Part 11: link
“This was a good idea,” Gwen says, stepping out of Arthur’s car at the valet, looking up at the Grand Hotel in Birmingham.
“I thought so,” Arthur says, coming around and putting his hand on her lower back, ushering her inside.
“I’m glad you booked the extra night, too,” she says, grinning at him.
“Well, I’m actually kind of in the wedding,” Arthur admits, “so I would have needed to drive up here tonight anyway for the rehearsal. Staying here saves a lot of driving. And the reception is here, so when we’re ready to leave, we can just go back up to our room.”
“You’re in the wedding?” Gwen asks, trying not to sound too disappointed. Great. I’ll get to be ignored all night while he does wedding party things.
“I’m only reading something, don’t worry,” Arthur says, seeing right through her.
“Oh. So you can still sit with me?”
“Yes. Wild horses could not drag me from your side,” he says, stepping up to the desk. “Pendragon,” he tells the clerk.
The man behind the desk does his thing and hands Arthur their keys. “Enjoy your stay with us, Mr. and Mrs. Pendragon,” he says.
“Thank you,” Arthur answers stoically. They turn towards the elevators, biting the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing as the bellman scurries ahead with their bags to press the button.
I have to admit I liked the sound of that.
Arthur glances down at Gwen, and she looks up at him, blushing rather prettily.
Ding.
They enter the lift, followed by the bellman.
“Here for the big wedding?” the bellman asks, making polite conversation.
“Yes, thought we’d come up tonight and make a weekend of it,” Arthur says. Why do you have to be in here with us? We have such fun in elevators, he thinks.
“We have a full-service salon and spa, miss, if you’d like a little pampering before the wedding. Also have services for men, sir.”
Arthur looks at Gwen, who is biting the corner of her lower lip and looking up at him. He smiles at her and kisses her forehead. “We may have to look into that, thanks.”
Ding.
“Ah, here we are.”
xXx
“Guinevere, this is Mithian Nemeth, and of course you’ve met Leon Foreman,” Arthur introduces her to the bride- and groom-to-be. “Guys, this is my girlfriend, Guinevere DeGrace.”
“Very nice to meet you, Mithian,” Gwen says, shaking the other woman’s hand. Mithian is a petite beauty with pale skin and chestnut hair. She’s also practically glowing with happiness.
“You, too, Guinevere,” Mithian answers, smiling brightly.
“Gwen, please,” she says. “Arthur seems to insist upon calling me Guinevere, but most people do call me Gwen. Nice to see you again, Leon,” she turns and shakes Leon’s hand.
“You, too,” Leon smiles. “I’m glad you could come.”
“Well, to be honest, I kind of feel like I’m crashing your rehearsal,” Gwen admits.
“Nonsense,” Mithian waves her off. “We already knew you were coming when Arthur agreed to do a reading, so we accounted for you for the dinner, figuring he’d bring you.”
“Oh,” Gwen says, not really knowing what else to say.
“We’re ready,” a man pokes his head through some doors nearby and announces.
“All right,” Leon says, taking Mithian’s hand and they all walk inside.
“Do what you need to do,” Gwen says. “I’ll just hang out here in the pew and play Angry Birds.”
“Let me know if I read too fast,” Arthur says, leaning in to kiss her.
“Okay,” she says, touching the end of his nose with her finger. He snatches it and kisses it before sauntering forward to sit near the front.
The rehearsal dinner is at the Nemeth’s country estate, a sprawling affair with a large garden.
“Something smells amazing,” Gwen says when they step out of the car, looking at the grand house.
“Leon said something about roasting a whole pig,” Arthur says. “His family is hosting the dinner, of course, but the Nemeths offered their cottage when they found out what Mr. Foreman had in mind.”
“Cottage?” Gwen chuckles.
“Yeah, I know,” Arthur sighs. “My, um, father has a similar place, I should probably mention…”
“Rich people.” Gwen rolls her eyes.
“Come on.” He grins and takes her hand, pulling her through to the back garden. As they enter the patio, two men walk past, a beautiful golden pig on a long pole suspended between them.
“You weren’t kidding when you said ‘whole pig!’” Gwen exclaims, staring as they disappear into the house.
“Looked delicious,” Arthur says.
“It still had its head on…” she says absently, letting Arthur lead her to the bar for champagne.
“Oh, you’re not going squeamish on me, are you?” he complains, smirking.
“No,” she pouts. “But if there are unidentifiable parts on the buffet…”
“I doubt it. I think Mrs. Nemeth would faint, honestly,” he chuckles.
It is a large party. Mithian has six bridesmaids and two flower girls. Gwen learns that the two men carrying the pig through were Leon’s father and uncle, the Barbecue Masters (so they claim).
The pork turns out to be delicious, as is everything else, and everyone is in high spirits, chatting in small, ever-changing clusters as the night wears on. Arthur is cornered by a couple of simpering bridesmaids while Gwen is in the restroom, and she watches a moment, mildly amused, until one of them touches his arm.
“Arthur, darling, there you are,” she says brightly, approaching him and kissing him soundly.
“Thank you,” he whispers against her lips, and when she moves to stand beside him, he wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Ladies, this is my girlfriend, Guinevere,” he says, and Gwen can see him trying not to laugh. “Guinevere, this is…” he pauses, appearing to try and remember their names, “Fiona and… Emma, was it?” he asks the one who touched his arm.
“Ella,” she says, smiling a fake smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too. This is a lovely place, isn’t it? I just love how secluded it is,” Gwen says, making pleasant conversation while Arthur’s hand strokes her shoulder lovingly.
“Yeah, it’s great,” Ella says. “Excuse me, I need to freshen my drink,” she says. “Come on, Fee.” She pulls the other bridesmaid with her.
“Good to meet you…” Fiona mumbles as she is hauled away.
“Jealous little minx,” Arthur grins down at her.
“She was touching what does not belong to her,” Gwen says.
“And I do belong to you?” Arthur arches an eyebrow at her.
“Darn right,” Gwen says. “She’s lucky she only touched your arm. Hello, Leon,” she suddenly says as Leon and Mithian appear behind a now-laughing Arthur.
“You did an excellent job at the rehearsal with your reading, Arthur,” Mithian says, smiling. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem at all,” Arthur shrugs.
“Public speaking has never been a problem for Arthur,” Leon says. “And, since he’s the reason we met anyway, we felt it appropriate that he be involved in some capacity.”
“You set them up?” Gwen asks, intrigued.
“Mmm, not exactly…” Arthur says, looking away.
“Arthur.”
Leon laughs. “I was Mithian’s rebound man. After Arthur,” he explains.
“What?” Gwen asks, curious and amused.
“Mithian and I went out on one date,” Arthur says, then he glances at Mithian.
“It was okay,” she shrugs. “Then we went on another, a double date with my friend Sophia. I had asked Arthur to bring a friend for her, and he brought Leon.”
“We didn’t hit it off,” Leon says.
“Sophia is very shy. That’s why I was trying to help her out,” Mithian explains.
“Mith and I mutually decided that we had no… spark. We got along fine, but neither of us felt anything beyond friendship,” Arthur says.
“So how did Leon and Mithian get together?” Gwen asks.
“Leon asked me for her number,” Arthur laughs.
“No!” Gwen exclaims.
“It was very awkward,” Leon admits, “but I had to. I just… had to. And I didn’t know how else to find her.”
“He did wait a good week or so,” Arthur says. “Then he came slinking into my office, all, ‘So, you and Mithian aren’t seeing each other anymore?’ and ‘Would you mind awfully if I rang her up?’”
“Best thing I ever did,” Leon says, wrapping his long arms around his petite fiancée and kissing her on the top of her head.
xXx
“What should we do now?” Gwen asks, back in their hotel room. She is lounging on the sumptuous king-sized bed, shoes off.
“Hmm, I can think of one or two ideas,” Arthur says, rummaging in his small suitcase for God only knows what. “Hello, what’s this?” he pulls out a deck of playing cards.
“Cards?” Gwen asks, sitting up, cross-legged in the center of the bed.
“Oh, they must be in here still from that boys’ weekend…” he mutters. He looks at the deck in his hand, then at Gwen.
“Dare?” she asks, a slightly puzzled and intrigued look on her face.
“Strip poker,” he says, stalking towards the bed now, opening the box, withdrawing the pack, and setting the two jokers aside.
“Mmm,” Gwen says, scooting over on the bed. “What kind of poker?”
“Strip poker, I believe I just said,” Arthur says, confused.
“No, Five Card Draw, Texas Hold ’Em…”
“Oh,” he says, sitting. “Probably should keep it simple. Five Card Draw. Losing hand takes something off. I’ll deal first.”
He sits, his legs splayed out in front of him, and shuffles the deck. He deals.
Gwen takes her cards and looks at them. Bugger. “Hmm,” she says, keeping her face neutral. “I’ll take one.”
He gives her a card. “Dealer takes three.”
Gwen looks. Shit. Queen, ten, nine, seven, six. Why a queen? You couldn’t have dealt me an eight? She spies Arthur’s face and is heartened to see that he has a terrible poker face and that his hand must be as bad as hers.
“All right, what do you have?” he asks.
“Nothing. Queen high,” she shows her hand.
“Ha! I also have nothing, but ace high!” he exclaims triumphantly. He lays his cards down. Ace, two, three, five, and seven.
“Wow, we are terrible poker players,” Gwen says.
“Take something off.”
Gwen removes a sock. Arthur scowls, gathers the cards and pushes them over to her. “Your deal.”
He watches as she shuffles the deck skillfully, better even than he does. “You’re good at that.”
“El and I used to play poker with our Dad. We’d wager with crisps or popcorn. I think Dad used to let us win.” She deals.
Arthur wins again, taking no cards at all. He has a flush. Gwen has a pair of fives. Another sock comes off.
“Not my night,” Gwen mutters after the third hand, her pair of sevens losing to Arthur’s pair of tens. She removes an earring.
“Hey!” Arthur protests. She just smirks and sets the earring on the nightstand.
Gwen’s other earring.
Gwen’s bracelet.
“Ha! Two pair!” Gwen exclaims triumphantly, finally winning a hand over Arthur’s pair of sevens.
Smirking, Arthur takes off his shirt.
“Don’t think you’re going to distract me by sitting there shirtless, Pendragon,” Gwen says casually, tossing the cards at him. “Your deal.”
Next hand, Arthur loses a sock, his ace-high bested by her pair of twos.
Gwen is forced to remove her shirt after the next hand, and sits smugly now, knowing that she will indeed distract Arthur, even though she still has a bra on. A red lace bra; his favorite one.
Arthur’s other sock.
Gwen’s jeans.
Arthur exhales, adjusting his position on the bed as he sits across from his beautiful girlfriend, clad only in her bra and panties.
“Problem, Arthur?” she asks innocently.
“Give me the cards, wench.”
“Wench?” she asks, chuckling as she hands him the cards.
She loses again. Arthur watches her expectantly. She smiles sweetly at him, reaches up, and pulls the elastic band from her hair, releasing her ponytail and allowing her dark curls to cascade over her shoulders.
God, that just made it worse. I love her hair loose like that. Arthur exhales heavily again and passes her the cards.
After a brief debate about whether or not three of a kind beats two pair – it does, verified by a quick Google search – Gwen removes her bra, and Arthur’s mouth goes dry.
“Your deal, Arthur,” she says throatily (intentionally), leaning forward to an unnecessary degree to hand him the cards.
“What? Oh. Right.”
It comes down to two very paltry hands. Arthur’s pair of sevens beats Gwen’s pair of threes.
“I win,” Arthur purrs, his eyes fixed on her panties.
Gwen flops back and lies down on the bed. “You do it.”
“Sore loser?” he asks, grinning as he crawls over the pile of cards on the bed and climbs over Gwen, settling between her legs, resting on his elbows over her.
“Not at all,” she says. “Just making you work for it,” she says, leaning her head back as he starts dropping kisses on her neck. She hums her approval, squirming beneath him slightly as he moves lower, dragging his tongue down along her skin, between her breasts.
Arthur takes his time getting to his assigned task, leisurely skimming his lips over the soft skin on the underside of her breasts, kissing his way around to first one nipple, then the other, giving each equal and ardent attention.
He slides his hand down to her hip, his fingers catching on the waistband of her small panties, slipping just beneath it and sliding along the edge, teasing. She squirms beneath him again, practically begging him to remove the garment. He responds by pressing his hips forward slightly so she can feel his erection straining against his jeans.
“Take your bloody jeans off,” Gwen moans, grabbing his head and pulling his lips to hers.
“No,” he answers, talking between kisses. “I won, your knickers come off first.”
“Then take them off already!” She writhes beneath him, swatting his shoulder when he starts chuckling mischievously.
“No need to resort to violence, darling,” he rumbles, sliding down her body. He kisses her stomach a few times and then finally tugs on her panties. She lifts up to allow him to slide them down her legs and off, flinging them over his shoulder.
They hit the television and Gwen laughs. “Oh!” she exclaims as he kisses her right at the apex of her thighs, nuzzling her there briefly.
Arthur’s tongue snakes out and he licks, long, lazy strokes, tormenting her until she is moaning and pulling his hair. He moves away, kissing down her thigh and biting gently just above the bend of her knee. As he kisses his way back up, his hand slides up and he squeezes that secret ticklish spot just below her rear, grinning against her thigh.
“Arthur!” she squeals, her bum shooting off the bed. “Don’t do that!” She kicks him in the ribs with her heel while he laughs, his face on her stomach now.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, still chuckling, “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Doesn’t count if you’re still laughing while you apologize, Arthur,” she protests, trying to push at his head while his lips and tongue on her skin work very effectively to make any further protest disappear from her brain.
“I just love hearing your laugh,” he murmurs, just before taking a nipple into his mouth, pulling it gently between his teeth, sucking at it, his hand caressing the other breast.
Gwen moves her hands down and opens his jeans, yanking them open and shoving at them. “Off now.”
“Yes, yes,” he sighs in mock exasperation as he leans back and shucks his jeans and pants to the floor before sliding back over her, nestling between her legs again.
“Better now?” he asks, claiming her lips with his before she can answer, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, hungry and passionate.
Gwen’s fingers delve into his hair, running her fingernails lightly over his scalp. She moans into his mouth and slides her palms down his muscled back, lower, down to his backside, which she squeezes appreciatively. Arthur hums his approval against her neck, and then, in an impulsive moment, Gwen raises her hand and spanks him.
“Oh!” he grunts. “What was that?”
“Impulse,” she answers simply, kissing him, sucking his lower lip in between her lips.
“Hmm…” he says, pulling away slightly and raising an eyebrow at her.
She bites her lower lip and looks up at him, her brown eyes boring into him, and all he can do is kiss her again, pressing his hips forward, his manhood prodding her now.
Gwen takes him in her hand and slides him against her wetness a few times, stroking him at the same time. She moves him into place and he plunges forward, burying himself deep within her.
“Yes,” she breathes, bending her knees at his hips, letting them fall wider apart.
Arthur groans and pulls back, sliding out and hooking his arm under one of her knees before driving forward again, bringing her leg up with him, gripping her thigh.
“Ooo,” she moans, arching underneath him. He drops his head to catch a breast in his mouth, sucking hungrily, swirling his tongue around her nipple.
He straightens back up and moves her leg, sliding it up so her ankle is draped on his shoulder, running his hand along her soft skin, still moving swiftly in and out, savoring every stroke.
“Arthur,” she whispers, her voice breathy, her breathing shallow. Arthur moves faster, pushes a little harder. “Oh…” her plaintive cry rewards his efforts.
Gwen brings her own hands up over her breasts, kneading them gently, and the sight of her nearly pushes Arthur over the edge. He closes his eyes and drops his head back for a moment, but the image of her quivering body beneath him is burned into his brain.
“Shit,” he curses softly, thrusting hard and deep, trying to hold on.
“Ah… oh God… oh my… Ar… oh…”
Thank God, Arthur thinks and lets go, releasing into her with a rumble and a groan just as she really starts to get loud, culminating in crying out his name.
Her leg drops down and he collapses over her, rolling them so he’s not squishing her. “I love it when you do that,” he says, kissing the top of her head and running his fingers along her spine.
“Do what? Spank you?”
“Ha,” he laughs. “The jury is still deliberating that one. No, when you scream my name.”
“Of course you’d like that,” she teases, kissing his chest.
Arthur drops his hand to his side, and it lands on the forgotten cards. He grabs a few in his hand, looks at them and then tosses them aside. He does this a few times before he finds the one he wants. He puts it in her hand, draped across his chest, then closes his own over it, holding her hand there over his heart.
Eventually Gwen’s curiosity gets the better of her and she looks at the card in her hand. She smiles and leans up to kiss his chin.
Part 13: link
“This was a good idea,” Gwen says, stepping out of Arthur’s car at the valet, looking up at the Grand Hotel in Birmingham.
“I thought so,” Arthur says, coming around and putting his hand on her lower back, ushering her inside.
“I’m glad you booked the extra night, too,” she says, grinning at him.
“Well, I’m actually kind of in the wedding,” Arthur admits, “so I would have needed to drive up here tonight anyway for the rehearsal. Staying here saves a lot of driving. And the reception is here, so when we’re ready to leave, we can just go back up to our room.”
“You’re in the wedding?” Gwen asks, trying not to sound too disappointed. Great. I’ll get to be ignored all night while he does wedding party things.
“I’m only reading something, don’t worry,” Arthur says, seeing right through her.
“Oh. So you can still sit with me?”
“Yes. Wild horses could not drag me from your side,” he says, stepping up to the desk. “Pendragon,” he tells the clerk.
The man behind the desk does his thing and hands Arthur their keys. “Enjoy your stay with us, Mr. and Mrs. Pendragon,” he says.
“Thank you,” Arthur answers stoically. They turn towards the elevators, biting the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing as the bellman scurries ahead with their bags to press the button.
I have to admit I liked the sound of that.
Arthur glances down at Gwen, and she looks up at him, blushing rather prettily.
Ding.
They enter the lift, followed by the bellman.
“Here for the big wedding?” the bellman asks, making polite conversation.
“Yes, thought we’d come up tonight and make a weekend of it,” Arthur says. Why do you have to be in here with us? We have such fun in elevators, he thinks.
“We have a full-service salon and spa, miss, if you’d like a little pampering before the wedding. Also have services for men, sir.”
Arthur looks at Gwen, who is biting the corner of her lower lip and looking up at him. He smiles at her and kisses her forehead. “We may have to look into that, thanks.”
Ding.
“Ah, here we are.”
xXx
“Guinevere, this is Mithian Nemeth, and of course you’ve met Leon Foreman,” Arthur introduces her to the bride- and groom-to-be. “Guys, this is my girlfriend, Guinevere DeGrace.”
“Very nice to meet you, Mithian,” Gwen says, shaking the other woman’s hand. Mithian is a petite beauty with pale skin and chestnut hair. She’s also practically glowing with happiness.
“You, too, Guinevere,” Mithian answers, smiling brightly.
“Gwen, please,” she says. “Arthur seems to insist upon calling me Guinevere, but most people do call me Gwen. Nice to see you again, Leon,” she turns and shakes Leon’s hand.
“You, too,” Leon smiles. “I’m glad you could come.”
“Well, to be honest, I kind of feel like I’m crashing your rehearsal,” Gwen admits.
“Nonsense,” Mithian waves her off. “We already knew you were coming when Arthur agreed to do a reading, so we accounted for you for the dinner, figuring he’d bring you.”
“Oh,” Gwen says, not really knowing what else to say.
“We’re ready,” a man pokes his head through some doors nearby and announces.
“All right,” Leon says, taking Mithian’s hand and they all walk inside.
“Do what you need to do,” Gwen says. “I’ll just hang out here in the pew and play Angry Birds.”
“Let me know if I read too fast,” Arthur says, leaning in to kiss her.
“Okay,” she says, touching the end of his nose with her finger. He snatches it and kisses it before sauntering forward to sit near the front.
The rehearsal dinner is at the Nemeth’s country estate, a sprawling affair with a large garden.
“Something smells amazing,” Gwen says when they step out of the car, looking at the grand house.
“Leon said something about roasting a whole pig,” Arthur says. “His family is hosting the dinner, of course, but the Nemeths offered their cottage when they found out what Mr. Foreman had in mind.”
“Cottage?” Gwen chuckles.
“Yeah, I know,” Arthur sighs. “My, um, father has a similar place, I should probably mention…”
“Rich people.” Gwen rolls her eyes.
“Come on.” He grins and takes her hand, pulling her through to the back garden. As they enter the patio, two men walk past, a beautiful golden pig on a long pole suspended between them.
“You weren’t kidding when you said ‘whole pig!’” Gwen exclaims, staring as they disappear into the house.
“Looked delicious,” Arthur says.
“It still had its head on…” she says absently, letting Arthur lead her to the bar for champagne.
“Oh, you’re not going squeamish on me, are you?” he complains, smirking.
“No,” she pouts. “But if there are unidentifiable parts on the buffet…”
“I doubt it. I think Mrs. Nemeth would faint, honestly,” he chuckles.
It is a large party. Mithian has six bridesmaids and two flower girls. Gwen learns that the two men carrying the pig through were Leon’s father and uncle, the Barbecue Masters (so they claim).
The pork turns out to be delicious, as is everything else, and everyone is in high spirits, chatting in small, ever-changing clusters as the night wears on. Arthur is cornered by a couple of simpering bridesmaids while Gwen is in the restroom, and she watches a moment, mildly amused, until one of them touches his arm.
“Arthur, darling, there you are,” she says brightly, approaching him and kissing him soundly.
“Thank you,” he whispers against her lips, and when she moves to stand beside him, he wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Ladies, this is my girlfriend, Guinevere,” he says, and Gwen can see him trying not to laugh. “Guinevere, this is…” he pauses, appearing to try and remember their names, “Fiona and… Emma, was it?” he asks the one who touched his arm.
“Ella,” she says, smiling a fake smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too. This is a lovely place, isn’t it? I just love how secluded it is,” Gwen says, making pleasant conversation while Arthur’s hand strokes her shoulder lovingly.
“Yeah, it’s great,” Ella says. “Excuse me, I need to freshen my drink,” she says. “Come on, Fee.” She pulls the other bridesmaid with her.
“Good to meet you…” Fiona mumbles as she is hauled away.
“Jealous little minx,” Arthur grins down at her.
“She was touching what does not belong to her,” Gwen says.
“And I do belong to you?” Arthur arches an eyebrow at her.
“Darn right,” Gwen says. “She’s lucky she only touched your arm. Hello, Leon,” she suddenly says as Leon and Mithian appear behind a now-laughing Arthur.
“You did an excellent job at the rehearsal with your reading, Arthur,” Mithian says, smiling. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem at all,” Arthur shrugs.
“Public speaking has never been a problem for Arthur,” Leon says. “And, since he’s the reason we met anyway, we felt it appropriate that he be involved in some capacity.”
“You set them up?” Gwen asks, intrigued.
“Mmm, not exactly…” Arthur says, looking away.
“Arthur.”
Leon laughs. “I was Mithian’s rebound man. After Arthur,” he explains.
“What?” Gwen asks, curious and amused.
“Mithian and I went out on one date,” Arthur says, then he glances at Mithian.
“It was okay,” she shrugs. “Then we went on another, a double date with my friend Sophia. I had asked Arthur to bring a friend for her, and he brought Leon.”
“We didn’t hit it off,” Leon says.
“Sophia is very shy. That’s why I was trying to help her out,” Mithian explains.
“Mith and I mutually decided that we had no… spark. We got along fine, but neither of us felt anything beyond friendship,” Arthur says.
“So how did Leon and Mithian get together?” Gwen asks.
“Leon asked me for her number,” Arthur laughs.
“No!” Gwen exclaims.
“It was very awkward,” Leon admits, “but I had to. I just… had to. And I didn’t know how else to find her.”
“He did wait a good week or so,” Arthur says. “Then he came slinking into my office, all, ‘So, you and Mithian aren’t seeing each other anymore?’ and ‘Would you mind awfully if I rang her up?’”
“Best thing I ever did,” Leon says, wrapping his long arms around his petite fiancée and kissing her on the top of her head.
xXx
“What should we do now?” Gwen asks, back in their hotel room. She is lounging on the sumptuous king-sized bed, shoes off.
“Hmm, I can think of one or two ideas,” Arthur says, rummaging in his small suitcase for God only knows what. “Hello, what’s this?” he pulls out a deck of playing cards.
“Cards?” Gwen asks, sitting up, cross-legged in the center of the bed.
“Oh, they must be in here still from that boys’ weekend…” he mutters. He looks at the deck in his hand, then at Gwen.
“Dare?” she asks, a slightly puzzled and intrigued look on her face.
“Strip poker,” he says, stalking towards the bed now, opening the box, withdrawing the pack, and setting the two jokers aside.
“Mmm,” Gwen says, scooting over on the bed. “What kind of poker?”
“Strip poker, I believe I just said,” Arthur says, confused.
“No, Five Card Draw, Texas Hold ’Em…”
“Oh,” he says, sitting. “Probably should keep it simple. Five Card Draw. Losing hand takes something off. I’ll deal first.”
He sits, his legs splayed out in front of him, and shuffles the deck. He deals.
Gwen takes her cards and looks at them. Bugger. “Hmm,” she says, keeping her face neutral. “I’ll take one.”
He gives her a card. “Dealer takes three.”
Gwen looks. Shit. Queen, ten, nine, seven, six. Why a queen? You couldn’t have dealt me an eight? She spies Arthur’s face and is heartened to see that he has a terrible poker face and that his hand must be as bad as hers.
“All right, what do you have?” he asks.
“Nothing. Queen high,” she shows her hand.
“Ha! I also have nothing, but ace high!” he exclaims triumphantly. He lays his cards down. Ace, two, three, five, and seven.
“Wow, we are terrible poker players,” Gwen says.
“Take something off.”
Gwen removes a sock. Arthur scowls, gathers the cards and pushes them over to her. “Your deal.”
He watches as she shuffles the deck skillfully, better even than he does. “You’re good at that.”
“El and I used to play poker with our Dad. We’d wager with crisps or popcorn. I think Dad used to let us win.” She deals.
Arthur wins again, taking no cards at all. He has a flush. Gwen has a pair of fives. Another sock comes off.
“Not my night,” Gwen mutters after the third hand, her pair of sevens losing to Arthur’s pair of tens. She removes an earring.
“Hey!” Arthur protests. She just smirks and sets the earring on the nightstand.
Gwen’s other earring.
Gwen’s bracelet.
“Ha! Two pair!” Gwen exclaims triumphantly, finally winning a hand over Arthur’s pair of sevens.
Smirking, Arthur takes off his shirt.
“Don’t think you’re going to distract me by sitting there shirtless, Pendragon,” Gwen says casually, tossing the cards at him. “Your deal.”
Next hand, Arthur loses a sock, his ace-high bested by her pair of twos.
Gwen is forced to remove her shirt after the next hand, and sits smugly now, knowing that she will indeed distract Arthur, even though she still has a bra on. A red lace bra; his favorite one.
Arthur’s other sock.
Gwen’s jeans.
Arthur exhales, adjusting his position on the bed as he sits across from his beautiful girlfriend, clad only in her bra and panties.
“Problem, Arthur?” she asks innocently.
“Give me the cards, wench.”
“Wench?” she asks, chuckling as she hands him the cards.
She loses again. Arthur watches her expectantly. She smiles sweetly at him, reaches up, and pulls the elastic band from her hair, releasing her ponytail and allowing her dark curls to cascade over her shoulders.
God, that just made it worse. I love her hair loose like that. Arthur exhales heavily again and passes her the cards.
After a brief debate about whether or not three of a kind beats two pair – it does, verified by a quick Google search – Gwen removes her bra, and Arthur’s mouth goes dry.
“Your deal, Arthur,” she says throatily (intentionally), leaning forward to an unnecessary degree to hand him the cards.
“What? Oh. Right.”
It comes down to two very paltry hands. Arthur’s pair of sevens beats Gwen’s pair of threes.
“I win,” Arthur purrs, his eyes fixed on her panties.
Gwen flops back and lies down on the bed. “You do it.”
“Sore loser?” he asks, grinning as he crawls over the pile of cards on the bed and climbs over Gwen, settling between her legs, resting on his elbows over her.
“Not at all,” she says. “Just making you work for it,” she says, leaning her head back as he starts dropping kisses on her neck. She hums her approval, squirming beneath him slightly as he moves lower, dragging his tongue down along her skin, between her breasts.
Arthur takes his time getting to his assigned task, leisurely skimming his lips over the soft skin on the underside of her breasts, kissing his way around to first one nipple, then the other, giving each equal and ardent attention.
He slides his hand down to her hip, his fingers catching on the waistband of her small panties, slipping just beneath it and sliding along the edge, teasing. She squirms beneath him again, practically begging him to remove the garment. He responds by pressing his hips forward slightly so she can feel his erection straining against his jeans.
“Take your bloody jeans off,” Gwen moans, grabbing his head and pulling his lips to hers.
“No,” he answers, talking between kisses. “I won, your knickers come off first.”
“Then take them off already!” She writhes beneath him, swatting his shoulder when he starts chuckling mischievously.
“No need to resort to violence, darling,” he rumbles, sliding down her body. He kisses her stomach a few times and then finally tugs on her panties. She lifts up to allow him to slide them down her legs and off, flinging them over his shoulder.
They hit the television and Gwen laughs. “Oh!” she exclaims as he kisses her right at the apex of her thighs, nuzzling her there briefly.
Arthur’s tongue snakes out and he licks, long, lazy strokes, tormenting her until she is moaning and pulling his hair. He moves away, kissing down her thigh and biting gently just above the bend of her knee. As he kisses his way back up, his hand slides up and he squeezes that secret ticklish spot just below her rear, grinning against her thigh.
“Arthur!” she squeals, her bum shooting off the bed. “Don’t do that!” She kicks him in the ribs with her heel while he laughs, his face on her stomach now.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, still chuckling, “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Doesn’t count if you’re still laughing while you apologize, Arthur,” she protests, trying to push at his head while his lips and tongue on her skin work very effectively to make any further protest disappear from her brain.
“I just love hearing your laugh,” he murmurs, just before taking a nipple into his mouth, pulling it gently between his teeth, sucking at it, his hand caressing the other breast.
Gwen moves her hands down and opens his jeans, yanking them open and shoving at them. “Off now.”
“Yes, yes,” he sighs in mock exasperation as he leans back and shucks his jeans and pants to the floor before sliding back over her, nestling between her legs again.
“Better now?” he asks, claiming her lips with his before she can answer, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, hungry and passionate.
Gwen’s fingers delve into his hair, running her fingernails lightly over his scalp. She moans into his mouth and slides her palms down his muscled back, lower, down to his backside, which she squeezes appreciatively. Arthur hums his approval against her neck, and then, in an impulsive moment, Gwen raises her hand and spanks him.
“Oh!” he grunts. “What was that?”
“Impulse,” she answers simply, kissing him, sucking his lower lip in between her lips.
“Hmm…” he says, pulling away slightly and raising an eyebrow at her.
She bites her lower lip and looks up at him, her brown eyes boring into him, and all he can do is kiss her again, pressing his hips forward, his manhood prodding her now.
Gwen takes him in her hand and slides him against her wetness a few times, stroking him at the same time. She moves him into place and he plunges forward, burying himself deep within her.
“Yes,” she breathes, bending her knees at his hips, letting them fall wider apart.
Arthur groans and pulls back, sliding out and hooking his arm under one of her knees before driving forward again, bringing her leg up with him, gripping her thigh.
“Ooo,” she moans, arching underneath him. He drops his head to catch a breast in his mouth, sucking hungrily, swirling his tongue around her nipple.
He straightens back up and moves her leg, sliding it up so her ankle is draped on his shoulder, running his hand along her soft skin, still moving swiftly in and out, savoring every stroke.
“Arthur,” she whispers, her voice breathy, her breathing shallow. Arthur moves faster, pushes a little harder. “Oh…” her plaintive cry rewards his efforts.
Gwen brings her own hands up over her breasts, kneading them gently, and the sight of her nearly pushes Arthur over the edge. He closes his eyes and drops his head back for a moment, but the image of her quivering body beneath him is burned into his brain.
“Shit,” he curses softly, thrusting hard and deep, trying to hold on.
“Ah… oh God… oh my… Ar… oh…”
Thank God, Arthur thinks and lets go, releasing into her with a rumble and a groan just as she really starts to get loud, culminating in crying out his name.
Her leg drops down and he collapses over her, rolling them so he’s not squishing her. “I love it when you do that,” he says, kissing the top of her head and running his fingers along her spine.
“Do what? Spank you?”
“Ha,” he laughs. “The jury is still deliberating that one. No, when you scream my name.”
“Of course you’d like that,” she teases, kissing his chest.
Arthur drops his hand to his side, and it lands on the forgotten cards. He grabs a few in his hand, looks at them and then tosses them aside. He does this a few times before he finds the one he wants. He puts it in her hand, draped across his chest, then closes his own over it, holding her hand there over his heart.
Eventually Gwen’s curiosity gets the better of her and she looks at the card in her hand. She smiles and leans up to kiss his chin.
Part 13: link
