“Who do you think it is?” John asked Rhys and Ililyan after the last torch was snuffed.“Tis my cousins.” Came a matter-of-fact voice from behind them.The group all spun, hands going for weapons.“Peace! Peace.” A darkly-shrouded short-statured figure held up two empty hands. “I am no threat to you.”“If you say so.” John replied, hand staying on the Tooth. “Who are you, and what do you want with us?”“He’s a Wraithguard, one o’ th’ city’s rangers.” Dulgan answered tonelessly.“I am.” The figure bowed. “Thank you, Master Ironhand.”Dulgan snorted. “Take your thanks. Where were you when my half-brother was bein’ kilt?”The Wraithguard stepped toward the two supine Dwarves.“The Marshal?” He asked sadly. “He was... ?”“He sacrificed ‘imself ta give us a chance ta ‘scape.” Dulgan muttered. “Called th’ dragon’s own po’er down ‘n their Clanless heads.”“Can I ask what a ‘Wraithguard’ is?” John interrupted. “And why we should trust him?”“They are the Clan charged with keeping watch for threats to. I grabbed her ankles, one in each hand, and gently pulled her body down the bed, her arms and hair following in trail, a languid path of passion soaking through the covers permeating our bed with shared love and lust. Holding her ankles high above her prone figure, so sleek and graceful, I knelt slowly to tickle her smooth, freshly shaved puss. I inhaled deeply savoring the womanly scent of her, as I dabbed my outstretched tongue into her silken sex. She hissed with carnal delight when the tip of my tongue slapped at her clitoris standing tall between her puffy lips: lips swollen in anticipation of my advance, my attack. I threw a forearm over her slim belly to slow the bouncing of her narrow hips as she is wont to when I probe her slippery folds. Her fingers twisted my hair in her grip then nails dug at my scalp pulling my face into the passage that contains her physical love, to taste the sweet dewy drops of nectar she milked from her inner most depths. I sampled her nectar like a.
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