Malia Martin Read Online Free Page B

to see him better, but shadows shrouded his form. Her back now blocked the moonlight from revealing anything. Staring intently at the darkness that was her husband’s face, Aleene lowered herself until her most private place pressed against the length of his hard member. Gritting her teeth and steeling her mind from what she did, she rubbed up and down as Berthilde had said.
    His member jerked again, and she stopped. She could not believe that it moved on its own, as if it were an arm or a leg. It was passing strange. Aleene shook her head, took a deep breath, and rubbed against him again.
    This was different. Perhaps because he was asleep? Or maybe because she did not lie beneath a rutting boar of a man, but sat atop, with a feeling almost of power? Aleene was not sure, but she knew that this rubbing had actually begun to feel—she stopped, thinking. Nice, it felt nice. And she did not like to stop. Her body wanted more and so she assuaged that want.
    Aleene arched her head back. Her hair swung rhythmically around her shoulders, and she knew that it dragged along her husband’s legs. The image summoned a strange moan from deep within her chest and, suddenly, she felt herself convulse. That dark hidden place of her seemed to clench.
    Aleene gasped at the tremors that traveled along the inside of her skin. She shook her head and couldn’t help but smile in the dark. She was learning much this evening. Men’s members danced of their own accord and her own private place seemed to want to grab hold.
    And it was not abhorrent.
    She stopped suddenly. But she was not done. She must put his member inside of her. Aleene closed her eyes, swallowing hard. She looked down. Cynewulf’s member still pointed toward his chin, trapped between their bodies
    Aleene pushed herself up slowly on her knees. Her hand stroked down Cynewulf’s glistening chest almost as if she caressed him. It happened without her thinking, and now she curled her fingers into her palm and pressed her balled fist against her own belly.
    Invasion. She was going to be invaded. Only this time she invited it, needed it. She could hear her own breathing, sharp and tense in the silent room. She did not want it, though. She could not want this. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be strong, and smoothed her hand against her husband’s chest once again.
    She found his member and closed her hand around it. Then she lifted it, holding it against her woman’s place. Aleene gasped, her chest heaving with the breath that she had been holding. Fear made her tense, but still something strangely compelling made her legs feel like melted wax.
    She made herself lower down onto her husband’s shaft. The tip moved easily against her, taking her breath, and then slowly it began to penetrate.
    “God’s teeth!” she said heavily between breaths.
    And then brutal memories crashed against her mind like the fall of a heavy sword cleaving through flesh. She convulsed with the fear and ugliness of it, her hands coming up to cover her face. It was terrifying and dark and came from deep inside her.
    A cry of sheer agony pierced her ears, and she realized it came from her. She dropped forward, only then remembering that her husband lay beneath her. Her forehead encountered his hard chest, her hands slid down his sides.
    She cried out again, but strong warm arms wrapped around her and pulled her down. She fought against it, terror welling again in her throat, threatening to spill over. She stopped fighting as the dark memories overcame her again, stilling her very heart with their intensity. She felt ugly, dirty, and terribly afraid. Her body quivered violently and she squeezed her eyes shut and rocked. Only she wasn’t rocking herself. Strong arms held her, a crooning sound thrummed in her ears and another body rocked hers.
    Her mind let go and she sank into the safety, pulled away from the terror. She heard a song, a child’s song, a lullaby. “Mother,” she wailed, but she knew