Guardians - Birth Of Rivalry Part 3

Too light. Ysa moaned. "I'm yours," she sobbed. "Yours, Pan!"

He pressed his fingers into the magical place over and over, fast and strong as a heartbeat. "Again," he ordered.

"I'm yours." His hips moved, ramming his manhood into her. Ysa rocked back, meeting him stroke for stroke.

"Again!"

"Yours, yours, yours!" Ysa cried in time with each thrust, each stroke of his fingers. Pan gasped, burying himself deep, pulsing inside her as his seed spilled. Ysa's p.u.s.s.y constricted around his delightful touch. Arching, she screamed as a torrent of pure ecstasy washed through her, her a.s.s wringing his c.o.c.k dry as her c.u.n.t sucked on his firm, fondling fingers.

"Oh, G.o.ddess," Ysa moaned as they collapsed on the blankets. "Oh, G.o.ddess." So many times, Pan had wanted to touch her there, and always she had pushed him away, saving that part of herself for Vitale.

Now, it was as though Pan had awakened a sleeping giant within her. One with a very l.u.s.tful appet.i.te. She wanted to experience that feeling again, desperately. Rolling over onto her back, she ran a hand across her quivering abdomen, reaching for that feverish place between her legs.

Pan sat up beside her, eyes glittering. "That's it, little witch." He moved, pus.h.i.+ng her legs apart, kneeling between them, watching as she tentatively pressed one finger between her swollen lips.

Heat flooded her cheeks as his hungry gaze drank in the sight of her. Embarra.s.sment this time, not l.u.s.t. It seemed wrong for him to see her touching herself. Hesitantly, at first, then more and more eagerly as her own touch drove her toward fulfillment, Ysa explored her p.u.s.s.y while Pan looked on, grinning like a demon.

When she found the magic spot, she gasped, arching.

"Oh, yes," Pan whispered. "That's it, Ysa. You see how good it can be?"

She writhed, thras.h.i.+ng her head from side to side as she fingered that spot, eager to experience that blinding ecstasy once more. She couldn't seem to make it happen. Harder and faster she rubbed, until sweat stung her eyes.

Pan reached out, pressing the heel of her hand tight against the swollen nub above her slit, showing her how to rub it back and forth as her fingers worked. "G.o.ddess," Ysa gasped.

"That's it." Pan reached for her legs, crossing one over the other, trapping her hand between them.

Ysa gasped, palm pressed tight against her throbbing bud, fingers flicking the magical place again and again as she pressed her legs tightly together. "Aaaaah!" She screamed as ecstatic heat flooded her belly. Squirming, she relished the sensation of her hot flesh contracting again and again on her buried fingers.

When the feeling had pa.s.sed, Ysa looked at Pan with new understanding. "I never dreamed anything could feel so good."

He crawled across the covers to lie alongside her. "You see, Ysa?" His tongue tasted her ear as his fingers crept along her belly, slithered like snakes among her dark curls. "I only want to please you." His fingertips teased her dark cavern as his thumb stroked her c.l.i.t. "And it will be even better, when I finally bury my manhood in this hot flesh." Damp heat coc.o.o.ned one nipple as Pan began to suck, driving his fingers deep inside her, pus.h.i.+ng her again toward the brink of pleasure.

Ysa gasped, wriggling as corkscrews of pleasure twisted through her abdomen. She had no intention of letting Pan's manhood touch that part of her. She must still save something for Vitale.

As that new, delicious sensation rose in her belly once again, she closed her eyes and pressed eagerly into his practiced touch.

Of course, there was no reason for her to tellhim that. Not yet.

He brought her exquisite pleasure twice more before insisting that they continue on their way. "As much as I am enjoying this, it will be even more pleasurable when I am sure we are out of harm's way."

Ysa made a show of acting disappointed as she dressed, but in truth, the novelty had begun to wear off. She was sore now, and tired. And thoughts of Vitale kept fluttering uneasily through her mind. She had sworn to save her sacred woman's place for him. A private vow, but one that had quelled her guilt during the past year and more because she could tell herself that she was still a virgin, that the treasure of her hot p.u.s.s.y would belong only to Vitale.

And now, Pan had touched it.She had touched it. Was she still a virgin? Even though no man's staff had penetrated her secret core, she sensed that she was not.

She pictured Vitale as she had last seen him. Muscled like a wainwright, taller and broader than he'd ever been in life -- and he had not been a small man. Wings spread out behind him like a gray cloak. And his c.o.c.k. She s.h.i.+vered, remembering the quick glimpse she'd had just before Vitale launched himself into the air.

Oh, yes. She fumbled with her s.h.i.+rt-tail, tucking it clumsily into her breeches as a tremor ran through her. She couldn't wait to have that huge, solid length wrapped by her hot flesh.

Taking several deep breaths to calm her racing pulse, Ysa ran her fingers through her hair, combing it into some semblance of order. Before, she had bowed to Vitale's sense of propriety, knowing that his family's reputation in the village was important to him. But things were different now.

Ysa smiled. Once she showed Vitale the pleasure they could have together, he was certain to forgive her for playing with Pan.

He might even thank her.

Chapter 8: Sanctuary.

Ysa nearly sobbed when the spires of Spoleto's churches appeared above the mist. It had actually taken four days more for them to reach the town, the last two spent sleeping on the ground while a gray rain fell.

It was quiet, the clattering steps of their mount echoing strangely among the Roman arches and ruins they traversed to reach the town proper. The bell tower of Spoleto's magnificent cathedral rose like a sentinel from the mist before them.

Pan rode up to a building with a rather austere facade, guiding their mount around to the back gate.

"Chiesa di Sant'Eufemia," he said. The church of Saint Eufemia.

Pan sprang to the ground and rang a bell attached to the iron fence. In a few short minutes a door opened at the building's rear. A tall, hooded figure took the lantern from its hook by the door and glided across to the gate. "How can the sisters help you?" asked a voice in dulcet tones.

"Dia."

"Pandolfo." The word was a purr. "So good to hear your voice."

"And yours." Pan turned to Ysa, holding out his arms. She allowed him to help her down from the horse. "We are in need of sanctuary, Diamante."

Ysa could see nothing beneath the hood and cape which covered the figure, but she felt the woman studying her with a strange intensity. "I see." The woman reached out, sliding a key into the lock.

She held the gate open until they had pa.s.sed within, then shut it and twisted the key in the lock again. Turning, she pointed to a building toward the back of the fenced area. "You may stable your mount there. I will prepare a room."

Pan led the black to its accommodations, leaving Ysa to follow as the figure wafted silently toward the door.

Once inside, their benefactor doffed her hooded cloak, hanging the garment on one of a series of pegs in the hall. Turning, she studied Ysa, and Ysa returned her measured stare.

She was tall -- taller than Pandolfo, Ysa thought. Slender, yet well-endowed. Her dress was the gray-black of a nun, but made of fine material that clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. Her rounded neckline plunged so low that Ysa could see the curved edge of one dark areola peeking out.

She dragged her gaze upward, cheeks hot, and found the woman staring intently at her own b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Looking down, Ysa saw that in this light, with Pan's s.h.i.+rt stretched so tightly across them, her own dark areoles were clearly visible beneath the white fabric. She cleared her throat, embarra.s.sed. "It was the only thing I had to wear."

The woman's eyes met hers. They were a strange color -- a sort of reddish-brown, like the polished wood that graced much of Vincente de Orphieto's home. Beautiful, with a curtain of long lashes through which they devoured Ysa. "What is your name?"

"Y-Ysa," she stammered, confused by the way her nipples were tightening -- by the sudden flush of desire that heated her chest. This 'nun' exuded pure s.e.xuality in a way that Ysa had never encountered inanyone , much less a woman of the cloth!

"No need to apologize, Ysa." Dia's gaze dropped to her chest again, then flickered up to meet her eyes once more. "They are beautiful."

Ysa dropped her gaze, taking a step back. The woman laughed softly. "Come, child. We will prepare a room." She turned and began walking down the hall.

Ysa hesitated a moment, then followed. The woman's hips swayed seductively as she walked. To her horror, Ysa felt the heat in her chest spreading, felt a throbbing in her groin. How could this be?

The woman -- what was her name? Dia. Yes. Dia led her up a narrow staircase. At the top, she opened a door and ushered Ysa into a small room occupied by two beds with a small table between them, a washstand, and a small fireplace.

Dia took up the tall candle burning in a dish on the mantel, also lifting a small tureen. She tilted it, drawing delicate traceries on the three logs in the grate with a thin stream of dark oil, then set it back on the mantel. She touched the candle's flame to one of the bottom logs.

Fire blazed, nearly singeing the woman's face, but she did not flinch nor back away. She bent even closer, seeming to revel in the heat, then turned a smoldering gaze to Ysa and stood. She was magnificent outlined in the flickering light -- an ethereal creature of fire and desire. Her hair, a dark brown with reddish-gold streaks like her eyes, seemed to glow like flames.

Those eyes. Ysa couldn't look away from them. Huge. Dark. Filled with heat, with pa.s.sion. With something even darker.

A frightened bit deep inside her wanted to back away. To run down the narrow stairwell and out, begging Pan to take their horse and run with her into the night. And yet her flesh p.r.i.c.kled with the desire to touch and be touched. To experience the searing pa.s.sion the woman offered. Seemingly of its own volition, her hand reached out.

With a wicked grin, the temptress pushed the low neckline of her dress down even further, allowing her ripe b.r.e.a.s.t.s to tumble from their bodice. With the tips of her long nails, she lightly caressed the flushed peak of one nipple.

Ysa's breath caught. The two orbs glowed golden and perfect in the firelight, dark red areoles punctuated in their exact centers by enormously swollen nipples. Dia caught her hand, brought it to her lips. Her gaze never wavering, she drew the tip of one finger into her hot, hungry mouth and suckled greedily.

Ysa gasped, heat and a pulsing need burgeoning in her abdomen. Dia released the finger, guiding it to the tip of her ripe nipple, drawing glistening circles around the taut peak. Ripples of pleasure flooded Ysa's chest. Shefelt that touch. Felt her s.h.i.+rt growing damp, as though the wet fingertip swirled around the plump nipples straining against the tight fabric of her own s.h.i.+rt.

She moaned, and Dia caught up her other hand, backing toward the nearest low cot. Sitting gracefully, she urged Ysa to her knees.

Ysa stared into those hungry eyes, frightened by the strength of her response, dizzyingly aroused. "Don't worry, beautiful Ysa. I will bring you no harm. Only pleasure." She reached out and pulled Ysa's s.h.i.+rt out of her breeches, drawing it off over her head with one fluid movement. She ran her long, golden fingers through Ysa's unruly curls. "Oh, yes. Pan always did have wonderful taste."

Ysa trembled, shocked to realize how much she truly desired this woman's touch. Diamante smiled knowingly. She bent close, pressing her red lips to the curve of Ysa's breast.

She drew in a sharp breath. The kiss burned like fire, and yet her p.u.s.s.y convulsed, darts of pleasure piercing her groin. She leaned into the touch. Dia moved her lips slightly, pressing another soft kiss against her flesh. Ysa closed her eyes as the room began to spin. Another kiss. And another, each one making her pulse jump, her p.u.s.s.y throb with need. The next was so close to her nipple that Ysa moaned, not knowing whether she was asking the woman to stop, or urging her on.

The door opened, and Pandolfo walked in.

"Diamante, no!"

Dia's head jerked up, her eyes blazing. "You dare tellme no?" Anger, an almost palpable heat, radiated from her. Ysa stood, trembling, thanking the G.o.ddess that she was not the recipient of that ire.

Pan, however, was not intimidated. "I dare." He sauntered over to Ysa's side. "There is something you want from me." He picked up the discarded s.h.i.+rt and draped it over Ysa's shoulders. She ducked her head, drawing the sleeves down to hide her bosom. "I may yet agree, but I will never do so if you touch Ysa again without my permission."

The woman stared at him. It seemed to Ysa as though she were swelling. Red buds sprouted up between her satin-smooth locks, curving inward like horns. Her chest broadened, her dress tearing in the back as a spiked tail grew from her rear. Ysa's heart raced, her blood pounding in her ears. She closed her eyes, waiting for this demon to smite them both.

The room rang with laughter. Ysa opened her eyes, and Dia stood there. Just a woman -- a breathtakingly beautiful, heartachingly seductive woman -- but a woman nonetheless, calmly tucking her bosom back into her bodice.

"Very well, Pan." Her gaze flickered over Ysa, resting briefly on the hollow between her legs, as though she could see right through the breeches. Ysa moved behind Pandolfo. Dia laughed again.

"There is a new condition, Pan."

"What? No. You said that --"

"But you refused me." Ysa was glad she couldn't see the woman. Her soft, low tones were sharp at the edges, like knives. "For making me wait, I'm adding a penance."

Pan swore softly. "What?"

Ysa imagined Dia smiling.

"If you decide you want what I am offering..." Her voice was a purr, a caress, and the satisfied growl of a wolf just before it tore into the flesh of a fresh kill. "You must share."

Ysa waited for him to argue, but instead heard him say, "And how long do I have to decide?"

Dia chuckled throatily. "I will give you... oh, two fortnights to consider it. And, Pan -- this is your last chance. I will not make the offer again. I grow tired of waiting. There are others as worthy as you." Her arms snaked around his waist, startling Ysa. "I simply like you better."

Ysa saw him nod. "I will give you my decision in two fortnights."

Diamante peeked over Pan's shoulder. "Good night, sweet Ysa." She sighed, running the tip of her tongue over her lips. "I did so want to taste you."

Ysa shrank away. Diamante smiled -- a sure, satisfied grin, as though she already knew Pan's decision. "It will happen soon, I think."

She grasped Pan's head in her hands, planting a lingering kiss upon his lips. Ysa felt a pang of jealousy, and the frightening part was that she wasn't sure who she was jealous of -- Dia... or Pan.

The woman swept out of the room, and he closed the door behind her. Ysa sat on the cot, her legs suddenly unable to support her weight.

Pan walked over to the mantel, his back to her.

Ysa stared at him, tall and brooding in the firelight. She meant to confront him -- to scold him for implying that she was his to give away as he saw fit. But the desire she'd felt for Diamante had yet to fade. A p.r.i.c.kling need invaded her woman's place, an itching that grew with each breath. Within moments, her entire body ached with it. She ran cool fingers over her heated skin, but that did not help.

Magic. She dimly recognized that the desire was not real. The part of her which was her grandmother's legacy -- thestrega , the witch -- knew that this was something from outside her. Diamante's doing. Yet it did not seem to matter. Shemust be touched.

Leaning back against the bed, she pushed her breeches down, kicking them to the floor. "Pan," she breathed.

He turned, and she parted her legs, sliding two of her fingers into that p.r.i.c.kling, itching cavern while he watched. His breath quickened. Abruptly, he picked up the oil pitcher and strode over to the bed, setting the container on the low table between the cots. He stripped off his own breeches, revealing his stiff c.o.c.k.

Ysa harvested her juices, then reached for him with her wet fingers. The intention to save her maidenhead for Vitale's c.o.c.k drowned beneath the surge of l.u.s.t that gripped her. She trembled at the thought of having Pan's swollen, heated flesh inside her. Of squeezing his thick shaft with her pulsating lips, feeling it throb within her as the pleasure came.

"We can't, Ysa," Pan groaned. "Diamante, she is doing this. You don't really want me."

Ysa caressed his c.o.c.k, painting him with her juices. "Please, Pan," she whispered. "I must..." She licked her lips, s.h.i.+vering with need. "I must have you!"

She watched him tremble, fighting to resist the force which urged them both on. She tightened her hand on his shaft. With a groan, whatever slight control he possessed snapped, and he pushed her back. Grabbing her thighs, he forced them roughly toward her chest. He reached out to the low table and picked up the tureen, pouring silky oil over her p.u.s.s.y. With one punis.h.i.+ng thrust, he was inside her.

Ysa screamed. Whatever Dia was -- witch? demon? succubus? -- she had aroused Pan to the point where he was longer, thicker, than ever before. Tears ran down her face as he plunged into her, deeper and deeper, whispering, "I'm sorry," with each thrust.

Pain blossomed between her legs. And yet her body trembled on the cusp of something wonderful. She strained into him, driving her hips up to meet him. Wrapping her arms around him, she clawed desperately at his back, wanting nothing more than to pull him closer. Deeper.

Each thrust stabbed sharply, and still she urged him on, surprised by the whimpering mewls and eager grunts coming from between her lips. The sharp stabbing began to ebb, replaced by a deep throbbing. Pain blossomed into pleasure. She heard herself whimpering, "Yes, yes! Oh, yes, Pan."

He groaned and tightened his grip on the flimsy cot. It shook with their weight as he drove into her, over and over, faster and faster as she urged him on. "Yes, Pan. Yes. Oh, yes!"

He sank into her so deep that his groin ground against her c.l.i.t. Heat and pleasure exploded between her legs, her p.u.s.s.y contracting on his thick c.o.c.k as pure bliss slammed through her. Pan roared, his hot seed spurting endlessly inside her, until it seeped out from between where their flesh met and trickled down the hollow between her cheeks, pooling on the rough wool beneath them. Instinctively, Ysa raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist, holding him tight against her until both their climaxes pa.s.sed and they ceased to tremble.

As they lay back against the cot, the sound of a woman's throaty chuckle filled the room. She and Pan shared a startled glance, then their eyes searched the dark corners, but saw nothing.