The Samurai's Forbidden Touch Page 4

  He answered her sigh with a teasing flick of his tongue, moving from breast to breast, and her hips tightened in response, the tingling ache she felt increasing with each movement of his mouth. She moaned with desire, her hands clutching at the silk blankets at the top of the bed as she pressed her breasts into his eager mouth. Never had she felt such a delightful anticipation of even greater pleasure. Never had she felt so loved.

  His mouth moved lower, tracing the soft curve of her abdomen. She struggled to reach for him, not comprehending anything but her dizzying hunger for his tongue against her breasts, but her hands were stopped by the silken cords. She cried out in frustration, her wordless gasp a plea for his touch. Smiling at her surrender, the samurai pressed her legs open with hands that allowed no resistance.

  When his tongue moved quickly across the soft flesh between her legs, she arched back onto the silken sheets, a breathless cry of ecstasy escaping her lips. His tongue flicked across her once more, seeking out her point of profoundest pleasure. She moaned again, this time with greater need. He responded hungrily, tasting and consuming her, his tongue laving across her relentlessly. She was overwhelmed with delight yet sought more, her body and heart his to command.

  Sensing her growing need, Takeshi slowed his kisses, lingering so as to bring her to a higher plain of pleasure and desire. Her hips again seemed to move of their own accord, rolling slowly against his hungry lips. With each rotation of her hips and each titillating response from his tongue, a mounting urgency grew within her until she was consumed by its fire. She writhed against his mouth, moaning with pleasure and overcome by his devotion.

  Miku’s whole world had been distilled down to only the love she felt for Takeshi and that one exquisite point beneath his tongue. And with the realization that his adoration equaled her own, she cried out as intense waves of pleasure shattered through her body.

  Takeshi moved quickly onto the bed, embracing her shuddering form in the heat of his arms, pressing her body to him as she trembled and wept, unexpectedly overcome with emotion. As her sobbing subsided, he gently wiped a tear from her glistening cheek with a bow-hardened finger. She turned her face toward his, and he kissed her slowly, each savoring the other’s gentle touch.

  With a slow sweep of his hand, the samurai ran his fingers up her body, releasing the cord that bound her arms before moving to untie the one about her waist. Then he slid his hand down her body, cupping her hip and pressing her body toward him. Miku deepened her kiss, a renewed hunger stirred by his touch, and he moaned with desire.

  She responded by slipping her legs around his waist, pressing up against the erect shaft between his legs. She wanted him all, hardened warrior and tender lover. He moved rhythmically against her, gliding across her wet flesh, and she shuddered with excitement.

  Overcome by her arousal, Takeshi groaned as he fought to control his own passion. His hand slid from her hip and moved between her legs. Her body stiffened as one finger slipped inside, slowly and gently. She had wanted to be close to him, as connected as possible, and yet this new feeling was more than she had anticipated. But surely her lover would not do anything but that which brought her pleasure. He had shown her more love than anyone ever had. She would trust him even now.

  Gradually Miku’s body relaxed as she lay beneath him. Takeshi, his breathing ragged with self-imposed restraint, began to slowly move his finger, gliding it in and out of her body as she grew accustomed to his touch. She felt a new fullness as a second finger slipped inside her, and her eyes fluttered open with alarm.

  “This will make what comes next easier,” he murmured. She didn’t understand his words, but the tenderness in his eyes assured her that his purpose was to cherish her as completely as possible. So she closed her eyes again, surrendering to the mesmerizing rhythm of his touch.

  Then in the flickering lamplight, he shifted his full weight above her and, without pause, slowly pushed himself into her, stretching her body as she had not imagined possible. She cried out, struggling to pull away, but his hold around her waist was firm and unyielding as he pressed still farther into her. There was a moment of resistance, of pain, and she gasped and stiffened, her body fighting to accept his full length. And then he was inside of her, filling her completely.

  He lay still, kissing her lips and neck and hair, waiting for her trembling to abate. “Two halves of a shell, joined together as one,” he whispered, his lips gently tracing the edge of her jaw. “Our bodies are meant to be together.” Hearing the poetry that fell so naturally from her untutored warrior’s lips washed away any lingering pain and fear as Miku wrapped her arms around Takeshi’s neck and pressed her mouth to his.

  Slowly, her hips began to move against his. He kissed her more deeply and felt her body relax and open to him.

  With increased need, he pushed more deeply into her, her tiny cries of ecstasy captured in his mouth. His rhythmic motion quickened, and she arched against him. No longer able to subdue his own passion, he thrust harder, spearing her again and again with his full length.

  She watched with rapt delight as his gaze took in the soft curves of her breasts, quivering with each thrust, and her heart thudded with a newfound pride at the molten desire her body brought to his eyes. The samurai was filling Miku’s body and soul, her love and passion heightened by the intensity of his hunger for her. His breath was hot against her shoulder, and she pressed into him, seeking to be filled even more deeply.

  The sense of urgent desire was growing once more between her legs, and she opened herself wider. Faster and deeper he moved into her, and she clung to him, ecstatic in his complete possession of her.

  Then, with a guttural cry, he stiffened against her, and her body responded with a rushing release of pleasure, the flesh around his throbbing shaft tightening convulsively as tingling waves of delight rolled through her, more slowly than the previous times, but no less intense.

  In that moment, Miku realized that the greatest beauty was found not in nature’s bejeweled night sky, or even within one of her own artfully wrought poems, but rather in the perfect connection between man and woman, between those who would love each other always. As sated exhaustion quickly overtook them both, not even sleep could remove the smile of exquisite contentment from her face.

  She awoke to soft light, cool and pale like oversaturated ink, flowing through the thin silk walls of her bedchamber. Dawn painted the skin of Miku and Takeshi’s bare legs as they lay entwined with each other. She pressed herself closer to his bronzed chest, and his arms instinctively tightened around her, his lips seeking out hers.

  And then without warning, his mouth was gone from hers. “The shoko sounds,” he said.

  Miku struggled to her elbows, pushing back a thick lock of black hair from her eyes, and listened to the large brass gong that hung at the front gate of her uncle’s manor. Its distinctive clang rang through the courtyard, shattering their morning’s serenity. Servants were signaling her uncle’s return.

  Almost immediately, a rumble of footsteps foretold her uncle’s imminent arrival at the door to her suite. Before she could do more than hastily wrap a robe around her naked form, the old man and his entourage of servants trampled through her parlor and pulled away the screen that enclosed her bedchamber.

  Her uncle stopped abruptly, his irritable instructions to a servant broken off midsentence as his sharp gaze took in Miku’s disheveled appearance and Takeshi’s sword and bow, abandoned in the corner of the room. Though he’d managed to step back into his short cotton robe, the samurai’s shoulder-length hair was loose about his neck instead of tied up tightly in the formal knot required of his military station.

  “No attempt to escape was made in the night, Master,” said Takeshi, sliding on his helmet and plated armor and calmly moving to retrieve his weapons. But before he could reach his katana, Miku’s uncle signaled for armed guards to retrieve the blade.

  “Yes, I see that my niece is still here, as I commanded. Yet I wonder if she remained truly safe
?” asked Miku’s uncle, his fury barely contained. “Or was her greatest threat lurking here, in my own home?”

  “The only threat I face is from you,” said Miku, moving angrily toward her uncle as his scandalized servants backed away. “I will not—”

  “What you will or will not do is my decision,” snapped her uncle. “Dress in your finest robes and come to the grand hall.”

  “You cannot force Miku to obey you any longer,” said Takeshi, stepping between her and her uncle. “She is no longer yours to command.”

  Turning toward his private guard, the old man pointed a gnarled finger toward Takeshi. “Arrest this traitor. He will be put to death…after he watches my niece marry another.” He rolled an eye toward Takeshi, smirked and said, “You seem to have forgotten that you are not armed.”

  With a battle cry, Takeshi rushed toward his former Master, but a dozen guards with weapons drawn moved to block him.

  “You will follow this sniveling coward?” roared Takeshi, as one soldier pressed his sword to the base of Takeshi’s throat while a second wrapped a strong leather rope around his wrists. “Then you are not true samurai—for samurai are men of honor and courage!”

  Their faces flushed with anger and humiliation, the two guards pulled the still-fighting Takeshi from Miku’s room, their violent exit ripping holes in the delicate silk walls of her bedchamber.

  Looking from the tattered fabric to her uncle, Miku trembled with rage and shock. But before she could speak, he snarled, “My request is clear—appear in one hour, or your samurai will die immediately. Your cooperation ensures him at least a few more hours before I end his miserable life.”

  Now, as she hurried to dress, Miku seethed with barely contained fury. Weighed down by multilayered robes of crimson, green, and gold silk, without glancing into her polished bronze mirror, Miku stepped from her chambers and made her way down the long corridor connecting her quarters to her uncle’s main house.

  Takeshi was unarmed, yet surely he would find a way to defend her—and save himself. But how, she could not fathom. Perhaps such a dream was nothing more than a poet’s fancy after all.

  Miku stepped into her uncle’s large sitting room, her sensuous curves concealed beneath formal robes and her face hidden behind heavy makeup. She had painted her ripe lips to appear smaller, as was the fashion, and her luxurious hair had been pinned back with a golden ornament shaped like a tiny shell. From his position between two armed guards near the Master, Takeshi’s heart lurched to his throat as the memory of the simple parlor game they had played pierced through the armor of his heart.

  Miku’s uncle leaned to Takeshi and in a harsh whisper said, “Do not forget, samurai. You will be killed instantly should you speak to my niece or in any other way acknowledge your…connection…with her. Her future husband must not know of this dalliance, at least until the wedding has been completed and the contracted alliance between our families formalized.” The old man snorted, then added, “Although, of course, at that point I will have you executed.”

  “Why are you keeping me alive now?” asked Takeshi.

  The old man shrugged with affected surprise. “Why, so that you can watch your beloved poet presented, body and soul, to the man of my choosing, of course. When you are put to the blade, I want your last thought to be of her in the arms of another.”

  Takeshi lunged toward Miku’s uncle, but the sharp edge of the other soldiers’ swords held him at bay.

  “Your prisoner seems quite volatile,” whimpered the bloated aristocrat seated nearby, oblivious to the pervious conversation between Takeshi and his host. “Perhaps you should call for a larger contingent of guards? And why is he here, anyway?”

  “No reason that should concern you, my honored friend,” said Miku’s uncle quickly, snapping his fingers to signal for more guards. “The man is merely a wayward peasant who needs my attention after we have concluded these more agreeable affairs. But I will call for additional soldiers as you request, to put your mind at ease.”

  As more samurai filed into the room, Miku glided forward, stopping before her sharp-eyed uncle and the paunchy man who sat next to him. She knelt on a cushion and raised her eyes, a demure smile on her face. “Dear uncle, your quick and safe return gladdens my heart. The house was quiet without your presence.”

  At the melodic sound of her voice, Takeshi started slightly. Miku did not look toward him. To express the excruciating emotions ripping at her heart—even with a soft word or knowing glance—would risk his life, so she carefully played the part her uncle expected, even if the old man knew it was all a lie.

  “My niece, I have returned with an honored guest and glad tidings. Orochi has come this long way from the capital Heian-kyo, where he serves as an assistant to the Emperor’s butler. A very prestigious position, of course.”

  “Quite impressive,” said Miku, nodding stiffly to her uncle’s guest. The man wiped his watering eyes and licked his lips in response.

  She tried not to shudder as a wave of revulsion swelled within her stomach. Had she not shared the past evening in the arms of another, had she never learned the pleasure that a man’s loving touch could bring, then perhaps she would not find this pompous slug so repugnant. But though eminently brave and unquestioningly strong, Takeshi was now unarmed and seemed no match for the army of swords and bows around him.

  “I see you are satisfied with this man,” continued her uncle. Miku declined her head in forced deference to her uncle’s statement. “And he is obviously satisfied with you. But what man wouldn’t be, eh?” he asked, poking a pointed elbow into the fleshy rolls surrounding the other man’s stomach while sending a goading glance toward Takeshi. “My niece may have an uncomely wildness to her spirit at times, Orochi, but you see that she can be tamed.”

  The men laughed as Miku caught a look of strangled rage pass across Takeshi’s face. Her heart lurched with desperate hope. Was Takeshi going to act? Could she be saved from the revolting fate of sharing a bed, and a life, with Orochi? But her hope withered with the renewed realization that for Takeshi to defy her uncle would be an instant death sentence, carried out at the hands of the other samurai.

  “You will wed Orochi,” said her uncle slowly, his eyes sharp on Miku’s face.

  “Now.”

  She kept her hands clenched tightly on her lap and said nothing. Miku well knew the stories of sensuous excess and erotic debauchery that permeated the wealthy elite who lived in Heian-kyo, where monogamy was the exception and multiple liaisons were expected. Though tantalizing for many, she knew such wantonness would only lead to her own heartbreak. How could she expect her new husband to be faithful in a climate such as that? And how could she hope to find happiness when all she wanted was the deep satisfaction that came from being fully known and loved by just one man—by Takeshi?

  “He will take his wedding night here, in your quarters, and tomorrow you will return with him to the capital.” Her uncle poked Orochi in the ribs again and added,

  “Where she will set aside her poetry and begin giving you many sons and daughters!”

  Miku’s mind swam with horror as she fought to maintain a tranquil outward appearance. “You show me great love by finding an important man to be my husband,” she said finally, choking on the words. “I am not worthy of such an honor.”

  “True, and yet it is an honor you will accept,” said her uncle as Orochi leered with watery eyes. “For it is an honor that will grant me favor in the eyes of the Emperor and his court.”

  Takeshi’s bound arms and broad chest trembled with barely contained fury as he looked from Miku to Orochi, his eyes dark and jaw set.

  Unaware of the silent drama between his intended bride and her warrior lover, Orochi leaned toward his host. “Yes, the handsome dowry you will send with her to Heian-kyo will go far in impressing His Highness. Your peasants will be honored to know their extra grain is going toward such a magnanimous gift.”

  Both men laughed as Miku slowly shook her head in disbe
lief. Not only was she being given to such a repugnant man, but her uncle’s serfs would also be further starved to pay her dowry.

  “No such dowry will be taken from the peasants, or paid to the emperor.” Takeshi’s deep voice cut through the room like the blade of a knife. “Now, release me.”

  Miku’s eyes shot to Takeshi and the corps of men surrounding him. Even with arms bound, the strength of his presence, the dark piercing gaze of his eyes and unquestionable authority of his voice expressed more power than any other man in the room. And though ostensibly there to provide extra guard, the soldiers were now instead cutting the leather cord from around Takeshi’s wrists and slipping a katana into his outstretched hand.

  “Stop him,” cried Miku’s uncle, his voice catching with fear, but the few soldiers who moved tentatively toward Takeshi were quickly halted by the warning snarls and outstretched swords of their braver comrades, now loyal to Takeshi alone.

  Takeshi nodded with solemn authority to his men, who acknowledged him with bows of respect, though not so low as to drop their eyes from the two old men quivering at their feet.

  “For years, we have followed you with unwavering loyalty,” said Takeshi, boldly stepping toward Miku’s uncle.

  The time had come for him to act, and he was ready. He had always been ready, he realized. It had just taken the fiery temper, gentle touch and courageous spirit of his Master’s niece to finally unleash the maverick that had always lurked within his warrior’s heart.

  “And for years,” continued Takeshi, brandishing his weapon, “we have honored our vow to serve you. Yet for years, you have repressed our families and starved our people. You have abused your responsibility toward everyone under your authority.” He paused, and Miku’s heart leapt to her throat at his next words, spoken in a low growl.