Tale of Obsession: Courting Daphne Ch. 08

"Did I ever tell you?" His voice was soft, silky, caressing the depths of her soul. She was positively enchanted. "You taste good, my love."

Blood rushed up her body, making her face feel so hot. She would never be caught alive confessing, but she actually loved what she just heard. The sincere look in his eyes said that Leander was not kidding -- merely telling her the truth; it warmed her heart, just as it set other parts of her body on fire.

"If only I could devour you..." he whispered.

*****

Leander watched as Daphne's blush deepened. Her lips parted slightly, lending a sexy look on her beautiful features. He could tell that she was both embarrassed and flattered at the same time, yet she did not look away, letting him savour the thrill of seeing her watch him.

With his fingers, he parted the lips of her pussy, glancing at it. A slow grin spread across his face. She looked beautiful, even down there. A tuft of fine blonde hair crowning puffy lips that were red from want, coated with her own juices. Her clit was proudly standing above her hole, swollen with desire.

He slowly blew on her bud of pleasure, watched the way her muscles reacted ever so slightly, as if she was still controlling them. A purr has sounded from her, and Leander looked up at her then.

She was still looking at him, desire and want written all over her face. The golden flecks on her eyes were dancing, complementing the lights of the candles around them. And instead of drowning out the greenness where they were sprinkled, those flecks only highlighted it more.

For a very brief instant, Leander thought that her eyes resembled those of a cat.

The thought made him grin again. Those eyes, the purring and mewling noises she constantly makes when they make love, and the smooth, sensual way with which she moves -- all of it point to her feline qualities.

Feline. Quite a word to describe her! Yet, it was true, especially in bed. Seldom a kitten, often a tigress, Daphne would most definitely be part of the feline family had she been born an animal.

As if reading his thoughts and emphasizing his point, Daphne made a sound akin to mewling while she lifted her hips from the bed, moving her pussy closer to his mouth. It made the general chuckle. Where had her earlier resistance gone to? Yet, who was he to deny her what she was asking for?

With his eyes still trained on her face, Leander ran his tongue along her slit. The ghost of a smile touched the corners of Daphne's lips. With her mouth still open and with fire dancing in her eyes, she was the ultimate seductress, and Leander knew there was no way he would not do anything that she wanted from him.

Taking a deep breath, he inhaled her scent. Musky and mellow at the same time, hers was a scent that would forever remind him of hot, wild nights on a foreign kingdom, of deep, passionate lovemaking amidst the ashes of war -- a scent to remind him of the most terrifying days of his life as he led the men who swore their lives to him, and of the most fulfilling nights with the only woman on earth who could hold him thrall.

Gods, he knew that he was a dead man. If he did not die in his campaign, he would for sure die in the hands of the Duke of Wildercross once the man finds out of his tryst with Daphne. No information ever escapes the duke. The only exception had been the whereabouts of his sister and his daughter these past two years, but that was history. And once he finds out about the way Leander made Daphne his lover...

Groaning, he shut his mind to such thoughts and instead focused his energy on trying to please Daphne. His lips and tongue assaulted her womanhood, once again familiarizing him with her taste. Tangy and salty and sweet, all at the same time: flavour made to please a man.

Another groan sounded in his throat as he savoured her taste. His member was getting hard, seeking attention. Leander wanted nothing else but to stop what he was doing and plunge into her hot, juice-producing hole. But --

Not yet. The rhythmic thrusting of Daphne's hips against his devouring mouth told him how much she was enjoying this. She was already biting her lower lip now, making a sound that closely resembled a growl instead of a groan. Her eyes were still in contact with his, giving him free access to the depths of her soul. And she wanted this. She was aching for this.

"Leander..."

Leander closed his eyes, slowly enjoying her silky warmness against his mouth. He heard a soft sigh escape Daphne's lips with his change of pace. Whatever happened to him in the future, he would never forget that sound, along with the picture of her in her moment of deep desire. And he would remember that it was his name she was calling.

He snaked his right arm around her left thigh, resting his palm on her lower abdomen. To his mild surprise, he felt Daphne's hand over his, squeezing. He looked at her to find that she was still watching. His heart leapt out of its cage at what he saw in her eyes. Overwhelmed, he took her hand in his, holding it as if it was the most precious thing on earth.

Gently, he took her nub of pleasure between his lips, sucking on it slowly. Daphne inhaled sharply, the nails of her fingers dug into the flesh of his palm, before she let out a shriek. Her hips bucked, and with the jerky movement came a rush of warm feminine juices that poured into his mouth.

As Daphne tried to catch her breath, Leander moved away from her. He heard a moan of disapproval from the lady, but he had glimpsed the redness of her right wrist, through which the shackle restrained her. He had quite forgotten that Daphne wriggled a lot when she is being pleasured; her wrist must have been constantly rubbing against the shackle.

With care, he released her after fetching the key from the floor. His eyes apologetic, Leander took Daphne's right wrist and kissed it. Daphne merely looked at him, a small smile on her lips. She did not seem to care that she was hurt, only that he was there.

She stroked his face, while her other hand pulled him down on the bed. The general did not resist. She was his princess, from then until now; whatever would make her happy, he would gladly do for her.

Daphne kissed him, her tongue fiercely demanding entry into his mouth. No languid kisses this time around, it seemed. Her arms wove around his neck and pulled him closer to her, while her legs started to wrap around his waist. At the very last moment, though, she rolled him onto his back and sat on his abdomen, making Leander feel the wetness that was still pooling in the centre of her being.

She took his hand a kissed his knuckle, while her forefinger seductively traced a lazy line along his chest. She was slowly rocking back and forth astride him, and Leander stifled a groan of longing.

"Want to see my riding skills?" she whispered, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Leander could not help but chuckle. When he replied, though, his voice was raspy. "With gladness, little one."

Daphne flashed him an open-mouthed smile, before taking his member in her palm and stroking it a few times. Once satisfied that he was fully erect, she slowly descended upon his rock-hard cock, impaling herself to the hilt.

"Oh gods," she groaned, throwing her head back as she closed her eyes.

'Oh gods, indeed,' Leander thought as he fought his impending orgasm.

He had been close when he was eating her pussy, although the act of retrieving the key and freeing Daphne somewhat relieved his angry member. Now, however, with her tight, silky warmth wrapped around him, his cock was anything but passive.

Daphne began moving above him, rocking back and forth slowly at first. Leander grabbed her hips, holding but not guiding, so that she was the master of every stroke she made. She ground her hips in a circular motion, before changing the pace.

Faster and faster, she moved above him, apparently enjoying herself. Leander could not look at her without getting closer and closer to orgasm. She resembled a lithe goddess riding to her heart's content, her perfectly formed tits bouncing with every rise and fall. And on top of it all, she opened her eyes and looked at him, watching, teasing.

Moments later, his own hips were meeting her thrusts, slowly driving both of them to the peak of pleasure. The sound of wet flesh slamming against flesh mingled with the sounds of their groans and grunts, their sighs and moans. It was slowly driving him mad.

"Daphne," he groaned, feeling the first indications that he would not last long.

He could feel himself tensing up. His climax had been waiting just beneath the surface for the last several minutes; he knew he could not hold it back any longer. Only, he wanted Daphne to reach the peak with him.

"I'm close, Leander," she whimpered, leaning forward to place her palms against his chest. She finally closed her eyes, her face crumpled in her attempt to hold back. "So... so close. You feel too -- too good inside me. I... I can't -- "

He did not think she said anything afterward. Not that he would have heard it had she said anything. Seeds shot out of his cock and into Daphne's womb, while the lady herself shrieked, her own juices mixing with his, before she collapsed on top of him, at last spent.

They stayed on that position for a while, before Leander finally wrapped his arms around Daphne. The woman kissed his lips, smiling.

"You ride well, my lady," Leander whispered against her lips.

Her smile was dreamy when she replied, "So I've been told."

*****

Daphne could not believe it. She was feeling sore, yet, in a sweet, positive way. A funny feeling was settling on the lower part of her body, but it was anything but unpleasant.

She felt fulfilled. At peace. Maybe that was because she had just one powerful orgasm. And with Leander being here...

Cuddling up against the general, Daphne was on the verge of falling asleep when she heard the chimes of midnight. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. Reality sank in.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, sitting up.

Leander lazily smiled at her. "What now?"

"I have to go see Gabriel," she said, the traces of want ebbing from her voice. She searched Leander's face for disapproval; she found none. "Is it okay? I will explain everything to you later?"

"Go ahead," Leander replied, as if he was not concerned at all.

There was something amiss, Daphne thought, but she was too preoccupied about meeting Gabriel to actually think about it right now. She scanned the floor for her nightgown, and saw it near Leander's side of the bed.

Only when she tried to stand up that Daphne understood why Leander was not arguing with her. She woefully sat back on the bed and looked at him.

"What?" Leander asked, clearly amused as he sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I'm not stopping you. Go ahead and talk to him."

A soft blush crept up to her face, and Daphne threw herself to his arms. She could tell by the way he was looking at her that he knew what the problem was, and the bastard did not feel bad about it. Hell, there was even triumph in his eyes!

*****

Gabriel sighed. His spies brought some disturbing news from the capital. It seemed that the situation was as bad as it could get. Thersale lost two battles in the last five days, and Elgeshorans were taking heart again.

'Never mind that,' he thought, pouring himself a glass of wine.

Now that the Duke of Wildercross already know of the double-crossing that Thersalians are suffering, the tides of fortune would definitely shift back to their side of the war.

'Gods,' the duke thought, 'why do I have to be dragged into this mess, anyway?'

Maybe he could have just turned Daphne down. He could have reinforced his neutrality and damn whoever loses the war. Then, maybe, he would be spending the moment in the arms of one of his mistresses, instead of standing here in his receiving room, digesting bad news and wondering how on earth Daphne's father would get the Thersalians out of this hole.

Yet, even somebody as laidback as Gabriel knew that no form of neutrality would protect him against Elgeshoran spite if ever Thersale lost. It would not matter if he did not assist either side; he would still have to suffer the consequences of not supporting his own kingdom. The size of Northcove's private army had been a deterrent in the past, but, if Thersale's armies are crushed, then, those who had been resentful of the power of the Duke of Wildercross would be heartened to ally with Elgeshore and wage war against Thersale. And Northcove's private army would be no match to the army of Thersale's enemies.

He remembered what his father had said before the old man died. "Once Wildercross falls, Thersale will fall. Once Thersale falls, so will everything you know and love."

Only a handful of people seemed to know that. Daphne's father might not hold the Thersalian crown, but he was the backbone of the kingdom. The precarious balance that existed in and around Thersale was maintained only by the power and influence that the Duke of Wildercross held. Take him out of the picture and the continent would dive head-on into war in no time.

Gabriel did not know how the duke could maintain the balance of power in this part of the world, but Wildercross was doing it and that was the end of the story. Only underhanded tricks -- like the one being used by the Elgeshoran monarch through the assistance of Norcross and a few other Thersalian generals -- could topple Wildercross down, but even then, it would be hard to take the duke out. The extent of the man's power was such that, unless Fate and Luck intervened, he would always win.

Not for the first time, Gabriel thanked the heavens that Daphne Wildercross did not choose to marry him. The need of his cock aside, he would have condemned the day he marries that woman. Everybody knew that Wildercross would bestow as much power as he could to his love child, so woe be to him who'd marry the woman, for he had to take the role that Wildercross would leave behind.

As his thoughts took him back to Daphne, Gabriel frowned.

Wildercross has three legitimate children, all of them sons. Yet, he still set Daphne apart. Perhaps because he loved his former mistress, the Duchess of Brayhorn? It could be, but, if so, why would Wildercross not marry the woman, especially when she also bore him a son? A son who was kept from the duke, no less.

Nothing made sense.

"And Daphne's still not here, what the fuck," he muttered under his breath, downing the contents of his wineglass.

As if summoned by his words, a knock sounded from the door. It was the guard he sent to fetch Daphne from Leander's room. Gabriel understood that Daphne might use the time to reconcile with her lover, so he let it pass that she did not come to their meeting place before midnight. But, half an hour later, he had to send for her.

"Where is she?" he growled when the guard had nobody with him.

"She will not come, Your Grace," the guard answered, trying his hardest to keep his face straight.

Gabriel frowned. "And why is that?"

The guard croaked the words out. "She said she can't walk."

"What?"

The guard cleared his throat. "She said she can't walk. Her legs won't hold her up."

It took a moment before it hit him. Gabriel shook his head, grinning. "I should not have given them a time for fucking reconciliation, should I?"

The guard allowed himself a grin. "Time for reconciliation woud have been good, but time for fucking...?"

Gabriel burst out laughing. He dismissed the guard before pouring himself another drink. The second message from the Duke of Wildercross -- the message he wanted to discuss with Daphne -- was lying on the table.

Even without talking to her, Gabriel already knew what Daphne's response would be, especially now that he had confirmed Anthony Renard's guess: No way in hell.

The duke drank his wine before grabbing the letter and heading for the door.

No way in hell would Daphne return to her father's duchy. Not unless she could have Leander Van Halen with her, anyway.

*****

The next time she opened her eyes, Daphne found herself amid suffocating darkness. She gasped, both her arms reaching beside her to find that it was empty. Aghast, she realized that Leander had left her alone.

Still, she would never believe the general capable of leaving her in such a vulnerable state. She might not know him from before her father snatched her away, but in the short time that she had been in his camp as his mistress, Leander had never been anything but good and thoughtful.

'And loving,' she thought, swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in her throat.

"Leander?" she whispered, slowly sitting up on the bed as her shaking hands clutched the sheets closer to her naked body.

Panic was starting to claw at her heart. She was not a very big fan of darkness, having been used to the lifestyle at the Duke of Wildercross' estate. It might be unreasonable to fear the dark, but then, for her, darkness has a life of its own, and it always comes breathing down her neck, sending goosebumps on her skin. It feels like anything could happen in the dark; invisible hands could snatch her up --

She shook her head. She did not know why she hated darkness. In any case, nobody ever asked her. Her desires had always been catered to, and after she ran away and hid with her aunt, she has always slept with a lit lantern beside her cot.

She waited, but when there was no response, she called out his name again, louder this time. "Leander?"

It took a while, but at last, his response came: "I'm here."

Daphne once again closed her eyes, relief flooding to her system as she breathed a barely audible sigh. To know that she was not alone -- that he was there with her -- was in itself a luxury.

"I can't see you," she said, narrowing her eyes.

Somewhere in that darkness, a matchstick was lit. Daphne closed and opened her eyes, seeking the light. She saw it near the window, where Leander was standing, holding the small fire to the wick of a candle.

Daphne slipped out of the bed, holding her breath when she was already standing. Her legs were still wobbly, but at least, they did not feel jelly-like, the way they did earlier.

Slowly, she walked to where Leander was. Where the light was. She had always been like that: a moth attracted to the flames. Never mind if the flames could hurt, could burn; all she wanted was its light, its warmth. And if she died being consumed by a great conflagration, so be it, but she would not die in the dark, afraid and unloved.

Leander, she saw, had put on a pair of cotton pants that Gabriel provided him with. Still, Daphne could make out the hard planes of his body, the powerful muscles of his arms, and she smiled in both awe and need.

She stood by his side, pressing her body close to him as her arms encircled his waist. The general stood motionless, staring outside the window.

The dark cloud that hid the moon finally moved over, allowing the heavenly body to shed its reflected light on the ground below. Daphne sighed as she at last saw what Leander had been watching.

"I'm looking for answers," Leander said, completely parting the curtains so that both of them could watch the activities below. "There are so many things that I still don't understand."

So, the time for play was over. He finally wanted to get down to business.

"I will enlighten you," Daphne offered.

"You better do," Leander said stiffly, only glancing at her briefly before looking at the tents that lined the ground. "That my men are camped in Northcove's territory could only mean one thing. Either Anthony has become a turncoat and persuaded the men to work against Thersale, or you are actually an ally and you convinced my best friend to work with you."