The Knight and the Acolyte Book 8 Chapter 9 The Knight s Passion
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Jeb huddled to his side as the boat slid smoothly through the sea, on the starboard tack she knew, feeling the incredible sense of belonging she always had when he embraced her. Not really that good looking, she thought, especially after those beatings, but the face of a good english bulldog. Strong, competent, without fear. She really did feel sexual heat anytime he was near, and thought she was finally getting him out of the shell he had built around his affections. He had told her about Sophie, Yvonne, and she tried to silently help him vent his guilty feelings.
But more than anything, she wanted to bind him to her. She wanted to believe he would always be there, his huge fat cock always ready to thrill her, his sarcastic wit always ready to bring her down from some new flight of fancy. She had moments when they were making love, and she was soaring in that unique way he caused, when she wanted to scream "I love you Jonathon, and you love me too you boob. Get over all that garbage, keep fucking me, and admit to me and to yourself, we are meant for each other." She had missed her last period, and when he heard the news, his smile, it seemed to her, came a little more quickly, with a little less reserve. Yet he reacted the way he always did, thinking first of practical things. "Then we'd best get a move on, eh old girl?"
The big boat moved silently yet speedily, ten knots he had said, and the special outfitting he had had done in Plymouth was paying off. They had intercepted radio signals from the Iron Pasha which gave her position off the tip of Sicily, moving East at only a knot or two, as Roper entertained potential customers. "There was one Italian who snuck a feel of my tit every time I got near him, darling. Roper just smirked. You have my permission in advance to kill anyone who henceforth takes such grimy liberties. Failing that, I shall insist that you maim him."
The long range radar had not yet picked up a signal, but Jeb snuggled closer to him, the cool night making his warmth and strength an almost palpable stimulation for her. "Darling, I know we're close, and you have things on your mind, but you really must fuck me tonight. We pregnant women have hormones which are completely out of control, I mean, I have to have a steady hand with the rifle one of these days, and you can't expect a horny woman to shoot straight." He looked down at her, and lowered his mouth for a gentle kiss. She thought his smile was happier than usual. I suppose he's anticipating battle, she thought, but at least some of it is for me. She hugged him even harder, but of course he didn't flinch.
He always amazed her at sea, seeming to know when the wind would change, walking without touching the safety lines even though the boat could swing wildly. His expression was always that relaxed yet vigilant look he got under duress, and it moved her in strange ways. It was as though his masculinity reached out and burrowed under her panties, tickling her clit, making her wild with need. And lately, even when she knew she was pushing him away from something nominally more important, he would accommodate her, so she knew he would tonight. He would heel the boat over, set the rudder so they still made progress, then silently take her in his arms, staring down at her with those penetrating eyes. Often he would pick her up with that amazing strength, lead her to the forward cabin, and gently satisfy her.
But other times he would grab her hair, bend her backwards on the after beam and push his hand down under her pants, fucking her with first two, and finally three fingers until she screamed in violent pleasure. Then he would pick her up, manhandle her to the small couch, and nearly rape her, satisfying himself, trusting her to accommodate him, which she always did with explosive results. These were often the times they would cum frantically together, which she thought rather extraordinary, and scream out their passion. She thought he only felt really free to express his rapture when they were totally isolated there in the heaving cabin, at sea.
They shared a sense of nearing resolution, a chance to grapple with the obscenities in both their pasts, and, finally, granted with new violation of the conventions of civilized living, bring their devils to heel. They had stated their intentions to each other clearly from the beginning: kill the bastard, and destroy his entourage. The plan was simple, and they talked, as co-conspirators, of the possible variations which chance might bring. But they both knew that a small misstep, a chance false step, or simple bad luck threatened the whole enterprise. Still, they shared a sense of needing this final inning, to climb to a clean slate, no matter the new ghost that might haunt them.
"You will be sure the boy isn't aboard, darling?" He would. "You shouldn't take too much of a chance at Roper, blasting him to small bits is just as sweet." He wouldn't. "You feel you can manage the rifle, even with a bit of a sea?" She could.
But tonight she had vowed she would show him her love by debasing her body for him in a new way. He had acquired a taste for the dildo, the buzzing and the nastiness of it piercing his restraint. She fed him a meal while he steered, keeping to what he called a bowline, and rubbed against him as he ate. Then she strutted with her most hip swinging walk to the door of the hatch, loosening the string of her bikini bra, and flashed her tits at him. "Darling, I really can't wait. Now come along like a good boy, I have a surprise for you." In the dark it was hard to see, but she thought she caught a hint of a grin from him, as she pranced into the cabin. She had taken down the table and pulled the cushions off the couch to form a bed, and pushed down her thong.
He came down to her after she felt the boat change course slightly, and stripped out of his shorts. She stood, arching her nude, voluptuous body for him, and whispered "We're going to do this right, darling, naked as Adam and Eve, maybe our last fuck." She minced up to him and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the muscular, scarred torso that made her gasp every time she saw it, thinking of the pain that he had endured, some of it for her. Then she guided his taut body to his back, that lovely thick cock sticking back toward his stomach, and engulfed it as she swung her hips over his head. They both loved to sixty nine, she because she always orgasmed, he because he loved her heady, tart pussy.
Jeb thought it particularly memorable tonight, she could feel herself gushing into his sucking mouth. His penis twitched and leaked in her mouth, and she savored the little drops of juice he oozed. But then, as always, she lost control of her body, and soared into a wild climax that left her shaking with relief and pleasure. She knew she filled his mouth with her own fluids, and that he liked her taste, but he never said so. She took it for granted that he would be willing to now use her body. She loved to feel like his sex toy.
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