I have a little something for myself? We can enjoy each other.”
“Anything you want,” Henri said. Surely he was dreaming. No other explanation made sense for a day like this.
“Let’s go in the steam room, then. Have you ever tried it?” She gathered up his towel and a pile of others, tucking them under one arm.
“Costs extra,” he pointed out, standing up slowly. His blood was having trouble reaching his head. It kept getting diverted and pumping into his cock.
Nico held out her hand and he placed his within it. It felt natural to do so. She was like him, she knew what it was like to work all day and then to want to relax. He squeezed her hand and she peeked over her shoulder and smiled at him. She had a wide mouth, almost too large for her face, but somehow just right with her long nose and big brown eyes. When she smiled, her upper lip crinkled and so did the corners of her eyes. He would have followed her anywhere.
The steam room wasn’t very large. All of the walls were tiled, and running with droplets of water. Vapor poured into the room from a pipe near the floor. Through the billowing steam, he could barely see three wide benches placed against the walls.
He took a deep breath and nearly choked, the air was so thick. He began to sweat, or perhaps it was the steam on his skin. He couldn’t tell. “Easy,” Nico said, and then he could breathe, more deeply than he’d ever breathed before. The odor of crushed peppermint stung his nostrils. Relaxation flowed through him.
Nico spread the towels over one of the benches and all at once he understood their purpose. His cock, which had flagged a bit, recovered quickly. Nico turned to him and smiled again. “Would you help me with this?” She plucked at her now-sodden shift.
Henri palmed her breasts through the cloth first, sighing with her as he rubbed the wet fabric against her nipples. “I could eat them like apples,” he said. When he realized what he’d said, he looked away in embarrassment, but Nico giggled and put her hands on either side of his face.
“You are sweet,” she said, and kissed him. A droplet of salty sweat ran off her upper lip and into his mouth, and he swept his tongue after it, moaning low in his throat when she reciprocated, suckling his tongue and making him think of what it would be like to have a mouth on his cock. He ran one hand over the soft spikiness of her cropped hair over and over, but the other didn’t want to let go of her breast. He squeezed it rhythmically as they kissed, sure he’d found the softest thing in the world. It was funny that so soft a thing could make him so hard.
They stopped to breathe, slowly taking in the steam and letting it out again. He helped her drag her wet shift over her head, and then was lost again as he tasted the sweat on her throat and breasts while his hands traced her upper arms, petal-soft skin over muscles hard from labor. In return, Nico gripped and massaged his arms, his shoulders, his back. When her hands wandered down to his buttocks, he pressed his erection into her belly and thrust tantalizing, twisting strokes against her slippery skin.
His skin was wet, too, but felt as if it was on fire. He was going to come in a minute if he wasn’t careful. He pulled away from her, sucking air, and walked toward the bench with the towels, Nico playfully backing toward it as well. The bench caught her behind her knees, and she sat, reaching out her arms for him.
Henri sat next to her and dragged her onto his lap. He had to be inside of her soon, but he couldn’t stop moving against her for that delicious drag of wet bare skin on skin. He writhed against her with his hands, his face, his chest, his thighs. Nico straddled him now, her breasts on a level with his face. He buried his nose between them, where her scent and heat were strongest, and it was like being inside of her. He could feel her heart pounding, racing.
She shoved her belly against his erection, forcing it back against his stomach, and rubbing it between their two slick bodies. Little gasps escaped her, and he darted his tongue into her mouth three times, quickly. “Please, please let me fuck you,” he said. Before he’d quite finished speaking her chapped hand wrapped around his cock and fed it into her cunt. She plunged down and he grunted from feeling her wet cunt lips slap against his balls.
Gripping his shoulders painfully, she writhed on his cock, as if she were trying to find purchase, sucking at him from the inside and then shoving her hips forward. He worked his hand between their bodies and let her grind against the heel of his hand, hoping desperately she would start to move up and down soon; at the same time, he never wanted her to stop this exquisite torture.
“More,” she said. “More, more, fuck me!”
“Yes,” he said. Bracing his feet on the floor, he thrust upward with enough force that she jostled on his lap. Soon she joined in his motion and rode him until he thought his heart would burst. She came twice, he thought; the first time he was concentrating so hard to keep his own control that he wasn’t sure he really felt her inner flutters, but the second time was unmistakable; her cries rose and rose and then broke. He pumped into her a few more deep strokes and then he was spurting inside of her, his tension releasing in excruciating, ecstatic jerks, and even more wetness was trickling over his legs. He threw his head back against the wall, gasping, feeling as if he could sink into the wood bench. Nico leaned over to nuzzle his throat.
“You’re so sweet, Henri,” she said. “But I think you need another bath.”
This time, Nico scrubbed him off, and he scrubbed her in return. Their toweling dry turned into an impromptu kissing game, and by the time they had rubbed each other’s skins with oil, he wished he could stay even longer. But noises at the house were signaling an end to their evening together. He kissed her goodbye just inside the door, promised to return when he could, and hurried back to the stables, resolved that Nico was a very good reason to forget all about his imprudent dreams of the duchess.
Vilmos ushered Camille personally into her rooms, indicating that Kaspar and Arno were to accompany her inside, instead of posting themselves to either side of her door as they normally did.
She wished they had not been so protective of her in the duke’s presence. The duke’s will was always supposed to supersede her own, even in the matter of her personal safety. They might pay for their loyalty later. She would have to take better care for their safety. Escaping the palace would be a good first step.
Vilmos stood, as if waiting. Arno turned his back suddenly and prowled the edges of the room. “Yes?” Camille said.
“Your Grace,” Vilmos said, and inclined his head.
Camille lifted her chin. She might have sucked his cock, but she was never going to bring up the subject again, even if Vilmos felt the need to apologize. She’d had little choice. Neither had he. It was useless to dwell upon past humiliation.
Vilmos bent respectfully into a low bow, then departed, locking the door behind him. She heard the bolts slide home, and the clank of the large iron hasp that bore the duke’s seal.
With that final sound, Camille’s knees weakened. She forced herself to stay upright. She might be safe while the duke was occupied with his private amusements, but…she no longer believed she would be safe any longer than that, even if she had gotten herself with child. She could no longer bear the thought of letting the duke fuck her, and if he did not, she would be killed as quickly for being pregnant by another as he would have her killed for being barren. She had been fooling herself to think that if she gave the duke what he wanted, he would let her live.
The
