The Killing Moor

Part 6

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Genivieve lay beside her husband willing herself not to cry. Turning her head to see his slack form, sleeping and sated from hours of sexual cruelty, she sighed heavily and reminded herself she was but a woman in a man’s world. ng ang at the high post at the foot of the bed, her fingers tentatively moved to the harsh rope burn at her wrist as she mentally cringed. The last hours she had spent lashed to the hard wood were now over, as was the barbaric ravaging of her body. He was becoming steadily more grotesque in his libidinous appetite, and she was now certain of the reason. He could torture her body, but he could not break her spirit. She would never belong to him.

Gently sliding back the heavy warm furs, she slipped easily from the bed, the cold air kissing her nude form and causing a shiver to course through her. Moving to grasp her linen chemise from where it had been tossed, she noted that he was becoming sloppy. Never before had he left tell-tale marks. Tonight, a small burn remained directly above the downy thatch of red curls at the center of her thighs. The candle wax had been left too long on her skin and marred the smooth flesh ... a scar she would wear proudly, as it reiterated her strength. Stealthily moving to the anti-chamber, she closed the door and plucked a thick, woolen blanket from the wardrobe, pulling it over her shoulders as she entered the hallway and ambled through the darkened corridor. In his younger years, she would have checked on Johns. These days, she thought it best to be ignorant as to his proceedings. Thus, she found herself at his door … the door of her husband’s friend … his brother … Richard Riddick. She was surprised to find that

Riddick lay in the throws of yet another nightmare, the battlefield filling his mind, death raining around him. His skin cold, his blood hot and pumping in a fast torrent through his veins as he fought his way through the masses of men, fought his way to his son. "JOHNS!" The strangled yell purged from his throat as he bolted upright in the bed, massive fists clutched at his sides.

Sadness formed inside Genivieve as she realized how selfish her thoughts were … carnal and lascivious, when this poor man needed tenderness and compassion. Rushing to the edge of the bed and letting the blanket fall from her shoulders to the floor, she sat beside him, her small, delicate hands caressing the hard, tense muscle of his shoulder. Her other hand moved to stroke his smooth, velvety head. "Dear Riddick, your son is well! He sleeps soundly in his chambers." The feel of his shorn head captivated her hand. "He is safe, as are you."

Riddick brought his hand up and it across his sweat sheened face, shaking off the blood -chilling nightmare. It was then that he realized he wasn't alone … that hands were soothing him. "Johns? Are you certain?"

She moved to pour him some mead from the carafe nearby, her thin linen chemise flowing behind her. Returning to the bed … she stood beside him offering the drink. "Sooth your fears. He is well."

"No." He pushed away the vessel, glancing up to her. Pushing from the bed, he stood, nude, with his back to her, the fading fire causing a glow across him skin. "Should you not be warming your husband's bed, my lady?"

She took several steps back from the bed as he waved away the mead, a light blush painting her cheeks as she remembered the savagery of the previous hours. "Lord Duncan has used me for his purposes and now sleeps soundly, warming his bed with his slumber." As she replaced the goblet on the table, she gazed at his back, her eyes trailing along the muscular spine to fix on the well formed and tightly muscled buttocks on the handsome man. She felt her breasts tingle to life as her tongue trailed her full bottom lip. The urge to fondle and knead the smooth globes he presented to her was great and she had to turn her gaze away.

He turned presenting her with his silhouette as he moved across the room, his hands bracing his body against the hearth. "He was cruel to you." He turned his head, eyes boring into hers.

It was a difficult question to answer. This poor man had already lost so much in his life, she did not wish to be the cause of him losing his clans brother. She tried to still her beating heart at the glimpse of his large manhood she received as he moved. Her eyes flicked to his and stayed bound there. Easing closer to the hearth, she stood nearer the warm fire which was now fading … but there was enough light to render her nightshift transparent, her jutting breast bouncing slightly underneath as she swayed. "For better or worse, I am his wife, to use as he desires. I have become immune to his idiosyncrasies." Just then she brushed a thick red curl from her forehead, the rope burns on her wrist slightly visible in the very dim light.

Riddick's hand snaked out the second he noticed the chaffing of her skin, the tiny seeping wounds. "I'll not stand by while he treats you with such disregard. I had a wife once...." His heavy breath fanned across her face. "I treated her well in our bed."

"I have little doubt, Riddick, that your wife was the luckiest of women to have been privy to your bed … as well as your love." Eyes wide, her breathing was reduced to mere pants as her fingers splayed across his hard, naked chest. "As for the marks … ‘tis only his exuberance, mi’lord," she whispered, thick lashes falling at half-mast as her fingers gently caressed. "He is your clansman. I would not for the world cause strife betwixt the two of you." Fingers moved to his strong shoulder and upward to stroke his stubble roughened cheek lightly.

Her touch was salve to his battle weary body, food for his starved heart and soul. There was a leap in his pulse, a quickening in his groin. "I never loved her. I never loved Mary," he ground out, willing her eyes to his. "What will come between Duncan and I can not be helped. There is little that I do not find issue with at my return. This is one of them." He turned fully to her dragging her towards his hard chest, lifting her off her feet. "Women are made for loving. A lesson Duncan has failed to learn."

Her arms wrapped around his neck, toes dangling in suspension as her eyes locked to his. "You are indeed a novel man in the midst of a world filled with Duncans." She leaned in, her lips practically touching the rim of his ear as she softly spoke. "Do not make war with your brother because of me." Lifting her body slightly in his arms, her long, slender legs wrapped around his bare hips, ankles locking at the base of his strong back, gauzy fabric floating down his thigh. She felt his heat and forming perspiration through the thin material or shr shift as she pressed herself to his hard being.

"There could be no better reason." His voice was raspy and low, his hard length pressed between them. Pushing up the fabric to the middle of her back, he grasped the firm rounded globes as he sat on the edge of the massive bed, her astride him.

Rough, yet tender hands caressing her buttocks sent erotic tremors shooting through her has straight and true as any arrow. She found herself writhing … grinding against the steely rigidity of his manhood like the downstairs maid she so often found Duncan with. Never before had she experienced this desire … this need. Wetter and wetter she found herself becoming as she moved her hips in large circles against his pulsing shaft … and she found herself holding in tears of happiness that she could feel so erotic a sensation with this man. Yet she clamped her mouth shut, afraid of ruining this sensuous moment with words.

He watched her, pleasure lighting her features. Blood pounded into his full erect member with the erotic sight. It was clear she'd never received pleasure from a man in such ways. One hand freed, he pushed the fragile fabric from her shoulders, exposing her full pale breast. It was more of a feast than had ever been set before him and he sampled it with flourish. Dipping his head, he began to suckle her tight pink nipple.

"How is it, Lord Riddick," she breathed erratically as she allowed her hand to again stroke the velvety smoothness of his head, pressing his mouth even closer. "How is it that a pressure so forceful … so powerful … can be so filled with pleasure, not pain." Her hips continued to rub at his powerfully stiff manhood … and then her eyes flew open, her mouth forming a tiny circle. " Oh …….Riddick ……" she yelped feeling the convulsions in the center of feminine core. Never had she felt such, and it both terrified and excited her as she dug her nails into the flesh of his shoulders.

With the roll of her smooth, near concave stomach he reached between her thighs and parted her fleshy wet lips gently pulling at the soft swollen nub there until he was sure she was deep in the throws of womanly bliss. "A man that possesses true power and true strength is tempered with a gentle hand when he beds a woman, he knows to pleasure so the time together will be ever sweeter," he growled against her. Turning his head, his tongue flicked out teasing her peaked breast, his hand clutching the base of his manhood as he guided himself home. Burying himself inch by slow inch was a different sort of torture but he endure it gladly, moaning his pleasured pain the whole while.

Her breath still as she felt her feminine lips suction around the long girth of his proudly pulsing cock pulling him deeper inside her body with a well formed muscle contraction. Her eyes closed as she then began to move atop him. Stirring slowly and gently at first, her movements soon quickened to ride him hard and fast, ignoring the ever so slight pain she felt as his pelvic skin would come into contact with the small burned area above her triangle as she pounded her body hard against his. A scream threatened to rip through her being and she stalled it, her mouth flying to his shoulder and teeth sinking harshly into the smooth male skin there. Thrilling at the slightly salty taste of his skin, she began to suckle and bite like a woman dying of thirst, inadvertently marking his body with her teeth and tongue.

Riddick took the punishment without complaint, took it inside and let it urge him more quickly into her body, filling her until he beat against her womb. Throwing his head back he felt the hot boil of his seed traveling his shaft. His hard muscular flanks tensed as he buried his face in her hair near her ear. "This is what loving is to be."

Her hands reached down grasping the flesh of his tensed globes, squeezing hard as she felt the violent orgasm that caused her body to convulse onto his steely shaft over and over again, her head thrown back, flaming red curls tossing wildly. With great effort, she eased her head on his shoulder, tears welling in her eyes as she tried desperately to speak. "Mary … received this … often?" She had never known Mary well. But here, with the woman’s husband body working miracles inside her, she was suddenly filled with jealousy for the woman.

"As often as I was in need of her," he whispered along her damp skin, dragging in a ragged breath.

"And … that was … often, no?" Her raspy words were filled with understanding … knowing that a man such as he would be as insatiable as her husband for the body of a woman.

"The number of times I could count upon one hand," he relied, running his tongue along the column of her neck. "Johns was conceived the first night I lay with her."

A slight wave of disappointment flooded her being at the concept that his desire was so spasmodic. But she quickly set aside that thought as she remembered he was not hers … only using the body she so willingly gave to him. "She must have been very contented being loved in this fashion by you." She wanted him to be happy with this bedding … be sated and fulfilled. Being used to only one form of sexual appetite and wanting nothing more than to please this man inside her, she moved her face to his ear and whispered almost timidly, "Would you care to strap me now, mi’lord?" She leaned back from his chest and tentatively held her wrists to him, eyes lowered, yet filled with a newly found desire.

Growling, Riddick pulled her slightly away from him . "There'll be no strapping tonight. Not with me." He stood lifting her with him and turning to lay her gently on the bed. It was then, when the fabric of her shift floated up, he noticed the angry read burn just above her pelvis. "He did this while taking his pleasure?"

Her hands smoothed across his chest as thrust her hips from the bed, careful not to let herself become comfortable, as she had been taught by Duncan. "It’s fro from the candle wax … too much that time." She noticed the growing emotion in his eyes. Could it be ignorance? She looked at him in confusion … surly a man as knowledgeable of a woman’s body as he would know the reason? "The heated wax assures that my body will writhe as violently as desired." She began to lift from the bed. "Shall I light a candle?"

"No," he barked, his voice near booming in the quite chamber. He stepped away from the bed turning back to the fire.

She jumped at his voice, grasping the furs on the bed and attempting to cover her body as she scooted her back to the massive headboard of the large bed. Her knees drew to her chest. "Please do not be angry with me, mi’lord," she breathed. "I want only to please you."

"You may go," he sighed, frustrated and sick at heart. He'd tried to show her the gentleness of his touch, tried to show her the pleasures to be had by a man and women. He cared for her, that he could not deny. But he would not die slowly for a woman who could never see him as nothing more than Duncan, all the brutality and the selfishness.

At that moment, she felt an ache grow inside her that she had never experience before. Standing from the high bed, she slipped her feet to the floor and moved to him, her hands gently smoothing across the tense muscles of his back. "As you wish," she whispered in raspy tones. Letting her hand fall, she moved slowly to straighten her shift and reluctantly pad across the floor. Stalling at the door, she turned over her shoulder and looked again on his naked form, feeling both desire and heartache well inside her.

"I could love you," his voice was low and raspy with emotion, but still he refused to look at her.

"And I would willingly give you my heart. Something I have never thought to do before in my life." With a heavy sigh, she bent to take the blanket she had tossed onto the floor. Hand on the heavy latch, she caught her breath. "Please know this …" she said softly. "I am his wife. I am YOUR woman. If not in your mind … then only in my heart." And with that, she pulled opened the heavy door and gazed in all directions before slipping into the darkness of the corridor.

In the darkened corridor eyes watched her retreat from the room, her feet silently padding through the keep. Detaching from the surrounding blackness, Johns looked back to the door from which she emerged. He had seen it all, his father making love to Duncan's wife. With a secretive smile he strode down the hall with a purpose, with a secret.