Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [25]
“Stand over there,” I said roughly, pointing toward a low chair. “Bend over and grasp the arms.”
And, ah, gods and goddesses! She did. I stood behind her, my heart hammering in my breast. My mouth was dry with desire, my palms sweating as I clutched the whip. Her loose hair hung about her face in tumbled locks of gold. The tips of her breasts brushed the chair’s cushion. I flicked the whip, lightly, lightly. Once, twice, three times. The soft tasseled end kissed her buttocks, light and teasing. Sidonie caught her breath.
The air between us crackled.
“You like that.” I drew near and trailed the tassel down the length of her spine, the cleft of her buttocks. I slid one hand between her thighs, fingering her. Gods, she was wet! “Spread your legs. Wider.”
She did.
I shuddered, struggling for control. “That’s how much you want this.” I withdrew my hand, found her mouth, slid my fingers over her lips. She turned her head, sucking obediently. “Isn’t it?”
She made a muffled sound of agreement.
It nearly sent me over the edge.
I pulled away. “I’m going to whip you in earnest now,” I said, my voice sounding hoarse and strange to my ears. “Until you beg me to stop. And when you do, I’m going to take you where you stand, hard. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
I did.
Elua have mercy, there are no words for such a thing. Sidonie bore it for a long time, longer than I would have expected, legs spread and arms braced, head lowered, shuddering in the throes of violent pleasure. I took it slowly, plying the whip gently, taking it to the edge of pain and backing away, over and over. A flush spread over her creamy skin. I pushed her harder, farther. Over the threshold, into the realm of pain. The whip cracked, laying harsh kisses on her vulnerable flesh. Red welts rose on her flushed skin. I wanted to lave them with my tongue, easing her pain. I wanted to skewer her and split her open.
She began to cry.
She begged.
And I took her as I’d promised—hard. I was hard; ah, gods! I’d never been harder in my life. I could barely get my breeches down. Wet, so wet. I pushed into her; I slammed into her. I buried myself in her. Her cheek scraped the chair’s cushion. Her nails dug into its wooden arms. I felt her flesh convulse around me, over and over. I didn’t care. I drove into her, groaning aloud, until I spent myself in one long, excruciating spasm of pleasure, filling her with my seed.
I barely caught her as she sagged, easing her to the carpeted floor. There I held her, panting, waiting for my hammering heart to slow.
“Are you all right?” I asked when I could talk.
“Yes.” Sidonie lifted her face toward mine, slowly returning from a faraway place. “I’m fine.” She wound a lock of my hair around her fingers and gave it a sharp yank. “A little sore. Very sated. Are you?”
“Yes.” I laughed. “Gods, yes.”
“Good.” She drew a long, shuddering breath, brushing absently at the tear stains on her face. “How odd. I didn’t expect to cry. It didn’t hurt that much.”
“It’s not about the pain,” I said.
“No.” She was quiet a moment. “No, it’s not, is it?”
“No,” I agreed.
Sidonie glanced down at our entangled limbs. “Imriel, are you still wearing your boots?”
I pried them off, kicking off my breeches. “I was in a hurry.”
Her quick smile came and went. “So I noticed.”
“I love you.” I tightened my arms around her. “Elua help me, I love you so much it hurts.”
“I know.” Sidonie kissed my throat. “I do, too.” She shuddered again, a latent tremor of pleasure running through her. “Gods! That’s a sharp spice. I’m not sure I’m ready for a steady diet of it.”
“Occasional cravings?” I suggested.
“Oh, yes.” She gave me a look that set my heart to hammering again. “Definitely.”
I slid one arm under her knees and scooped her into my arms, rising and heading for the bedchamber. Sidonie laughed softly, kissing my face, her fingers working at the buttons of my shirt. I hadn’t bothered to take that off, either. Her body was naked and warm in my arms, nestled contently against mine. I could have carried