“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“With no reservations? With no one between us?”
“There is only you.”
He kissed her. Sinead had no idea if he had intended it to be soft and drugging, for she rose to meet his lips and captured his in hunger—starvation. With a fierce growl, he consumed her with his mouth, his tongue stroking hers as his hand roughly parted her cape. Flinging the corner over her shoulder, he exposed her bodice. He cupped her hard in his palm, groaning into her mouth as he squeezed her breast. Answering him, she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him so hard she was deprived of breath as their tongues tangled and licked.
“Kieran,” she said on a breathless plea as his lips skated over her skin, his tongue drawing tiny circles on her throat. She cried in pleasure as the cool winter air mingled with his hot breath. He clawed at her bodice, tearing it so as to expose her breast. Cupping her, he lifted her breast to his mouth and she arched up off their stone bed, needing to feel him suckling her deep in his warm mouth.
At last. He suckled her, ravenously, and she cried out, clutching at his hair, her hips rising and falling in a desperation she had never felt. It was hard and violent—desperate—the way they clung to each other, the way his hands roamed her body and his mouth suckled her deeply until her womb clenched and she thought she would never feel the hard length of him sliding into her.
His hand snaked beneath the hem of her skirts, which had ridden up her calves when she had wrapped her legs around him. He still held both her hands in one of his and she clutched onto his fingers, never wanting to let him go.
Rocking against her she felt his cock, hard, long, beautiful, straining against his coarse trousers.
“Do you want this? Me inside you? Fucking you?” he rasped as he pushed into her. Her sex was swollen, slick. She was ready for him. Past ready. She nodded, gripping his firm buttocks with her thighs.
“Then come to me.”
He loosened his trousers, and Sinead felt the hot velvet of his heavy cock between her thighs. With one hard thrust he was embedded deep within her.
The shock of something intimately filling her body after so long made her cry out and arch, taking him deeper. He drove into her again, riding against her, the entire length of his body rubbing her with each one of his thrusts, commanding her to accept his cock—him.
She had never been taken this way, with such purpose and intent. With possession. Her body responded as never before, blooming in a way she had never known it could. She felt sensual, womanly, as she accepted him, as her body begged him for more.
Their gazes were locked, their hands entwined above her head. He watched her as he took her, thrusting deeper and deeper.
“I knew you would be this beautiful beneath me,” he said, his gaze raking over her face. “I knew you would take me like this—just as I am. Rough. Coarse.”
She said nothing, but let her body answer him when she allowed her hips to meet his, and together they writhed like a wave on the stone. Her moans were loud and unbridled, feeding him, making him thrust harder. His strokes were relentless, never ending. Feeling her body begin to tense and coil with impending climax, Sinead allowed herself to grow lax, to just feel the power of Kieran’s cock deep within her, sliding and retreating, only to fill her again. Her head lolled to the side, and she looked through the stones and beyond to the fire that continued to burn. There, beyond the flames was the narrator from before, his Mummer’s mask concealing his face. Then he removed it. From between the flickering flames, she saw the image of her husband once more.
David…
He watched her—them, making love on the stone altar like heathen animals, and she felt wicked, wanton and so very feminine that she smiled and beckoned him with her eyes.
His own eyes flickered, dancing with desire, answering her call to join them. He stepped forward, but the flames reared up, preventing him from coming closer.
Soon, she heard his voice in her head. Soon I will join you.
As Kieran filled her over and over, their hands clinging to one another, she watched the man studying them, watching the way they moved, the way Kieran took her. The way she responded to Kieran’s touch, the feel of his body commanding hers and it aroused her. To have both men…
Kieran found her breast and curled his tongue around her nipple. With one final thrust, he poured his seed deep within her. The image of David faded, leaving her and Kieran alone amongst the sacred stones.
“Sinead,” Kieran murmured, his voice trembling, as was the hand with which he cupped her face. “Stay with me.”
“Yes,” she whispered against the top of his head, his silky hair tickling her throat as the wind caressed them. My Heart’s Desire.
5
BENEATH THE COVER OF DARKNESS, KIERAN WHISKED Sinead past the revelers, careful not to attract unwanted attention. He did not give a damn what the villagers said about him, but he did not wish to have Sinead bear the brunt of their biting tongues and cruel accusations. What was between them, whatever they would discover this night was between them only. Whatever the villagers said about Sinead, Kieran knew the truth. She was not a witch, but a seductress. He was as smitten now as he had been when he first saw her portrait. She ruled his heart and soul, and after those moments on the stone altar, she ruled his body as well.
Through the snow, they hurried, their hands clasped tightly as they weaved through the throng until they cleared the green. His mind was racing, his gait brisk, forcing Sinead to run behind him.
Had he pleased her? Shocked her? He had not been soft and lulling. He’d taken. Christ, he’d ripped her bodice and had her for the first time on a stone altar like some kind of pagan god devouring a human sacrifice. Yet even if he had wanted to, he wouldn’t have had the patience to take his time seducing her with luring kisses and gentle caresses.
It had been immensely satisfying, taking her like that. The dangerous edge of his sexual hunger, a hunger that had grown to almost unbearable heights these past months, was at last somewhat at bay.
But had he truly satisfied her? The all-too-familiar taste of fear coated his mouth. He wanted her pleasured, loved. He wanted to replace the memories of David with memories of him. He wanted her to need him again, to desire the feel of him loving her body.
Tonight, he promised, he would. When Sinead awoke in his arms in the morning, she would be completely ravished and satisfied, and he would know that he had loved her as she deserved.
As they stepped through the garden gate, he heard Sinead gasp. He followed her gaze and saw on the door latch a black-and-gold mask. She reached for it, rubbing her fingers along the black velvet before finally searching his gaze.
“’Tis a Mummer’s mask.”
He took it from her and studied the gold braiding, the same sort of braiding that was found on an officer’s uniform jacket. He thought back to that morning, to the vision of the man shoveling Sinead’s walk. His next words were what he truly believed would happen. “It’s a sign that you will be visited tonight by someone from the Otherworld.”
She smiled and gazed up at him with eyes that had haunted his dreams for so long. “I rather hoped I was going to be visited by someone from this world—you.”
Perhaps he should have smiled, but he was frozen with fear, knowing that Pembrooke had found a way to slip between the veil of the living and the dead. He feared that coming, the thought that Sinead might prefer her husband to him.
“Kieran?” she whispered, her eyes suddenly worried. “You’re regretting—”
“Nothing. I regret nothing that we have done,” he rasped, overcome by an emotion he had never felt, but that steadily seemed to consume him. At last he had confirmation that his longing was not just one-sided. So many nights he had lain alone in his bed, wondering if this desire he had for Sinead would ever be returned. So many times he had thought to end his torture by leaving the tiny village—and Sinead—far behind. But then the idea of never seeing her again wa
s more painful than the idea of unrequited pining. But tonight he had the confirmation that she wanted him as a whole man, not just a handyman to help her about her worn cottage.
Opening the door, Kieran pulled her across the threshold, then, pressing her against the wall, he captured her mouth hard with his. She moaned, a sexy low growl, and he tilted her face up, kissing her harder, stealing her breath until she was clutching at his hair, and kissing him back with just as much hunger.
He tried to remember himself, but she would not hear of him pulling away. She clung to him like ivy and pulled at his coat, shoving it down his arms as she brushed her mons against the tent of his trousers. In a frantic rush, he shed his jacket and allowed her to pull his shirttails from his trousers. The first touch of her fingertips on his back made him arch and hiss as if he’d been burned. He had waited so long for this—to feel her soft, delicate fingers on his body.
“I want you naked against my skin,” he said, his voice rough as he sought her lips once more and pulled the cloak from her shoulders. Fuck, he wanted that, her naked against him, her bottom in his palms as he thrust up inside her. But not yet. Her pleasure came first. He had prepared for this evening. He would seduce her. Show her every erotic pleasure he knew. But not like this. It had to be beautiful, soft, like her nights spent with Pembrooke. Pembrooke would not have taken her like this.
As loath as he was to admit it, Kieran knew he was battling the ghost of his commanding officer. Never given to jealousy before, he felt it now. How was he to compare to a man of noble blood? A man who had been rich and well-educated and cultured?
Kieran still felt the need to prove to Sinead that he could be every bit as good a lover to her as her husband had been. He could be soft, despite his harsh upbringing. He could be the type of romantic that women dreamed of. Even though he was nothing but a soldier and a farmer, he knew he could take care of Sinead and be the sort of man she needed. He was no blue blood like Pembrooke, but something told him that his simple upbringing would not turn Sinead away from him. She had not married Pembrooke because of his lineage, nor even for the depth of his purse. He wouldn’t believe that Sinead was that shallow. He knew she was different from other women and wouldn’t shun him because he was not a son of a noble, or independently wealthy. Sinead wanted something more out of a man, a friend, a lover, a companion to share the ups and downs of life. The trappings of his life would not matter to her, only his ability to love and please her.
He could be the sort of man she needed to replace David. In time, she might not even notice his rough, callused hands. In time, she might even learn to like the feel of his chafed fingers touching her silky skin.
Breaking off their frenzied kiss, he whispered, “Soon.” Kissing her neck, her earlobe, then the delicate wings of her brows, he slowed his breathing, gathering his passion under control so that he could give her the sort of lovemaking she deserved. “We have all night to explore. Come,” he said, reaching for her hand.
“No,” she cried, reaching for him, clutching his arms as if she was holding on to a lifeline. “I want you now!”
Brushing his thumbs along her cheeks, he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “When next I have you, it will be in a bed as is proper—”
“I don’t want proper and controlled.” She pulled him toward her and kissed him, her tongue trailing hot and wet along the seam of his lips. “I want what I see in your eyes—hunger. I want your hands on me, to feel them covering every inch of my body.”
“Sinead—”
“You will take me as you did in your thoughts, when you looked at my picture, and you desired me for your own. Show me, Kieran, what it is like to be hungered for. Show me,” she pleaded, “what you thought of doing to me all those lonely nights when you were in the trench, thinking of me, and I was across the ocean, wishing to feel the touch of a man caressing my body.”
He had never heard Sinead speak like this. It fanned the flames of his patience, arousing him until he could think of nothing but pressing up against her like an eager youth, ready to come.
“Please,” she whispered again, while she reached for the button of his trousers. “I…need to know, to experience this with you.”
“Just me?” he couldn’t help asking. He heard anxiety lace his words and he looked away, ashamed. But she touched his face and brushed away the fear he had of her not wanting him, of him not being what she needed in her life.
“You have been the only man for me—for so long now—that I can think of no other. You can give me something that I’ve never had. Unbridled passion.”
“Do you ache for it?” he asked in a husky whisper as he ran his hands along her hips and started to pull at her woolen skirt and the layers of heavy petticoats beneath.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Do you want to be taken hard? To be full of me?”
She bit her lip as she ran her fingers through his hair. With a nod, she acquiesced.
“Close your eyes then, Sinead, and imagine me fucking you.”
“I have. I am,” she panted, trying to kiss him, but he angled his head so that he could nibble on her jaw and the tender flesh of her throat. He wanted to hear her admit her need.
“What is it you ask for?”
“You. Inside me. Fucking me,” she whispered breathlessly.
Beneath her skirts, his hand rested on muslin. He groaned as his fingers found the front of her drawers and he discovered, as he flattened his palm against her mound, that she had already dampened them. “Already you weep for it again.”
“Yes,” she said on a frantic rush of breath. “I am starved for your touch, for the feel of you against my body.” She tipped her head against the plaster wall and looked at him with bone-melting honesty. “I have lain awake all these nights thinking of you. I have dreamed of pleasuring you. Dreamed of doing things with you that we…that David and I have never done. I want to experience the things you want, that you desire. I want to be the woman you fantasized I was.”
“Then you shall have it. Throughout this night you will know all of my deepest, darkest desires.”
Nearly mindless now, Kieran pressed his cock into her belly, captured her lips between his and began thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth in an imitation of what was to come. When she shoved her hips against him, Kieran tore his mouth from hers and bit gently at her neck with the tips of his teeth. He ran his mouth down her throat to suck at the swells of her breasts. Her fingernails, biting into his scalp, fueled his lust, the pleasure and pain mixed until he was blind with need.
With shaking hands he tore at the ramshackle fastening of her bodice, thrusting it aside, revealing her thin shift. His palms roamed over her full breasts and belly, and he watched her chest rise and fall in his hands, deliberately making her burn.
Roughly he shoved aside the straps of her chemise, revealing ivory breasts with nipples that were dusky pink and erect, begging for a flick of his tongue. He had imagined this, this homecoming. Her welcoming him into her body without reservation.
Their gazes met, and he skimmed his thumbs over her nipples, making her shudder against him. He had always imagined lifting her skirts and shoving himself into her in a possessive thrust. Now, he admitted, he had the desire to see her completely naked, pressed against the wall, open to him. He wanted to watch his cock sinking deeply into her. He wanted to brand her as his, and he needed to see it, her taking him into her body, his cock glistening with her arousal.
With a few deft movements, he unfastened the buttons of her gown and pulled at the strings of her petticoats. Then he waited.
“I am yours,” she said as she stepped out of her skirts and the mountain of white petticoats. She stood before him in only her shift, and stockings, which were gray and worn. She deserved silk and ribbons. She deserved more than he could ever give her. In material things, he could never compete with Pembrooke. But no one could give her as much passion as he could. No one would ever love her as much as he did.
Pleasure was his gift to her.
Mine…the word reverberated in his head as he studied her standing before him. A possessive feeling stole over him and he grasped her hard, kissing her, sliding his tongue between her lips, demanding that she give herself to him. When she was gasping, he went to his knees. She pushed him down as well, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Her breath caught as he lingered over the apex of her thighs, still shielded by her chemise. He blew hot air over her, and she stirred, rubbing her muslin-covered sex against his cheek.
Soon, she would know the pleasure of his mouth on her quim.
He went lower, and a groan of frustrated disappointment escaped her lips. Ignoring her, and her hands in his hair that made every attempt to lure him back to her sex, he slid the worn wool down her lush thigh, past her knee to her ankle. He kissed the delicate bones and traced the blue veins of her foot, savoring the softness of her skin on his roughened fingers. He repeated the action on the other leg, drawing out the minutes, the seduction. Then he looked up, and pulled the chemise down over her hips until it pooled at her feet. She was completely naked before him, and he was stunned by the lust that snaked like a drug through his blood.
Mine…
Raising her thigh, he draped it over his shoulder, exposing her glistening quim. He spread her folds, and kissed her. Slowly he brushed his lips over her sex, savoring the heat and wetness against his mouth. The earthy, musky scent of their previous passion coalesced in a heady, erotic perfume that aroused him.
In the quiet of the room, he heard her breathing, shallow with anticipation. He felt her trembling fingers in his hair urging him closer. He wanted to taste her, to love her this way, but the first time he pleasured her with his mouth, he wanted her lying down, spread open to him, his shoulders buried between her thighs. And he wanted to watch her, see the play of emotions, the pleasure, the expression of climax that crossed her face as she came in his mouth.
“Kieran?”
“Later, love, when I can give you endless pleasure. When I can take my time and bring you there, slowly.”
Winter’s Desire Page 16