Sorcha's Revolt
CHAPTER THREE - PILLOWTALK

Sorcha was still quivering in shock when DeSilva handed her a bar-towel. While she was still drying off, DeSilva waved to the barman. "We'll be needing a room..."

The barman glanced across the room at DeKellia first and received a nod before approaching DeSilva. Sorcha put the damp bar-towel into the man's hands and said, "I'd like the room right next door to my sister, please." As soon as they were alone in their room, Sorcha grabbed DeSilva by the shirt and kissed him. Then she began tearing off his clothes.

"Hey, woah..." he made half-hearted attempts to fend her off. "What's brought this on?"

"That bitch!" Sorcha kissed DeSilva savagely. Finally succeeding to unbutton his shirt, she lunged down and bit him on the chest. "Vicious, poison-tongued cow! It was an arranged marriage, she never even wanted you in the first place..." "Well, I know that!" DeSilva caught Sorcha by the arms and hauled her up off her knees, where she had been grappling with his belt buckle. "But what exactly are you doing?"

"I'm dragging you into bed so we can have sex for several hours very loudly right next door to my psychotically jealous sister," Sorcha replied. "What the hell does it look like?" "Couldn't we just have sex quietly in a room at the other side of the building?"

"No, move the bed." "Do what?"

"Move the bed, it's on the wrong wall. Sabra's room is that side." Sorcha pointed. "Move the bed so the headboard bangs on her wall. I'll give her a sex-crazed bimbo slut! Come on, I'll move the bed myself if you won't!" Together, they dragged the wide bed around to the opposite wall.

"Right, c'mere." Sorcha hauled DeSilva down to the bed with her and finished divesting him of his clothes. Swinging her leg astride him, she peeled off her harem top and unfastened her skirts, then threw the handful of silks into a corner. "Wake up!" She demanded, giving his manhood a light slap with her fingertips.

"I think it's scared," DeSilva said. "Anyway, you said something earlier about indulging my macho fantasies..."

"Well get on with it, then." Sorcha stretched out full-length on DeSilva and kissed him.

They rolled over together, side by side on the bed, his hands beginning to rove her body, tracing and exploring her tattoos. She gripped his head in both hands and pushed him down to her breasts. His Kraag fangs nipped at her skin, reminding her of their first night together when he had drawn a cut on her neck with his kiss.

"Iaran's sake, get on with it," she swore, then yelped when DeSilva bit her nipple harder.

His hand parted her legs and he dipped his head lower, fastening a love bite on her inner thigh. Sorcha put her hands down to restrain him.

"Ah, no, not that, not tonight..."

DeSilva grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands above her head. She writhed until he had her pinned with his body, moving his kiss to the secret spot on her side. She cried out again, and he moved again, deftly gliding up her body to aim the third and final love-bite at her throat. Sorcha intercepted him with her lips. He kissed her savagely, their legs twining and their bodies striving together.

"Later," Sorcha gasped. "Not like that, not right now. Later."

Lust and his Kraagish fangs turned DeSilva's grin into a snarl. He pulled Sorcha's legs fully apart and entered her hard.

She screamed, not entirely exaggerating for her sister's sake, and grappled his hips with her thighs to hold him deep within her. "Yes! Harder!"

DeSilva, his arms braced now on the mattress to either side, shook his head and groaned.

"Sweet Haroum, you're serious..."

"Argh!" Sorcha bucked her hips hard against DeSilva, grinding him deeper into her. "Do it!"

"I really should just put the bite on you." DeSilva began moving inside her, rolling his hips to elicit from Sorcha shivering whimpers that silenced her demands. "I should just knock you out and have a nice quiet time.'

"Later." Sorcha reached back to grip the bedstead for traction, dug her heels into the mattress and undulated, rolling her hips strongly in time to DeSilva's rhythm. His eyes widened and he sank onto one elbow, fighting for self-control. Sorcha grinned and pinned her tongue between her teeth, studying his face as she began to play with the deep internal muscles of her pelvis.

"Come on," she whispered, "I'll scream for her anyway. Make me scream for you."

DeSilva froze and locked eyes with her.

"You're the son of the greatest swordsman in the world." Sorcha rolled her hips again lasciviously, teasing him inside her. "Prove it."

DeSilva withdrew suddenly, reaching both hands to her side in the same moment. "Roll over."

Sorcha complied, rolling to her front and coming up on all fours while he positioned himself behind her. His hands settled on her hips a moment before he plunged into her again.

Sorcha let out a scream of orgasmic fury, and went on screaming, pressing one hand against the bedstead to slam it repeatedly against the wall.

"Ah! Yes! Yesyesyes! Aaah, harder! Harder, Monte, harder, aah, oh, oh, aaah, yeeeeesssss!"

DeSilva muttered something that she did not quite catch; Sorcha glanced back at him grinning.

"Oh yes," she continued. "Oooh, ah, yes, oh... oh, yes! Yes! Yes, master! Yes, yes, yes!" DeSilva pulled out and flipped her on her back, pinned her arms and entered her again.

"Not with the 'master' routine, please..." he muttered, beginning to kiss her neck.

"Fuck me, master!" Sorcha screamed and began to buck hard against him in time to her commentary. "Take me... harder my... all... conquering... warrior!" She finished with a snarling scream, grasping him to her while her buried his face in her breasts. "What do you think is going on with Sabra and that Kellion?" Sorcha asked, while they lay together afterwards. "You know, whatever his name was?"

"Taban," DeSilva said, bitterly.

They lay side by side in bed, DeSilva smoking while Sorcha stared at the ceiling.

"I'm sure it's all just a massive coincidence," DeSilva went on, "but Sabra's met and taken up with the brother of a man I killed in Uria."

"Oh. They not sleeping together."

"I'd rather think they're not."

"They're really not, I can tell." Sorcha rolled on her side and snuggled against DeSilva. "Are you jealous?"

"Of what? According to you, there's nothing going on."

"You are!" Sorcha pounced on him with glee and began poking him in the chest. "You're jealous that your ex-fiancée, my sister, might possibly have feelings for any man but you, admit it!" "I'm not jealous, I'm just not happy about it."

"Admit it," Sorcha repeated. "You've got no business being jealous of her, and there's nothing going on anyway. You're not going to do anything stupid, such as calling him out for a duel, I hope?"

"No chance, not while I'm half expecting Sabra to call either of us out at a moment's notice."

In Silveneir, unlike Kellia or Daricia, it was far more common for women to challenge one another to duels over matters of honour. Sorcha had not even considered the possibility before. She slumped back down on the pillows beside DeSilva. "You think she might be really that angry?"

"After tonight's performance?" DeSilva laughed. "I should say so."

"Iaran's blood, she stabbed that man..."

"She killed three men tonight," DeSilva asserted. "Two we saw and one in the bar, stabbed him in the neck with her mask. And what did you mean earlier when you said she never wanted me anyway? I know it was an arranged marriage, but if she didn't want it then why did the pair of you chase me all the way to Daricia?"

"Well, it was me, obviously," Sorcha said. "I whipped Sabra right up even before we set out from Loth Kavnor. I'd been rubbishing you from the start even before I'd met you, but when I did..." she looked up into his eyes. "Oh, there was no way Sabra could have you. I wanted you too much."

"You laughed in my face and said I was skinny."

"Only because I couldn't have you! I was so jealous of Sabra that I..." her sister's name caught in her throat, but she forced herself to go on; "I wanted her to think you weren't worth having, as if the Warmistress' nephew wasn't the biggest catch in Silveneir! Monte, every daughter of every noble house wanted that match; Loth Kavnor got it because we had the dam, that was all, just politics that gave my clan a shot, we're barely in the lists when it comes to nobility." "Yes, when Eliana told me about the match, I asked why she was marrying off to a hick baroness from the boonies."

"Exactly. You were so scared of living at Loth Kavnor that it never even crossed your mind Sabra might want to live in the palace."

"But Eliana told me specifically she was sending me to Loth Kavnor."

"Not for the rest of your life! You'd have been back and forth all the time."

DeSilva sighed and re-lit his pipe. "It didn't seem like that at the time. And if it had, we wouldn't be together."

"No," Sorcha smiled and ran her hands up his chest. "I'd have been a complete bitch to you every living moment of every day. I'd have made your life absolute hell. And as soon as I had Sabra convinced you weren't worth having, I'd have jumped right into bed with you."

"Not back then; you said yourself that you're a different person now."

"That's what I was planning. Why do you think I was so determined to chase you? I wanted you for myself. That's why I felt so guilty about everything else; I'd been planning to betray my sister from the start, and everything that followed flowed from there. At least, that's what I thought for a long time."

"And you don't now?"

"No. It's still true in a way, but I don't feel guilty about it. I'm sorry, but it's too late to change any of it and I think I've suffered enough; I can't keep feeling guilty for the rest of my life."