Celt. (Den of Mercenaries Book 2)

by London Miller

  His friend laughed. “Probably lost, the eejit.”

  “Oy!” Kyrnon snapped, that temper of his creeping up so fast that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Mind yer words before I show ye what this tinker’s fists will do to yer face.”

  It was one thing to go up against the men in his camp—they never went too far, and should they ever find a need to teach him a lesson, it never went further than wounding his pride. These fellas … they didn’t believe in that.

  “Let’s see ye do something about it, laddie,” the one wearing the hat said as he got to his feet, pudgy face ruddy with rage.

  Kyrnon didn’t think, just swung, putting enough force behind the hit that he sent the man back a few steps, reeling at the contact.

  That first punch always felt the best, the way he could feel the power behind it, and the slight pain of bone meeting bone. He had grown to love that ache, feeling more confident with each hit to know that the next time he threw one, it would be easier.

  But despite the thrill he felt, the other men weren’t nearly as happy, and that first punch lit the flame.

  Soon, he was facing off against the pair, holding his own despite the fact that between the pair of them, they had at least a hundred pounds on him. Kyrnon was light on his feet, easily moving out of reach, but as he attempted to duck the punch of one, another grabbed the pocket of his trousers, flinging the contents out onto the ground around them.

  That was also the moment when the doors flung open, a number of men spilling out, a bloodied lad in the center of them. He could hardly stand on his own two feet, and hit the dirt hard when there was no longer anyone supporting him.

  And all too soon, it was Kyrnon that was the focus of their attention.

  Two against one, he’d liked his odds, but with this many … he knew he needed to get the hell out of there.

  The hat guy reached down, picking up one of the necklaces that had slipped from Kyrnon’s pocket onto the dirt between them.

  “What’s this here?” One of the newcomers asked, his tone carefully controlled.

  This man seemed to be at the center of them all—the leader if Kyrnon had to guess. He was taller than most, though rail-thin, and dark eyes that looked unforgiving.

  “The tinker’s a thief,” The Hat said, his lip already puffy and bleeding.

  “Is that so?” His eyes tuned on Kyrnon, assessing, gauging, and whatever he saw made the corner of his mouth quirk up. “Do ye know what we do to thieves around here, tinker? They fight in our games until their debt is paid off—and look here,” he gestured around them toward everything Kyrnon had taken. “Yer debt is worth thousands.”

  Tapping his fingers against his leg, Kyrnon considered his options.

  He was dangerously out-numbered, though that had never stopped him before. This time, however, he was nervous, not because he couldn’t take a beating, but because he didn’t understand what had caused the lad on the ground to pass out.

  He could guess … his face was bloodied and bruised, and what little wasn’t covered by his clothes was the same. The lad looked like he had garnered one hell of a beating.

  Looking down at him, Kyrnon wasn’t sure if he was still breathing …

  “It’s all there,” Kyrnon said, keeping his distance, knowing that this wasn’t a fight he would see the end of. “I’ll be on my way. No harm done.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  And it wouldn’t be, he was soon realizing.

  The man didn’t look appeased in the slightest, and if he were being honest, the man looked like he already set his mind on dragging Kyrnon into that place at his back to do whatever he requested.

  Fight or flight, he thought in that moment.

  And that was how he found himself taking off down the road, trying to ignore the sound of pounding feet behind him as the men chased him down.

  His mother had warned him not to go past the trees.

  He hadn’t listened.

  * * *

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  Kyrnon was torn from his ramblings of a past that was always hovering in the back of his mind by the sound of Amber’s soft words. That had been the easiest, he thought as he took another swig of the alcohol. He hadn’t told her what all he suffered at their hands—not that he really needed to.

  She could see the evidence forever marked in his flesh.

  Looking back at her, he shook his head. “Probably best we leave it at that.”

  He thought maybe she would, that the story he told her would be enough to appease whatever curiosity she had about him, but she surprised him as she slid off the couch and joined him on the floor. Taking the bottle from his slack grip, she took a drink of her own before handing it back.

  “Go on.”

  Kyrnon was tempted to tell her everything in that moment, anything she wanted to know if she stayed there beside him—but as that thought hit, he set the bottle of whiskey down, figuring he’d had enough.

  “There’s not much more to tell. I paid off my debt by fighting. Simple as that.”

  “Didn’t your family ever look for you?” Amber asked, her gaze searching his.

  “O’course they did, lovie. They just couldn’t find me.”

  That was only partially true.

  Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he could have sworn he’d heard his name being called—had even thought he spotted one of his cousins outside the grimy window of the prison he was in, but there was nothing that could be found—not when the man that had taken him hadn’t wanted him to be found.

  “Then how did you get back to them?”

  He hadn’t.

  It took years and the happenstance of Z popping into that town for something else for him to get free of that place.

  But he wouldn’t tell her that.

  “I got out,” he said instead, “and made a new life.”

  Her face fell, but he reached for her, smoothing his thumb over her lips. “Don’t make that face. You have a very kind smile—lights up my day. Let’s see it.”

  She shook her head, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he thought he saw tears in her eyes. “I’m sor—”

  “Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, sitting up. “It wasn’t your doing—you have nothing to be sorry about.”

  “I’m sorry that it happened to you. You didn’t deserve that.” She tucked curly strands of hair behind her ear. “And I’m sorry that it still keeps you up at night.”

  “You help me sleep,” he confessed, drawing her into his embrace. “When you’re lying there beside me, I don’t disappear into my head like I usually do. You bring me peace, Amber, so wipe that sadness off your face. I don’t like seeing it.”

  His words cut through her sadness quick enough.

  Straddling his lap, she cupped his face, leaning down to kiss him, putting everything she felt—anger, sadness, and another that she didn’t want to contemplate—into it. Not even a second passed before he was kissing her back, taking everything she had to give.

  Just a simple kiss was enough to change the dynamic in the room.

  * * *

  His expression had shifted, and there was no mistaking that he was no longer thinking about the story he had just shared with her, but rather how quickly he could get her undressed.

  That had always been one of his favorite parts, she thought, him taking her clothes off. He always dragged it out, removing piece by piece until she was bare beneath his gaze.

  Now he made quick work of getting her shirt off, tossing it to the side as he hooked his fingers in the lacy edges of her panties and tugging them down her legs. The sensation made her tremble, but it was the expression on his face that captivated her more.

  Only once he had her bra off, and she could no longer hide from his gaze, did that lust in his eyes sharpen.

  Nothing felt more satisfying than seeing the barely controlled restraint in him as he resisted the urge to just fuck her the way he wanted. Yet, Kyrnon was incredibly patient, and despite the thic
k length of his cock pressed against his jeans, he made no move to ease himself.

  But she wanted to.

  Amber wanted nothing more than to please him, to make him feel even half of what he made her feel every day.

  "Can I?" She asked already reaching for his zipper, feeling a thrill in just how tightly wound he was.

  But no matter his baser needs, he was still in control of himself—at least for now.

  "Take me out," he urged giving her a helping hand with the button.

  She could just see the trail of hair growing thicker with each inch she gained by tugging the zipper down. Beneath his jeans, he wore nothing, giving her the perfect, delectable view of the base of his cock.

  He groaned, a harsh, but sexy sound that made her feel powerful, arousal rushing through her. With other partners, she had never felt that all-consuming desire to do whatever they asked, but with Kyrnon, she wanted to be good for him.

  She wanted to be everything he wanted.

  And as he looked down at her, eyes slightly dazed as though he were still not used to the sight of her naked before him, he looked captivated.

  Grabbing hold of her hand, he placed it on his throbbing length, wrapping her fingers around it. She had learned rather quickly what he liked, and made sure she gripped him accordingly. Waiting until he gave that first grunt of pleasure before she started stroking him, taking her time, reveling in the feel as his big body quaked with the effort to remain still.

  But she could feel it in the tight tension of his body how badly he needed more.

  In seconds, she was wrapping her lips around him, taking him as deep as she could. His head fell back as a pleasurable sigh escaped his lips.

  "Fuck, that's good," he grumbled, his voice thick with lust.

  Even as he sifted a hand through her hair, twisting in the curls to guide her movements, he gave a sharp smack to her thigh, a silent command for her to open for him.

  Never had she been more turned in sucking a man's cock, but with Kyrnon, she felt like she would die if he didn't fuck her. The moment her thighs were open, his gaze shot there as well, taking in the desire that she couldn't hide.

  He appreciated the sight, another muttered curse coming from him. She took him deeper still until she was nearly deep throating him.

  Laying one hand on her stomach, he dragged it down, pulling all the sensation with him as he finally gave her what they both wanted.

  There was no hesitation, no moment of making sure she was ready before his fingers were delving between her slippery folds, then two were thrust into her so deep she spasmed around his fingers.

  "So fucking sensitive," he murmured low. "You're begging for it."

  Her eyes squeezed shut as he slowly started pumping those fingers inside of her, dragging across nerves that had her back arching off the floor. Once she finally had them reopened, she realized it wasn't down at her that his gaze was focused.

  Instead, on the mirror opposite them. It provided an unobstructed view of her, of him. The way she worked his cock, and just how deep his fingers were buried inside her pussy.

  Through the mirror, she could see his glistening fingers, the way his heated gaze was rapt to her sex. He almost seemed entranced.

  Dragging his fingers from her sex, he pulled her off his cock just as quick. She didn’t think she had ever felt more aware of her own body as his gaze drifted over her like a physical touch.

  Flipping her onto her back, he crawled between her spread legs once more. Hooking her leg around his waist, he shoved the slightly curling strands of his hair back out of his face, not wanting anything to obstruct his view of her.

  His fingers were back between her legs before she could take another breath. She was insatiable when it came to him, arching and writhing as he plunged two fingers back into her pussy, dragging them back out with aching slowness, repeating the action over and over again until she was gasping and trembling, but even as he drew her closer to that maddening edge, he brought her back down

  “I can feel you squeezing me,” he murmured, pressing his fingers in deep then rubbing the pad of his thumb in small circles over her clit. “That’s it, fuck yourself—take what you want.”

  A deep whine clawed up her throat as she was helpless but to obey his command, feeling that impending release inching ever closer. This time, he didn’t pull back, but fucked into her harder until she was crashing over the edge so fast and so hard that she was seeing stars.

  Before she could come down, however, he was flipping her over once more, hands at her hips as he pulled her back into the cradle of his hips, the swollen head of his cock rubbing over slippery flesh.

  A broad palm pressed between her shoulder blades, pushing her chest down further until her hardened nipples brushed the soft fur of his rug, her ass was high for him.

  “Stay there,” he ordered gruffly, bringing that same hand down over the curve of her ass as he moved away.

  Amber had no idea what he planned, but she didn’t have enough time to wonder before he was back, his cock sheathed in latex. With one hand curled around her hip, he fisted his cock, dragging the length over her soaked pussy. She couldn’t focus on this for long, not when she felt his fingers sliding down her back until he was at the base of her spine, then down further.

  Dipping his fingers into her sex first, he brought them back up and gently eased just the tip of his finger inside of her puckered hole.

  “Is this okay?” he thought to ask, giving her a moment to get used to the intrusion.

  Even as she nodded, a shot of fear and lust dueled inside of her. The few experiences with Rob had been awkward, and she didn’t think she could ever get into it, but Kyrnon was different.

  And she knew this would be different too.

  As he began to ease more of his finger inside of her, his tone was soothing as he said, “Relax. I’ll take care of you.”

  The words sent a shot of arousal down to her aching core, reminding her how badly she wanted to be filled by him. It was good, so fucking good, the way he manipulated her body, whipping her body into a frenzy to the point that she was pressing back into his touch, a moan spilling from her as he added another finger.

  Kyrnon took his time, like they had all the time in the world for him to make her feel it. Only when he had her begging in soft, broken moans for more, her cheek pressed to the floor, her lips parted as she fought for breath, did he finally ease his fingers out of her, drawing her up until her back was pressed against his front.

  She could feel his teeth along the curve of her shoulder, even as he positioned his cock where he had pulled his fingers from. Whimpering as she felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against that tight ring of muscles, she trembled in his hold.

  “Shh,” he soothed at her ear. “I’ve got you.”

  There would be pain, she knew, but there was nothing quite like the sensation of him pushing into her. It almost felt like he wouldn’t fit, and she was dangerously close to demanding he take it out, but he paused, turning her to face him with a hand to her cheek before claiming her lips.

  Distracting her, she realized as she felt her muscles ease, growing languid. His tongue dragged over hers, stoking a fire inside her, until she could focus on nothing more than his kiss. Before she realized it, he was as deep as he could get.

  “That’s it,” he said as he broke their kiss. “You can take me.”

  A string of curses fell from his lips as she clenched around him. The pain returned as he began to move, easing in and out of her with mind-numbing slowness, but with each stroke, the pain lessened until there was none, only the sensation of being stretched tight around his cock.

  “Open your eyes.”

  She hadn’t realized she shut them until that moment, forcing them open as she was greeted with their reflections staring back at her. One muscular arm was wrapped tight around her hips, but it was the way her legs were spread, giving an unobstructed view of her pussy and the shadow of his cock as he kept up those maddening
strokes.

  While he seemed captivated by her, she was lost in him. Feeling the tension in him was completely different from seeing the need reflected in his face—the way his jaw had gone tight, his brows drawn together in worry, as though he too couldn’t understand how it could be this good.

  And when she arched in his hold, a pleading moan coming from her, Kyrnon cursed low, his hips snapping forward so hard it forced the breath from her lungs.

  But there was no pain.

  Just a pleasure so intense she was seeing stars.

  Soon, he was thrusting into her so hard and fast that she was screaming his name, at least until he kissed her again. This one wasn’t slow and sweet like the last, but hard and wet and all consuming. Again and again, he pounded into her, his free hand snaking down to find her swollen clit, drumming his fingers over it.

  “Your pussy is mine, Amber,” he breathed, the possession in his gaze making her dig her nails into the arm he had banded around her. “Say it.”

  She wasn’t capable of words, not when he was manipulating her body in a way that she was focused entirely on what he was doing to her.

  But he wanted an answer, whether she was ready to give it or not. Before she realized what he was doing, he was pulling his hand away, only to bring it back down over her sex in a hard smack.

  “Fucking say it. I won’t ask again.”

  “Oh, God.”

  But that wasn’t what he wanted.

  Another smack.

  And a third before she was rushing to say, “My pussy is yours.”

  “And you’re mine.”

  This was said with every bit of the sexual frustration she felt, but the under currents of his tone told her they were more than just words said as he fucked her—he meant them.

  She didn’t hesitate as she said, “I’m yours.”

  Every part of her.

  Mind.

  Body.

  Soul.

  Her agreement seemed to snap the last bit of his control as he urged her forward, her arms catching her weight as she went down, though keeping her back arched.