Fantasyland: Broken Dove Part 39

This was Apollo and my eyes stopped drooping mostly because I didn't know what he was talking about.

This time, I spoke.

"Sorry?"

His arms tightened. "Our play, Maddie, was rough. Very much so. And you liked it. Also very much so."

He could say that again.

But how embarra.s.sing was this?

"Well...uh...the adela tea-"

"Yes, I sense this opened even more doors for us than I earlier imagined."

I tipped my head back to look at him again.

"Sorry?"

"You took my c.o.c.k yourself. And I could feel your excitement grow when you were spanked. Further, you kept yourself spread for me at my command," he stopped. I was certain I blushed. His eyes narrowed slightly and he went on almost musingly. "In fact, you did everything I commanded."

Oh boy.

"Apollo-"

"And your climax was very long."

Yes. I was blus.h.i.+ng.

"Ap-"

His arms gave me a squeeze and he continued while his hand drifted up my back to cup my head and press my face in his throat. "We will explore this."

Oh boy!

"Deeply," he decreed.

Oh my.

He pulled me even closer and tangled his heavy legs with mine, murmuring, "I will enjoy taking you on your knees, seeing your a.r.s.e red from my hand."

G.o.d.

I was no longer blus.h.i.+ng, but I was exhausted, mortified and still, he was totally turning me on.

"Now we sleep," he announced.

Thank G.o.d.

I burrowed in closer and set about faking falling asleep fast so he couldn't do or say anything more to freak me out.

This mission failed.

And it did when he whispered, his voice gruff, on another squeeze of his arms, this one fierce, "You are a lioness."

I closed my eyes tight and said nothing.

He did.

"This pleases me."

I pressed closer and sighed.

Oh boy.

Chapter Fourteen.

Heart Too Soft for a Soldier Apollo sat on the side of the bed, s.h.i.+fted the weight of Maddie's auburn mane from her neck and curled his hand there.

He bent close and urged gently, "Wake, Madeleine."

She didn't, until he carefully pressed his fingers into her neck. Then her eyes slowly fluttered open and she turned her head on the pillow, focusing sleepily on him.

"Hey," she murmured.

He felt his gut tighten.

How could a single syllable be so sweet?

"You do not need to rouse," he whispered. "I just wished to inform you that I'm away to breakfast with my children."

"Okay, honey," she replied.

He'd heard this endearment used by the other women of her world with their men. It never occurred to him he would one day have it.

And if it did, he could not have known how much he would like it.

"I'll likely be busy throughout the day but I'll take dinner with you," he told her.

"All right," she agreed drowsily.

"Go back to sleep, dove," he finished.

"Right, baby," she murmured.

And this endearment, he had no idea why, he felt in his c.o.c.k. Every time. Even when she gave it to him while he was searching a dead man's pockets.

On this thought, his whole body stilled when she turned her head and touched her lips to the inside of his wrist, sweet, light, loving.

He had not recovered from her brief touch before she turned her face away and nuzzled into the pillows, mumbling, "Later."

He didn't move even as he sensed her slipping back to sleep. Instead, he sat there, staring at her, wondering what could move a man to strike her.

Cow her.

Make her live in fear.

Make her endure a life running.

Hurt her in any way.

Ever.

He could not allow himself to think of the other him raising his hand and killing the Christophe of that world while he grew inside his Madeleine.

He would think about that later, when he next saw Valentine. And then he would give her another Sjofn diamond, or a chest of them, to see to doing what needed to be done to the Apollo of the other world.

That was not for now.

For now, there was much to be done.

With reluctance, for he would much prefer to remove his clothes and return to her warm softness in the bed, he instead left her and the house. He went to the dower house's small four-stall stable and saddled the horse he'd ridden there. He mounted the gelding and headed home.

The short ride to the main house of Karsvall should have been taken up with his thoughts of the many things he needed to do. And if not those, then of his children.

But they were not.

They were taken with Madeleine.

His Madeleine who rushed to avenge his children. His Madeleine whose shrieks of fury he heard as he ran to the gardener's shed the night before. His Madeleine who he saw sink a blade in a man and heard threaten another, all in defense of his children.

His Madeleine who reared into his c.o.c.k, whimpered and moaned as she did as he bid, climaxing so strongly, her s.e.x convulsed around his shaft, milking him and prolonging his climax in a way he'd never experienced.

A way he liked very much.

Keeping the horse at a sedate walk, his thoughts turned troubled as they moved to Ilsa.

His wife had not been adventurous during play. He did not mind, her appet.i.tes were strong and healthy, regardless that they were conservative. She had aroused him greatly, and sated him almost nightly throughout their marriage.

However, it was not lost on him that there was often more that he wanted, desires he introduced to his marriage bed that were not spurned, but they were gently denied.

He had more than once considered suggesting adela tea to Ilsa when she was alive. In the end it was only time, and the fact that he'd run out of it, that disallowed that discussion.

With only two sessions, Madeleine had gone further with him than the years he'd had with Ilsa.

The first time-when she'd taken his shaft so deep he could feel the tip graze the back of her throat and when she'd taken his thumb in her a.r.s.e, moaning and bucking into it violently-he could attribute to the adela tea.

Last night, no.

Last night, with no tea, she'd given herself with equal abandon. He had gone to her wrought with emotion for all she'd done, burning with need and taken her in the throes of it.

But she was not frightened or repulsed. She met his pa.s.sion and even bested it.

And during their play, he did not need to be cautious, to curb his desires, to do or be anything but himself and take what he wished with Maddie giving it to him.

Gladly.

He was very aware that as they became attuned to each other, learned about each other, got used to each other, he would make comparisons between what he was building with Madeleine and what he had had with Ilsa. This would happen even if she did not look like Ilsa.

What he would not have imagined, after the loss he suffered when he lost Ilsa, was that Madeleine, it would seem, in a very short time was beginning to surpa.s.s all the beauty, intelligence and strength that had been his wife.

Fifteen years ago, his eyes fell on Ilsa, he quickly became smitten and not long after fell deeply in love.

With Madeleine, it was something else.

He could not turn his mind from her. Her smiles felt like gifts. Her laughter, a triumph. Every "honey" a treasure. Every "baby" sent a pulse through his c.o.c.k.

He was not smitten.

He was growing consumed.

And he was troubled by it.

Not that it was happening. Not that some part of him felt this swift response to Madeleine was a betrayal of Ilsa.

No, because if his world could turn dark at the loss of Ilsa and these feelings he had for Madeleine grew, what would become of him if he lost her?

The horse reached the clearing of the trees and Apollo's attention was taken away from Maddie when he saw Achilles and Draven on the front steps of Karsvall, a horse at the foot, Derrik packing it.

All that needed to be done last night was done with the swiftness it required. Therefore, he had little time to speak to any of his men as he did it, other than to give orders. And he'd gone directly to Maddie, so there was no time after it was done.

Regardless, he would not have been able to talk to Derrik for, after they extracted the information from the a.s.sa.s.sin, Derrik had absented himself completely.

At the time, Apollo had neither the time nor the desire to search him out and share grat.i.tude for his efforts at keeping Christophe, elan and Karsvall safe.

Now, he would take that time and hope what had elapsed since he'd last seen his friend had helped to cool his ire.

He kicked his horse to a trot and reined in when he was close to Derrik's mount, seeing it packed for a journey.

Apollo home, clearly Derrik was returning to the Lazarus seat.