Hellion (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 7) Read online

  "It's not like you not to share, Sal." Dom grinned broadly. "Bring her inside. Is the wench shy?"

  He realized his brother would be doubly suspicious if he kept this "milkmaid" all to himself. Besides, he had to prove to himself — and to her—that he was not being turned into her fool. No woman had ever confused him as she did and he needed to regain control of the situation as best he could.

  So he swallowed hard and said. "She protests I'm too big for her pussy. Come help me persuade her that I'll fit, brother."

  * * * *

  Helene had no escape. She was trapped between the two men against the back wall of the forge and no one would come to her aid. If she shouted for her escort it would give her identity away and at least, naked under her simple hooded cloak of rough wool, she was anonymous.

  If her guard came around the corner and saw her with two men she would be desperately ashamed. And fearful of rumors reaching her new husband's ears the moment he arrived.

  She had no choice but to play mute and meek.

  His brother had backed her to the wall and raised his hands to her hood, but Salvador distracted the man by swiftly opening the front of her cloak instead, exposing her body again to the light of the rush torch. Showing her off, it seemed, for his brother's approval. "She's a pretty one, eh? Look at these, Dom." Salvador cupped her right breast and offered it casually to his brother, who quickly bent his head to take the nipple in his mouth. Too shocked to speak, Helene merely stood there, trying to breathe.

  She caught Salvador's gaze, gleaming hotly in the moonlight and then he looked down, watching his brother at her breast. The other man was sucking hard a moment, until he stopped and said, "Is she nursing? I'm not getting any milk."

  Sal laughed huskily. "I said she's a milkmaid— that's her post, you fool. She milks cows and goats. I don't milk her."

  "Oh," his brother sounded disappointed. He nodded toward her bare breasts. "They look nice and full, so I thought—"

  "No, she's not nursing," Salvador replied his tone turning thoughtful, one fingertip circling the puckered nipple that was wet from his brother's greedy suction. "Yet." He leaned close and, nudging her hood aside slightly with his lips, he whispered in her ear, his breath warm on her cheek. "Mayhap I'll get you with child and then these titties will have milk, eh? A beverage I can enjoy to my heart's content when I have thirst for it. For more of your taste."

  She felt her face heat up. "No."

  "No? You dare say no to me... milkmaid?"

  Oh, so that was how he wanted to play now, was it? He was getting vengeance for the slaps and insults she'd given him, of course.

  "Answer me, milkmaid," he whispered silkily

  "No, Sire." Helene snapped, knowing she had to play along unless she wanted his brother to know who she was. She couldn't risk it.

  "Once Dom here has ensured you can take every inch of me, don't you want me to give you a child?" he demanded, his voice low, his eyes wickedly amused.

  Meanwhile his brother had resumed sucking her breast and now began to force his hand between her thighs, clearly intent on seeing whether or not she was too small for Salvador's cock. She tried hard to play the role of a servant, keeping her voice soft and demure. "I cannot, sir. I'm unwed. I cannot have a babe."

  Salvador laughed again, carelessly. "Oh, yes you can. If I decide I want an entire litter out of you, I'll breed you to my heart's content. As our father did to our mother." When their eyes met again, hers furious, he added, "You're just my servant chattel, Milkmaid. Remember?"

  While his brother was distracted, his gaze fixed to what his hand did between her thighs, she glared meaningfully at Salvador. "I do not want to bear a bastard." He had better not even think of getting her pregnant.

  "There's naught amiss with a bastard." He grinned. "I am one, after all."

  She pursed her lips, firing arrows with her eyes, but a moment later she had to be demure and hide her anger, because his brother was looking at her face again while he played with her breasts and remarked upon how they would grow even bigger when she was pregnant. "She's made for a babe," he said, with a smile. "Lovely round hips and belly. Large nipples. Her body is perfect for breeding. For bearing and suckling babes."

  Helene was outraged at being discussed like prize farmyard stock about to be bred.

  "And for conceiving them," Salvador added, pinching her nipple gently, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "But until I can get my cock in that tight silk purse of hers, I can't spill my seed where it needs to go to breed her, can I?"

  The two men moved a few steps away from her to confer in whispers. Helene would have run away, but before the thought could be obeyed by her curiously lethargic limbs, the brothers returned to her and both began to lift her easily between them, each man hooking one of her legs over their strong arms, leaving her pussy splayed and utterly devoid of dignity. To keep from falling Helene had to slip her arms around their necks, giving up on trying to cover any part of her body. They held her to the wall and began to finger her sex, slowly teasing and caressing her nether lips, rubbing her with their knuckles, taking turns to penetrate, sometimes doing so together, concentrating on the task of seeing how far they could stretch her open.

  "Make her come," said Salvador in his low growl. "Watch how responsive she is. She almost exploded earlier like a ripe pod of seeds when I tongued her cunt."

  Helene closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. "Oh," she groaned as they worked her toward another climax, circling and teasing her hooded pearl with light strokes, running their fingertips up and down her wet labia, exerting just enough pressure to keep her hovering at the lusty brink while they studied her response and commented to one another on the pretty pink flush that covered her face and her breasts. How many times had they done this together, she wondered. They were well practiced at it. And she, lifted off the ground, was helpless.

  They kept her open and at their mercy, driving her up the peak, keeping her there, not letting her over the other side.

  "She's tight indeed," said the brother he had called Dom. "Look at that cunny. It's brand new surely."

  "No, it is not. She's been had before," came the reply, with more than a hint of bitterness. "She's been fucked."

  "Not with anything very big. She struggles with just two fingers inside. You might kill her with that beast of yours, Sal. Best go easy, eh?"

  "Oh, I don't intend to go easy on her at all," Sal replied. "Not at all. This....Hellion... deserves what she's going to get." He grinned, clearly pleased with himself for the play on her name.

  Helene should have been horrified. But she was not. Her belly ached with excitement, and her nipples were so taut she thought they would explode with need. She couldn't speak for another orgasm had seized her while both men had a finger inside her pussy and Dom pressed his thumb gently to her sensitive button. Both mouths now descended to her yearning nipples and sucked steadily at the same time.

  She worked her hips wildly as the passion streaked through her body.

  More bruises, she thought distantly, this time from the wall behind her. So she tried to stay still.

  She realized that Sal was using his other hand between her buttocks and had forced another finger into her there. Oh, it burned, but the sensations caused by two other fingers playing with her pussy, a thumb teasingly moving around her clitoris, and two mouths sucking at her nipples completely swept the pain away and drove her to yet another maddening, hissing, spitting orgasm.

  Chapter Nine

  The woman had almost blacked out. He knew it for her fingers dug into his shoulder like cat's claws and then suddenly lost their grip. She sagged against the wall with an exhausted moan.

  "I think that's enough for now," he told Dom quietly. "Go back to supper and I'll join you in a minute or two."

  "What? You're not going to let me spend after getting me all hot with this pretty quim?"

  "Go home and spend with one of the wives."

  Dom looked at him od
dly. "Just can't have this milkmaid of yours, eh?"

  "You said yourself she's too tight. She's not ready yet. For either of us."

  "Pity." Dom sighed. "I wager it feels like heaven inside that sweet little cunny." He casually tapped her on the wet pussy and Sal felt her fingers press into his shoulder again, heard her groan. Hmmm, she liked that, did she? When she came her entire body was wracked with spasms yet she never cried out. She was probably afraid the soldiers might hear, so she bit her tongue bloody rather than scream her pleasure.

  He looked at his brother. "Do that again. Spank her cunny. We'll see if we can't make her come again."

  "But she's exhausted."

  "We're holding her up, aren't we?"

  So his brother did as he suggested. After a few, smart taps, Sal joined in. They took turns, not too hard, but quickening the pace until, sure enough, the pressure must have built inside her and she began to boil over again. Fascinated they watched as her ruffled folds blossomed and pouted rose red. When he felt her muscles clench, Sal signaled at his brother to go down on her. "Soothe that sore cunt for my little Milkmaid."

  So it was that this orgasm flooded into Dom's mouth, while he licked and sucked her spanked labia. That was the best treat he could allow his brother at that time. He wasn't ready to share more. In fact he felt he was being generous enough by offering up a taste of her fine twat.

  "When I've broken her in properly, you can take a turn inside her," he vowed to his brother. "We'll enjoy her together then, eh?"

  So they finally set her feet down. Her legs were trembling and unsteady. Dom gave her a pat on the arse. "Now I know why my brother spends so much time away from us. He's found his own luscious, shy little piece and he doesn't want to share."

  The woman opened her eyes in alarm, so Sal said, "She's just a milkmaid. An amusing pastime. That's all."

  "So I see," Dom replied, before laughing and disappearing around the corner.

  "Milkmaid?" she hissed at him, eyes flaring. "Break me in? So he can have a turn?"

  "Well, what did you want me to tell him?" he whispered back, half laughing. "You wanted your identity to remain a secret, did you not? You wanted no one to know of this affair between us, my lady. What else could I tell him? If I said he couldn't have you too, he'd be damn suspicious."

  She was closing her cloak again and tightly folding her arms. "Of course, you share all your hapless women, don't you?"

  "We do."

  She shook her head. "Those poor women."

  "There's naught poor about them. They're well content. If you met them, you'd know."

  "Thank you, but I don't care to meet any more of your family." After a short pause she added, "And this is not an affair, as you just called it."

  Sal propped his shoulder against the wall. "Then what would you call it, milkmaid?"

  "It's just a...a game. A small happening." Her embarrassment was almost charming— a change from her usual brisk, no-nonsense manner.

  "Small?" He arched an eyebrow in amusement as he ran a hand up the tumescent length of his prick.

  She scowled. "You know exactly what I mean, d'Anzeray."

  Yes, he knew. She meant for him to be nothing more than a quick diversion, something brief enough and secret enough that she could deny it ever happened. Even to herself.

  "And you will not get me with child. Do you understand? My sow might be in need of a large, healthy litter, but I am not."

  He said nothing to that, but as she turned away he reached for her cloak and grabbed a handful, holding her back. "Now you mean to leave me unsatisfied tonight? After I've pleasured you so well?"

  * * * *

  Helene realized what he wanted from her, she just was not sure if she knew how it should be done. She had tried it once on Robert, but he thought it "unclean" and not necessary.

  Sal pressed on her shoulder with one hand, holding his cock in the other. "Suck me, woman. You cannot leave me like this. Your turn to taste."

  So she knelt before him and carefully took his crest in her mouth. It was warm, salty. Quite a mouthful.

  Helene had learned over the years that the best way to succeed at something was often to feign great knowledge of how it was done. Sooner or later, if she was convincing enough, others began to believe in her ability. She decided to use the same method in this instance.

  He groaned deeply, pushed back her hood, and twisted his fingers in her loose hair while he moved his hips back and forth. Apparently she pleased him. Gaining confidence, she sucked a little harder and let her tongue explore the bold, pulsing veins of his shaft. Sensing his excitement, her own returned to her. Thus she began to enjoy her task, sliding her mouth up and down, swallowing as much of his great length as she could manage. It seemed even more enormous from this angle and she thought again of how that would feel if he ever got it fully inside her. Surely he would possess her thoroughly as Robert never had. If it ever got all the way in. If. She shuddered and then sucked harder.

  Suddenly he ceased moving, cupped the back of her head with both hands, let out a deep, guttural roar and then, a moment later, she felt his warm semen spurting into her throat. She swallowed hastily, almost choking as his swollen member emptied far more than she could have expected. After what he had done for her, she felt obliged to drink it all down and then to lick his knob clean.

  He reached down to help her to her feet again and then he pulled up her hood, making certain her hair was tucked well out of sight. Something about the way he touched her now felt odd. As his fingers slid under her hood, pushing her hair behind her ears, she realized she'd never had any man make a fuss of her like this before. He even tied the laces that closed her cloak up to her throat. She was amused. After the things he'd just done to her, now his touch was almost like that of a concerned guardian. It was...gentle.

  Helene thought suddenly of Gilbert de Vernon. It might be a good moment to warn this man about the message she'd received and that she would soon marry again. But why did he need to know? It was really none of his business. He was just a common soldier who had achieved a measure of success through dark means. A depraved heathen— if all those rumors were true. And she had more reason to believe them now that she'd seen the forbidden things he did as if they were natural.

  Slowly he ran a finger down her cheek. Again the wistfulness in his touch surprised her, puzzled her.

  This thing betwixt them was nothing more than a small happening, as she'd said to him. A moment's wicked indiscretion. Was it not?

  Exhausted now, she wanted to go home and fall straight to bed, her limbs so pleasantly weary.

  The way he was looking at her suggested he might try to keep her there.

  Before either of them might feel tempted to utter some foolish remark betraying feelings of awkward tenderness, Helene hurried away, leaving him standing by the wall of the blacksmith's forge.

  * * * *

  Elyce ran out to greet her. "My lady, I thought you were just going out for a stroll in the air. I did not know what had become of you!"

  "For pity's sake, don't fuss, Elyce." She swung down from her mare and handed the reins to a groom. "I am quite capable of looking after myself."

  "Yes, my lady, but—"

  "Elyce, do not answer me back. I am the mistress here." The maid looked startled and quickly dropped a curtsey.

  "Yes, my lady."

  Helene sighed as they walked together across the yard. "I do not mean to snap, Elyce, but sometimes I feel that people tend to forget what I am." She had lost control of herself that night and she didn't like it, but that was her fault and she should not take it out on poor Elyce. After all this girl had served her well and faithfully for eight years, caring for her through many disappointments when she had hoped for a child in her womb, and standing at her side as she nursed a sick husband through his final illness.

  The maid replied shyly, "We do not forget what you are, my lady. It's just that...we are fond of you, my lady. You are like part of our family, I suppose."
She blushed. "It is wrong of us to think that though, isn't it?"

  "No. Not wrong." Helene smiled at the girl.

  "But I daresay we should not act that way if a new husband does come, so we should prepare for it now."

  She said nothing to that, for she had no intention of talking about Gilbert de Vernon or letting anyone know what had been in that letter. The subject seemed much on Elyce's mind however.

  "I hope he is a nice man, my lady."

  For all their sakes she hoped the same. There was always a chance that Gilbert had undergone a dramatic transformation. After all it was fourteen years since she beat him in that pony race. And he might not even remember the incident.

  "Did you have a good ride, my lady?"

  "Yes, it was very...refreshing."

  "I thought so my lady, you look very flushed, contented and happy, as I have not seen you in a long time."

  Helene had known some ladies who always sought their reflection in any shiny surface they came across, but she had never bothered. Not since she was eleven or so and had decided, at that point in her life, that hoping for beauty was a lost cause. Rather than sulk about it, she'd simply decided to make the best of her lot. She might not have a face men would go to battle for, but she had a brain and four good limbs. While other little girls tended their appearance diligently, Helene nurtured her mind. She was always asking questions, studying how things worked, observing the world around her. Perhaps, somewhere inside her, she'd hoped that might impress her father and make him notice her existence, since she had no beauty to make him proud.

  Instead, her intelligence had only made him further withdraw from her. But the thing about a busy, well-trained mind was that the information it found and stored could not be taken away. She could hide it when she needed to, and she could use it when she wanted to. And she was learning every day of her life, even now at the age of four and twenty. Meanwhile, many of those young girls she once envied for their pale features, small mouths, fair hair and high (but empty) foreheads, did not continue to gain looks. Over time looks faded and, likewise, their value in the world and thus their happiness.