A Sinless Betrayal - Cherie Benjamin (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📗

the one I love. Abigor. I shift uncomfortably beneath him for a few seconds, getting adjusted to the pain of having him sheathed so largely in somewhere so small and tight. I can tell his restraint is faulty and his resolve is quickly shattering the more I shift around in his arms.

As the pain fades away, I experimentally thrust my hips up a little. He gasps and his eyes, the ones he'd promised not to close, slam shut. "Ohhh Gods." I'd really never heard him moan like that before and, needless to say, it excites me. I give him the 'go ahead' look and he begins slowly thrusting in and out of my body, his elbows on either side of my head.

He is so tall that when he pushes all the way into me, my face almost meets the top of his torso. I wrap my arms around his body and welcome him in. Soon my silenced whimpers of pain turn into vocal moans of pleasure as his cock rubs up against some unknown place so tenderly and so sweetly.

My nails digging into the tough, scarred skin on his back urges him faster. His hips rise faster and his manhood slams into my body with stamina. He's breathing heavy as his hands grip my slender waist. I'm moaning with each stroke of pleasure he brings me.

The pain is completely gone, nowhere to be found. The sensation of being so full with his cock inside of me is foreign but breathtaking. I lay there beneath him, my hand in his hand and his eyes locked on mine.

Like a falcon, he swoops down to capture my lips in a kiss raging with passion and want. He draws my hands up above my head and pins them there with his forearm, rhythmically thrusting into me while keeping his lips locked on mine. With his free hand, he massages my breast, flicking a thumb over my nipple to watch it pebble up in the warm bedroom.

I bury my face in his neck, brushing away his long and glorious silky black hair to kiss his pulse point. I lift my hips to meet his thrusts and the upward position makes his manhood hit a certain place that makes me cry out and shudder in his arms.

I clench around his cock, making him roar in pleasure and throw his head back, slamming into me harder. It feels so good. He promised he would make it feel good, and it most certainly does.

He's mumbling sweet things in my ear, dirty things. "Such a good girl," he mumbles softly, his teeth catching my earlobe and sucking it into his mouth. The quick strokes drag fire through my veins and make my body surge with some unknown force of pleasure.

"Oh harder," I moan. He's taking it gently because of me being his budurwa, and his wanting to take it slow to savour the moment, but it's driving me insane. "Please!"

He cannot deny me my request. He is like an animal with the way he forces himself into me so passionately. I try to prop myself up on my elbows to give myself some ground, but with each thrust into me, he brings the air into my lungs then knocks it right back out.

I throw my head back against the pillows and grasp the sheets so tightly until my knuckles turn white. His breathing is getting heavier. "I love you," I whisper to him. "Gods, how I love you."

Abigor's tongue plunges into my mouth, his hands resting on my face. "Ina son ki sosai," he murmurs. "Kar ka taba mantawa." (I love you so much. Never forget that.)

As he plunges into me, I feel my climax building. It feels like all the times he's pleasured me, whether it be with his fingers or his lips. But this time the sensation is so much more powerful and strong.

When I come, the sensation of being so full makes me want to see white. I cry out in sheer pleasure. It doesn't take him long to follow. But as I'm coming down from my pleasure-high, the thing that surprises me the most is him.

Sweat drips from his forehead and his muscles fidget. He looks so manly and strong and beautiful, but he's never pulled out of my body. There's a huge possibility that I could get pregnant.

When he finally does pull out, my virginity blood and white ribbons of cum paint my thighs. "Oh 'Eliza," he moans, shifting onto his back next to me and cupping my face in his hands, bringing my lips to his again.

We kiss passionately before he pulls away, breathing heavily. "You were amazing. Better than any woman I've ever had before."

I know it's probably a lie since he's had many whores before, but I'm not worried about that now. I nestle my head against his shoulder and press my naked body up against his. His skin is hot and comforting. He places a hand possessively on my bottom, squeezing softly.

My finger lazily traces the patterns of his stomach. "How's your niece?" I ask him.

He shrugs his massive shoulders. "Fine, I suppose. Cries all the time though."

I chuckle softly at his naivety. "She's a child, of course, she will cry." He gives me a distasteful look that makes me laugh. "Be kind to her, she will rule the kingdom one day."

He shakes his head. "Not unless I have children…or if my brother has children."

I nod my head, my fingers wrapped in the sheets. "Has one of your whores ever gotten pregnant…from one of your little rendezvous?"

He looks deep in thought for a moment. "No. No one has."

I look and feel a little sceptical. "If you don't pull out when your release comes, someone was bound to get pregnant. What if you have a child and you don't know?"

"I don't," he quickly retorts. "I have always believed that you cannot conceive a child from fucking a woman."

I give him a look. "That's how all children are—"

"No," he cuts me off sharply. "Children are conceived from making love…only making love. That's what my mother told me…that I was conceived in love and love only."

It's a nice thing to think. I shake my head and sigh. "Not all children are conceived of love. Some from rape, some from careless mistakes, and accidents."

He gives me a stern look. "Maybe that's true," he begins, shrugging his big shoulders. "But my children will be conceived of love." Then he gives me this look that renders me speechless for a few seconds. His brown eyes burn into my skin. He gulps, his fingers skirting across the skin of my bare stomach.

I try my best to ignore the action and cock my head to the side. "And do you?"

He looks down at me. "Do I what?"

"Want children," I begin. "Do you want them?"

It's a question I've been wondering for a while. He breathes out. "Of course I do. Someday I want to marry and have children…hopefully many of them." He laughs. "I can kind of see it. Little tan, naked boys running wild around the village, sweet girls clinging to my leg…it's always been there, just waiting to become a reality."

I don't press him on the arising question of whom he'll marry and have children with. I know that there's a chance it might not be me and I don't want to spoil our tender moment. "I think that when the time comes when you do have children…you'll be a great father."

He thanks me with a hot, wet kiss pressed to my temple. "Is that so? Well, I think you'll become a great mother and wife one day."

The only thing is, I don't want to marry someone if it's not him. I know of my silly fantasies, the ones I had with Cordell and living out in the countryside and birthing his children…now that fantasy seems like a distant memory even though it was only four months ago.

I can't even comprehend myself with Cordell anymore. His freckled face and shiny auburn hair are now fading away into the back of mind as if he had never existed. Abigor has been in my life, for what it seems like forever.

I sigh, preparing to ask the question. "And how have you been holding up?"

At first, he doesn't answer, but then takes a long sigh and shrugs his shoulders. "I still miss her. I always will…but having you here takes a lot of that pain away. Makes it somewhat bearable, if at all."

I smile to myself. "I'm glad that I can be the one to take your pain away, then." He smiles rather shyly at me, stroking a fingertip down my cheek.

0o0o0o0o0o

We're having another shagali tonight in mourning/celebration of Snow Lion's departure from earth's soil to the mighty heavens. We are still dressed in our blue and white colours from before.

Outside behind the castle, held near the villages is where we throw our festival. Bright lights and torches light the surroundings in the dark. Blue and white petals are thrown everywhere on the ground. Men and woman come from everywhere to make it in time for our festival.

There is food beyond compare and belief that every villager has taken the time to graciously prepare and donate, and decorations of maidens in white and other wooden sculptures are everywhere.

As for the music, there are drums and funny, little stringed instruments and flutes that the musicians are playing in the corner. The shagali music combined with nature's music makes it ever so pleasing to the ear.

Abigor had his men craft a beautiful wooden throne for me, one almost as equal to his in beauty. It's a change since last time we had a shagali. I had to sit on a fancy pillow chained to Abigor's own throne. I wear my topaz necklace around my neck under the white silk, upholding to the promise made earlier in the day. He wears his breechcloth and nothing else, whereas he would usually wear his deerskin pants with them.

Blue and white streaks of paint decorate his long and muscled torso. I was given the privilege of re-painting them on after the marks from earlier got smudged from earlier 'activities.'

Michelle is dressed in her beautiful light blue dress laced with white ribbons. Drinks of Waterfall has given her a beautiful light blue topaz stone to go with the dress. Her belly protrudes slightly, but he doesn't seem at all ashamed of her. Instead, he holds her close to his body, his big hands resting on her stomach at random intervals. He kisses her neck and she smiles.

They are in love, and they are going to have a baby. He will ask her to marry him and she will have his noble little son. She has everything I have ever wanted before in my life.

I look to my right, to Abigor, who sits in his throne, glancing over the dancing crowd of people. He looks bored, and more importantly, upset. I reach over to grasp his hand in mine. He jumps at first, but once he realizes what I'm doing, he squeezes my hand harder and gives me a sweet smile.

"Wine?" I ask him. He nods his head softly. I push myself out of my seat, the junction of my thighs aching from the activity it had experienced earlier. A young lady from the crowds, a girl of about four or five grabs my hand and hugs my hand to her chest.

"Sarauniya! Sarauniya," she exclaims, nuzzling her cheek against my forearm. I look back to Abigor. I've never heard that word in all my time of being here.

"Queen," he replies. "It means queen."

The little girl points to Abigor. "Sarki!"

I look to Abigor. "King," he tells me. "Sarauniya is queen. Sarki is king."

My jaw drops. This little girl thinks that I am Abigor's queen. "Ba," I shake my head, trying to explain to this sweet child. "Ni ba Sarauniyar." (No, I am not the queen.)

The little girl points to Abigor again. He smiles in amusement. "Ya—ya son ka. Sarauniya!