"Robert E. Vardeman & Geo W. Proctor - The Swords of Raemllyn 1 - To Demons Bound" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vardeman Robert E)

for the twin mounds of shimmering flesh that he had been so long denied. Quick hands darted up to snare
his thick wrists and hold his fingertips a hairbreadth from the coral-hued nipples standing at attention for
him.
"My lord, they are yours. I am yours—but not to touch with these," Belatha said in a low whisper that
promised empires. "Your mouth! I want to feel your lips!"
He answered with a smile and a kiss firmly planted in the deep valley between her upthrusting
breasts. While she hugged and caressed, he provided the attention she so desired with an enthusiasm that
had her squirming beneath him when, at last, his lips and tongue left those mountainous delights to drift
downward over the flat plain of her stomach, past the sensuous well of her navel, to the destination
revealed by the wide parting of satiny thighs.
He abandoned the task given him only when her body writhed and quaked in full release atop the
feather-down bed, and then but for one pleasure-gasping heartbeat
... just enough time to slide atop the quivering Belatha and unite them as man and woman with one
urgent surge of his hips.
Belatha moaned loudly at his unexpected but welcome entrance. Her hands kneaded his rock-hard
buttocks, des-perately attempting to draw him deeper into the clutching heat of her body.
He held for a moment, soaking in the marvelous lux-ury of her before he lifted himself on his elbows.
His back arched. And he moved, hips swinging in an ever-increasing rhythm that brought Belatha rushing to
the pinnacle of ecstasy for a second time within mere min-utes. He soared with her an instant later.
There were no lulling moments to savor the sleepy pleasure of their mutual release, no pause to sip
from the jug of mulled wine which Belatha had brought from below and which now sat untouched on a
small table beside the bed.
Belatha swarmed over him, stroking, biting, teasing, caressing, until he was again able to perform his
pleas-urable duties... and again... and for a fourth time.... If Belatha had demanded another, he would have
been ruined for life, but mercifully the blonde's passions were sated—for the time being.
Arrayed like spoons in a kitchen drawer they slept, groin pressed firmly against rounded behind,
masculine arms safely harboring feminine form.
Davin Anane had no idea how long they slept before a battering ram slammed into the wall. Sleepy,
mind still numbed by satiation, he half sat up in bed, his arm draped over a curving white hip.
"Wha'?" Davin dragged a hand across his face to wipe away his mental lassitude.
The battering ram thundered against the wall once again.
No! It wasn't a battering ram. And it wasn't the wall. The door!
Belatha stirred as someone or something crashed into the door for a third time. The barred door did
not hold but exploded inward on its hinges.
Davin reacted instinctively, diving across Belatha's recumbent form in an attempt to reach his
sheathed sword where it lay discarded atop a pile of rumpled clothing. Bedclothes tangled his legs and
Belatha's stirring beneath cost him his less than solid balance. He fell. Like a marionette with strings
severed, he tumbled onto the floor, feet entwined in muslin sheet.
Through eyes adaze with brightly flaring stars he saw unpolished boots rushing toward his head.
Hands reached down for his sprawled form.
Arms beneath him, he pushed hard, lifted, and kicked in a vain attempt to free himself from the
rudely grasping hands and reach his sheathed blade lying but a foot away.
Davin Anane did not see the jeweled sword pommel that swung downward. He only felt the
exploding pain as it crashed into the back of his skull, and then just for an agonizing instant. The room
swung around and around in wild, dazzling circles before vanishing behind a cloak darker than any night.


3
Chapter
the deluge—a frigid shower pouring straight from the heart of Ianya, legendary realm of ice and