Honor Bound by Joey Hill (good novels to read in english TXT) 📗

A long silence. Then, “I wish to ride.”

“What?”

Her face was a study in challenge. “You said I could go on top. Did you mean it?”

“Fuck, yes!’

Rhio stood so abruptly, water slopped over the rim of the bath. Handing Amae out, he wrapped her in a big towel, drying her with brisk swipes until she begged for mercy between throaty chuckles.

Godsdammit, where?

On the other side of the room was a thick rug, laid before an unlit fireplace. It would do.

Grabbing more towels, he spread them out, pulling her down with him. Lying on his back, he hauled her supple body on top of his and spread out his arms. “All yours.”

In the small chamber, the words echoed with the ring of truth.

Amae gazed down at him for an endless moment, spots of color flying in her cheeks.

“You’re still wet,” she said.

Rhio grinned. “Not as wet as you, love.” He rolled his hips as a hint.

“You have a high opinion of yourself, Captain R-Rhio-marrd.” She leaned forward to lap a rill of water from his collarbone, to lick a nipple.

He choked on a laugh. “Perfectly justified.”

Amae breathed a sigh against his skin, stirring the hairs on his chest. “That is true.” His belly fluttered in the strangest way.

Slowly, she sat up, his cock splitting the lips of her sex, all warm, welcoming satin.

Slender fingers traced the line of hair from his chest over his belly, down to the bush around his shaft.

When she hesitated, he thought he might die. “There’s no wrong way to do this, Dancer.”

Grasping him firmly, she hauled in a breath and sank down the first delightful,

excruciating inch. Then she stopped, tossing her head. “I am no longer Dancer. My name, say it.”

“Gods, you’re hot inside. Amae, you’re killing me.”

A purring murmur and she took another inch. “Very good. What comes after that?”

“Shit!” Rhio resisted the urge to punch up into all that gorgeous, gloving heat. “d’hara . . .

d’haraleen.”

“Yes!” She took him to the halfway point. His eyes rolled back in his head. “Come on, Rhio, the rest, say the rest!”

He licked his lips. “In a hurry, are you?”

Instead of answering, she whimpered and squirmed. Rhio lost his mind. “Fuck it!

t’Lenquisquilirian!” He got it out in a single breath. Gripping her hips, he thrust himself inside, all the way to the hilt.

Amae shrieked, her hair whipping about her shoulders.

She rode him as if she were riding to battle, pennants flying, drums beating. With each downward plunge, she tightened her internal muscles, milking his cock, just as knowing, just as uncompromising as his own strong fist. The pleasure was so intense, Rhio’s vision grayed out at the edges. All he could see was Dancer, giving him everything she had to give, her nipples stiff, her skin gleaming with drops of perfumed water and sweat.

Fumbling, he stretched out a hand, rubbing a finger over the glistening prow of her clit.

With a cry of triumph, she redoubled her efforts, milking, squeezing, compressing.

Rhio came so hard his vision blanked out entirely, leaving him to jet his seed in a dark pulsing space, the excruciating rush of release from balls to cock almost more than he could bear. Vaguely, he was aware of Amae’s high, formless whimpers, ending with a near-masculine grunt of satisfaction as she collapsed on his chest, breathing like a runner.

Thank the Brother for that.

Too stunned for speech, Rhio wrapped both arms around her and concentrated on putting himself back together.

But when she began to shiver, he knew the time had come. With a sigh, he rolled them over, found a dry towel and tucked her underneath it.

Kissing her forehead, he said, “You need to know John will keep you safe for as long as you want to stay in Holdercroft. Your future is your own.”

“I know.”

Fuck, this was impossible!

He cleared his throat. “John wrote to me a few months ago. When he heard my twenty years was nearly up.”

Amae traced a scar with one fingertip. “What does that mean?”

“I can choose to sign on again, or I can leave and take my pension. Either way, I get a twenty-year bonus. The Queen signed all the papers for me before we left.”

He didn’t think it would be tactful to mention that the slave Dancer had cost him exactly half his bonus, to be paid into the Royal Treasury of Sikara IV. Godsdammit, lucky he had savings. She owed Dancer her life, Her Majesty had pointed out with a twinkle. What was more, the poor child had no relatives to look out for her. Rhio could regard the money as a form of dowry.

Amae would be vastly amused when he told her, he thought wryly.

She made an indeterminate noise. The finger tracing patterns on his skin stopped moving.

He plowed on. “I grew up in the country. Not around here, but nonetheless . . .” Get onwith it, coward! “I know it’s not very . . . exciting, but for years I’ve dreamed of returning to the life I knew as a boy. Of having my own family—sons, daughters, it doesn’t matter.”

Amae had gone completely still, her head pressed to his chest.

“John wants to go back to his family’s farm. He’s asked me to take over the tavern, maybe buy it from him one day. I could do that, Amae. I’d enjoy it.”

“Then why don’t you?”

This was it.

Gently, he cupped his hand under her chin, raising her face. “That depends on you. I can’t stay here unless you want me to.”

She blinked. “Me?”

He grunted an affirmative, unable to do more.

Amae braced her elbows on his chest and took his stubbled cheeks between her hands.

“R-Rhio, do you want to stay in Holdercroft or do you want to stay with me?”

It took all the courage he possessed to meet her gaze, to expose the depth of his need.

“You,” he said baldly. “Forever. Please.”

“Ah,” said Amae thoughtfully. “There is a price, yes?”

His heart flopped like a landed fish. “What?”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course.”

Her eyes flashed. “You will tell me you love me every