A new jolt of fiery emotions shot through Alanna when gentle fingertips touched the sensitive flesh between her parted thighs. Desire brushed her, excruciatingly rich, while her knees slammed shut on the maid's hand. Her spine had yanked straight, and she was trembling with tension and distress even while a throbbing ache pulsed inside her, her alarmed gaze leaping to the gleaming black eyes of the Great Tahl where he lounged, watching.
Xanir absorbed that unspoken plea, pondering. The room was still for a moment, and then he sighed, uncoiling springily to his feet and stepping over to sink onto his haunches just in front of his new bride. Alarm was acceptable, at times desirable, but not fear. Yet she had to learn. He held her gaze as his calloused hand slid gently over her cheek, thumb brushing away the moisture trembling at the corner of her eye, lingering to stroke soothingly over her delicate cheekbone, a warm touch of calm.
The Tahl's deep voice was quieting as he murmured something, looking steadily into her blue eyes, his own unthreatening, and then he leaned in closer. Alanna's eyes slid closed as a soft kiss was pressed to each lid in turn. She was bewildered by this man, the tremble in her growing stronger. Gentle and yet so damn unyielding.
She took in a deep breath, eyes still closed, starkly reminded of that contrast as even while his thumb continued to stroke the cheek he held cupped in one hand, the other pushed inexorably between her clenched knees and twisted, forcing them apart. After a second she gave up the fight and let him push them to the edges of the tub, wider than before. She had no choice, and had begun to realise how ineffectual fighting him was. She kept her eyes closed, head dipped forwards, her tremble growing as the smooth fingers of the maid slid into her private folds, massaging. A new scent arose, a different soap. Her breathing was erratic, rising with a mixture of distress and lust, and she struggled against the desire rising in her blood at those gentle, circling brushes.
His deep breathing sounded stronger this close, more compelling. Alanna flinched involuntarily as one careful finger probed her vulva, a wince escaping at the sensation on her torn flesh. Her face turned into the palm cupped to her cheek and she leaned on him, breaths short and shallow while the invading digit pumped gently in and out, twisting slightly, the sharp sting dying then renewing.
"You were not gentle, my lord," the Mistress of the Chamber observed quietly.
"She was very wet," Xanir Tahl replied gruffly, his cock straining with increasing lust as he looked down past those magnificent breasts, watching the fingers teasing those soft folds. His spine ached in memory: the sensation of sliding inside her tight passage. The soft, helpless noises she had made. His chest rising and falling quickly, he brushed her fine hair aside to tilt her face and breathe his heavy, harsh desire into her ear. Words were not needed. Delightfully, her tremble grew in quick panting breaths in return, chest heaving. The blood surged in him.
"It would be well if you would leave her until tomorrow," the Mistress admonished quietly. "I will apply athil to soothe the entrance."
