Dominique & Blake

Warning: Dear reader, before you read this, I have to warn you that this includes detailed sex scenes, and if you do not wish to read then don't. I am sorry if it offendes any of you, but this is fictional, and let us leave it at that.


Dominique could scarcely believe her ears. Her face flamed with mortification. For an instant she thought he might be speaking to a guard, despite that she’d not spied one on her way into his chamber-certainly not there in the solar. She would have noticed…
Her heart lurched when Blake appeared in the doorway, leaning idly upon the doorframe as he peered within. Yet though his appearance was calm, the look in his eyes was anything but.
They accused her once more, though he said nothing,
He wore only his loose breeches, no tunic, and his hair was disheveled as though from sleep. In the dim light of the room, his flesh was even swarthier; glistening with a light sheen of sweat, for the night was warm.
Had he been there in the solar all along?
How had she missed him?
Had he heard?
It didn’t matter, she wasn’t going anywhere with him. He stood there, as though waiting- well, he could stand an eternity. She wasn’t going. He moved suddenly, as though to come for her. “Nay!” she shrieked hysterically. “I can find my own way!” she bounded from the bed at once, and giving Graham a wounded glance., hurried to the door, hesitating there, for she was forced to go between them. Her heart began again to pound as she glanced from one brother to another, gathering he courage. She bolted past them all at once.
“I’ve no need of escort!” she informed them both haughtily, and prayed he would not follow.
To her dismay, she didn’t get far.
Blake, the cur, was behind her within the instant – curse him! –lifting her up and heaving her over his shoulder. In the space of seconds, Dominique found herself dangling like a sack of meal down his bare back. Shrieking angrily, she pummeled his back with her fists, trying not to note the heat of his bare flesh.
“I despise you!” she hissed at him. “Release me at once, you loathsome cur!” Feeling dizzy, and a little as though she would swoon again, she braced her palms against his back and felt his muscles flinch at her touch.
Adding to the insult, he said not a word as he hauled her up the tower steps to his chamber. No apology – Naught! And Dominique found herself seething by the time they reached the antechamber. To her way of though, he enjoyed this far too much–the arrogant brute! Well, he wasn’t simply going to walk away this time because she wasn’t going to let him! Not without gouging his eyes out!
Kicking open the antechamber door, and then the door to the chamber, he carried her within and tossed her down upon his bed, again as though she were no more than a baggage. But Dominique vowed it wasn’t going to be easy as that. She locked her arms around his neck, refusing to let go, fully intending to scratch his eyes out when she got them within reach.
Screaming, she pulled him down with her.
With a grunt of surprise, he toppled upon her.
Dominique lost her grip–as well as her breathe–with the impact. But that didn’t stop her. She groped wildly for a lock of his hair, grasping it as though her soul depended upon it–God curse his own rotten soul! It would serve him right did she yank every hair out of his head!
At once his hand shot u, seizing her wrist gripping t tightly. “Let go,” he snarled.
“Never!” she replied vehemently. “Arrogant bastard! I’d happily pluck ever strand from your churlish head. How dare you treat me so!”
His thumb pressed harder against the tender spot in her wrist, until Dominique cried out in pain. She still refused to ease her hold.
He sounded as though he could not catch his breath, but Dominique could not tell, for that chamber, despite the shutters were open wide to the night, was pitch-dark. He emitted some sound, something similar to a snarl.
“What the hell were you doing in my brother’s chamber?” he demanded suddenly, arrogantly.
“As though it were any of your bloody concern!” she hissed at him. “Overbearing bastard!”
He clucked his tongue at her in the darkness. “Such language… did you speak this way with Graham, too?” he asked her. “Is that why he tossed you out of his bed?”
“I most certainly did not! And he did not–” “He did,” Blake countered with deceptive calm. The seductively gentle tone of his voice sent a quiver of alarm down Dominique’s spine, for the hold he retained upon her wrist was anything but tender. “You forget I was there, demoiselle,” he taunted her. “Mayhap your brother failed to inform you, Lady Dominique… but my brother likes his women purer than that.”
“Why, you!” catching the gleam in his eyes, Dominique made to strike him, but he held her wrists too firmly.
She twisted and bucked beneath him, and he grunted, as though in pain. “I would not move so quiet so, were I you,” he warned her softly,, and the rocked his pelvis suggestively against her, letting her feel him. “I myself take my pleasures where they are offered.”
Dominique gasped in shock and in outrage.
Though she could not see him in the blackness of the chamber, she could feel his eyes upon her, burning into her very soul… feels his panting breath, warm and sweet with wine… feel his manhood nestled scandalously against her thigh.
Sweet Jesus, she felt that even through her chainse and the cloth of his breeches. It could not be missed!
She swallowed convulsively, stilling her movements at once.
For the longest instant, the sound mirthless, mocking. He bent to whisper against her ear. “I see that I have your attention at last,” he said.
Dominique’s grip tightened upon his hair. God’s truth, mayhap she could no move the rest of her body, but she could make him regret every blessed word he spoke to her!
Pain shot across Blake’s scalp, but he welcomed it. For it kept him from forgetting himself entirely. The feel of her beneath him was too potent a distraction by far. Like some lost soul, he prayed she would not move, and prayed, at the same time, that she would–prayed that she would release him, and was heartily relieved when she did not.
Unable to help himself, he moved against her, and felt himself pulsate. Christ…he thought he would lose control…”Dominique,” he rasped, pleading, and then it was too late. He couldn’t stop himself had he tried. Far too long had he lain upon his pallet…wanting this…
Last night in his tent, he’s awakened, moving against his pallet, thinking it was her… needing it to be so
And now it was, and he was undone.
One arm slid beneath her back and he lowered his mouth, unerringly, to her lips.
Startled by the unexpected warmth of his mouth, Dominique gasped in surprise, opening to him. At once he thrust his tongue within. With a soft cry, she released his hair, dropping her arms to his neck, and helpless gesture sent a new burst of heat singing through his veins, filled him with a triumph that was not his right to feel.
From the first instant, Dominique was lost.
She could not think, only feel… and the feeling was too exquisite for mere words. It was as though she has lived an eternity for only this moment. All thought of denial fled from her head and from her heart…and from her lips…
All she could think of was the warmth of his tongue, the sweetness of his breath… and the softness of his lips as he lapped and tasted of her mouth.
Seduced her.
He tasted oh sweet wine, she thought vaguely. Delicious. Of their own will., her hands wound themselves within the length of his hair…only this time, her fingers reveled n the softness.
That feeling…that same incredible feeling that had sparked to life before–that same feeling that made her yearn so desperately writhed mindlessly to close her thighs against him, around him–began to unfurl once more…simmer…burn…
Moaning softly, Dominique writhed mindlessly beneath him…needing more. He responded with a low, husky moan, and slid down the length of her body. For an instant, Dominique thought he meant to leave her. And to her shock and dismay, she felt only relief when he remained, nibbling and kissing at the heated flesh neck. She arched to give him better access, mindless with the pleasure he gave her, sobbing softly at her wantonness.
But she didn’t care…she’d not let herself care.
She was her mother’s daughter.
“Forgive me,” he whispered.
Dominique wondered distractedly, if he asked it of her…or whether they were her own words…and then she wondered no more, for the hand beneath her back lifted her up, and he moved downward yet again. With a low groan, his lips found and closed about the peak of one breast, toying with it, lapping it, tugging it softly, and suckling like a babe.
Dominique cried out, tensing, though only for an instant, for the shock of his intimacy faded at once with the incredible sensations that burst through her, aroused by his suckling. Whimpering softly, she arched beneath him, writhing, weeping with the inconceivable emotions that swept over her.
Oh god, but she was wicked…wicked…wicked…
And she loved him.
Her hands locked about his head, holding him, fast to suckle at her breast, while beneath him, her body began to undulate of its own accord. He moved down slowly, alternately nipping and kissing her breasts.
In all her life, she’d never felt more confused…more certain of anything…
She loved him.

Blake groaned with pleasure when she accepted him so fully, raising her breast for his will. He suckled her, moving against her in euphoria, knowing he should stop, but unable to force himself to do so.
It was as though his body were not his own. He reveled in the taste of her flesh–pleasing even though the fine linen cloth of her chainse–the warmth of her body, the long length of her legs against his own.
Too much for him to bear.
His hands, flexing, slid down along her delectable curves, slowly, savoring every inch of her committing her to memory…for somewhere in his half-consciousness, he understood…this could not happen again. But this once…He could not stop it. He could not have torn himself away from her even had someone stood above him with sword in hand, ready to plunge it between his shoulder blades.
Gladly he would die for this moment.
God strike him down, but he could not stop.



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