Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

began to convulse and shudder and she made a sound like none other, only then did he leave her. Parting her legs wider with his knees, he guided his shaft between her soft folds. He intended to be gentle, but seeing and hearing her intense pleasure, hurled him beyond the limits of his restraint. Unable to hold back any longer, Jarl drove deep within her in one powerful stroke.

Nena’s cries of pleasure changed pitch briefly to a cry of pain, but still she clung to him, pulling him closer, holding him to her as he drove inside over and over. His release came quickly, carrying him on a raging tide of pure blind deaf sensation. It was many seconds before his senses returned and he was aware of her beneath him. Her breath still came in gasps, but was slowing. Their sweat mingled between their chests. “Did I hurt you?” he whispered.

Hurt? Had he really asked that? He had just taken her to a place that she had no idea existed, and the first union was always painful for the woman. She’d been expecting that. Though now she could remember nothing of pain, only of…. Her pulse, even now, still pounded in her ears. She looked at his worried face and reached up to touch his cheek, having no words, but wanting to comfort him. He smiled at her.

Jarl pulled out slowly and rolled over on his side to lie next to her. He reached out with one hand to stroke her hair. “Nena, my princess,” he murmured.

Nena turned to look at him. His eyes were slowly returning to the mixed shades of all colors of when he was content. She had made the right choice. This had to have been the gods’ choice. They wanted this union even if only to allow her escape. Why else would it have been so magical?

A trickle of blood running down his neck caught her attention. She followed the blood trail and noted a shallow wound on one of his shoulders. He seemed unaware of it.

“You are wounded. Let me see it,” she said.

“It can wait. It is small—but a scratch.”

“Even small things have a way of becoming troublesome. Come, I will tend to it for you.”

Jarl groaned and sat up on the edge of the bed. He knew she was right but would have given anything not to move at that moment. He watched as she slipped naked from the furs and went to retrieve a water bag and rag. She moved about the tent totally at ease, showing no sign of modesty in her nakedness or what had just transpired. His eyes followed her every graceful move, admiring her long lean legs and the way her thick dark hair cascaded down her back.

He prayed the entry boards would not rattle and send her scurrying for cover. In his mind he threatened death to anyone who interrupted them now—anyone who caused them to lose this moment. Although as much as he enjoyed watching her, he also couldn’t wait for her to return to him. He wanted her near him, touching him. Even the short distance that separated them now seemed too much.

He could not believe what an affect she had on him. He could not believe she was finally truly his. She was such an amazing woman—a beautiful blend of contradictions. As tough as any man he’d ever known, but at the same time gentle and tender. Innocent, yet her passion had matched his own. Intelligent and learned in so many things—tending his wound being just a small example, yet naive in so many others.

Nena’s lips curved into a smile as she returned with the water bag and a cloth, reading the general path of his thoughts by the intentness of his expression. She crawled onto the furs behind him and knelt to better reach the wound on the back of his shoulder.

“It was close to your neck,” she commented with disapproval. “You left your back unprotected.”

He knew she was right; the careless mistake had almost cost him dearly. “He paid for it,” was his only response. Jarl ignored the sting as she wiped away the dried blood and dirt. “Will I live?” he asked, teasing.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she replied with a smile and continued to clean. When she was finished, she looked at the wound, unsatisfied. “That’s better, but I would prefer to have willow bark to pack in it, to be safe.”

“There is some in that vial.” He pointed across the tent to a spot near the jewel chest. “I got it from the healer for your fever when you were sick.”

When she was sick. When he had saved her. Nena’s stomach constricted at her planned betrayal.

She retrieved the powder and poured a thin line into the length of the wound, tamped it with her finger, then blew the excess away. Her soft breath tickled the back of his neck, and Jarl felt his groin twitch in response. He fought it. He had to control himself now. She would be sore. They had forever to work up to all-night lovemaking. He smiled at the thought.

He made love to her again in the morning. This time slower and with less intensity, but with the same leg-tangled results. When she was finally steady enough to rise, Nena checked her new boundaries. “I would go to the latrine and to bathe,” she announced tentatively, more than half expecting him to refuse or call for Altene. He did neither.

“Fine.” He rolled onto his back and smiled at her with the most contented smile she’d ever seen on his handsome face. “I should, too, but I think I’m just going to lie here instead and die a sweet death.”

Nena still couldn’t believe it as she tied her dress behind her neck and exited the tent unescorted, but he made no move to stop her.

She groaned as she slipped into the hot water of the bath. Every muscle ached and complained, and the