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A Tavern Wench

 

to Bed

BY

Brenda Williamson

 

EXCERPT

 

The flame-haired, green-eyed beauty blinked rapidly. That fluttering of her lashes seemed damn close to a complete surrender. Henry pressed his mouth to hers, sucking at her lips to feel the softness meld completely with his. She gasped, a small sound of surprise. He drew back the breath she tried inhaling. Women equaled pleasure. They provided a relief to a tedious day. Their skills eased tension in a man’s tired body. Sorcha caught him unaware by drawing out of him an odd, unexplainable emotion he’d never felt before—one he dared not try to name.
“Sorcha,” he murmured, liking the way the sound of her name tightened the air in his lungs.
“Yes,” she paused.
Her lips remained poised for another kiss.
“I want you,” he said, unable to stop himself from confessing his desire again.
“I know you do, Sir Henry.” Her breath whispered a soft caress over his face as she turned her head away. “I said you can have me… if you accept my challenge.”
“What challenge?”
“To go up against me in a dragon fight.” She lifted her head.
Henry looked at her with incredulous shock. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m serious. I need a dragon rider to accept my challenge so I can compete. It’s the only way non- members of the Dragon Fighter’s Society can participate in an exhibition or tournament.”
“Yes, but that’s meant for men with a dragon.”
“I have a dragon. Several of them.”
“But you’re a woman.” He stroked her face. “A very beautiful one, too.”
“I read the rules. They say anyone.”
“An oversight.”
“Regardless, I want to take advantage of that oversight. Will you accept?”
He pulled her head down again. It would be a small price for her virtue. He never cared whom he went up against in the dragon games. He’d certainly be able to win against her. And just as she had mentioned taking advantage, he decided to do so now.
She did nothing to prevent him from enfolding her in his arms. He kissed her deeply, taking what he could get.
“So does this mean you shall accept my challenge?” she asked when their mouths broke free.
“Regrettably, I can not.” He relinquished his hold.
“Are you certain you want to refuse me?” A sly grin curved her mouth.
What was she up to? He eyed her curiously, carefully waiting for her to spring some trap.
He never guessed her next move.
Her arms folded around his neck and her lips pressed his. Instead of disappointment, she showed tenacity with a cleverly performed, age-old form of bribery. She kissed him. Not a simple peck to the cheek, or brush of her lips against his, no, she flat out pressed her mouth hard to his and delved deeper into the moment than he had ever dared before. From twisting positions to tongue flicking and lip nibbling, she exhibited her clear determination. He had to admit, she expressed herself well without words. Her exuberant moans came close to trapping him into agreeing.
“Now tell me you cannot.” She pulled back, dropping her arms down to her sides.
Passion burned in the sparkle of her violet eyes. He rubbed her shoulders, enjoying the feel of her smooth neck. If lying were in him, he’d have told her anything she wanted to hear. However, as she had pointed out earlier, he was a noble knight who lived by the code of the Dragon Fighter’s Society. And as a man, he took pride in his good character.
“Women don’t have any business dragon fighting.” He got up, afraid that under her persistent display of wantonness, he’d yield.
“Why not? Because we’re weak, not as intelligent or agile?”
He took in her darkening eyes. The firm set of her jaw and the sternness of her voice shifted the situation from a pleasantness he enjoyed to a regretful outcome. There was no bedding a woman with a single-minded purpose. Unless—
“What if I say I shall give it some thought?” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, finding the velvety texture additive.
“Really?” Her tone gave away her distrust.
“Show me what spirit you have and I swear I will consider it.” He knew he tested the bounds of chivalry when he added, “In certain circumstances, any man can be persuaded.”
When her brow rose, a twinkle of understanding shone from her beautiful eyes. It was obvious she was not to be put off but his suggestion.
“I can be very persuasive.” She pushed him toward the narrow bed.
“I’m sure you can be.” He dropped back, going along with her plans for the moment.
Her intoxicating smile heated his insides. She leaned forward, tugging loose the string that held his shirt closed, and shoving it open. Her hot fingers glided over his chest, circling his nipples. She scratched lightly over them with her nails, and then raked a path down to his abdomen.
He rose on his elbows to watch her performance, but then had second thoughts. This wasn’t how he wanted any women. Trickery and deceit weren’t his style. Besides, Sorcha was different from the other women he knew. Yes, she was strong-willed and tenacious. Yes, she was beautiful and willing. Yet, there was a refined quality beneath her outward image of a woman with a hardened soul.
She unfastened his trousers.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” he said, giving her a chance to change her mind and save face.
She rubbed the hair fringing his groin. A scorching heat rushed from his belly over his chest, up his neck and inflamed his cheeks.
“Why Sir Henry, you’re not a virgin, are you?” She turned her hand and her knuckles brushed his hardening cock.
“I have the required experience.” He laughed, trying to shake off his unsettling embarrassment for his actions—for what Sorcha thought of him. “And you?”
The crudeness of his question coupled with the fact he didn’t want to know about her sexual activities with other men made him cringe inside. His enjoyment of a saucy wench was no different then the next man’s, so he tried to relax and forget how he wanted to shield her from debauchery.
“I am not new to sexual foreplay, Sir Henry.” Her fingers folded around his erection.
In her fisted grasp, she stroked him. Up and down, she pumped his thickening cock. The caressing friction heated his shaft. Then she squeezed harder, yanking on his sensitive skin. He reached back and grasped the smooth timber of the bed frame for support.
Had he misread her true character? Was she nothing more than a run of the mill tavern wench, bedded by dozens of men? That thought saddened him, though he didn’t know why.
Her hand settled at the root of his erection, ringing the base and coming to rest in the mat of hair.  “How does this make you feel, Sir Henry?”
All she need do was ask, and he would agree to do anything, as long as she continued.
“Good,” he answered, his voice shaky.
“Are you giving my challenge thought?” Her massaging swept over his swollen cock-head.
“Yes,” he moaned the lie. He’d try not to regret the untruth later, when his head was clear.
She rubbed a sensitive nerve that sent shivers through him.
Hurry, he wanted to beg.
“How long can you hold out?” Her breathy laugh tickled his hot erection.
He anticipated her lips slipping over the end and her wet mouth engulfing as much of his aching cock as she could take.
“Tell me, Sir Henry, will you accept my challenge?” Her serious tone and cool gaze snapped him from his waiting rapture.
“You are persistent,” he said.
“You have not answered me.” She let go of his cock.
The nippy air combined with the chill in Sorcha’s demeanor, shrank back his arousal.
“I have not regained all my senses.” He grinned, attempting to lighten the mood. “I never conduct business with a muddled brain.”
“I am more skilled than many knights in the Dragon Fighter Society.” She wiggled out of his hold and sat up. “You were half drunk when you brought me in here for your needs. I saw no slowness in thought then.”
“Ale does not interfere with lust, my pretty.” He got to his feet and tucked his genitals back into his britches. “I believe it enhances desire.”
“You are avoiding the subject, Sir Henry.” She rose and faced him with hands on hips. “Do you accept my challenge?”
“No,” he said flat out.
“You despicable, dishonorable, poor excuse for a dragon knight! You knew you would say no all along.” She spun around, her gaze sweeping the room as if she searched for something.
“You’re one to talk of dishonorable. Bring a man to the brink of ecstasy and then leave him in pain.” He rubbed his crotch, soothing the tenderness of his still throbbing cock beneath his britches. “That’s the act of a coldhearted bitch.”
He glanced up at the sound of her small gasp. He regretted his words immediately.

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