Part 3 (1/2)
Too light. Ysa moaned. ”I'm yours,” she sobbed. ”Yours, Pan!”
He pressed his fingers into the magical place over and over, fast and strong as a heartbeat. ”Again,” he ordered.
”I'm yours.” His hips moved, ramming his manhood into her. Ysa rocked back, meeting him stroke for stroke.
”Again!”
”Yours, yours, yours!” Ysa cried in time with each thrust, each stroke of his fingers. Pan gasped, burying himself deep, pulsing inside her as his seed spilled. Ysa's p.u.s.s.y constricted around his delightful touch. Arching, she screamed as a torrent of pure ecstasy washed through her, her a.s.s wringing his c.o.c.k dry as her c.u.n.t sucked on his firm, fondling fingers.
”Oh, G.o.ddess,” Ysa moaned as they collapsed on the blankets. ”Oh, G.o.ddess.” So many times, Pan had wanted to touch her there, and always she had pushed him away, saving that part of herself for Vitale.
Now, it was as though Pan had awakened a sleeping giant within her. One with a very l.u.s.tful appet.i.te. She wanted to experience that feeling again, desperately. Rolling over onto her back, she ran a hand across her quivering abdomen, reaching for that feverish place between her legs.
Pan sat up beside her, eyes glittering. ”That's it, little witch.” He moved, pus.h.i.+ng her legs apart, kneeling between them, watching as she tentatively pressed one finger between her swollen lips.
Heat flooded her cheeks as his hungry gaze drank in the sight of her. Embarra.s.sment this time, not l.u.s.t. It seemed wrong for him to see her touching herself. Hesitantly, at first, then more and more eagerly as her own touch drove her toward fulfillment, Ysa explored her p.u.s.s.y while Pan looked on, grinning like a demon.
When she found the magic spot, she gasped, arching.
”Oh, yes,” Pan whispered. ”That's it, Ysa. You see how good it can be?”
She writhed, thras.h.i.+ng her head from side to side as she fingered that spot, eager to experience that blinding ecstasy once more. She couldn't seem to make it happen. Harder and faster she rubbed, until sweat stung her eyes.
Pan reached out, pressing the heel of her hand tight against the swollen nub above her slit, showing her how to rub it back and forth as her fingers worked. ”G.o.ddess,” Ysa gasped.
”That's it.” Pan reached for her legs, crossing one over the other, trapping her hand between them.
Ysa gasped, palm pressed tight against her throbbing bud, fingers flicking the magical place again and again as she pressed her legs tightly together. ”Aaaaah!” She screamed as ecstatic heat flooded her belly. Squirming, she relished the sensation of her hot flesh contracting again and again on her buried fingers.
When the feeling had pa.s.sed, Ysa looked at Pan with new understanding. ”I never dreamed anything could feel so good.”
He crawled across the covers to lie alongside her. ”You see, Ysa?” His tongue tasted her ear as his fingers crept along her belly, slithered like snakes among her dark curls. ”I only want to please you.” His fingertips teased her dark cavern as his thumb stroked her c.l.i.t. ”And it will be even better, when I finally bury my manhood in this hot flesh.” Damp heat coc.o.o.ned one nipple as Pan began to suck, driving his fingers deep inside her, pus.h.i.+ng her again toward the brink of pleasure.
Ysa gasped, wriggling as corkscrews of pleasure twisted through her abdomen. She had no intention of letting Pan's manhood touch that part of her. She must still save something for Vitale.
As that new, delicious sensation rose in her belly once again, she closed her eyes and pressed eagerly into his practiced touch.
Of course, there was no reason for her to tellhim that. Not yet.
He brought her exquisite pleasure twice more before insisting that they continue on their way. ”As much as I am enjoying this, it will be even more pleasurable when I am sure we are out of harm's way.”
Ysa made a show of acting disappointed as she dressed, but in truth, the novelty had begun to wear off. She was sore now, and tired. And thoughts of Vitale kept fluttering uneasily through her mind. She had sworn to save her sacred woman's place for him. A private vow, but one that had quelled her guilt during the past year and more because she could tell herself that she was still a virgin, that the treasure of her hot p.u.s.s.y would belong only to Vitale.
And now, Pan had touched it.She had touched it. Was she still a virgin? Even though no man's staff had penetrated her secret core, she sensed that she was not.
She pictured Vitale as she had last seen him. Muscled like a wainwright, taller and broader than he'd ever been in life -- and he had not been a small man. Wings spread out behind him like a gray cloak. And his c.o.c.k. She s.h.i.+vered, remembering the quick glimpse she'd had just before Vitale launched himself into the air.
Oh, yes. She fumbled with her s.h.i.+rt-tail, tucking it clumsily into her breeches as a tremor ran through her. She couldn't wait to have that huge, solid length wrapped by her hot flesh.
Taking several deep breaths to calm her racing pulse, Ysa ran her fingers through her hair, combing it into some semblance of order. Before, she had bowed to Vitale's sense of propriety, knowing that his family's reputation in the village was important to him. But things were different now.
Ysa smiled. Once she showed Vitale the pleasure they could have together, he was certain to forgive her for playing with Pan.
He might even thank her.
Chapter 8: Sanctuary.
Ysa nearly sobbed when the spires of Spoleto's churches appeared above the mist. It had actually taken four days more for them to reach the town, the last two spent sleeping on the ground while a gray rain fell.
It was quiet, the clattering steps of their mount echoing strangely among the Roman arches and ruins they traversed to reach the town proper. The bell tower of Spoleto's magnificent cathedral rose like a sentinel from the mist before them.
Pan rode up to a building with a rather austere facade, guiding their mount around to the back gate.
”Chiesa di Sant'Eufemia,” he said. The church of Saint Eufemia.
Pan sprang to the ground and rang a bell attached to the iron fence. In a few short minutes a door opened at the building's rear. A tall, hooded figure took the lantern from its hook by the door and glided across to the gate. ”How can the sisters help you?” asked a voice in dulcet tones.
”Dia.”
”Pandolfo.” The word was a purr. ”So good to hear your voice.”
”And yours.” Pan turned to Ysa, holding out his arms. She allowed him to help her down from the horse. ”We are in need of sanctuary, Diamante.”
Ysa could see nothing beneath the hood and cape which covered the figure, but she felt the woman studying her with a strange intensity. ”I see.” The woman reached out, sliding a key into the lock.
She held the gate open until they had pa.s.sed within, then shut it and twisted the key in the lock again. Turning, she pointed to a building toward the back of the fenced area. ”You may stable your mount there. I will prepare a room.”
Pan led the black to its accommodations, leaving Ysa to follow as the figure wafted silently toward the door.
Once inside, their benefactor doffed her hooded cloak, hanging the garment on one of a series of pegs in the hall. Turning, she studied Ysa, and Ysa returned her measured stare.
She was tall -- taller than Pandolfo, Ysa thought. Slender, yet well-endowed. Her dress was the gray-black of a nun, but made of fine material that clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. Her rounded neckline plunged so low that Ysa could see the curved edge of one dark areola peeking out.
She dragged her gaze upward, cheeks hot, and found the woman staring intently at her own b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Looking down, Ysa saw that in this light, with Pan's s.h.i.+rt stretched so tightly across them, her own dark areoles were clearly visible beneath the white fabric. She cleared her throat, embarra.s.sed. ”It was the only thing I had to wear.”
The woman's eyes met hers. They were a strange color -- a sort of reddish-brown, like the polished wood that graced much of Vincente de Orphieto's home. Beautiful, with a curtain of long lashes through which they devoured Ysa. ”What is your name?”
”Y-Ysa,” she stammered, confused by the way her nipples were tightening -- by the sudden flush of desire that heated her chest. This 'nun' exuded pure s.e.xuality in a way that Ysa had never encountered inanyone , much less a woman of the cloth!
”No need to apologize, Ysa.” Dia's gaze dropped to her chest again, then flickered up to meet her eyes once more. ”They are beautiful.”
Ysa dropped her gaze, taking a step back. The woman laughed softly. ”Come, child. We will prepare a room.” She turned and began walking down the hall.
Ysa hesitated a moment, then followed. The woman's hips swayed seductively as she walked. To her horror, Ysa felt the heat in her chest spreading, felt a throbbing in her groin. How could this be?