To Love Again - Bertrice Small [188]
She seemed to fill him with incredible strength, and his lust knew no bounds. He pumped and pumped and pumped himself into her, while Aelfa twisted and moaned beneath him, her little cries arousing him even further. Finally he could no longer contain himself and his passions burst violently within her throbbing body. He collapsed upon her with a groan of satisfaction. “By Woden, wench, you are the best! I have never had better, I swear it!” His oniony breath assailed her.
“Get off me, you oaf,” she said, “you are crushing me.”
He rolled away from her. “Where’s that wine you brought?” he demanded, feeling relaxed now and more in control of the situation. “Let’s have a drink together, and then I’ll give you another bit of a poke if you’re of a mind. You will be, won’t you?” he said with a leering grin. “I’ve never known such a woman as you, Aelfa. You be one of those girls who cannot get enough, aren’t you?” He sat himself back down upon his stool, pulling his garments into some semblance of order again. Then reaching out for her, he drew her near, tweaking the rosy nipples of her full, fat breasts. Her clothing had never given him any indication that she had such fine teats, but they were magnificent.
Rutting fool, Aelfa thought as she smiled up at him. She lifted up the skin of wine and pretended to drink before handing it on to him. “Hmmmm, ’tis good,” she said as he swilled away, some of the purple-red liquid drizzling down into his thick blond beard.
Bran-hard let the sweet, cool liquid run down his throat. It was the best drink he had ever tasted. Wulf Ironfist lived well. He handed her back the wineskin and began to fondle Aelfa’s big breasts. “You’ve the best pair I’ve ever seen, wench,” he said by way of a compliment, “and your cunt is the tightest of any I’ve ever reamed. I swear it! You really know how to give a man his pleasure, Aelfa. I can hardly believe it, but I’m ready to have at you again. On your back, my girl,” he said, as loosing his organ from his clothing once more, he pushed her down to the floor.
What he lacked in subtlety he more than made up for in endurance and brute strength, Aelfa thought, as she pretended to be overcome with passion. She had taken her own pleasure with him the first time, but now she could not allow herself the luxury. When his lust exploded again and he rolled away from her, she offered him the wineskin once more, smiling encouragingly as he gulped down the potent liquid. This time, within moments, Branhard fell into unconsciousness. Aelfa sighed with her relief. She was actually sore with his enthusiastic attentions. A third bout with him would have certainly rendered her raw.
She rose from the floor of the gatehouse, and after much effort, managed to drag Bran-hard’s limp, heavy body back onto his stool. His shaggy head lay upon his chest. He appeared to be dozing. She slipped from the building and ran quickly back across the courtyard to the hall. Letting herself in, she hurried to her bed space. The hall was quite silent, the contented snores of its inhabitants the only sounds she heard.
Aelfa put on her clothes and then returned to the gatehouse where Bran-hard sat, unconscious. Seating herself upon the floor, where she would not be seen, she waited for the predawn. When it finally came, Aelfa stood up, stretched, and then leaving the gatehouse went directly to the great gates of Cadda-wic. Slowly and with great difficulty, she pushed the heavy bar that lay across one of the gates to one side. Above her the sky was quickly lightening. Perspiration, half due to exertion, half to fear of discovery, rolled down her back as she struggled with the bar. When at last she succeeded, the single door swung open to reveal a large party of armed men.
“Uncle,” Aelfa said archly.