Lizbeth knows exactly how to use her hands, but will her tantalizing touch be enough to distract Darrick from the danger lurking in the woods?

Part 2: Perilous Passion

by Mia Sumner

“It’s so… boring around here!” Darrick complained for the hundredth time, throwing a stone into the small pond. “Blacksmith’s apprentice, is that the most I can hope from in life?”

“Did you really ask me to sneak off and risk Maid Thiphania’s wrath just to hear you complain?” Lizbeth sighed her pretty face marred by a frown.

“No, no!” Darrick apologized, turning his attention to the blonde-haired girl sitting beside him. “It’s just…”

Lizbeth placed a finger over his lips. “Perhaps I can think of something that isn’t boring to do.” She grinned, leaning into him, pressing her lips to his, her tongue slipping into his mouth. Darrick’s hands moved around her head as he returned her kiss with growing passion, his tongue dueling with hers. He pushed her down onto the ground, his body settling on top of her.

“Now I have your attention.” Lizbeth giggled, licking and nipping at his neck. “All of your attention.” Her hand cupped the growing bulge in his pants. Darrick growled, his fingers fumbling with the laces of her blouse, exposing her cleavage to first his gaze and then his tongue. Lizbeth moaned, molding her body against his as he pulled her blouse apart and his lips found her already erect nipples. Darrick’s hands moved lower working their way under her dress, trying to get between her legs.

“Mmmm… no!” Lizbeth pushed him off, sitting up, her bare breasts heaving and flushed. “We can play as much as you like Darrick, but not that, not without marriage.” Darrick groaned, his hand ripping a clump of grass from the earth in frustration.

“But, maybe there’s something I can do for you.” Lizbeth’s voice turned softer as her hand stretched out to massage the lump in his pants once more. “Lay back.” She said and he obeyed, knowing that if he pushed his luck further he’d be left to satisfy his own needs.

Lizbeth’s dainty hand slipped inside his pants and wrapped around his engorged cock. She stroked with practiced ease, knowing exactly how to pleasure him. Darrick looked up at the trees, savoring the feel of her hand on him as she started to stroke faster. He knew it wouldn’t take long, as worked up as he was. Lizbeth had done this for him before, and probably others if the gossip was true. He put that thought aside and just enjoyed her attentions, his eyes drifting shut.

“Good boy, just lay there.” Lizbeth’s voice was soft and breathy. “Let me take care of it.” Her hand twisted and stroked, up and down. “I’ll make it feel soo good.” Her lips brushed against his neck, her hand continuing to work its magic “Tell me how much you need it, tell me how much you… W-what was that noise?”.

Darrick’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, looking around. The pond he had brought Lizbeth to was well off the usual paths, the perfect place, for some private fun. The noises she had heard though, were unmistakable, someone, a group, moving through the forest. There were no hunting parties out today, was it bandits?

He rose to his feet, not even taking the time to lace himself so his cock stuck obscenely from his pants, as Lizbeth frantically tried to close and tie her blouse, making herself respectable again.

The noises were getting louder, whoever it was had no care for stealth and there must be at least a dozen of them. Darrick whirled round to face the direction the intruders were coming from. The South, nothing good came from the South.

The village of  Briar Glen was leagues from the major trading routes and a good week from Wealdstone by horse, for those lucky enough to have one. But all of that was to the north of them. To the South lay the wild, untamed country. Bandits would be easy compared to the beasts that came from the South.

He glanced over at Lizbeth who was still struggling with her blouse. “Go, now!” He snapped. “Warn the village. I will delay them!” Lizbeth paused her eyes wide with fright, then ran.

Darrick turned back to the forest, scanning for a sign of the intruders. What sort of creatures were they? Humanoid, armed, and armored by the sound, a raiding party then. Even with Lizbeth’s warning Briar Glen was ill-prepared to fend off an attack.

They burst through the tree line in a ragged mass. Orcs, green-skinned and misshapen but all with weapons in hand. He counted ten of them as they stumbled to a halt staring at him. It seemed they were as dumb as people said. Darrick pulled his hunting knife from his belt wishing he had thought to bring a bow or any of the weapons in Master Oweyn’s smithy. There was no way he could win this fight, even against one of these creatures he was outmatched, but what choice did he have?

A particularly fat orc shoved its way through to the front of the group.

“Look what we have ‘ere then.” He snarled. “A ‘uman. And it wants to play lads.” The assembled orcs laughed at this, the sound of their voices filled Darrick with dread but he raised his knife. He had to buy Lizbeth enough time to warn the village. Maybe his life would save those of his family and friends.