Legend Anthology

by Brynn Paulin, Lacey Thorn, Bronwyn Green, Carol Lynne

  Kieran fisted his hands at his sides in an effort not to grab Beckett by the back of the head and shove his cock all the way down her throat. It was a nearly impossible battle. She engulfed him entirely, and he couldn’t hold back the moan that welled up within him. Despite the fact that he’d just fucked her twice, his dick was ready for more.

  Opening his eyes, he watched as her soft lips stretched to accommodate him as he slowly fucked in and out of her warmth. Water sluiced over her, darkening her hair to burnished copper and running in rivulets over her creamy skin. He wanted to lick every drop from her body and fill her again. It was insane. The more he got of her, the more he wanted.

  Gripping the base of his cock, she slid her mouth up and down its swollen length, taking him as far as she could. His knees nearly buckled at the wicked rush of pleasure as he hit the back of her throat and slid further still. Reaching out, he braced one hand on the wall for balance and tangled his other hand in her silken hair.

  With gentle suction, she pulled back, exposing his cock to the suddenly stinging spray of the shower. He caught his breath at the sensation. After being in the heated depths of her mouth, the water was almost too much, but she wouldn’t let up. She worked him harder and faster as she lightly squeezed his balls in time with her sucking.

  Coils of bliss tightened at the base of his spine and radiated downwards to tug on his balls. He was close. Much more of this, and he’d be past the point of no return.

  “Beckett,” he breathed. It was getting difficult to form words. “Stop.”

  In response, she gripped his cock more firmly, her fingers not quite meeting. Apparently unwilling to release him, she sucked harder, pulling him deeper. Black spots peppered his vision as his fingers twisted in her hair.

  “Gonna…come.”

  She murmured her agreement around his flesh and the slight vibrations from her voice sent him tumbling over the edge. The tight band of restriction snapped and streaks of pleasure sped up his spine to tingle at the base of his skull and back down his spine again before bursting through his cock and down her throat.

  Through half-opened eyes, he watched as she swallowed, draining him dry. Finally, she sat back and looked up at him, water droplets trembling on her eyelashes. He pulled her to her feet and into his arms, dropping a tender kiss on her forehead.

  “I know you don’t believe me, but I haven’t been with anyone else.”

  Of course, some nights he’d been so angry and lonely he’d wanted to, but the geis kept him from doing anything about it. If he was honest with himself, it had been more than the bloody curse. He hadn’t truly wanted anyone but Beckett.

  She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “I believe you.” She had the good grace to look shamefaced. “Look at it from my perspective.”

  He nodded for her to continue.

  “I’ve known you since I was thirteen and until that last summer, you had one girl after another after another.”

  “I was young. And randy.”

  Her lips quirked into a half smile. “Clearly.” She shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat. “You can see why it was difficult to believe you’d go without…well…anything.”

  His conscious stirred guiltily. The temptation had always been there. Sometimes he wondered, without the Sidhe’s curse, if he’d have remained faithful. Of course, without the fucking curse he’d have followed her to the States. He wouldn’t have let her run away.

  “I love you, you stubborn git.”

  Her lips trembled and she met his gaze. “I love you, too.”

  The tightness in his chest eased, and he kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue. It was a far bigger turn on than he would have imagined. He sighed inwardly. He wasn’t recovered enough for another round, and he doubted she was either. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and gazed her.

  Her eyes filled with tears and she looked miserable—wracked with guilt. Maybe he’d gotten through to her.

  “I’m sorry I disappeared without a word.”

  His eyes burned, but he blinked away the sensation of sudden tears. “Don’t think we’re finished discussing that, but the water’s getting cold, and I’m thinking you’re going to want to finish rinsing.”

  Handing her the soap, he watched as she quickly lathered and washed herself under the spray of the rapidly chilling water. The bubbles raced over her supple curves to swirl around their feet and down the drain.

  He skimmed his fingers over the swell of her hip and the indentation of her waist. She’d always had a gorgeous figure, but five years had completed the transformation from girl to woman. Her breasts were fuller and her hips wider—perfect for fucking. Perfect for him. Perfect for the Faery King, too, he supposed bitterly.

  Inexplicably, his cock stirred at the thought. Did he want to share her with another man? No. He’d just gotten her back. He was only going through with this ritual because it was required of him. Yet dark images of Beckett spread between them crowded his mind. Aodhan’s tongue licking her tight little pussy while he fucked her mouth. One cock buried in her cunt and the other working her ass. Both of them suckling at her breasts. The visions in his head were nearly enough to make him come. Again. Would she enjoy two men at once? Would she ever speak to him again once he explained what was required of her in a few days’ time?

  Anger stirred again at having to share her. He understood that the ritual had been going on since the beginning of time. Certain mortals—those of Sidhe descent, like him—were forced to share their women as tribute to the king. And not just any woman would do—it had to be the mortal’s mate. The one he loved above all others. In return, Kieran and Beckett would receive the king’s goodwill and protection. Kieran scrubbed his hand over his face. He could refuse, of course, but the consequences would mean never seeing Beckett again.

  Pushing aside the unpleasant thoughts, he glanced towards her. Head tilted back, she rinsed the shampoo from her long, thick hair. Her nipples stood out from her body like tight little stones, and he couldn’t resist drawing one into his mouth and sucking hard. She cried out, clutching his shoulder with a soapy hand.

  Unable to help himself, he continued to suckle her nipple while he slid his fingers down into the thatch of tight curls covering her mound. Selfish though it might be, he needed to hear her scream. For him.

  Spreading her pussy lips wide, he dragged his fingers up and down the length of her swollen cleft. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she clung to him. Turning her slightly, he let the chilly water beat down on her flesh, smiling grimly at the guttural moan that tore from her parted lips. He quickened the pace, bearing down on her clit with the heel of his hand while she writhed under his touch, her cries rapid and breathless.

  Her nipple tightened further against his tongue. She was so close. He could feel her impending orgasm as she strained against him. Lifting his hand, he tapped her clit sharply and her release was instantaneous. Her body stiffened, and she shuddered against him, screaming his name so loudly he was positive Aodhan heard her. Satisfaction curled through Kieran as he soothed her, cradling her in his arms while she caught her breath.

  * * * *

  Kieran pulled the motorbike to a stop in front of his house and shoved the kickstand down. The way Beckett had plastered herself to his body during the rough ride over the hilly terrain reminded him of every summer they’d spent together. Despite the fact that they’d had no contact in years, they’d quickly fallen back into their pattern of relating to one another. It was as if she’d never left. Their amity gave him hope that the poem had been right, that she’d be back to stay with him forever. Of course, her willingness might falter when she found out what was in store for her.

  She swung her leg over the bike and stood up. Unbuckling the helmet, she set it on the seat behind her and inspected the quaint fieldstone cottage.

  Suddenly nervous, he wiped his damp hands on his jeans. He’d purchased this house just outside Glendalough the year after she’d left, hoping that someday she’d retur
n and they could live here, eventually raising a family.

  He looked around and tried to see everything through her eyes. The cottage sat next to a stream that gurgled quietly and glinted in the late afternoon light. Beckett followed it around the back of the cottage and the outbuilding that housed his wood shop and through the sun-dappled woods that surrounded the buildings. With the ruins of the monastery standing sentry in the distance and his family in the next village over, it was the perfect place to live.

  Her smile broadened as she explored the area. Laughing, she picked up a pebble from the cold waters of the rushing stream and slipped it into the pocket of her shorts. She turned her brilliant smile on him, and he felt the force of it in his chest.

  Christ, he loved her. He couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough for her.

  “I love it, Kieran. It’s so beautiful.”

  “More so, now that you’re here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Grabbing his hand, she tugged him towards the house. “Let’s see the rest.”

  Unlocking the door, he ushered her inside, watching as she wandered from room to room running her fingertips over the furniture he’d made. He waited, knowing she’d notice the ancient bottle and its parchment sooner or later. That was why he’d brought her here. Sure he had fantasies of fucking her in the bed he’d carved for them. In fact, he hoped to indulge in that particular fantasy in the very near future, but first he needed to find out exactly what the chances of their future were.

  Beckett’s gasp sounded from across the room, and he knew she’d found the bottle. Cradling it in her hands, she turned to face him. “Where did you get this?”

  He tapped the stone pendant around his neck. “It came with the necklace.” Crossing the room, he lifted the bottle from her hands. Worn smooth by endless years in the sea, the glass was more opaque than translucent, but the size and shape of the scroll could still be discerned.

  “A few weeks ago, I was walking along the beach looking for driftwood to use in a commissioned piece for one of the galleries in Dublin, and I saw this bobbing a few metres from shore. I waded out to get it, thinking it was trash, but then I saw this inside.”

  Carefully he removed the stopper and slid the brittle paper into the palm of his hand. Setting the bottle on the table, he unrolled the message so she could read the words herself.

  Her eyes widened as she scanned the painstakingly written text. “Kieran. Look at the date! 1264? This belongs in a museum, not in your dining room!”

  He shook his head and rerolled the delicate note returning it to the safety of the bottle.

  “What do you mean, no?” she demanded. “The paper needs to be carbon dated for authenticity. And holy shit—you’re wearing an artefact! You took a shower with it on for God’s sake.”

  Colour bloomed high in her cheeks, and she began pacing the room. He grinned. This was the exact response he’d expected. In some ways, she was so predictable. Ever the preserver of history, she stopped in front of him with her hands on her hips. “We have to take everything to Dublin. This find needs to be examined and verified.”

  Grabbing her fluttering hands, he brought them to his lips and kissed them. “We’re not bringing this to any museum, Beckett.”

  “You can’t just keep it. It’s historically significant.”

  “I’m not going to keep it.”

  She shook her head slowly and then picked up speed. “You’re not thinking about doing what the note said, are you?”

  He didn’t deny it.

  “You can’t throw it back in the ocean! Be reasonable. This needs to be preserved for ages to come.”

  He brushed his thumb across her lower lip as he stared into her eyes. She’d told him once that she liked the past better than the present. The past was known. It was unchangeable, but the present and future had far too many variables. She’d hated not knowing what was coming—what the outcome of a situation would be.

  He suspected it had to do with the uncertainty surrounding her mother’s death—wondering if her mother would even be alive by the time she got home from school. The uncertainty of wondering if her father would ever return home to her and her siblings.

  “I have to, céadsearc.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he rushed ahead, not giving her a chance. “I believe this brought you to me again. Gave us a second chance.”

  She frowned, her hands on her hips. “The textile exhibit brought me here. Not a necklace and a mouldy note in a bottle.”

  “Was the Dublin exhibit scheduled when you left the States?”

  Shifting uncomfortably, she crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

  “Was it a last minute invitation out of the blue?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you responsible for that?”

  “No. But something is.” He smoothed his hands over her shoulders and down the smooth skin of her arms. “I’ve wanted you to come back since I’d found out you’d left, but it wasn’t until I came across this bottle and its message that you agreed to set foot on the island again. I don’t believe that’s a coincidence.”

  Her struggle with the concept played across her features as she tried to make sense of his reasoning. He hated to do it to her, but she needed to know. “There’s more.”

  “Of course there is. Are you going to find me a unicorn to ride to see the King and Queen of Faery Land?”

  He smiled grimly. “Close.”

  * * * *

  Beckett stared at the man she’d never stopped loving and worried that he’d completely lost his mind.

  “Look, I know you think I’m half a bubble off true, but I’m telling you the truth.”

  “That you’re taking me to Faery Land?” She couldn’t keep the shrillness from her voice. She would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, except she could tell he was completely serious. Just like he was serious about the necklace and the note. Granted, the invitation from the Dublin museum had come out of the blue. Usually these exhibits were arranged years in advance. It was unheard of in this business to make a last minute stop like this.

  A cold chill skated across the back of her neck as she couldn’t help but consider that Kieran may have a point about the necklace in the bottle. The idea was ridiculous. She was a woman of science—hard facts and empirical data. There was no room in her life for spells and mythical beings.

  She sighed. As a child, she used to believe in magic and looked for faeries at every opportunity. Memories came rushing back. Kieran. Even though her aunt insisted Kieran was wrong, he was the one who’d insisted there was no such thing as magic.

  Studying him, she advanced. “So you’re saying that I have to meet faeries?”

  His body taut with frustration, he dragged his hands through his hair and scrubbed at his scalp. “Yes,” he finally muttered. “The king in particular.”

  “Right.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “When?”

  “Midsummer Night’s Eve.” He watched her warily, clearly taken aback by her seeming change of heart. “Two days from now…at midnight.”

  “Uh-huh. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it you who convinced me that looking for faeries was a waste of time? Weren’t you the one who insisted that I give up childish pastimes like peering under toadstools and chanting made-up spells?”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he nodded. “That was me.”

  “And you’ve suddenly changed your belief system because…?”

  Taking her hand, he led her into the living room and sank onto couch, pulling her down to sit on his lap. She shifted so she could look into his eyes.

  “I didn’t change my belief system. I lied to you.”

  A sharp pang tightened her chest at his admission. “You lied to me?”

  “I didn’t want you to draw his attention.”

  “Whose?” Her stomach fluttered nervously. “The king’s?”

  “Yeah. Aodhan’s got a bad habit of seducing mortal women, and I thought if I could keep him from notici
ng you, we wouldn’t have to face what’s going to happen on the Solstice.”

  The nervous flutter transformed into a whirlpool of worry deep in the pit of her stomach. “Oh.”

  “The truth is, he doesn’t have to wait for the Solstice. He can appear in the mortal realm at will.” Kieran frowned and her nervousness increased exponentially. “In fact, he’s been here recently—shortly before you arrived. He wanted to let me know that he plans to make an example of us, and he expects the full summoning ceremony.”

  Summoning ceremony? “What’s going to happen, Kieran?”

  “I’m bound to him. I’m part Sidhe.”

  “Sidhe? Now you’re saying you’re a faery?” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Either the love of her life was going stark raving mad, or she was going to need to seriously rethink her ideas about the natural order of things.

  She studied Kieran. He didn’t have the look of a madman. He was calm and rational. Well, as rational as one could be discussing the existence of mythical creatures.

  “Not full-blooded,” he finally answered. “My gram fell in love with one of the King’s Court. My mum is the result of that affair.”

  Beckett took a deep breath and tried to make sense of what he was telling her. It was ridiculous to even consider it, but a tiny part of her couldn’t help but wonder if it was possible. He certainly seemed to believe it.

  “I tried to keep from falling in love with you. I tried so sodding hard.” He shook his head, his eyes soft with unnamed emotion. “But you tromped all over my good intentions. By the time you turned eighteen, I couldn’t fight it anymore. I gave in.”

  He gently tucked her hair behind her ear, stroking her neck as he dropped his hand back to her waist. “Do you remember when you said you saw the regret in my eyes when I asked you to marry me?”

  She nodded, her throat too thick to speak.

  “The regret wasn’t because I didn’t want to spend my life with you. It was because I knew the king would demand his tribute.”

  She swallowed hard as her fists tightened in her lap. “What’s his tribute?”