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Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 32 из 148” He ran his hand through my hair, pushing deep so that his fingers brushedmy scalp. It made me cuddle my head against his hand. He closed his fingers into a fist, and was suddenly jerking my hair tight in his hand. It sped my pulse in my throat, tearing a sound from my mouth that was not pain. My skin blazed to white-hot life.
“We do not have to be gentle,” Mistral said. He leaned his face near mine. “Do we, Princess?”
I whispered, “No.”
He pulled my hair tighter, and I cried out. I felt rather than saw some of the other men move toward us. Mistral pulled my hair tight again, bending my neck to one side, moving my body a little out from under Abeloec. “I am not hurting you, am I, Princess?”
“No.” All I could do was whisper.
“I don’t think they heard you,” he said. He twisted his hand tight and sudden in my hair. He put his lips against my cheek and whispered, “Scream for me.” The blue lines crawled from my skin to his, and again I saw that outline of lightning on his cheek.
I whispered, “What will you do, if I don’t scream?”
He kissed me, ever so gently against my cheek. “Hurt you.”
My breath came out in a shudder. “Please,” I sighed.
Mistral laughed, a wonderful deep laugh, with his face pressed against mine and his hand still tight in my hair. “Hurry, Abeloec, hurry, or we will have to fight to see who is first.” He let go of my hair so abruptly that this motion, too, hurt a little, and forced a sound from me. Mistral turned me back over to Abeloec with my eyes unfocused, and my breath either coming too fast or nearly stopping for a moment — I couldn’t quite tell. My pulse seemed uncertan if I was afraid or thrilled. But it was as if now that Mistral touched me again, he could not quite give up touching me. He kept his fingers against the side of my neck, as if he wanted to help my pulse decide.
“I do not like to cause pain,” Abeloec said. His body was not quite as happy as it had been.
“Pain is not the only way to pleasure,” I said.
His dark eyes narrowed at me from the shine of his face. “You do not have to have pain to be pleasured?”
I shook my head, feeling the lingering ache where Mistral’s hand had been. “No.”
Doyle’s deep voice came out of the dark. “Meredith likes violence, but she also likes gentleness. It depends on her mood, and yours.”
Both Abe and Mistral looked at him. “The queen cares nothing for our moods,” Mistral said.
“This one will,” Doyle said.
“We do not have to be gentle,” Mistral said. He leaned his face near mine. “Do we, Princess?”
I whispered, “No.”
He pulled my hair tighter, and I cried out. I felt rather than saw some of the other men move toward us. Mistral pulled my hair tight again, bending my neck to one side, moving my body a little out from under Abeloec. “I am not hurting you, am I, Princess?”
“No.” All I could do was whisper.
“I don’t think they heard you,” he said. He twisted his hand tight and sudden in my hair. He put his lips against my cheek and whispered, “Scream for me.” The blue lines crawled from my skin to his, and again I saw that outline of lightning on his cheek.
I whispered, “What will you do, if I don’t scream?”
He kissed me, ever so gently against my cheek. “Hurt you.”
My breath came out in a shudder. “Please,” I sighed.
Mistral laughed, a wonderful deep laugh, with his face pressed against mine and his hand still tight in my hair. “Hurry, Abeloec, hurry, or we will have to fight to see who is first.” He let go of my hair so abruptly that this motion, too, hurt a little, and forced a sound from me. Mistral turned me back over to Abeloec with my eyes unfocused, and my breath either coming too fast or nearly stopping for a moment — I couldn’t quite tell. My pulse seemed uncertan if I was afraid or thrilled. But it was as if now that Mistral touched me again, he could not quite give up touching me. He kept his fingers against the side of my neck, as if he wanted to help my pulse decide.
“I do not like to cause pain,” Abeloec said. His body was not quite as happy as it had been.
“Pain is not the only way to pleasure,” I said.
His dark eyes narrowed at me from the shine of his face. “You do not have to have pain to be pleasured?”
I shook my head, feeling the lingering ache where Mistral’s hand had been. “No.”
Doyle’s deep voice came out of the dark. “Meredith likes violence, but she also likes gentleness. It depends on her mood, and yours.”
Both Abe and Mistral looked at him. “The queen cares nothing for our moods,” Mistral said.
“This one will,” Doyle said.