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the dress. She looked a little like a faery princess. She was a long way
from Fort Worth.
“Don’t let that worry you,” Flanna said, getting off the bed. “Beck
has his reasons. He’s done things he’s not proud of. Give him time.
Let him come to trust you.”
Shaking her head, Meg stood and smoothed the skirts one last
time. Flanna gave her soft slippers for her feet. She had no intention
of bonding with either brother any more than she already had. It
wasn’t fair, but she didn’t intend to give Cian a chance to hurt her.
She would get through the evening and then sit Cian down in the
morning for a thorough discussion of how this “marriage” was going
to work.
In the meantime, she would get used to her new home. From the
sounds of the party going on in the front yard, it seemed as though she
was about to meet the entire village. It was time to put her game face
on and start that learning curve.
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She allowed Flanna to escort her to the door. They walked into the
living room. The music was louder out here. The door was open. Meg
could see the night was lit up with torches and a huge bonfire. All
manner of Fae creatures danced around the bonfire. Some of them
didn’t look even vaguely human. Meg felt her jaw dropping and
forced it to close. A cheer went up when she walked into the yard.
“Welcome, Queen Meg,” they said as she passed.
She plastered a stunned smile on her face as they welcomed her.
Then there was only one person in the whole world as Cian Finn
walked up to her. He was so beautiful that Meg felt her heart seize.
“My queen,” he said, bowing. He held out his hand. “A dance for
your poor husband?”
Meg let him lead her. When she was encircled by his arms, her
head against his chest, she realized that Cian Finn might be even more
dangerous than his brother.
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Chapter Thirteen
It was the horrible sound of the rooster crowing that woke Meg
the next morning. It sounded like the damn thing was right outside her
door. Meg tried to burrow under the pillow to escape the dreadful
racket, but there was something attached to her little pillow, and it
wouldn’t move an inch. An arm wrapped itself more tightly around
her waist and pulled Meg closer.
“Damn it,” Meg cursed as she tried to get out of bed. She was
tangled in a quilt. She tried to orient herself. She was on the little cot in the barn, and she quickly found herself on her ass in the middle of
the cold, dirt floor.
“It’s too early, lover.” Cian’s Irish brogue was even thicker when
he was drowsy. His hand came out seeking her once more, but he
didn’t open his eyes. “Get back in bed. We’ll eat the rooster for dinner
tonight, I promise.”
“You aren’t supposed to be in my bed, damn it!”
Meg gave her clothes the once over. She searched her memory.
What happened last night? How had she ended up in bed with Cian
when she’d promised herself she wouldn’t? Why was she wearing a
gold ring on her left hand?
She seemed to still be wearing enough clothes. Her lovely dress
was on the lone chair in the small room, but she had on the thin shift
that went beneath it, and she still had on her underwear. It was a good
sign.
Cian rubbed his eyes, yawned, and stretched his big body. He, on
the other hand, didn’t appear to be wearing anything. His glorious
frame was on full display. “You told me you refused to sleep in the
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big bed. You told me you needed independence, and the only way you
could have that was to live in abject poverty, with not a single
comfort to your name.”
“I doubt I put it quite like that,” Meg complained.
She remembered last night, up to a point. There had been dancing
and singing. She’d discovered that Flanna was a brownie. Meg had
laughed and said that they ate brownies on the human plane. She then
spent the better part of an hour explaining that she wouldn’t be
coming after Flanna’s grandchildren. Sweets might not be a big part
of Fae life, but ale was. It was the ale that did it. It had been slightly sweet and had a hell of a kick. Every time she finished a mug,
someone put another in her hands.
Cian scratched his belly. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was.
His gray eyes opened fully for the first time. “No. You took a lot
longer to explain it. It was quite the lecture, my lover. There was
something about making your own way and roaring because you’re a
woman. I didn’t understand it at all, and I consider myself a smart
man. The only part I really got was when you told me we had to live
here.”
Cian showed no ill effects of the enormous amount of ale he had
downed. He had to have doubled her intake. The boy could drink.
“No, I said I needed to live here,” Meg corrected. Now she
remembered that she had kissed Cian. She had been slightly drunk,
and everyone was urging them to kiss. Meg had meant to placate them
with a little peck, but Cian had dipped her back over his arm and
overwhelmed her. His tongue had slipped into her mouth and had its
way with hers. He’d rubbed his body against hers, and she’d felt
every inch of his intent. He’d gotten her so hot she might have done
him right there.
She needed to stay away from him. He was always touching her.
The night before, he’d held her hand or had his arm around her waist
all of the time. There hadn’t been a single moment she wasn’t aware
of him.
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Cian’s face was sweet as he sat up and crossed his legs. He paid
no mind to his nudity, or to his morning friend. “I know. You think
living here will prove something to Beck. I don’t think so, but I’m
willing to go along with what you want. Can we get a bigger bed,
though? It was cramped last night. I have no idea how we’re going to
fuck on that.”
Meg gasped. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said last night. “We’re
not. Cian, we need to talk.”
“I can do that,” he promised with a sober look on his face.
Meg couldn’t take her eyes off his enormous erection. It lay
almost flat against his belly. “How do you expect me to hold a serious
conversation with you like that?”
He shrugged. “You’re my wife. It’s my permanent state around
you. It would probably go away if you jumped on top of me and
bounced around for a while. Well, it wouldn’t go away for long.”
Getting to her feet, Meg turned away from the too-tempting sight.
Her second husband was proving even more troublesome than the
first. She needed to get properly dressed and get her day started.
Perhaps then she would be better equipped to handle Cian. Her day
clothes were still in the cottage. She would take some time to collect
herself and then see to the farm.
“I’m going to get dressed. You…I don’t know. Just take care of
of the room.
She expected to step out into the leftover destruction from the
night before, but the yard was pristine once more, without a sign of
what had gone on. The gathering had been huge, with everyone in the
village showing up to dance and drink. She had been introduced to
sidhe, brownies, trolls, gnomes, and some dwarves down from the
mountains. They had toasted Cian’s health and the twins’ marriage.
Everyone spoke of Beck with great fondness, and Meg had learned a
lot about her wayward husband. He had saved many of the people of
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the village at great cost to himself. For years after the civil war, he
had worked hard to settle refugees from his home plane.
It would have been very easy for the king to settle on the Vampire
plane. The Dellacourts were a wealthy family who would have taken
in Beck and Cian. He could have lived in luxury, and no one would
have blamed him. Instead, at seventeen, he decided to establish a
village on a safe plane to give his people a home.
Beck was their protector. Without him, the Fae would have
dispersed and more than likely had trouble surviving on their own.
Cian had given his brother all the credit for founding their own little
kingdom. He’d explained to Meg that he had simply followed his
brother’s lead. Beck had been the one to take charge in those dark
years after losing their parents. Hearing the love and admiration for
Beck did nothing to ease the ache in Meg’s heart that he couldn’t love
her.
Meg walked slowly, not minding the early morning’s chill. It
really was beautiful here. There was a gentle mist coming up from the
pond. She saw the cows contentedly eating grass in the distance. The
sky was a soft watercolor of blues, pinks, and oranges. It was similar
to her plane, but it felt so different. Even the air here was gauzy and
sweet. The whole world seemed quiet and still. A wistful thought
stole over her. She could be happy here. Meg took a deep breath and
continued on toward the cottage.
She would be happy here. Happiness was a state of being. She
would just move to that state.
She opened the cottage door and decided to start by getting
dressed and fixing breakfast. She would battle the judgmental
chickens again, and this time she would try frying the eggs.
“Oh, god,” Meg breathed as a feeling of warmth suffused her
lower regions.
She barely managed to close the door behind her as she felt the
connection between her and Cian open. It was like someone flicked a
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switch on in her brain, and the channel had changed. She was
suddenly tuned to the Cian Channel, and it was playing porn.
He was stroking himself. She could feel it. His hand was gentle as
he stroked from the base of his cock upward, all the way to the crown
where he brushed his thumb firmly across the head. There was
already wetness there. He used it to lubricate his palm and facilitate
smoother strokes. He tightened his hold on the monster, and Meg felt
him sigh as he spread his legs and upped the pace.
Little drops of pre-cum wept from the slit of his dick. If she were
with him, she would lean over and lick it off. Was that her thought or
Cian’s? The connection was so new that Meg had to wonder. A vision
of just what Cian wanted her to do flowed over her brain, taking over
her thoughts. She would run the tip of her tongue just inside the slit
and tease him lightly. His big body would shudder in response and
urge her on. He would fist his cock while she sucked the head,
begging him to feed her all of his cum.
Meg felt Cian’s chuckle as though it came from inside her own
body.
“Bastard,” she whispered.
He knew she could feel him. He was pushing the experience out
toward her. It was like she was there with him, almost as though she
was Cian. She could feel his pleasure and his intent. He wanted her.
Oh, she could feel that. He wanted her so badly. Meg stumbled into
the bedroom and threw her body on the bed. She wouldn’t be able to
ignore the vision. It felt too good to ignore.
His hand was firm now as he ran it up and down his cock. She
writhed on the bed, her legs restless as he caressed himself. He was
thinking about her. He’d moved on from thoughts of her mouth to
other body parts. He was thinking how good it would feel to have her
tight pussy all around him. The muscles of her pussy would clench
around his cock, trying to tempt the cum out of him. He wanted to
give her his cum. It belonged to her. It was only right for her to take
it.
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He wanted her on top, her breasts bouncing as she rode him hard.
He would love the view from that position. He would grasp her hips
and help force her down so his dick could hit her sweet spot.
Her nipples were hard. Her pussy was already soft and wet. Every
cell in her body had been taken over by Cian’s assault. He was there
with her although their bodies were apart. It was intimate, so intimate.
It was a lot like the connection she’d felt with Beck in the arena,
though this time she knew what was happening.
Cian pumped his cock. His hand slid from the head down, down,
down to the place where the thick stalk met his balls. No wonder men
did this an awful lot. It was so different from touching herself. There
was a harder edge to it that she found fascinating. It felt really good,
and she suddenly knew Cian could do this all morning. He would be
careful and prolong the experience. He wanted to keep her in this
state. He wanted her writhing and begging. Eventually he would give
it to her, but only after he was satisfied that he had the upper hand.
Maybe turnabout was fair play. Cian thought he had all the
control. Could she break him? How would he like her pleasure?
Would her softness feel as good to him as his rough lust felt to her?
Meg pulled down the bodice of the dress and let her hands find
her breasts. She let every sensation flow over her and pushed it
toward him. Cian’s state of sexual arousal had her nipples peaked and
sensitized. She moaned as she had the twin sensations of Cian’s hand
on his cock and her fingers pulling at her nipples.
How did this work? She closed her eyes and fantasized. She
wanted Cian. He was different from his brother. He was so open with
his sexuality it led her to be open with hers. In her fantasy, she saw
Cian climb over her, his big body pressing hers down. She rolled her
stiff nipples between her thumbs and her forefingers, tugging lightly.
She imagined it was Cian’s mouth there.
He would lick them at first. His tongue would curl around the
nipple just before he let her feel the edge of his teeth there. He would
bite down lightly, never crossing the line between pleasure and pain.
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He would bite just enough to make the nip
ple flare with arousal. He
would pop the nipple in his mouth and lave it with affection. Then,
because this was her fantasy, she brought Beck in to suck on the other
one.
In her fantasy, Beck didn’t deny her anything. He took her breasts
because they belonged to him.
In her mind, she saw two dark heads bent over her breasts
suckling. She would hold their heads to her breast, her hand sinking
into the silky darkness of their hair. Their hands were everywhere.
She felt Cian pick up the pace. His hand was pumping firmly
around his cock. She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her
face. He was definitely getting the picture. It was time to move on.
Fantasy Cian began to kiss down her belly. He licked and kissed
his way south as Beck nuzzled her throat. In her fantasy, she was
suddenly tied tightly to the bed. Beck’s hand collared her throat. He
told her everything he intended to do to her in a honey-dark voice that
left no room for disobedience. He and Cian had plans for their little
wife. Cian was going to eat her pussy. Beck would play with her
breasts, and after she had come, they would have their pleasure. Beck
wanted her mouth. Cian would plunge that hard cock into her pussy.
She would be helpless to do anything but feel them. They could do
anything they wanted to her, and she would have no defense.
She didn’t need one. They were her lovers, her husbands.
She felt Cian’s deep approval at the image. Her fantasy had
become his own. It was everything he wanted, both halves of his soul
with one singular purpose between them—her pleasure.
He was getting close. His cock was pulsing as Meg thought about
Cian’s tongue fucking her pussy. Cian’s would spear her cunt as
thoroughly and ruthlessly as any cock. Beck’s tongue would play on
her nipples. Beck would suck on her nipples while Cian would lavish
his love on the tiny bead until Meg exploded.
Meg’s fantasy and Cian’s merged into one hot image. She
couldn’t tell what she was thinking and what was Cian’s, but she
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didn’t care anymore. His hand had tightened around his engorged
cock. It was purple now as he raced to the finish line. Meg could feel