Death Blow by Jianne Carlo Read Free Book Online Page B

around the smooth dildo. His pecker throbbed and his balls blued to bursting.
    She arched, the motion slight, and her bottom cheeks tightened. Above the gentle swishing of waves on sand, she whimpered, and he heard her low moan.
    Konáll grinned. He reversed the direction, tonguing the circle and halting at her hooded nubbin.
    To his delight dewy cream coated the reddened flesh. He sipped the sweet skin guarding her core. Her legs tightened around his shoulders. ’Twas all the signal he needed. He set his mouth to her nubbin and sucked, inserted one finger into her sheath, and stifled a howl when her puss clamped down on him. Working yet another finger in, he began swiving her.
    “Aye. Nay.”
    He rejoiced for her hoarse croaks were no longer commands but pleas. He increased the tempo of his tongue and driving fingers.
    She heaved, and her hips lurched off the sand.
    Her inner walls convulsed around his digits, pressing them so hard the bones ached.
    Not stopping for a breath, he yanked his hand free, positioned the dildo at her center, and drove it to the hilt.
    She screamed.
    He hung his head at the anguish in her voice, but pulled the leather knotted around the dildo slowly until the tip of the carved crown cleared her entrance. Konáll bit his lips to silence a hissed wince. The sight of the ruby streaks on the pale dildo hammered at his chest. Carefully he set the obscene instrument on top the velvet to dry.
    He freed her legs and arms and gathered her close, hoping the heat of his body would warm her chilled and trembling flesh. “’Tis done. The curse is broken. You are free.”
    Mús had been right. The exact wording of the curse allowed Konáll to free Nyssa. For he had taken her maidenhood, given her a woman’s pleasure, and ne’er had his cock or the Saracen’s ring touched her flesh.
    Not an ounce of fight appeared left in his warrior princess, and he mourned the loss. Her shoulders shook, and she curled into herself. Tears dripped onto his arm and ribs. He held her tighter and crooned a nonsense verse his mother had sung long ago to soothe him after a nightmare.
    All at once Nyssa went limp in his embrace. He drew back to study her tear-streaked face. She was either asleep or in the trance of earlier.
    Had he done the right thing? Would she ever find joy in the loving between a man and woman after this? ’Twas better than being set aflame and dying in agony. After a time, she no longer hiccupped, and her breathing fell into a regular rhythm. Her flesh had warmed a little, but she needed to be swaddled. Thank Freya, he’d had the foresight to stuff a length of wool into the sack.
    Elbowing slowly to a sitting position, he scanned the bay. A misty fog swirled around them. The curling cream vapors chilled his spine, and his lack of clothes, armor, and weapons snaked dread and danger across his nape.
    Though he knew the spiked rocks surrounded them, he perceived nary a black stone. Urgency coursed through his veins, he shifted her, reached across to the rock, fumbled with the sack, and retrieved the blanket. She did not react when he wrapped the cloth around her. He gathered the velvet bag and the dildo. Streaks of dried scarlet marred the ivory surface, the proof of her innocence intact should he have need of such. He inserted the hand-carved penis into the bag.
    Konáll stood, adjusted both Nyssa and the sack, and turned around. The moon’s rule had ended and the sun peeking over the horizon illuminated the cove. He swore under his breath.
    What had happened to the army of boulders?
    For the jagged rocks had vanished, replaced by a gleaming silvery beach with nary a stone in sight. Dawn’s glow shimmered over the fine white sand, blinding him for a moment. The cliffs still stood as afore, the red stone face now burnished gold by the rising sun’s rays. As he watched green ivies flecked with white flowers sprouted from the craggy bluffs.
    Every hair on his body spiked.
    A gentle breeze, sprinkled with the