Her entire plan had turned against her. She had set out to drive him crazy, and now he breathed into her ear, telling her things beyond her imagining, and God help her, she wanted to do them. She wanted to pull his cock into her mouth. She wanted him to bury his face between her legs and lick the spot he touched. She wanted his cock to slide—
“Have you ever done any of those things?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Have you?”
“Some of them. Others, well, I’ve been waiting for the right woman.”
She hesitated a moment, swallowing hard. “Am I the right woman?” she asked.
“Arleigh.” He caught her chin and turned her face toward him. “You’re the only woman.”
She twisted in his arms and he kissed her. She would tell him anything. If he wanted her to say she’d lie, she would tell him so. If he wanted to ignore her warnings, she would let him. Her only thoughts lay in the sensation of the mouth on hers and the hard cock under her hand. She wanted it, and she wanted this man. If she had to bribe God to keep him, she would. If she had to sell her soul to the fae, she would. She would find a way to keep him alive.
He pulled away from her and bent down to pick up the cloth from the floor. His glance darted past her, and he ran a hand through his hair. She wondered if she’d said something out loud, murmured something against his lips, something she should not have said.
“Fuck, Arleigh,” he said softly.
He pressed the cloth into her hand and backed away toward the cottage door. He grabbed Stephen’s cloak from the peg and turned to her.
“This isn’t going to work,” he said. “I’ll talk to Jack Kensington tomorrow. There must be an empty cottage on the island. I’ll move. I can’t do this.”
He opened the door and stepped into the dark night.
* * * *
She brushed out her hair and the tears started. One moment she was fine, thinking of Ryder ambling along the banks of the James, his cloak flapping around him in the autumn breeze, and the next, a tear fell from her eye and slid down her cheek like an icicle.
She didn’t want him to move out of the cottage. She didn’t want him to sell her indenture to Flynn. But one of those two things would be necessary, because she didn’t want to be the cause of his death. If she had to spend one more day, one more hour in his presence, she would beg him to take her.
And, after that, he would die.
Arleigh wiped at her face. She couldn’t deny it or change it. The inevitability of it rolled through her painfully and raced through her mind on the faces of the men she had known. The boys who had kissed her, the men who had touched her. Sean McClintock, dead of a bee sting. Liam Duffy, drowned in a still pond. Owen Murphy, lost in a winter storm. Declan Bergen, broken neck. Jamey Finnegan, unknown causes.
And the worst part of it all was that none of the men had ever come closer to her than furtive embraces, hurried caresses, feverish kisses stolen in quick moments. She had given herself to none of them, and yet death had still claimed them. The banshees had sung over the Irish hills for these lost boys and men.
Stephen Caindale had managed to stay alive for six months, but Stephen had never touched her, never kissed her. She couldn’t deny he’d wanted to. She could try to delude herself into thinking Stephen had wanted her in his home for the sole purpose of raising his daughters, but she had seen the way his eyes touched upon her, and his rigid back when she came near. She had sensed him trying to control his very breath in her presence. She had heard his footsteps on the staircase many times and had felt him watching her while she lay in bed. How long would Stephen have stayed away from her? She would never know the answer to that.
Ryder’s escape was a miracle, but not all the prayers in the world, not all the promises she could make to God, and not all her hope would keep him alive. If she didn’t insist he stay away from her, he would join the growing collection of dead men who had loved her. And if they made love? Then surely the retribution would be quick and fierce. She would never be able to keep the banshee from returning to Trinity Island.
She thought a chance existed that Ryder could be the one, the one that could end her nightmare. But to test her theory, she would have to risk his life.
The cottage door opened, and Ryder moved around in the keeping room. She hurried and tucked herself under the covers when she heard footsteps on the staircase. She tried to stop the tears, but the moment she saw his shadow flicker in the corner, a dam seemed to burst somewhere inside of her. A ragged sob tore from her.
He stood at the top of the landing for a long while, listening to her tears. Finally, when her tears subsided and she wiped her face on the edge of the sheet, his voice wound through the darkness.
“We’re killing each other, Arleigh.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, and the weight of his body pulled her across the lumpy mattress. He caught her against him, and his mouth moved softly against hers, kissing her gently, moving across her eyelids, her forehead, her cheeks.
“What do I have to do?” Ryder asked.
“Just believe me.”
“I can’t,” he said.
“Then we’ll continue to kill each other, but at least you won’t be in a damp grave with the others.”
He yanked her against him and found her mouth in the darkness. This time his kiss was hard, filled with urgency and desperation.
“We’ll work something out, sweetheart. I promise.”
“Please don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I don’t,” Ryder said.
The weight lifted from the bed, but as she reached for him, he vanished. She heard his footsteps on the stairs, and she was alone.
Chapter 20
Another night of drinking did nothing to improve his mood. Why he thought he could find answers in Stephen’s brew eluded him, but he kept looking for them there. When he yanked open the door to the keeping room, Arleigh was singing, and for one moment he was sorry he had interrupted her. She positively glowed with happiness. She took one look at him, and the singing stopped. He doubted anyone could put Arleigh Donovan in a bad mood faster than he could. His weary glance fluttered across her, too tired and aching to do anything else.
“Mornin’, princess,” he muttered.
“Ryder, why do you keep looking for solutions in that bottle?”
“I asked myself the same question.” He grabbed the pitcher near the washbasin, poured some water into his mouth, and rinsed. He spit into her washbasin, and she frowned.
“Must you be such a barbarian?”
“My head hurts likes hell, Arleigh. Lay off.”
“Are we going to have this same conversation every morning? If so, I have to tell you—”
“I know, blah, blah, blah, same shit, different day.” He grabbed her cup of tea from the table and downed it in one swallow. She gaped at him. “You’re a regular Chatty Cathy. There are times when I think I should fuck you and let this curse of yours swallow me whole. It would save wear and tear on my ears.”
“Oh, some day I’m going to prove how right I am, Ryder Kendall, and when you’re lying in your grave, you can eat every one of your insults. You’re beyond a doubt the most—”
What he had in mind must have showed on his face. Arleigh’s mouth snapped closed, and she suddenly backed up. Her eyes widened. He followed her. He did have a headache but not one so bad that he couldn’t torment her.
“I’ve a mind to eat other things this morning, Arleigh. Looking at you and that fiery little spark in your eyes, I’m beginning to think we should go back to the bedroom for round three. Or is it four?”
“You can eat at the table like a civilized man,” she snapped. “I don’t need to clean crumbs from every room in this house.”
He pressed his body against hers and bent her over the table. “I wasn’t talking about food, honey. I’m talking about other things. Wicked things.”
“Other things?” she squeaked.
“You liked rubbing against
my cock. You almost came. We could try something else.”
“What?” she whispered.
He put his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the table. When he tried to raise her skirt, she caught his hands.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to go down on you, baby. Eat every inch of your pussy until you scream with pleasure.”
“You’re going to what?”
He began to tug on the laces of her corset. Arleigh watched his hands. Each time one of the laces dropped to the table, her eyes rose to his with a look of confusion.
“I want to see your breasts.” He tossed the corset to the table. “And so there are no surprises, I’m also going to touch them. Thought you should know.”
He winked at her, and she blushed furiously. He opened the laces of her shirt and bared her breasts. She sat frozen, seemingly unable to move. He left her for a second and kicked a low bench toward the edge of the table. He hunkered down and peered up at her.
“So here’s what’s going to happen, Arleigh. You’re going to lie back. You don’t have to do a thing, and you don’t have to watch me.”
“What are you going to do?”
Ryder raked his hair back and gave her a smile. “I’m going to lick your pussy. Every inch, inside and out. I’m going to suck on your clit. I’m probably going to put my fingers in you. We’ll see how many you can take. And while I’m doing that, I want you to touch your breasts. They seem pretty sensitive, and you seem to like them squeezed. Don’t be shy. I may reach up from time to time for a quick squeeze myself, because I have to confess that your nipples drive me crazy. Rosy buds of perfection.”
“I can’t let you do any of that,” Arleigh cried.
“You can and you will,” Ryder said. He tossed her skirt up to her lap, and before she had a chance to protest, he had spread her thighs apart. He whistled, and Arleigh tried to close her legs, but he put his hands in the creases of her legs and held her open, spreading her outer lips.
“Damn, Arleigh, you have a beautiful pussy. Pink. Ripe. You’re swollen and wet. Been thinking of me?”
He ran his thumb across the moist folds and she trembled. She reached down and tugged at his hair. He glanced up.
“The curse,” she whispered.
“What about it?”
“It shouldn’t make you want to do this. No one has e’er done this to me unless we go to the Between Times. I don’t understand what’s going through your head. I don’t understand how this can be happening. No one ever tries to steal pieces of me.”
“I told you I’m not buying into your curse, honey. And I’m stealing pieces of you only because you won’t give them to me. Now lie back. You’re going to like this.”
She sat stock still on the table, her hands clenched in the wad of fabric at her waist, her back straight. He wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her to the lip of the table. She uttered a tiny little noise that he ignored while he tucked his arms under her knees and lifted her legs. He held the edge of the table and gave her another wink.
“No curses, baby. I’m doing this for my own personal enjoyment. Takes my mind off the pain.”
He leaned forward, and his tongue licked the entire length of her pussy. Arleigh groaned and fell back on the table with a thump.
“You taste good, honey. This is a great cure for a headache.”
He started with the swollen lips that hid the hollow of her body. His tongue lapped across the flesh, pulling them one at a time into his mouth and sucking very gently. When he finished, he spread them with his fingers and lapped her in circles, lightly licking her inner lips and letting his tongue press against her clit. She bolted upright. He raised his eyes and met her startled glance.
“You’re not relaxing,” he said.
“That was…intense.”
“It’s going to get more intense,” he said. “But you can watch if you want to.”
He licked her clit, and she thumped back to the table, her fingers clenching the fabric of her skirt. He moved his tongue from her clit to her folds, lapping at the juices spread over her soft skin. He settled his mouth against her and pushed his tongue into her, scraping it across the top of her vaginal wall. Her hand wrapped in his hair, tugging him closer, and he plunged his tongue deeper and began to suck. Her ass wiggled and moved closer, and her legs tensed against his arms. She whimpered, and the sound of it was music to his ears. He sucked harder, and when she cried out, he smiled against her.
He withdrew his tongue and locked his mouth over her clit. She trembled violently, and her hips surged against his face. He sucked on her again, and her body rose from the table. He took advantage of it and reached for her breast. He snatched one of her nipples between his fingers and squeezed hard, rolling it until he felt it grow larger, elongating under his brutal caress.
“Oh Holy Saints, Ryder, what are you doing?”
He pulled his mouth away but didn’t answer. He began to torment her with his tongue, sweeping it over her clit again and again until she gasped and fell back again. Her body arched upward, and her ass lifted off the table. Her hand tentatively touched her breast, and the sight of it was very arousing. His cock hardened, but he had already decided this wasn’t about him. He tried to ignore what his dick wanted. He tossed one of her legs over his shoulder and reached between her legs, plunging two fingers into her while he licked her clit. Her body surged toward him, burying his fingers deep. He moved his tongue lower and licked the cum that flowed from her. The taste of it spurred him to want more. He covered her clit with his mouth and fucked her with his fingers until her small pants filled his ears, and her body thrummed with tension.
“Let me go,” she pleaded. “I can’t take this.”
He tore his mouth away but moved his thumb to her clit, circling the swollen nub with a constant pressure to keep her at the edge.
“I’m not letting you go until you come. I can do this all morning. I love the taste. I love the smell. I love looking at your pussy, and seeing you touch your breasts makes me want to come in my pants like a kid. But most of all, I love proving to you that you’re not in control. There is no curse, Arleigh. I’m doing this because I want to, not because some damn curse has control of me.”
He paused long enough to tongue her clit. The shudder that ran through her body was exciting. His cock beaded with his cum. Okay, so maybe it was a little about him. He shoved his hand into his boxers and grabbed his dick.
“Squeeze your nipple, honey.”
He lifted up long enough to watch her fingers tighten on her nipple. His fingers worked her pussy, and her teeth caught at her lower lip. She ran her hand across her breast, cupping the fullness of it in her small hand. He could almost feel her breast under his own hand. He could definitely feel his dick. It was hard, pulsing, throbbing. And he was going to come.
“Open up. Let yourself go. Trust me. Tell me how much you like this.”
“I love this,” she whispered.
“Good. Now let go.”
He drove his fingers into her again and licked her pussy, one long leisurely caress along the entire area. Her body trembled in anticipation, waiting, waiting until he touched her clit with the tip of his tongue. A spasm rippled through her. It was small, but she cried out. He took advantage of her preoccupation to tug at his cock. He dropped his forehead against her pussy, breathing in the scent, and gave his cock a couple of quick tugs. With a groan, he shot cum all over his hand and flooded his boxers. He wasn’t proud, but he certainly felt better.
She squirmed on the table. He got back to business. He ran his tongue over her pussy, and this time when he reached her clit, he flickered his tongue swiftly several times, and another spasm tore through her. This one was real. He began to suck on her. She began to quiver, trembling violently beneath his hands. Her back arched, her hips lifted, and a moan of such intensity ripped through her. He was determined to shatter every illusion she had of who she was. He sucked harder. When he heard her burst into tea
rs, he pulled his mouth away.
He stood up and leaned over her but pushed his hand between her legs. His cum mixed with hers, and his wet fingers slid over her swollen flesh easily, dipping into her, spreading the lips, rubbing gently, making her accept every moment of the experience. She sobbed while her body shook and quaked under his hand. When her climax tapered off, he still refused to let her go. He laid his palm against her damp thatch, rubbing gently, trying to calming her down. Tears slid from beneath her closed eyes and her mouth pulled in tortured gasps of air. Gradually the trembling subsided. He pulled her up and gathered her against him. She lay limp in his arms.
He lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom. When he laid her down, he pulled off her skirt and shoes and tucked the blanket around her. She didn’t say a word. She seemed to be out of words for once in her life. He sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the tears from her cheek.
“You’re not supposed to cry when you come,” he said gently. “Did I hurt you?”
She turned on her side, pressed her face into the pillow, and shook her head.
“Did you like it?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said softly.
“Then why are you crying?”
She sighed, and the sound broke something inside of him. “You made me feel wanton. I know you don’t have a very high opinion of me, but I’m not a whore, Ryder. I feel like a harlot.”
He gripped her shoulder and forced her to roll over.
“A harlot? Honey, I think you’re the most naïve woman I’ve ever met. My touch shouldn’t make you feel like a whore.”
Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 22