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Beast

A reader asks, "Will you please post a really delicious sex scene? Pretty please?"

Now how can I refuse a request like that? Ok, a really delicious sex scene, coming right up. This is seriously NOT SAFE FOR WORK. This is an explicit sex scene. If you do not want to read an explicit sex scene, or you are fourteen years old, do not click on the cut tag!

This is from The Marshal's Lover, the third book with Elza. This is in Warsaw in January, 1807, and Elza and Michel have been lovers for six years.




It was bitterly cold, Orion riding high over the rooftops of Warsaw. I was quartered in the palace itself, a small room right up among the chimney pots, but I was lucky to have it, something owed to my unspecified services. I'm not certain who the servants thought I was. If it were only that I were Michel's I would not warrant a room in the palace.

My maid, Claudine, had lit the fire and it glowed in the small grate in a friendly fashion, the big carved bed piled high with blankets, warm though the frost sat heavily on the window. It was the seventeenth of January. I locked the door behind us, Michel swinging his heavy velvet cloak over the back of the sole armchair before the fire, his dress sword at his side. Once he had traveled without such state. I'd hunted all over Munich to find proper shoes for him, counting dress uniform and sword a lost cause, but that had been six Christmases ago. Then he had been a young general of the Republic. Now he was a Marshal of France.

And yet some things had not changed at all. When I reached up to kiss him it was as heady as it had been then, and as tender. He bent his forehead to mine, his hands cupping my chin as I stretched my arms about his neck.

"Your hair's grown out again," he said.

"It does that." I smiled and dropped my lips to his palm, kissing the sensitive center, nipping at the skin between thumb and forefinger with my teeth.

His breath hissed, and I felt his hand tighten at my throat. "I hoped you would be here," he said.

"He's run me ragged since Jena," I said. "What with one thing and another. But that business is done and I hope to have a rest." Michel did not ask me where I had been or what I had accomplished. Perhaps I would have told him and perhaps not. I had been on the Emperor's business, and the less said of that the better. Michel knew the shape of my work, as I did his, but not the specifics.

"So you are simply here to be an ornament to society?" His callused thumb traced the shape of my lower lip.

"I hope so," I said. "But one does get lonely on leave." My eyes flicked to his, conscious of the quickness of my pulse against his palm.

"And what do you do about that?" he said, stepping a little closer so that I could feel his body along mine. "Lift your skirts whenever the whim takes you?"

"More or less," I said. In truth it had been three long, celibate months, but I would never say that. "Any handsome fellow home from the field…." My hand slid down the front of his waistcoat, fumbling at the buttons between us.

"A girl could get in trouble that way," he said somewhat breathlessly.

"Could she now?"

"She might bite off more than she could chew." He tilted my head up and bent his face to my throat, kissing where the pulse leaped, following the chain of my pendant down between my breasts.

"I imagine she could," I managed. I could not get to those buttons, ivory satin covered buttons on ivory satin, too slippery to undo with one hand.

"Someone who is not so nice…."

I gasped as he lifted my breast roughly, thumbing the nipple to attention as he pulled at my neckline. The dress couldn’t really stand it, and it was my only evening gown. "Between the bedposts," I said. "Naked."

"If you like."

It was a four poster with very sturdy columns and a turned crossbar between them, all elaborate knobs and whorls, just across my belly as I stood at the foot of the bed, divesting myself of the last of shift and bustier. I looked up at the posts speculatively. "I don't think I've got anything…."

He unwound his elaborate cravat. "Just hold onto the posts and imagine." He had shed coat and waistcoat and sword, and more pieces to his evening ensemble than to mine.

"What is that for then?" I asked as he folded the cravat.

"This," he said, and laid it across my eyes.

"Oh." I closed my hands around the carved posts as he tied it behind my head, careful not to pull my hair in the knot, the knob of the crossbar against my lower belly. Blindfolded, the kiss of cool air on my skin seemed sharper. Deprived of sight, other senses intensified.

He tugged on the blindfold once, then stepped back. I heard soft sounds, unidentifiable, my breath in the silence. Intense, this nothing. Intense, this absence of touch to go with absence of sight, legs apart, arms stretched up the posts. Waiting. Waiting. My breasts tightened, nipples responding to the cold, and I felt the tell tale warmth begin between my legs, ripe with anticipation.

"You look like a sacrifice to some pagan god," he said, and I knew he was watching me. He was seeing every change, every flush, every desire written on my flesh.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Some terrible sacrifice," he said, his voice moving as he walked around to my left. "A woman left bound between two trees in the forest, given to the creatures of the wood." His fingers traced my spine from shoulder blades to waist, and I jumped. "To the monster. To the beast."

"Given to the beast," I whispered. "Just punishment." I could imagine the starlit wood, the silence of the forest. And the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Sacrifice and payment," he said. "Her flesh to appease the beast." I couldn't tell exactly where he was. My entire body strained to know, still holding onto the posts as though bound there. I wanted the warmth of him. I wanted to know where he was. And yet there was nothing. No touch. The beast simply watched me, deciding what to do.

"Yes," I said. "To appease the beast."

And there was his hand at my cleft, reaching between my legs to grasp me by my pubic hair, sharp and startling and painful, his other hand pushing me forward against the knob of the crosspiece.

"Soaking wet," he said, his voice a low rumble behind me. "You want this. You'll even take a beast."

He was naked against me, the sudden shocking feel of his body against mine, hairy chest against my back, as though it really were the lord of the forest who stood there, or some minotaur out of legend, half man and half creature.

"Beast," he said, and drove into me from behind, pulling me back onto him, his calloused thumb against my pearl.

I shrieked, holding onto the posts for dear life. Bound between trees in the wood, the monster's enormous prick inside me….

"Knowing," he said breathlessly, "That it will have you over and over. It will take you until you beg and plead and still…."

"…and still," I gasped. In this mood it would not take him long.

"And still you'll come for it, come with that creature…."

"…come for the beast," I said. And he would. He would make me. He would make me as often as I wanted. Not yet, not enough, but for more than long enough. He thrust again savagely, the knob of the crosspiece against my bladder, sweet pain and tension.

He gasped and stiffened, undone, his hand suddenly stilling and I let go and took it, lost in the fantasy of the creature in the wood, the one who I might never see. The rush of his warmth, of his release, staining me, marking me his….

"Don't stop," I said.

"Never." His breath was rough and he leaned against me heavily, his face against my neck. "Never."

"The creature is without mercy," I said.

"And before the dawn comes you will weep," he said, reaching about me and grasping my breast roughly, as though it were some monstrous hand that clutched at me, nails scratching my flesh.

"Yes." The pressure, the helplessness…. His other hand moved again, the back of his knuckles parting my nether lips, and I ground down against it. So close. And not quite.

"Given to it to satiate its lust…"

"Yes." So close. So wet. So dark and bright. The world dissolved and I clutched the posts, wrung out again and again, great rolling spasms that shook me.

"And again," he said, his thumb pressing inside me as I ground against his hand. "Without ending."

I threw my head back, another storm taking me, held up by nothing except the posts and his hand inside me, my knees giving way, shaking in a high wind.

"There," he said smugly as I leaned against him. "There." He stretched his arm up along mine, as though he undid invisible bindings. His big hand caressed my wrist, caressed each finger and unclenched them from the post.

I reached up and slid the blindfold off shakily, finding my feet beneath me again. "Oh my God." I turned against him, chest to chest and belly to belly.

"Good?"

"Good," I said. I put my arm about his waist. "How is my favorite beast?"

"Cold," Michel said. "I should have thought of that before."

"It's Warsaw in January," I said, making my way gingerly around one side of the bed. "Perhaps next time something under the covers, so my poor beast doesn't freeze!"

Michel dove in on the other side. "Your poor beast needs considerably more fur if he's going to haunt the forests of Poland stark naked."

I settled down beneath the blankets, the firelight burnishing his hair with bronze. He held out his arm to me and I curled against his shoulder, nose against his flesh, warm and seamed with one long, pale scar. I twined my legs with his, cuddling together tight and safe. He yawned.

"Well, then," I said, and closed my eyes.

Comments

( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
cadenzamuse
Sep. 25th, 2012 08:15 pm (UTC)
Um, hello, HOT SEX. I'll be in my bunk.
jo_graham
Sep. 25th, 2012 11:14 pm (UTC)
*g* I'm glad that it gets that reaction! I had the feeling you'd like Michel....
cadenzamuse
Sep. 25th, 2012 11:56 pm (UTC)
Of course I like Michel. He is totally my type.

Also, in TMI news, there are sex scenes that make me think "HOT SEX" and there are sex scenes that make me think "I CAN'T WAIT UNTIL MY PARTNER GETS HOME SO I CAN JUMP HIS BONES!" This scene is definitely in the latter category: two connected people who are being intimate and having fun and being kinky is not only "turns me on" material, but material that reminds me of how awesome sexual partnerships can be, and why I like mine.
jo_graham
Sep. 26th, 2012 11:41 am (UTC)
Hee! That's good to hear!

There's the conventional wisdom that established relationships are boring. You can't ever let your main character get into an established relationship because once they're together there is nothing left for the writer to do! I disagree with that a lot. I think it's possible to make an established relationship just as hot and full of tension as the more usual will-they/won't-they.
aishabintjamil
Sep. 26th, 2012 03:13 am (UTC)
Very nice indeed. :-) Inspiring even.
jo_graham
Sep. 26th, 2012 11:41 am (UTC)
Why thank you! ;)
linneasr
Sep. 26th, 2012 01:06 pm (UTC)
Whoa. Mmmm. Yes. Well, then.

:-)
jo_graham
Sep. 26th, 2012 07:55 pm (UTC)
I'm glad it whets your interest! Er....
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )