves, anything that she thought could help, could explain what was happening to her body.

She had never felt so terrified, so confused by her own senses. She felt betrayed in some way and suddenly that anger latched onto Luke. Luke, who had been there when this happened, had seen her body behave in strange ways and yet said nothing. He had just left. What if she was ill? She just didn't know. But Luke knew so many things about the world that she didn't, having been allowed to roam beyond the castle walls. He might have been able to help her.

With a new bout of anger, she began to tear the books from their shelves, not even considering the titles anymore. Once she had nearly emptied the bookshelves of their contents she set herself down on the floor in the middle of the pile, in front of the fire. There she remained for hours, reading furtively well into the night.

******

Luke stormed out of the castle and into the grounds, his fists clenched against his sides and an awful feeling causing his stomach to churn. He couldn't remember ever being so furious with himself. Yes, furious, but also something else. There - niggling at the back of his mind was an even deeper feeling of pure, burning lust. This made him even angrier and he quickly pushed that feeling as far away from his conscious thoughts as it could go.

He sped up his pace and quickly reached the stables where his horse was kept. It was a beautiful, strong black mare. It had been the first thing he'd bought with his wages from the castle and he had learned to ride with an avid fascination. Learning to control such a beautiful creature had filled him with intense feelings of strength, a feeling he hadn't forgotten since. He had been planning to teach Ivy to ride -- she had wanted to learn. She always wanted to learn. He shook the thought from his mind as the painful realisation surged through him that he wouldn't be able to teach her now.

He swiftly jumped up into the saddle, setting into a gallop and racing along the road leading to the town. As he rode, he couldn't help running over the scenes of that night in his mind. Like an endless spinning wheel it kept going, images of her flashed like lightning bolts before his eyes.

Her quick breathing, her flushed face, the sweat on her breasts, the roll of her hips against his thigh. Damnit, why hadn't she said something? He had been following her cues! And yet something had pushed her over an edge of some sort. He knew she had been aroused, as sure as he knew anything, could tell the signs from a mile off. So why had she become startled, HOW had he pushed her too far?

Because he was a servant, surely. Because he was below her. In all the books she had, he was sure there were Fairy Tales, romances. He'd never seen them on the shelves but she was bound to have them hidden somewhere. And what happens in Fairy Tales? The princess gets her prince. Prince Charming. That was her fear, that's what had caused her mind to overcome her desire - that she'd been made to feel that way by a mere servant of hers.

With a roar he whipped the reins to speed his horse on, wanting to get as far from her as he could. It was a straight line from the castle and as he rode he could still glance behind his shoulder and see the castle in the distance; Ivy's window a tiny pin point in the otherwise all-consuming darkness of the massive stone structure. And then, with a start, he tugged at the reins, causing his horse to skid to a halt.

Ivy's window. A pin-point. A pin-point of light. That meant that the fire had been lit. He hadn't done it; he hadn't gotten that far before being caught up in her talk, her words, her...

That meant that someone else would have had to light the fire for her -- she'd have had to call for one of the other servant boys, and she would have watched as this other man set aflame to the structure that he, Luke, had built for her.

He always lit the fire for her at night, and the break in this tradition wounded him more than any other thought that he'd had so far. He dug his heels into the horses flank with a fresh surge of fury. So, he obviously wasn't special to her. Their time together, their talks, easily replaced.

If he was so easily replaced, then he'd be damned if he didn't find someone who could so easily replace her. He reached back into his mind where he'd stored that all-consuming lust and pushed it to the fore-front, allowing it to guide and spur him further into the night.

******

Once he arrived at the inn by his house, he tied up his horse and rushed inside. He knew he'd find Caroline there, in this ramshackle building. Caroline, the first girl he had lain with. Although their past was tangled, they'd seemed to reach a quiet understanding. No seriousness, no talk of love, but every now and then a wonderful night of ravaging passion.

She noticed him as soon as he stormed into the building and she stood up with a flirty wiggle of her hips. Her ample breasts were nearly spilling out of her loosely laced gown and she bounced up and down a bit, knowing how it would make them jiggle.

"Ooh, Luke! Long time, no see," she smiled and reached out to him. He grasped her hand and tugged her quickly to the stairs leading to the rentable rooms above. "Eager are we?" she giggled, before quickly allowing herself to be dragged away.

They raced up the stairs together and fell into the first available room. He slammed the door shut and pressed her up against it, feeling the plump curves of her body pressing against his hard muscles. She clasped his face in her hands and brought it down to hers, kissing him roughly, swirling her tongue around his and gently sucking it into her mouth. He kissed her back with fury, knowing he was probably bruising her lips but not caring.

She moaned as his head dipped down to kiss her neck. He licked and bit at her rosy skin whilst grabbing at her waist and swivelling her around to the bed behind them. She eagerly slipped from his grasp, hopped up onto the mattress and began to undo her dress.

"I don't know what's got into you, Luke, but I like it," she laughed.

He forced himself to grin but couldn't maintain it; images of the princess, flush face and panting, were filling his mind and he needed to get them out. He crossed the room to where Caroline now lay on the bed. She had shimmied out of her dress and was entirely naked. Her ample curves created a beautiful picture and to his relief were different enough from Ivy's body to momentarily distract him from her.

He climbed on top of Caroline, his arms resting either side of her head. She quickly reached her hands in between the two of them and undid his trousers, sliding her hand down and beginning to stroke his growing cock. He moaned and sunk his head into the curve of her neck, biting at her skin. He brought his hand up to the back of her neck and entwined his fingers in her blonde ringlets.

He tugged, hard, bringing her head back and allowing him more access to the delicate skin of her throat. She moaned appreciatively and rolled her hips against him, pressing her body up to his with urgency. Luke tugged her hand out of his trousers and pinned it above her head. He reached down to her other hand which was stroking at the taught muscles of his stomach and moved it up to join the other.

"Keep your hands there," he whispered to her, before moving down to kiss a trail from the base of her throat to her breasts. Her nipples were hard and a deep shade of red. He took the left into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the nub, kneading the other breast in a firm grasp.

She moaned and arched her back, pressing her breasts harder into his face and delighting at the feeling of his stubble against her sensitive flesh. Luke took the cue and bit down gently on her nipple, tugging at it with his teeth and pinching the other at the same time. She let out a long moan and moved her hand down to his hair, pulling at it tightly. He growled and let go of the nipple, used his free hand to uncurl her fingers from his hair and press it back onto the bed above her.

"Do you want to be spanked?" he asked her, "because that's what I'll do if you move your arms again." She giggled and gave him a mischievous wink, before locking her eyes on his and slowly, deliberately, moving her arms. She brought them gently down from above her head and placed them on his broad shoulders. He laughed.

"Fine, if that's how you want to play it." This was something they often did. Him, with his need to control and tame. Her, with her reckless abandon, a need to break rules and be punished. He was used to her ploys to try to goad him into this, knowing the release they both found from it. This time, he needed no goading.

He wrenched himself from her and stood up off the bed. "All fours. Now," he commanded. She quickly scuttled into position. Her large bottom just inches from his body. He reached out his left hand and placed it on the back of her head. "Down," he ordered, applying pressure, and she obediently lowered her head to the bed, arching her back to bring her ass higher into the air.

Luke kept his left hand at the nape of her neck. He held the right up in the air for an agonising few seconds before bringing it soaring down. It smacked against Caroline's ass with force. The sound rang through the room like the crack of a whip and a bright red handprint quickly blossomed upon Caroline. She was jolted forward from the strike and struggled to lift her head from the mattress. Luke quickly let go of his grip on her neck.

"That was... harder than usual," she gasped.

"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling my usual self," he growled, before catching himself. "Shit, Caroline, I'm really sorry." His brows furrowed together as waves of concern rolled over him. This was the second woman tonight he'd now hurt as a result of his passions. He quickly stroked at the mark he'd left on her body, soothing the burning sensation of the smack.

"No, no, it's OK. I just wasn't expecting it," Caroline told him, swivelling round to face him and wincing slightly as her bum touched the bed.

"Doesn't matter. I shouldn't have lost control like that," Luke muttered, lowering his head into his hands. His looked through his fingers and saw her eager, beaming face peering up at him.

"Come here," he told her, and she scooted to the edge of the bed. He gripped his hands around her thighs and lifted her up, spinning round and falling onto the bed with her body clasped against his.

They fell into the mattress with her sitting on his chest. He lifted her up some more and pulled her higher, so that her pussy was level with his face. Luke let go of his grip around her thighs and started to stroke upwards, slowly moving his thumb in circles along her skin. He stopped suddenly, the movement reminding him too much of what he had done earlier to Ivy. Instead, he scraped his nails gently up her legs, causing her to shiver and moan above him.

Luke heard his name leave Caroline's lips and groaned in response. His hands had reached her centre and he could see that she was glistening for him. He moved his arms so that they were encircling her hips and pulled her body down to him, his lips grazing along the soft inside of her thigh.

He ran his tongue along her outer lips, savouring the taste and the way that it made her squirm. He artfully licked his tongue along her slit, stopping at her clit and flicking at it with his tongue. She squealed above him and lowered herself further so that his movements had more pressure to them. He responded by moving his hand and teasing her entrance with two fingers, entering her softness just slightly before pulling out again.

She was moaning uncontrollably and started to rock her hips back and forth against him. He licked and nibbled up and down her pussy, enjoying the feeling of her heat pressed against him. He moved his ministrations back to her clit, circling round and round the tiny bud but never quite coming into contact. She groaned and tried to move herself onto his tongue but he kept her firm with one hand still on her waist.

Then, just as he finally latched his lips back onto her clit, hard, he thrust his fingers inside of her, curling them slightly and stroking at her tight walls. She let out a scream and he could feel her pussy clenching against his fingers, massaging him back. She was already close and he knew how to tip her over the edge.

He applied more pressure with his lips and fingers, moving his head as he did so, luxuriating in the warming sensations, moving her clit with him each time. He started to stroke her faster with his fingers, building the pressure with his mouth and gaining a steady rhythm with the two.

Her breathing had become laboured and he could hear it catching in her throat. He pulled her clit into his mouth with growing fervour and pressed against it with his tongue, making the tiniest of movements against it, applying pressure at the same time as his fingers thrust back into her. She came explosively, soaking his fingers and shuddering above him. He held her waist as she orgasmed, steadying her against him.

Eventually her shaking stopped, and she rose from him and moved to lie back on the bed. He followed her over and positioned himself between her thighs, his arms either side of her. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him into her but he halted, resisting her desperation.