Victoria's Demon Lover (15 page)

     “You can’t stay
here.”

     She looked
down.  Jasper had a sad face.

     “You have to
go,” he repeated.

     “I will not.” 
Victoria was firm.  “I know what I am doing.”

     “No, you
don’t.”  Jasper glanced over his shoulder.

     “I don’t want to
go back. Ever.”  She certainly wasn’t going to go back before the end of the
day.  She imagined the assistants leaving to go to their homes at nightfall and
Jack coming onto the cottage for his supper and for her.  She glared at
Jasper.  “I am not.”

     “Something bad will
happen if you stay,” Jasper insisted.  “Please go home.”

     “I am home.” 
Victoria looked at the tidy cottage and the vines of ivy and tiny roses that
climbed over the stones and into the thatch of the steep roof.  This was a
fairy tale house.  With a fairy tale man.  She nudged Jasper away from her
skirts with her foot.   “Go away.  I am enjoying this.”

     The monkey demon
glowered at her.  “I like you, Victoria.  I am only trying to help.”

     She pointed at
him and he ducked.  “Go.”  He did.  She turned back to her laundry.  Then she
weeded the garden, then she stirred the soup, then she swept the cottage.  She
fed the three men their mid-day meal when they tromped in, tired and sweating. 
They ate in silence then went back out.  She cleaned up, folded cloths, and
learned to use a flatiron.  She rubbed the blisters on her fingers as she
waited for Jack to come in for his supper.

     She fed him,
sitting across the wood table watching as he ate his soup and the coarse bread
she found in a basket near the hearth.  She would have to learn how to bake
bread.  She wondered if she practiced back at her other house with her other
stove she could come back here knowing how to do it right.  She had a book on
artisan bread baking on the shelf in her kitchen. 
Either way
, she
smiled to herself as she moved around the cottage, lighting oil lamps and the
tallow candles as the sun set.  Jack went out to the barn to tend the animals
for the night and she closed and barred each of the shutters on the windows,
pausing at the window where she and Torgal had spied on the lovers on their
wedding night.

     Jack came in
with a smile.  “Maggs.  Finally.  The day is over.  I have been thinking about
this moment all day.”  He pulled her to him and bent to kiss her.  Victoria
opened her mouth and took his lips.  Her back seemed to turn to jelly.  His
hands held her tighter as he felt her relax.  She put her arms around his back,
feeling the great strength there and breathing in the warm scent of his body. 
An honest man smell.  No perfumes or deodorants or nasty cologne.  Just warm
man. He had rinsed himself from the barrel at the forge before coming on for
his supper, but in a land where soft soap was a luxury he retained the glowing
scent of honest labor.  Victoria loved it.  She breathed him in some more and
was reminded of the soft coat of a horse.  When she was a teenager she used to
lean in to breathe in the scent of her horse in that warm place on his neck
under the mane as she brushed him.  This is what Jack smelled like.  Like dust
and fur and warmth.

     She squeezed him
tighter and he gave her a soft laugh as he nuzzled her neck under her hair. 
“Come, woman.  Time for us.”

     She started on
the laces of her dress.  He laughed some more and helped her.   He said, “Yesterday
you snapped at me that you were too tired from all the baking.”

     “I am not too
tired tonight,” she answered softly.  She let him finished unlacing her dress
and went for his breeches.  The leather belt was unfamiliar and fastened with a
loop and tie rather than a buckle.  She tugged at him, making him sway to catch
his balance.  The leather came away and she unfastened the buttons that held
the homespun wool to his hips.  It fell to the stone floor.  He stepped out of
it and tugged her dress over her head.  They stood there, naked, looking at
each other in the candlelight.

     “Ah, Maggs, you
are a sight,” he smiled.  “The loveliest woman in the village.”

     “Ah, Jack,” she
tilted her head shyly, “you are magnificent. The finest man in the village.” 
And he was.  That happy feeling came over Victoria again as she took his hand
and led him to the bed against the wall.

     He took time
touching her and brushing his lips over her breasts and fingers.  He put his
big hands on every part of her body, exploring her like he might examine one of
his tools before using it.  She wiggled into the soft bedding and played with his
cock while he touched her.  He lay on his side, allowing her plenty of access. 
She stroked him slowly and gently, not wanting to get him so excited he might
stop the caresses.

     She was enjoying
the strokes of his hands on her skin as a cat does.  She stretched and moved,
responding to his hands as his cock responded to hers by becoming as hard as
iron.  She could not resist making soft moaning sounds as he brought a finger
up and over one of her nipples.  She squeezed him and he groaned.  He put his head
down over her breasts and took a nipple in his mouth and pulled gently first
with his teeth then his lips until she had to let go of his cock.

     “Oh my God,” she
breathed, arching her back.  “Oh.”

     “You like that,
my little cat,” he murmured.  “Well. I learned something in Paris you might
enjoy even more.”   He grinned down at her.  “I admit that I think I will enjoy
it as well.”  His hand smoothed over the curve of her belly and to the cleft
between her legs.  He touched her clit with one finger until she squirmed
again.  She reached for his cock, but he moved his hips out of range.  “In a
minute, love.  This first.”  He rose on one elbow and slid lower on the bed
until he positioned himself out of sight between her knees.  She rose up on her
elbows to see what he was doing.

     “No, lie down. 
Relax,” he said.

     She did.  She
blinked, realizing what was coming.  “Ah,” she said.  Her memories of the
fumbling attempts of past lovers at cunnilingus made her smile.  She knew Jack
would do a better job, and when she felt his tongue slide between the folds
between her legs she was certain.  Her demon had pleasured her this way.  She
arched her hips up to meet his mouth and he held her down.

     “Mmmm,” he said.

     “Ah,” she said
again, trying not to move.  He was circling the clit with just the tip of his
tongue now, making her tingle and glow from her middle out to her feet.  She
clenched and unclenched her toes in ecstasy.  Her knees trembled as he gently
tugged at her labia with his teeth between light touches around the clit.  She
could not help stiffening her muscles.  She twisted herself to increase the
contact and he held her just as tightly away.  Still his tongue flicked and
flicked at her clit until she shuddered, her knees squeezed his head and her
toes raked his sides.

     “God God God,”
she cried as the pleasure increased.  There had never been an orgasm like this
in the history of the world.  Victoria wanted to scream but she could not
breathe.  She panted, blinking rapidly.  Instead of fading like a well-behaved
orgasm, this one continued to peak with every feathery touch of his tongue
until her hips and legs began to fight him.  She kicked and bucked, but he was
stronger and was enjoying this too much.  He held her down with his blacksmith
muscles.  The tongue touched her over and over, with just a whisper of contact
until she was mad with it.  She finally had enough air to cry out, but instead
of the piercing scream, the sound that came out was a low deep moan.  He
stopped and took his face from her body and waited for the moaning to stop.

     “Oh ah,” she
breathed.

     “Yes.”  He put
his feet on the floor and stood by the bed so she could see his erection.  “You
are as soft and smooth as butter, little Maggs.  This will slide in and you
will not wince this time.”

     He climbed over
her and slid it in, his shoulders bunched as he held himself over her body. 
His hips pushed himself inside all the way in until their bodies touched hip to
hip.  Victoria gasped with the new sensations.  The old orgasm had not
dissipated, and she felt its dying embers ignite again as his thick cock
entered her and tugged at her clit.  She felt her vagina greet his hardness
with waves of pleasurable contractions.  He threw his head back and sighed,
feeling the welcoming squeezes. He did not move, but stayed inside her, pushing
when he could not help himself, but not withdrawing.  He went down on his
elbows so he could kiss her and Victoria brought his tongue into her mouth and
sucked it, then chewed gently on his lips.  His stubble scratched her
deliciously and she moved her head so she could kiss and nibble him along his
jaw. She could put her lips at his throat and kissed him there until he moaned
and she felt him become even more impossibly harder inside her.

     This he could
not bear, and his back arched, driving himself inside, in and out now,
panting.  Her body responded with more welcoming wetness and the squishing
sounds that accompanied his mighty thrusts only encouraged him to move faster.

     “God, Maggs,” he
groaned, “I am dying, oh God oh God.”

     He was not
dying.  She knew this was true.  Her fingers dug into his back, feeling the
fierce strength and power of his body as he moved back and forth with the
exertion of his thighs.  He thrust faster and harder and his breaths echoed the
effort.  Soon all she could hear was the rasping breath of a man about to
explode in orgasm.

     “Oh god, Maggs,
uhnnnn….”  His hips ground onto her and she felt him swell inside with his
shooting cum.  He pressed harder as each spurt erupted from his cock and
flooded her inside with his seed.  He bent his back and his arms trembled.

     Victoria was
giddy with his pleasure.  She sighed and rubbed his back as he collapsed over
her.  She nibbled his ear as he lowered his head.  He thrust one more time with
the last spasm, then rolled off her and lay on his back, sweating and panting. 
She smiled and sighed again.  She could feel his cum leaking out of her and
soaking the sheets beneath her buttocks.  She tensed.

     Her first
thought was that she would have to wash these sheets by hand, but the next
thought was about that cum.  In the passion of the moment and the fantastic
nature of this encounter it had never occurred to her to use birth control. 
She frowned.  No birth control here.  She wasn’t even sure what century this
was.  From the things in the cottage it could be anywhere from fifteenth to
nineteenth.  No much had changed technologically in those years in rural areas.

     “This isn’t
real,” she assured herself.

     “Feels pretty
damned real to me.”  Jack said.  “Damned real.”

     “Oh,” she rolled
to her side to face him and more juices dribbled over her thighs.  “I mean this
delicious feeling inside me,” she answered and congratulated herself on a nice
save.

     He was pleased. 
“I knew you would like it eventually.  I tried to make you like it.”  He moved
one big hand over the curve of her ribs, down the valley of her waist and up
over her hips.  The sound of his voice implied that he had worried.  Victoria
remembered Maggie’s cries on their wedding night and nodded.

     “I like it,” she
said, and it was the truest thing she had ever uttered.

     He grinned.  “It
is getting late and we both have a long day tomorrow.  But I will look forward
to sunset tomorrow.”

     She smiled back
at him.  “A long day?”

     “Remember?” he
asked.  “Lord Brigayne is coming for his sword.”

     “Oh.”  She did not
remember.  She wondered what that meant.  Should the cottage be spotless? 
Would a lord enter the cottage of a common working man?  Her brain zoomed
through every history book she ever read searching for the answer.  No. A great
lord would never deign to enter this house, unless he was sick or injured or on
official business.  She relaxed.  He was coming to inspect Jack’s work.  He
would go to the forge only. She stiffened with pride.  Her husband was the
finest metalworker in the county.  He would be a master soon. She knew this was
true.

     “I will make
sure there is a special supper for you.”

     He sighed
again.  “I have to sleep.  God.  It is like too much ale.”  He closed his eyes
and Victoria covered him with one of the thick wool blankets.

     “Sleep then, my
love,” she whispered, and the rush of intense happiness washed over her was
more powerful than any of the orgasms, real or imagined.

     Victoria woke up
as Maggie.  This was the first time she had awakened in a bed that was not her
own.  She had mixed feelings about this.  The first was the joy she felt at
hearing Jack’s rumbling snores beside her in the darkness.  That was probably
what woke her.  The other was the concern that she was now trapped in a
previous century.

     She wasn’t
complaining.  No.  She shook her head.  Not complaining.  But the twinge of the
loss of the freedom she had been enjoying felt like a painful pinch.  If she
called Jasper would he come?  Could she go back for a shower and a latte and
return for the sex?  Was it all or nothing?