Delectably Undone! Part 15

Takeshi suddenly realized that this maiden's own rebelliousness had already pierced the stoic wall around his heart, the fortress he had thought to be impenetrable. If Miku, a gentle poet, could demand that her will be honored and her desires fully met, then surely so could a worldly warrior like himself.

At once, the thought of even just one night with this alluring poet made the risk of death seem trivial. And one night might be all he could hope to enjoy-for her uncle would surely attempt to demand his life in payment for Miku's chast.i.ty.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and thick with desire. "I will not return your scrolls."

As the sun finished its slow descent beyond the distant mountains and dusk cast a purple glow through the thin walls of her parlor, Miku gazed steadily into the samurai's face. What had started as a game, a way to prove she was in control, had quickly become something far more serious. And far more intriguing. Was this soldier really offering his body-all of it-for her pleasure alone?

With trembling hand, Miku dipped her brush once more into the ink bowl before again tracing it gently up his muscular leg. No longer attempting to write actual characters on his bare flesh, Miku's poetry was now the primal, wordless yearning she felt blossoming within her heart toward this brazen soldier. Though they had just met, she no longer questioned her true desires.

She looked at him fully, her eyes taking in the length of his body above her, savoring the tremulous thrill that tingled through her when she saw him stiffen under her gaze.

Although she had tasted none that evening, Miku felt as if pure saki coursed through her veins. Her skin seemed heated from within, flushed with a growing flame of desire, and her mind swam with a dizzying intoxication more potent than sweet rice wine.

Takeshi looked at her steadily, waiting for her command. Yet who really controlled this moment, Miku wondered? Their eyes remained locked for a long minute before she lowered her brush from where it hovered above his bare leg.

"Lie next to me," she said, her heart tingling with excitement though her voice remained calm.

She held her breath, wondering if the tough samurai would accept a maiden's directive. But wordlessly, Takeshi knelt, pausing with his handsome face inches from her own. Her breath caught, and she wondered if he were about to kiss her again. She desired his insolence-hoped for a bold and inappropriate act. Yet as she leaned her face toward his, lips soft to receive his embrace, he moved away to recline beneath her.

Disappointment instantly p.r.i.c.ked Miku. After boldly stripping away all his clothes, Takeshi would now pretend to be merely an obedient soldier...rather than a man beholden to no one, with untamed desires and dangerous pa.s.sions? Her disappointment quickly flashed to frustration. How dare this samurai play such games with her?

"I have obeyed," said Takeshi, a knowing smile softening one corner of his mouth, though his eyes remained dark and impenetrable.

"And yet you have not given me what I want," said Miku as she tossed her brush away and glared at Takeshi.

Instantly, his smile hardened into a look of unmitigated hunger. "That is because I am not done obeying," he said, his voice a low with desire. "And neither are you. Remove your kosode."

Shocked into capitulation by the abruptness of his command, Miku loosened the silk belt of her gown, allowing the front panels to fall open and reveal her bare flesh beneath. The cool night air from the open veranda skimmed her skin like a dancing koi brushing against a water lily.

"Now show me what you desire," he said, his authoritative tone tempered by longing. The tautness of his muscles as he lay at her knees revealed the depth of Takeshi's inner struggle. Though capable of taking what he wanted at will, he had instead chosen to remain still and wait for her.

Miku leaned down, and, like a b.u.t.terfly lighting on an upturned flower, her lips gently explored his mouth. Her heart fluttered wildly as she tasted him, the warmth of his mouth a tantalizing invitation to deepen the kiss. And when she did, seeking out his tongue with her own, his mouth responded with a shared pa.s.sion. Surely, she thought, there could be no greater bliss than the sweet connection of their intoxicating kiss.

He lifted his hands, sweeping them slowly up to her shoulders and pushing back the open robe. Lost in the new delight she had found at his mouth, Miku did not think to modestly resist as her clothing fluttered to the floor, or when his hands moved to cup her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

No longer was she a n.o.blewoman to give commands. With the sweep of his hands, Takeshi once again captivated his prisoner.

His calloused fingertips began to circle lightly, their touch tracing the outer edge of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She sighed with delighted pleasure, mesmerized by the gentle brush of his hands across her tingling flesh. And then without warning his thumb flicked across the peak of one breast, releasing sparks of pleasure that shocked her out of her sensual reverie. She felt her nipples tighten and became acutely aware of her position, naked on her hands and knees above him. She realized she could not move her hands to cover her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s without losing her balance.

Suddenly shy, Miku tried to shift away, but Takeshi's grasp tightened around a handful of ebony hair at the base of her neck. He pressed her lips back to his while once more his other hand tickled across the hardened peaks of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She squirmed with renewed pleasure as he held her in his kiss, unwilling to release his captive. She was his to possess, with no possibility-and no desire-of resistance or escape.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw in his gaze a molten hunger. With his unyielding hold on the back of her head, she could not look down at the hand on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s but was forced to wait in blind antic.i.p.ation for the next achingly delicate stroke. She saw heated delight flicker in his eyes each time his fingertips caused a surprised moan to escape her lips.

His fingers continued to tease her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, sometimes lightly pinching their peaks until she thought her legs would go weak with ecstasy and sometimes waiting so long between caresses that she would grow impatient and angry, longing for the excitement of his touch. And with each brush of his war-hardened hands, a tingling ache deepened between her legs.

When she had bent to kiss the samurai, Miku had imagined the moment to be hers to dictate. She was the poet, after all, and he a compliant canvas at her feet. Yet Takeshi's firm grip on her hair as he relentlessly consumed her mouth and caressed her hardened nipples told her she no longer controlled this man or what he would do with her. But rather than scaring her, that realization seemed to fuel an even deeper pa.s.sion. His fingers on her body and his lips against her mouth had unleashed a raw hunger she had never before known.

The ache between her legs was an overwhelming throb now, and, letting her eyes close, she began to slowly roll her hips. Her conscious mind could not fathom what she needed, but her body told her there was a release from the delighted agony she was enduring if only she could open her legs and press her hips against something, against him. She stretched her back as her hips continued to sway, giving herself over to carnal instinct as she sought to satisfy her growing arousal. And yet her undulations seemed to only intensify her excitement without bringing any release.

Finally she moaned, her primal sound of delight and frustration a wordless plea to Takeshi. Instantly, he moved his hand from her tingling b.r.e.a.s.t.s, wrapped both arms tightly around her and pressed her supple body down to his muscle-hardened form.

Caught in Takeshi's powerful embrace, Miku didn't resist when the samurai rolled her gently onto a nest of silken floor cushions, their kiss never breaking. He was next to her now, his flesh radiating heat as he pressed his torso against her soft skin and slid his hands up the length of her arms, pinning her hands above her head. His grip around her wrists was firm and sure, the touch of a man who knew power and expected submission. It was a warrior's touch, and she had no choice but to surrender to it. Yet the tenderness revealed as his fingertips traced the curves of her palms a.s.sured Miku that her lover could release her the instant she requested.

But she did not want him to let her go. She wanted him to possess her, to consume her, to be joined with her forever.

Takeshi's iron grasp on her wrists lightened, and he whispered a gentle warning into her ear: "You will not move. You are my prisoner, and mine to command." Her breath caught as he released her hands, but she obeyed and left them stretched above her, delighting in the intensity of his desire for her.

Takeshi, his black mane of hair falling loose across his chiseled face, slowly slid down her body, his kiss lingering first on her neck, then her throat, and finally taking in the achingly sensitive tip of one breast. She arched into his mouth as his lips closed around her nipple, his tongue flicking back and forth as she writhed slowly next to him in agonized bliss.

As he continued to tease her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with his mouth, Miku watched as if in a dream while Takeshi slid one hand slowly around the curve of her hip, down her b.u.t.tock and underneath her leg, lifting it at the knee and pressing it outward. She was open to him now, and, uncertain of his intentions, she watched as his hand moved to stroke the heated flesh of her inner thigh. Not thinking to be shy, she only trembled with antic.i.p.ation, awaiting the unfathomable pleasure his next touch would surely bring.

Slowly he released her breast with a lingering kiss and raised his eyes to meet hers. With moonlight reflecting in his dark gaze, he traced the delicate curve of her mouth with his fingertips, their roughness softened by the gentleness of his touch. In instinctive answer to the deep hunger of his stare, she opened her mouth to his caress, her tongue moving playfully across his fingertips as his had just done with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

His low moan of pleasure told her she had guessed his desires correctly, and she eagerly took his fingers into her mouth, sucking them with a hunger of her own. Finally, with a reluctant groan, he slid his hand away from her lips and down the soft curves of her body. Wet with her kisses, his fingertips lightly caressed a tiny point between her legs. Miku cried out in surprise at the overwhelming sensation that instantly enveloped her.

She pushed up on her elbows, panting with surprised delight, but before she could speak Takeshi once more ran his fingertips across her core. She arched against his hand as sparks of pleasure coursed through her body, then pushed against the silken pillows beneath her as she sought, if only temporarily, to regain control of the explosive desire now unleashed within her.

But Takeshi reached a firm hand around her waist, pulling her back to him. "You are not to move," he reminded her as she struggled beneath him. And despite the gentleness in his eyes, Miku realized he had no intention of allowing her to resist his touch.

She grew still, and his fingers once more traced down her stomach and between her legs. He slid a thumb slowly across her hidden point, the pressure light but unwavering, and she lost the ability-and desire-to fight the intense longing his touch ignited. With a breathless cry of surrender, she fell back to the nest of pillows, the silk cool beneath her heated flesh.

No longer waiting for her to recover from each shock of pleasure his touch brought, Takeshi began to caress her with a rhythmic stroke soon matched by quivering twitches of her hips. Though still gentle, his fingers moved faster and faster until she writhed in abandoned delight beneath him. All conscious thought left Miku's mind as a pleasure more intense than she had ever imagined overwhelmed her. And mingled with that pleasure was an aching need, growing more insistent with each touch.

Whispering into the soft curve of her neck, Takeshi's voice was thick with desire. "Obey me once more, my poetess, and give yourself over to this pleasure."

Miku's lips parted, but she could only moan in response as he lowered his head from the crook of her neck. With a deliberate slowness that caused the ache between her legs to throb, he took one breast into his mouth, his tongue teasing her hardened nipple as his fingertips continued to caress between her legs.

"Obey me," he repeated, and she cried out, abandoning herself fully to the surging waves of pleasure that shattered up from between her legs and washed through her body in a rolling tide of bliss.

She clung to him, desperately afraid that the explosion of sensation would sweep her away. But as the fiery tingle slowly faded to a contented glow, she found herself held tightly as he gently rocked her in his arms. She buried her head against the hard muscles of his bare chest, and he kissed the loose hair that flowed down around her face.

Secure in the protective strength of his embrace, Miku finally stretched and smiled. But when she looked up into her samurai's face, his gaze retained its restless hunger.

"You are not pleased?" she asked, her previously serene face shadowed with confusion and concern.

"A warrior understands the value of patience," he said, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "And I must wait a bit longer."

"For what?" she asked, his tender caress causing a smile to blossom on her lips like a lotus opening for the sun.

Takeshi gazed at the poetess in his arms, her naive concern for his happiness piercing the hardened armor of his heart yet again. Was this innocent flower really to be his only for one night? Then it must be a night worth the cost he might be forced to pay. Yet he would take her only when she was truly ready, when she knew the full depths of her own desire. Anything before that would be an a.s.sault on the beautiful spirit he had already grown to cherish above all else.

He drew her closer, tipping her head toward the night sky shimmering just past the veranda and open-walled parlor. "A poet should not be concerned with the worries of a warrior. The things of purest beauty, like these stars, are your true focus."

Miku's heart trembled in response to Takeshi's words and to the spangled expanse that enveloped them. How could the night be anything but so perfectly beautiful, she realized, after the moment she had just shared with this brooding yet tender soldier?

As the incandescent moon subdued the distant ocean and drew it inexorably to the waiting sh.o.r.e, Miku knew that she, body and spirit, was being pulled toward Takeshi. And yet, only hours before, he had been relatively unknown to her, merely another of her uncle's sworn mercenaries. Was it something more than fate that had brought them together tonight?

"You have yet to explain why you, the most valued of my uncle's samurai, would be sent to perform such a menial task as watching his insignificant niece?" whispered Miku, her fingertips woven through Takeshi's tousled hair.

"Your significance is greater than you suspect."

Miku's gaze snapped back from the starlit sky to stare into his eyes, surprised. "Explain your meaning."

He paused before answering, and when he spoke his words were measured, the clipped speech of a military officer.

"Your uncle went to meet a man from the capital," he said, his eyes moving from her piercing gaze to the dark shadows beyond the veranda. "An important man. One with many political connections and great wealth. One to whom your uncle plans to give you in marriage. The ceremony will be upon their return in the morning. I am to guard you until that inevitability occurs."

The words bleached Miku's face with shock and disbelief. And then, in the silence that followed his revelation, an angry flush surged to her cheeks.

"Marriage? Tomorrow? When was I to be informed? When was I to meet this man?"

"The Master did not divulge those details to me. He only shared enough to impress upon me the importance of your safekeeping in his absence, and of preventing you from writing any more poetry that might upset your groom's sensibilities. Your uncle's plans for successful political advancement hinge on the felicitous celebration of this union."

But in saying the words aloud, Takeshi realized he could no longer enforce such an edict. He was no longer Miku's guard-for she now held his heart captive. Though tradition dictated he should one day marry a woman of the Master's choosing, Takeshi's heart now acknowledged that his unexpected-yet undeniable-feelings for this maiden might force a confrontation with the old man sooner than he had planned. Before he could speak again, however, his poet sat back, eyes flashing.

"Felicitous?" she said sharply. "There is nothing happy about an arranged marriage to a stranger. A forced alliance with a man I've never met, let alone decided I can love and respect? Never! I will decide which man I marry. I will decide the man I bed."

She was breathing hard. Anger, shock and defiance surged through her body as she glared at Takeshi, daring him to contradict her.

But instead of demanding her compliance, Takeshi ran a gentle hand down her cheek. She held her breath as his fingertips caressed the edge of her jaw and paused at her throat.

"And who will that be?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper. "Who will you take to your bed as husband?"

Stunned by the directness of his question, she was more surprised to realize she already knew the answer.

Yet while her heart thudded with desire for Takeshi, she also found a growing anger pound within it as well. How could this samurai share such intimacies with her, knowing he must part with her in the morning? Was she nothing more than an evening's diversion, a soldier's plaything to be toyed with before being delivered to the bed of another? Pride filled Miku's heart as she fought to regain control over herself-and Takeshi.

Takeshi watched as a storm of emotions surged through Miku's large eyes before an unexpected detachment seemed to move across her gaze.

"I choose you, of course, my dear Takeshi," she whispered, her words those of love but her voice strangely cool. "Allow me to perfume my body before I give it to you. I will be but a few moments in my bedchamber before I return to your embrace."

She slipped gracefully from the parlor and into her private chamber, sliding the silken door closed after giving Takeshi one last tempting smile. But the smile fell away as Miku moved quickly toward the room's outer door. Turning back once more to make sure that the samurai had not followed her into the bedroom, she silently slid open its exterior door and stepped out into the dew-wet night-and into Takeshi's waiting arms. Having guessed his prisoner's true intentions, he had stolen out across the veranda and around the side of her suite to recapture Miku.

For a moment Miku's breath caught in her throat, then she fought in vain to escape his tight embrace. "Release me!" she cried, in anger and humiliation. "I will never obey my uncle, or you!"

"I will no longer obey your uncle, either," growled Takeshi, "but neither will I release you."

Lifting her over one broad shoulder, he carried Miku back into her bedchamber and, ignoring her protests, laid her on the sleeping couch. Keeping one arm pressed against her still-struggling form, he reached for several of the silken cords she used to wrap her scrolls of poetry.

"Let me go," Miku cried, unable to pry herself from beneath his grasp. "I will not submit to my uncle's matrimonial plans."

"But you will submit to me," said Takeshi, his voice low and full of authority.

With a deft motion, Takeshi wrapped one cord firmly around her arms, binding them above her head to the top of the couch. Though pulled tightly, the cord's silken texture was soft against her bare skin. Miku gasped in shock, but Takeshi did not pause as he quickly wrapped another cord around her waist. Though her legs remained unfettered, she was in all other respects bound firmly to the bed.

Takeshi looked down at Miku's soft body tied across the silk blankets, her breathlessly parted lips, and her eyes, glowing like fiery embers in the soft lamplight. And in those eyes Takeshi read a burning pa.s.sion equal only to his own. Pressing one finger across her lips to silence any further protest, he knelt beside her.

"You will be mine as long as I live," he whispered, knowing the words were not the promise she thought them to be, but the ardent declaration of a man who soon might die at the Master's hands.

"I am mine alone to give, not yours to take," she retorted, but the flush spreading across her bare flesh indicated a deeper desire threatened to submerge her anger in a flood of pa.s.sion.

He pressed his lips to hers, and she fought to move away, but his hands held her face with a gentleness that nonetheless left no room for resistance. With a moan of tormented delight, she finally received his kiss with open mouth, her lips hungry for the taste of him. In her momentary surrender, all thought of the next morning-and the Master's return-faded away from Takeshi's conscious mind.

As their kiss deepened, he caressed her face and ran his fingertips through her dark hair. Miku realized that though he had bound her, she loved this man, and she would joyously now let him possess her completely.

As Takeshi's hands slid across her bare flesh, he moaned with antic.i.p.ation. He slid onto her, every inch hard and heavy against her soft body. Though part of her willed him never to leave, she still struggled against the cords around her arms and waist, her deep hunger battling with her willful spirit. Though every touch pleased her, she still strained against her bonds, not yet ready to surrender fully.

His tongue curled around hers, and the memory of his mouth on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s made her whimper with desire. An aching desire pulsed through her body, and she instinctively opened her legs, pressing herself against the hot skin of his thigh.

But he slipped away, kneeling again beside her low bed. His lips moved down her neck, delicately brushing the curve of her throat like a calligraphy brush. His tongue traced exquisite characters of his own design, marking her naked flesh as his own. Her skin trembled beneath his touch, and she arched to meet his lips. As he took the peak of her breast into his mouth again, a small cry of delight escaped her parted lips.

He answered her sigh with a teasing flick of his tongue, moving from breast to breast, and her hips tightened in response, the tingling ache she felt increasing with each movement of his mouth. She moaned with desire, her hands clutching at the silk blankets at the top of the bed as she pressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s into his eager mouth. Never had she felt such a delightful antic.i.p.ation of even greater pleasure. Never had she felt so loved.

His mouth moved lower, tracing the soft curve of her abdomen. She struggled to reach for him, not comprehending anything but her dizzying hunger for his tongue against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but her hands were stopped by the silken cords. She cried out in frustration, her wordless gasp a plea for his touch. Smiling at her surrender, the samurai pressed her legs open with hands that allowed no resistance.

When his tongue moved quickly across the soft flesh between her legs, she arched back onto the silken sheets, a breathless cry of ecstasy escaping her lips. His tongue flicked across her once more, seeking out her point of profoundest pleasure. She moaned again, this time with greater need. He responded hungrily, tasting and consuming her, his tongue laving across her relentlessly. She was overwhelmed with delight yet sought more, her body and heart his to command.

Sensing her growing need, Takeshi slowed his kisses, lingering so as to bring her to a higher plane of pleasure and desire. Her hips again seemed to move of their own accord, rolling slowly against his hungry lips. With each rotation of her hips and each t.i.tillating response from his tongue, a mounting urgency grew within her until she was consumed by its fire. She writhed against his mouth, moaning with pleasure and overcome by his devotion.

Miku's whole world had been distilled down to only the love she felt for Takeshi and that one exquisite point beneath his tongue. And with the realization that his adoration equaled her own, she cried out as intense waves of pleasure shattered through her body.

Takeshi moved quickly onto the bed, embracing her shuddering form in the heat of his arms, pressing her body to him as she trembled and wept, unexpectedly overcome with emotion. As her sobbing subsided, he gently wiped a tear from her glistening cheek with a bow-hardened finger. She turned her face toward his, and he kissed her slowly, each savoring the other's gentle touch.

With a slow sweep of his hand, the samurai ran his fingers up her body, releasing the cord that bound her arms before moving to untie the one about her waist. Then he slid his hand down her body, cupping her hip and pressing her body toward him. Miku deepened her kiss, a renewed hunger stirred by his touch, and he moaned with desire.

She responded by slipping her legs around his waist, pressing up against the erect shaft between his legs. She wanted him all, hardened warrior and tender lover. He moved rhythmically against her, gliding across her wet flesh, and she shuddered with excitement.

Overcome by her arousal, Takeshi groaned as he fought to control his own pa.s.sion. His hand slid from her hip and moved between her legs. Her body stiffened as one finger slipped inside, slowly and gently. She had wanted to be close to him, as connected as possible, and yet this new feeling was more than she had antic.i.p.ated. But surely her lover would not do anything but that which brought her pleasure. He had shown her more love than anyone ever had. She would trust him even now.

Gradually Miku's body relaxed as she lay beneath him. Takeshi, his breathing ragged with self-imposed restraint, began to slowly move his finger, gliding it in and out of her body as she grew accustomed to his touch. She felt a new fullness as a second finger slipped inside her, and her eyes fluttered open with alarm.

"This will make what comes next easier," he murmured. She didn't understand his words, but the tenderness in his eyes a.s.sured her that his purpose was to cherish her as completely as possible. So she closed her eyes again, surrendering to the mesmerizing rhythm of his touch.

Then in the flickering lamplight, he shifted his full weight above her and, without pause, slowly pushed himself into her, stretching her body as she had not imagined possible. She cried out, struggling to pull away, but his hold around her waist was firm and unyielding as he pressed still farther into her. There was a moment of resistance, of pain, and she gasped and stiffened, her body fighting to accept his full length. And then he was inside of her, filling her completely.

He lay still, kissing her lips and neck and hair, waiting for her trembling to abate. "Two halves of a sh.e.l.l, joined together as one," he whispered, his lips gently tracing the edge of her jaw. "Our bodies are meant to be together." Hearing the poetry that fell so naturally from her untutored warrior's lips washed away any lingering pain and fear as Miku wrapped her arms around Takeshi's neck and pressed her mouth to his.

Slowly, her hips began to move against his. He kissed her more deeply and felt her body relax and open to him.

With increased need, he pushed more deeply into her, her tiny cries of ecstasy captured in his mouth. His rhythmic motion quickened, and she arched against him. No longer able to subdue his own pa.s.sion, he thrust harder, spearing her again and again with his full length.

She watched with rapt delight as his gaze took in the soft curves of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, quivering with each thrust, and her heart thudded with a newfound pride at the molten desire her body brought to his eyes. The samurai was filling Miku's body and soul, her love and pa.s.sion heightened by the intensity of his hunger for her. His breath was hot against her shoulder, and she pressed into him, seeking to be filled even more deeply.

The sense of urgent desire was growing once more between her legs, and she opened herself wider. Faster and deeper he moved into her, and she clung to him, ecstatic in his complete possession of her.

Then, with a guttural cry, he stiffened against her, and her body responded with a rushing release of pleasure, the flesh around his throbbing shaft tightening convulsively as tingling waves of delight rolled through her, more slowly than the previous times, but no less intense.

In that moment, Miku realized that the greatest beauty was found not in nature's bejeweled night sky, or even within one of her own artfully wrought poems, but rather in the perfect connection between man and woman, between those who would love each other always. As sated exhaustion quickly overtook them both, not even sleep could remove the smile of exquisite contentment from her face.