“You frightened me.” We weren’t used to each other yet. He stood awkwardly by as I trotted forward to set the bucket by the fire. He was fully naked now and the pelt was stretched out by the fire to dry.
“Came back and you were gone,” he rumbled, the longest sentence I’d ever heard from him. He was more man and less beast with each passing heartbeat. No need for kissing then, I thought dispiritedly, though my heart thumped as Ægir loomed over me. “Wondered if you were a dream.”
I licked my lips. His face seemed leaner, his beard longer, as if the long swim and lifting the curse had aged him an extra day. “Not a dream.”
He was still so large he filled the room. He stooped a little to stand closer by me. He can’t be comfortable. Would my mother had built the ceiling a little taller. Or perhaps I was meant to get my great warrior immediately to lie down in bed.
I flushed head to toe.
Ægir tilted his head, studying me as he had so often in the tower. His hand hovered over my neck and I started babbling. “There’s a stream behind here. It’s what the sheep use. I don’t know how far back this land goes, whether it’s an island or part of the mainland. I expect it is cut off somehow from civilization. My mother—” He lifted a curl of my hair and my gushing words stopped.
“So fine,” he murmured. “Feathers.”
“Yes.
“Muireann,” he asked, halting, “do you want me?”
“I led you here, didn’t I? Why else would I try to break the curse?”
He smoothed down my hair, a useless gesture. My hair was completely untamable after a flight. “Pity.”
I drew myself up. “It’s not pity I feel for you, warrior. You saved me from Dòmhnall. Twice.”
He shrugged. “Fly away.”
“If I had flown away, Dòmhnall would’ve taken the island by force. I had to go back. When you came, you saved them all. How did you find me?”
“Sweet.” He pressed a handful of my hair to his face, inhaling as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did.
“You smell sweet, too,” I whispered, pressing closer. “You’re still the Sea Wolf. A warrior who takes what he pleases. Or am I not what you want?”
He pounced then, a flash of gold in his eyes. “Mine,” he growled against my neck.
I laughed. This was better. “You must claim me then,” I whispered, twining my arms around his neck as he carried me to the bed. We were both naked still—my days in the tower made me used to it, and now there was no reason to wear clothes—but this was different. The air between our bodies was heated, charged. We came together, bodies shuddering as if we needed to be near. As if without his hard, ridged flesh against me, I would die.
He stretched me out below him, planting my arms above my head, growling when I would move them and pinning them with a hand. I squirmed as he stroked me with his free hand, starting with my cheeks and nose, collaring my neck and caressing every part of my chest, carefully circling my breasts. I arched my back and thrust my breasts forward. He chuckled.
“Ægir, touch me. It’s not fair.”
“Mine,” he answered.
I whined and twisted in his grip. He draped his weight over my legs, dropping his hips until his cock brushed my tender folds. He stroked over me this way, a small smirk lurking around his mouth and a heated look in his eye. Pinned and covered by his great bulk, I could not hope to escape. I did my best, fighting to get away from the inexorable movement of his cock stroking me, sometimes rubbing the exact greedy spot I needed him to rub, sometimes not. It drove me mad.
“Fuck me,” I snapped, baring my teeth at him. He chuckled in my face. He always liked when I turned wild. I twisted this way and that, only succeeding in rubbing my aching nub against him just the right way. Tinder caught, lightning struck, and I convulsed in the grip of pleasure.
“Ægir,” I moaned. “Please. I need you.”
He lifted my legs, tossing them over his shoulders. Bending forward he folded me almost in half. The head of his cock probed my entrance and I stiffened. He was so big. How did he ever fit? He worked himself in slowly, and another wave of pleasure rolled up from my toes, half blinding me. I relaxed and he slid in. My channel burned as it stretched around the giant invader. My moans were wordless now, increasing as Ægir’s cock settled deep inside me. His grip on my calves was cruel, his cock utterly dominating my body and senses, but his eyes were gentle.
“Mine,” he murmured. “Mine.”
And then he thrust hard, bottoming out, filling the deepest part of me. My limbs froze, my back arching as pleasure burned up my spine. Our lovemaking felt like the Change, a giant hand shaping and stretching me, making me anew. Only it was not magic. It was Ægir.
I survived his brutal thrusts, pleasure sizzling and singing in each vein. I did not know when my climax began or ended.
He pulled out and knelt beside the bed, dropping his face between my legs.
Dazed, I craned my neck, but all I could see was the top of his head. “What are you—”
His mouth covered my cunny and I cried out. His tongue lapped at my secret places, long, smooth strokes that drove my pleasure higher.
But then he pressed fingers against my arsehole. The area between my bottom cheeks was slick from my wet cunt.
“No,” I warned.
His teeth glinted when he smiled, two long incisors glinting like fangs. His thick finger probed my bottom.
“Mine,” he said. I writhed, trying to get away. He jerked me back, his fingers biting into my thigh. His shoulder leaned against my leg, pinning and pressing me into the bed.
“No,” I fought in vain. My climax was building again despite the finger invading my arse. Or perhaps because of it.
His tongue sought my folds again and soon I screamed my pleasure to the ceiling. Ægir nipped at my inner thighs, rubbing his stubbled face on the sensitive skin. A second finger pushed into my arse. His thumb dipped into my cunny and he rubbed the thin membrane that separated his thumb and fingers. My climax went on and on. Still holding me pinched between thumb and forefinger, he sucked on my clit and I spiraled higher. My heels drummed his broad shoulders.
Then he spread my juices over my stretched bottom hole.
“No,” I mumbled, too overcome to push him away. He set his cock at my anus and growled, making me shudder. I could only lie there, limp from many climaxes, as he breached my tiny back hole. Somehow the tight rings stretched around him. One inch. Another.
“Muireann,” he murmured. “Muireann.”
I sighed and let him in. No one had claimed me there before, and no other ever would. My body, my heart, my whole self, belonged to no one but him.
For a heartbeat he rested, seated balls deep inside me. His fingers found my slippery clit and I groaned. I did not want to climax again. Especially not with him inside me like this, claiming me in the basest possible way. He would possess me utterly.
But I could hold nothing of myself back from him. Like a true wolf, he was a patient hunter, touching my folds, teasing the tender flesh until I rocked unwillingly against him. Milking his cock despite myself. When my climax finally came it was gentle but long, rolling waves that rippled my belly. Ægir watched in fascination, groaning as I grew impossibly tight around him. If I could, I’d push him out. My hands did push at his chest until he reared over me and pinned my wrists to the bed. Then he started to stroke. Sweat beaded on my forehead and his. He was holding back.
“Take me,” I challenged. “Make me yours.”
His groan rumbled through me. He snapped his hips and impaled me, filling me completely. The harsh thrusts continued until I feared I’d break in two. My body held together another heartbeat and then another orgasm shattered it. My eyes rolled back into my head, my tongue babbling an unknown language.
Ægir released my arms and grasped my hips, slamming into me hard enough to make me bounce. His lips drew back and he was a feral creature once more, teeth bared in a snarl.
With several rough pumps,
he filled my back channel with his seed. I was completely filled with his issue. Sloppy with it. I supposed I should be glad I was not covered in it.
Perhaps next time.
Ægir rose and went to the bucket where he washed himself. He returned and washed me. His cock still jutted from his body, hard and ready.
But he draped himself over me, kissing my forehead, my lips, the soft place between my breasts. Then he lay on his side, his huge body dwarfing mine, and pulled me close, my back to his chest.
“Do you mind staying here?” I asked drowsily. I could sleep and would soon. But first I wanted to enjoy this moment, lying in my man’s arms.
“Do you?”
“There’s nothing to eat but fish and sheep.” I yawned. “Your men—will they get on with their lives without you.”
“No.” Ægir teased a lock of my hair, fanning it out on my shoulder. “Told them to stay. Guard.”
My eyes popped open. “I hadn’t thought of that. But it’d be best if Hawk and the rest stayed for a while. Do you think they’ll mind?”
“No.”
“We should visit Nanny someday. Not for a while. I imagine she’ll be busy fussing over a new band of warriors.”
“Father... angry?”
I smiled and shook my head. “My father wouldn’t have chosen you as a bridegroom.” An image of the monster on the roof filled my mind and I shivered. I’d saved the Sea Wolf as much as he’d saved my people. “But I expect his opinion will change. You did save us from Dòmhnall’s men. And now if the Uí Néill come to avenge their fallen son, well, your men can enjoy another fight.” The island wouldn’t be so easy to conquer now. There’d be no threat to my father while the Sea Wolf’s warriors guarded the island.
I settled deeper into Ægir’s arms, perfectly content. “I don’t know the moment I knew I didn’t want to live without you. Probably when you claimed me for the first time. I didn’t realize it at the time. Not until now. But since then, it’s been you, Ægir, and no other.”
His hand splayed over my belly. “Good.”
“My mother told me stories of you. She readied this cottage. I guess she knew you’d need it one day. And I would be the raven to guide you home.”
“No,” Ægir grunted. I rolled to my back and he splayed his hand between my breasts. His eyes burned with a hint of gold. “You.”
“Me?” I wrinkled my brow. “What do you mean?”
“You. Home.”
A golden warmth bloomed inside my heart and spread through my limbs. “And you also, my love. You are my home.”
About Lee Savino
Raised by wizards on the glorious peaks of Mount Kilimanjaro, Lee grew up sword fighting shadows and befriending Sherpas until she flew to the Ivory Coast to study shark fighting.
She writes fiction full time.
Browse Lee’s books, on Amazon
Receive Lee’s newsletter (and a free book)
Join Lee’s Facebook Group,
Follow Lee
On Bookbub
On Goodreads
Edward’s Law
by Felicity Brandon
Chapter 1
London, England
1780
Alice
“Lot number forty-two.”
The auctioneer pushed his half-moon spectacles up the length of his nose, surveying the assembled crowd in the Christie’s Auction room as two men rushed into the dim auditorium, carrying the large portrait. The young woman in the dark cape straightened as the portrait was revealed to those present. It was an oil painting of a colossal ship, the word ‘Dexterity’ emblazoned on the side, her large sails catching the wind as she cut through the ocean waves. The woman let out a long breath as her gaze fell over the image, her pulse quickening at the sight. The Dexterity had been built for the King’s navy, but due to a set of unforeseen and sorrowful circumstances, she had never even set sail.
But that was about to change.
This is what she had sat through an hour of cumbersome, irrelevant lots for—this is what she had come for.
“A unique and exceptional opportunity befalls us today, gentlemen,” the auctioneer began.
The woman rolled her eyes at his opening. In her, albeit limited, experience, men were always the same—quick to judge, fast to assume, and rarely accurate in their conclusions.
“The Dexterity sits in port, yet to undertake her maiden voyage, and one of you will have the chance to purchase her for your own.”
A low murmur of appreciation rumbled through the crowd and rows of gentlemen in front of the woman, Miss Alice Jaggers, turned to exchange excited whispers. Her belly furled into tight knots as the atmosphere in the room shifted. It seemed she was not the only person there for the Dexterity, and her heart thundered at that prospect. Lowering her hood, Alice glanced around the room. She could not recall ever being this nervous before, but pulling in a deep breath, she resolved to focus. Alice had not come this far to be pipped at the post. The Dexterity was part of her inheritance—the ship her father had never got a chance to include in his will—and she had no plans to let it slip from her grasp now. Alice wanted it too badly, and in the five months since she had lost her father, she had planned this for too long.
“Let’s start our proceedings at one hundred pounds.”
The call from the auctioneer brought a hushed silence to the great room, and Alice gripped the small piece of paper in her hand.
This is it, she thought, allowing her eyes to fall closed for a moment as the significance of the moment washed over her.
The moment I get my father’s ship back, the moment I lay his ghost to rest—finally.
Alice held her breath as she watched the dealings play out. Two old-looking men from the second row seemed the most interested in scuppering her plans and were trying to outbid each. Alice held her nerve, pushing down her rising apprehension as the highest bid passed between them until her moment arrived.
“One hundred and twenty pounds!”
She rose from her seat, shouting her bid aloud to the astonished faces of the dried-up men seated around her.
“Miss?” asked the auctioneer.
Alice nodded her head, ignoring the heat which spread to her cheeks as the attention of everyone in the room turned to her. “Yes,” she answered in a solemn tone. “My bid stands.”
“Very well.” The auctioneer nodded. “The current bid is one hundred and twenty pounds. Do I hear any advance on that?”
The air in the room was strained as the gentlemen Alice had outbid muttered quietly to their companions. They were apparently unimpressed with being outdone by a girl barely above legal age, yet neither of them seemed prepared to counter her. Alice pulled in a shaky breath, her fingers tightening on the small piece of paper caught between them as though her life depended on it.
“No one?” The auctioneer’s voice cut through some of the tension. “Has no one got another bid?”
Alice’s gaze excitedly surveyed the scene around her. This was going better than she could ever have hoped. Not only had her bid awed those gathered at Christie’s Auction House, but even better, it did not seem as though anybody else was going to put in a higher offer. Alice’s bid had been on the high side, but the Dexterity was worth it. It was worth every penny.
“At one hundred and twenty pounds then! Going once.”
The auctioneer slid his glasses back up his nose as he peered over them, calling out to the room.
“Going twice!”
“One hundred and fifty pounds!”
A voice from behind Alice sent her heart racing, and she turned to see where it had originated. A tall, dark gentleman stood by the exit, leaning against the wall, his finger raised by his face. His eyes flitted to meet Alice’s stare, and for one moment, she was utterly transfixed, his sapphire gaze searing into her flesh even from his current distance.
“No!” she whispered into her gown. “No, that’s too much!”
The Dexterity was priceless to Alice, but she kne
w the new bid was far in excess of its real value. She technically had the money to outbid the man with the fascinating gaze, but she could hardly use all her inheritance to buy back her father’s ship. She still had to live. She still had the upkeep on Winter’s Lodge, and the servants needed paying. The money would only stretch so far.
The stranger smiled as though he had heard her words and read her thoughts, but that was impossible.
“Thank you, sir!” The auctioneer grinned, and Alice’s anxiety rocketed. It was almost like he was pleased the stranger had interjected—as though he had not wanted to sell the ship to a mere woman!
“The bid stands at one hundred and fifty pounds. Do I hear any higher bids?”
The assembled crowed exchanged glances, and trepidation tore at Alice’s heart.
What should she do? Buy back the ship her father had given his life for or be sensible and allow it to slip through her fingers?
“One hundred and fifty—going once!”
Panic bloomed in Alice’s chest, threatening to burst into her lungs and suffocate her altogether. The plan she had envisioned so meticulously was evaporating in front of her eyes, and there was nothing Alice could do to prevent it. Not without giving up on her family home, Winter’s Lodge completely.
“Going twice.”
“No hard feelings, darling.”
Alice gasped as the words were whispered into her left ear. She turned to find the stranger with the alluring blue eyes looming over her. She recoiled at his inappropriate proximity, staggering back a few paces, and watched in horror as his lips curled at her response.
“It’s not personal,” he went on. “I promise.”
“Going three times!”
“Who are you?” she hissed, pulling her cape tighter around her body as she confronted him. Alice knew nothing about the man, but there was something in his gaze that sent a shiver up and down the length of her spine—something dark, something captivating.
Pirates, Passion and Plunder Page 56