Time for teasing and tickling, or seducing one another had passed, or would be in the near future...but as they rode into town, caution and apprehension were the key words... His instruction would not be wasted should the inevitable be tested... but the ride thru the town gave eerie a new definition... no dogs yelping... no pedestrians... all the shops were closed... not even a tavern open for business.

He had heard times were bad in France, but if this was an example, then the people had a right to rise up against monarchy... and his mind flashed to Russia and wondered how Tsarina Catherina was fairing in the waves of democracy. But the thought was passing as he indicated a hostel ahead. <span style='color:darkblue'>“We shall stay there... small and inconspicuous. We do not wish to seem too sumptuous... but we will take the horses to that livery there...”</span>

And as he reined in his horses toward the livery... and for the next hour, they brushed fed and watered the six mounts. Then with bags on their shoulders and guns in hand, they walked slowly to the hostel... and when Sasha tried the door, it was locked. <span style='color:darkblue'>“Keep watch, let me look around.” </span>And he began to peer into the windows. There beyond was a small candle that was quickly extinguished. And he disappeared around the corner...

Moments later, he reappeared and he saw how observant she was... maybe even a bit jittery. In a sort of hushed voice, maybe even a whisper...<span style='color:darkblue'> “There is someone inside... and I do not wish to remain outside. Come...” </span>and he started to walk around the corner, and he made sure she was following; his Pistol at the ready.

At the back door, he tried it too... locked... then he looked around, handing her his pistol; then nodding his head to keep watch. Taking the dagger from his boot, he wedged it between the door and the wall, and forced the door open. Then he replaced his dagger and took the pistol from her, and slowly opening the door, he stepped inside... his pistol trailing in front of him.

<div align="center">Halte ou je vais tirer... Je suis le propriétaire et vous tuera pour entrer illégalement. Que voulez-vous ici ?
Halt or I will shoot... I am the owner and will kill you for entering illegally. What do you want here?</div>

It was a woman’s voice... and she was scared. That Sasha could tell...but he did not understand what she was saying... and he frozen looking to Biatta, and edged his head as to ask her silently to speak to the frightened woman.



<a href='index.php?showuser=82' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Elizabeth Stanley</a>

Halte ou je vais tirer... Je suis le propriétaire et vous tuera pour entrer illégalement. Que voulez-vous ici ?<p>
Halt or I will shoot... I am the owner and will kill you for entering illegally. What do you want here?

She knew Sasha could speak a little bit of French but he was not as proficient in it and the woman was scared beyond word. Her accent thick in her fear. Biatta at his back spoke around him, not making herself a target to the frightened woman.

“Nous espérons louer une chambre. Et je prie pour une baignade chaude. Pardonnez-nous notre intrusion. Prenez pitié de deux étrangers.“ <br>
(We hope to rent a room. And I pray for a warm bathing. Forgive us our intrusion. Take pity on two strangers.)

She had learned French the hardest of ways, through suffering it as the only language those bitches would speak to her. Yes she had some tutoring as she had grown up but one really never knows the ins-and-outs of language until they speak with a native of the tongue. And those natives were not accommodating in the least. Biatta did not wish to give the woman another target and doubted Sasha would move to allow it. So their host could only hear that she was not the sole woman in the room.

“Nous devons visiter le couvent au matin. Ensuite, nous serons sur notre chemin. Nous ne voulons aucun problème. Mais je promets que si vous le frappez, vous mourrez en consequence.” <br>
(We must visit the convent in the morning. Then we will be on our way. We do not want any problems. But I promise that if you hit him, you will die accordingly.)

He had not heard the clicks of the hammer, but that did not mean the scared woman had not already cocked it back; just as he had done before entering. And she had the advantage, for they were highlighted by the pale moonlight, and she by shadows. The best he could do was fire into the dark. But he had not moved, and one hand stayed at his back to know where Biatta was, and to prevent her from coming into the firing line.

He had caught part of the conversation, but the woman’s accent was a bit slang, and a bit pure fear, and he needed to be sure of what she said, or how he was to respond.

“There is much to be afraid of... soldiers breaking in... poor people are hungry, the rich have already taken what little we have and thieves stealing the rest.... Madame, I do not fear death... but my children are too young to be without a mother.”&nbsp; And then the weeping of a mother fearing for her children echoed in the whispered room. And then the scared voice of the mother caused the young ones to softly cry, for they too were in dire straits with fear.

And Sasha had heard the same lamentations in every known language of the Crimea, The Steppes, and his homeland. And he uncocked the pistol, and attempted her language. <span style='color:darkblue'>“I am putting my weapon away... please do not shoot, as we mean no harm... All we wish is to sleep. We can pay...”</span>

“Monsieur, you do not sound French... and if you are true to your word, enter, and close the door.”

Sasha had seen it all before... on the plains of Crimea, in its cities and towns. And now, when he thought he was away from it all, the effects of revolution raises its ugly head once more.

Once the door was closed, a single candle was lit and the pair then saw the battered woman, probably raped, and her three small children huddled behind her. And in the dim light, Sasha just looked at Biatta, then back to the woman. <span style='color:darkblue'>“You are safe now... Please show us to the bath and our rooms.”</span>

And within a two-hour period, the bath in the wedding suite upstairs was being filled with hot water by the woman and her oldest boy... about 7. And the windows, blacked-out by heavy blankets offered them the dim light of a single candle. And Sasha beckoned the woman to him, and keeping her distance, he holds out two gold coins... enough money to rent the room for a month... and the woman balked her French coming at him with no respite. With a stuttered breath, he shakes his head and smiles half-heartedly, that sheering pain in the heart... as he pushes it back to her. And in his limited French, <span style='color:darkblue'>“Ma’dam... you keep it... for the children...”</span>

With many thanks and tears in her eyes, she bows several times, each, backing out of the room, then closes the door.

Sasha turns to Biatta, and shakes his head. <span style='color:darkblue'>“What is France becoming?”</span> And he moves to help her undress since she showed signs of riders’ fatigue and soreness... <span style='color:darkblue'>“My sweet, take a good bath, and get some rest... we go to the Convent tomorrow.”</span>


<a href='index.php?showuser=82' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Elizabeth Stanley</a>

His hand and forearm pushed her to stay behind him. She had no intentions to move out of his protection until they were sure of what they had to deal with. Darkness protected the woman and they had not shut the door behind them as they had entered. She spoke about being afraid and Biatta agreed that she too was afraid of staying in the open or leaving now the town and trying to camp outside of it. For surely someone would come and harass them.

Her hand reached to brace Sasha shoulder once she understood what the woman’s fear was and that Sasha was lowering his weapon. She’d not put hers up until they were certain that it was as safe as it could be. Sasha may not have understood every syllable the woman had spoken but he understood the tenor of her words, the pain, the fear and the slight relief that they were not seeking to harm her. And then the frightened children pressed into her skirts wrapped about her waist and thighs.

“Dear God Sasha.”

Biatta had never seen a country after a war or after any civil disobedience where men raped and pillaged. Yes she had cloistered at the convent outside of town when the massacre happened but she was safe. Seeing the state of the woman made Biatta more paranoid and she shut the door quickly behind them at the woman’s order. With her new holster she looked positively intimidating and she did not wish to create new unease in their host. So she offered no comforts or condolences other than her humble words a gentle manner.

Biatta secured her gun, releasing the hammer and re holstered it when Sasha just looked at her. It was plain on his face how heartbroken he was at seeing the poor Hostel keeper and her children. Biatta had no words. She was silently thankful that she had escaped the Convent before any more troubles had happened and now she desperately hoped that the place was as secure as it had been when she was a resident. For if they had suffered the same as this family she might not find the information she was seeking.

Sasha said his French was lacking but he was doing very well conveying their needs. He was a man of many skills and the more she learned the more she was surprised by him. They were given the best room the hostel had, and her eldest boy and she filled the tub as quickly as they could with steaming water. Biatta wanted to kiss that sweet cherub when he traipsed through the room with a full pale and then back out with the empty. And their Mother supervising and making certain that they had everything they needed.

Sasha stood aside and offered the woman payment enough to get them through and she declined immediately at the amount. Biatta would have offered the same without hesitation and it broke her heart they could not do more. Finally he got the Woman to take it and he shut the door. Her adrenaline waning and he could see she was shaking with the effort. Unease, muscle fatigue, heartbreak at finding the family and now relief that they had a room and that steaming bath.

“I don’t know.”

She did not know why in times of such turmoil the worst of human nature reared its ugly head. She just knew that it did and she did not wish to be caught unawares by it. Knowing that such men would over run a convent and take liberties among those who have sworn to do no harm, not even in self defense. Thank the spirits she had been released, for she could have still been a resident and who knew what has befallen the place.

“I’ll happily reach those impossible spots for you, if you’d reach them for me… “

Her blue eyes smiling at him, not as sultry as they could for who would not be shaken by the knowledge of the family down stairs. But he had promised to join her and she did desperately want him to hold her. A bath together would spare the family from re filling the tub or making one of them take a cooler bath. Plus the hot water would loosen stiff muscles of which she were sure he suffered as well even if he were better conditioned.

When she were undressed he could see the ruddy rawness on her inner calves, knees and thighs. Created by guiding the horses and keeping her ass from hitting the saddle when they jogged. The real pain would come in the morning when the muscles were not forced to work in the same manner. Yet she made no major complaints, did not skulk about and cried out only when something forcibly caused more discomfort. Her fingers started unbuckling all the leather straps that held his second skin in place. Weapons and their holsters first but not laying them too far from their immediate grasp should they be needed. Then his outer wear. When she had loosened things enough for him to remove the remaining she smiled, brushed his cheek with her hand, gathered a pistol and then sauntered to the bath.

The worst of the day was behind them, as nightfall revealed a frightened people, hunkering down praying to God Almighty that their families shall not be harmed nor killed. But in the best part, the pair was safe... better together than apart... and he smiled at the phrase that lingered upon his mind – always.

And in the sanctity of their room, he gazed upon her with pride, as she looked so bad-assed in her regalia. And he smiled as she asked for help... and he remembered their earlier days when she would have rather choked and spent days working on something than ask the arrogant Russian to do anything for her. They had come along way, not only in distance, but their relationship. And so, he began to unfasten and lift away the heavy belt, then helped her remove the sword belt and dagger. And he stood before her unbuttoning the top of what used to be an elegant dress... maybe not what she was used to, but far better than any since.... and he smirked as what was once hidden was once again revealed... and he tossed the top aside.

And she methodically removed his regalia as well, weapons not far out of reach, but he silently prayed he would not need them this evening.... he had something else in mind. Her touch was soft, and light... lighter than she could have done... and when she looked up at her with those blue eyes, he did not whether to melt or ravage her... for she had a wicked expression that exuded villainy from her eyes.

And he looked her up and down... needless to say, the evidence of thought was right before her... and when she looked there, he smirked when she looked back up... and he shrugged. “What do you expect? It is natural with you around.” But he was curious about her rawness... it would be so difficult for her to ride him, or him to spread her knees with saddle soreness... Surely, there would be other positions suitable... and she’d wonder for sure what the evil smirk was about.

And when she sashayed over the bath, the gun casually hanging by fingertips, she took one glance over her shoulders and he canted his head and followed her. As she paused and turned, he was right there, facing her, inches away. And he smirked when she waved the firearm at him. “You threatening me, My Lady? It is not wise to threaten a dragon...” and he smirked.


<a href='index.php?showuser=82' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Elizabeth Stanley</a>

His body expressing just how happy he was to be naked with her and he, in his brash and bravado, just shrugged and stated in his blatant way. “What do you expect? It is natural with you around.” She hoped this would be the case between them for eternity. Because the man did things to her body as well, although she could hide the fact much better. When his words died out his mouth turned into an evil smile and she wondered exactly what he was thinking, and had some idea with his impressive arousal saluting her.

Being the tease she could be she turned away, let him watch her ass as she walked to the tub. The very ass he had a vested interest in. Looking back at him over her shoulder offering a subtle smirk, a wicked invitation or an nefarious dare. And there he was right behind her, near on her heels, and she turned to him, the pistol held securely but she brandished it a bit motioning at him.

“You threatening me, My Lady? It is not wise to threaten a dragon...”

He smirking at her and she followed her hand and the pistol with blue eyes as she motioned up and down his frame.

“Nooo… not threatening. Admiring the Dragon in his finest attire.”

And he could see the appreciation in her darkening eyes. She setting the pistol on a side table with their soap, oils and shampoo’s before stepping into him. Millimeters from one another, each breath brushing her breasts into his chest. Looking up at him. She shorter than he enough she had to lift her chin to meet his eyes. Her fingers hovered over his flesh, the heat from one another viable and that electricity barely raised goose flesh. Her breathe as she exhaled warming his face.

She was staving off the immediate need to touch, to kiss, to taste and to be filled with all that he had to offer. Wishing to desperately hold on to the immediate longing and the delectation of feeling him so close and so ready for as long as she could refrain from acting on that need to consume all he was offering. To memorize his eyes as he watched her and the turn of his lips as he looked at her. To set the smell of him even after the day’s hard ride to memory. That distinct maleness that was him. To appreciate all that was him, bared as god had gifted him to the earth.

When her fingers finally brushed his sides it was like air was rushed back to those who were suffocating. Her mouth found his and gave him life, offered him her very breath. Her hands slipped up his back pulling herself into him and wrapping about him. Needing to be pressed into him with everything she was. To be melding to him, with no crease between them. No end and no beginning.

Such a fucking tease... such sweet torture she was capable of giving... mere millimeters apart, even the most outstanding features of anatomy, the slightest hint of nearness... each breath short and quick, the chest heaving against and from her breasts. Looking down at her, his dirty green eyes barely open, and he would take a nip at her nose to tease... as she was shorter. And his skin would gooseflesh as her fingers hovered over its area.

Both now shared in the need... the need to kiss, to touch, and be warmed, or even heated, by ecstasy’s light... culminating in that blinding flash of orgasmic rush... and their kiss fed their anxiety... for it had been days... far too long for such young, consenting adults; ones that heightens every moment together, and apart, with love; even if they voice it only on occasion.

And when she touched his sides... the lightning struck, and his groan seemed like the thunder. He growled and picked her up with his bare hands and thus came the thud of wood as he pushed her against the wall... and allowed her to settle upon him, his cock settling deep within her... slow and easy, gave way to tiptoed thrusts upward, her weight counteracting upon such. The ride had been difficult, the body toiled and suffered the price for the journey.... but... new-found strength now entered the scenario... and pain went by the unexplained... not to hamper them til the deed was done.

The Dragon horded his Gem, relenting freedom to passion; for if this was torture, he’d never want to be in any other state...Greed, passion, desire... each and every expecting his life, regardless of how long it was to be, never to be free of this beloved Gem.

It had been too long since last he felt the inside of her... and the silkiness stirred the soul... and he could feel her arm and legs muscles tighten around him... and yet, there was another sensation as he was locked in her... internally, she was working him without moving... and his head leaned back and he shoved her against the wooden wall again, but she rode him like he was a young stallion regardless of the move he attempted. How could she be in control? Was this a secret she had refused to offer before?

Ecstasy reigned supreme.... and the sensation of falling backward made his eyes open, and there she was, the wicked smirk upon her face... and yet, he feared on what he was falling to, but she appeared confident... and as he slowly hit the floor, her hands at his shoulders holding him and her feet, softening the blow she had ridden him all the way to the floor; not once did he have to readjust. Oh my God... this was insane... yet ever so pleasurable...


<a href='index.php?showuser=82' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Elizabeth Stanley</a>

He nipped playfully at her nose and she raised her brow smiling at his taunting. His eyes cast down at her and even tightened and slanted his gaze made her breathe hitch and her stomach flutter. That same flock of butterflies that he had stirred from their first meeting that had told her, explicitly, she could not easily walk away from the man.

His growl sent shivers down her spine and tightened her chest with eager anticipation and before she could register much else the storm broke and his hands, his mouth were on her; her back was pressed into the wooden wall and she were quickly filled by him. Wrapped and spread about him, on him and trying to claw with fingers and teeth into his very soul.

Dragon. Her Dragon.

One that inspires fear, dread and apprehension. With meticulous and well practiced qualities that discourage approach or attack from opposing forces. And he ever inspiring awe and wonder from her. His steadfast protection and unrelenting love had softened her, caused her to believe in him and allowed her to trust in him. To accept and seek his help, and guidance. There were no pretenses between them any longer, oh certainly there were things they had not explored of one an others previous lives, but they mattered not. Their pasts mattered not at all.

Quickly his thrusts had her not able to think our say anything. Reduced strictly to mewling lamentations and feral vibrations from her larynx. Her body tensing to his tip-toed thrusts crushing her entirely into the wall and pain was not the signal her nerves were firing. Eyes closed, head pressed back into the wall, legs wrapped about his hips and ass, her hands gripping shoulders and the back of his neck. Utterly lost in his attentions, the feel of him when he reached the end of her and he felt her body trying to keep him from retreating.

His head panned back, the concave of his body pressing her hard into the wall and she used the force to push him back, to ride him to the floor and this time she chanced not losing her seat on him and they landed as he opened eyes and she casting a mischievous turn of her lip over him. She did not want to utterly dominate or control him, she just wanted to give him such pleasure he’d forget any other woman. She was not a woman to be passive, if she wanted something she went after it. And she wanted Alexander to never find fulfillment outside of her; her arms, her thighs her body.

Leaning forward enough to reposition herself and offer him her mouth, and she sat him proudly and enjoyed the feel of him in the deepest parts of her, slowly, building and working until her body washed him in her shuddering climax. She tried to watch him as her release rocked her, she tried to keep his eyes with her own, to see him as he produced her petite morte. To let him see through the windows of her soul exactly what he did for her, to her and within her. But it was near impossible to keep her eyes open when her body was convulsing in such pleasures.

The dragon had his gem, there was no more to be had, for this gem shined brighter than any gold, any silver, or any other woman. From that very first meeting at the private art viewing, when he held her hand exiting a coach, to the rain and mud of Jesolo, to the dregs of Avignon... he loved her... he loved her arrogance, her staunch pride, her gentle touch, her kisses that ranged so varyingly hard or soft, the sex they enjoyed... from the mimics of a woman of chastity who shunned his sexual advances and finally gave in, to the seductive and lewd vixen that fucked him royally... he loved her. Had he told her he loved her? Maybe not enough! There was nothing he would not do for her... nowhere he would not venture for her... no one whose life he would not claim if they even thought of harming her.

The Dragon has his Gem... there was no more... there is no more... there shall be no more !!

And as he lay on his back looking up at her, both of them having had an orgasm at the same time, oh, she made sure of that... neither had been quiet... neither had cared.... it was about them both, singularly. His coarse hand caressed her face... and his eyes met hers. <span style='color:darkblue'>“Did I ever tell you I love thee Lady Elizabeth, from first to last?” </span>She lay atop him, and his arms wrapped around her. And finally he whispered... <span style='color:darkblue'>“Your bath gets cold now, woman... See what you have done... you sexy minx... I was being nice, controlling my physical attributes, and yes... your sexy ass walks seductively to the bath... and now look at us, on a dirty floor; but what would you expect a virile man like me to do?” </span>and he chuckled, and she bounced atop him as he did. <span style='color:darkblue'>“See a fine ass, and a pleasant view of more, that I truly adore, and do nothing?” </span>And he pops her ass. <span style='color:darkblue'>“As long as my cock works, you will be fucked... and often.”</span>


<a href='index.php?showuser=82' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Elizabeth Stanley</a>

She lay upon him, his chest as it rose and fell with his breath lifting her with each inhalation. His hand caressing her cheek as their eyes linger in the depths of one another. Her heart trying to fly from her chest in the rush. And he spills his love from his scarred lips to hear ears.

Did I ever tell you I love thee Lady Elizabeth, from first to last?

Smiling at his words, smiling inside her entire body by his touch, by his drive to make her meet heaven by their little deaths between them, by the way his body can't help but to react to hers. In every action he shows his love. Does he know the extent of her feelings? Does she tell him enough? From her soft lips to his ears? By her every action? By her body opening for him at every chance the two can fill one another? Was it ever enough?

Her hand cups his jowl, the scruff of his new beard filling in slowly. Held in his arm now on top of him it was her home. No matter where they were, he was her home. No stick, or stone, no plaster or canvas of four walls&#8230; where ever Alexander Baranov held her in his arms was her home.

Ever in your arm Alexander is my home. Wherever and by whatever means you are my sanctuary and your arms my house.

Wrapping herself on him. Nuzzling into the nape of his neck as the endorphins leave them to the discomforts of over worked and tired muscles once more.

I fear I may no longer live without you at my side. Watching my ass. What have you done to me Colonel?

And he whispers that she has lured him into wasting their bath. And she huffs at his words. As if she could truly lead him any where he did not wish to go.

but what would you expect a virile man like me to do?

See a fine ass, and a pleasant view of more, that I truly adore, and do nothing?

As long as my cock works, you will be fucked... and often.

I expect exactly that my Love!

Rising from him and smiling most wickedly. Running her fingers down over her breasts and torso&#8230; s l o w l y&#8230; and her blue eyes set upon his. Winking and moving to take a chilled bath. The few steps miserable in muscle ache but every pain worth their love making. Every Pain worth his pleasure. Sinking into the cooler water but not totally chilled and she splashes water at him.

What do you think we see my father and&#8230;&#8221; we get married&#8230; &#8220;he meet the man of my life?

She paused fumbled over but in the end stayed those three words. She had led them in most of their interactions. Surprised him in gifts, ah business partnership, and in their first carnal knowledge of one another. He had on this trip professed his darkest failure and his deepest emotions for her. He had admitted that if fate deemed them worthy he would like children and marriage that he was not going anywhere, but he had not asked her about her feelings of the same subject.