“We’ll make up for it in lube,” Ian snickered as he reached towards the bedside drawer. Ian handed Bran the tube and straddled his lap, positioning himself on his knees, giving Bran a clear shot of that beautiful ass.
Slicking his fingers, Bran pulled Ian’s head down for a kiss as he rimmed that perfectly puckered hole.
“Oh,” Ian moaned, opening wide.
“So sexy,” Bran crooned, tapping against Ian’s hole until his finger pushed inside. The slide of Bran’s finger had Ian’s muscles bunching. “So pretty.”
“More,” Ian begged, pushing back against Bran’s hand.
Bran grinned and added another finger. He sought the smooth walnut-sized gland and brushed it with his fingertip. “Ahhh,” Ian moaned. “Now, please.”
Removing his fingers, Bran wiped the excess lube down the length of his shaft and held the base of his cock as Ian impaled himself. Goddamn, Bran felt like he’d discovered the secret to life. It was his first time being inside Ian since the acknowledgement to himself that yes, he did in fact know how to love.
Knowing Ian should still be taking it easy, Bran tried to slow Ian’s ride. His man wasn’t having it though and shook his head. Apparently he knew what Bran was worried about.
“I’m fine, Bran. I feel freaking fantastic.” Ian arched his back, putting his arms behind him on Bran’s thighs. This new position left Ian’s cock totally exposed to Bran’s gaze. Yummy.
Bran watched the long cock bob and slap at Ian’s stomach, leaving dewy kisses painted on those washboard abs. Flashing forward twenty years, Bran could easily see the two of them in this same position. He smiled to himself. They were going to be okay. A life spent together was all that mattered to him.
A loud cry from Ian, and that pretty cock started shooting, decorating both their chests with seed. “Fuck that’s beautiful,” Bran said looking into Ian’s eyes. Bran thrust up before pulling Ian’s hips snug against his groin. Buried as deep as possible, he came sans condom in someone for the first time in his life. The fact that it was the only person he’d ever make love to made it even more erotic to Bran. “Love you,” he said, pulling a panting Ian down into his arms.
“I love you,” Ian replied, eyes drooping.
Bran knew he’d told Ian he was planning to keep him up all night, but he wasn’t that cruel and he knew Ian hadn’t slept the night before. Bran yawned. Damn, come to think of it, he hadn’t slept the night before either. “Quick nap,” he muttered.
Ian was already snuggled up, face buried in the area between Bran’s neck and shoulder. Bran was still buried inside Ian, but he knew he’d slip free any time. Wanting to fall asleep, surrounded by his lover, Bran closed his eyes and let his dreams take him.
* * * *
“You got the thermos?” Bran asked, grabbing the blanket and the bottle.
“Yeah, are we gonna just share a cup?” Ian said, thermos in hand.
“I don’t know. I know where your mouth’s been,” Bran kissed him and grinned. “Come on. I want to do this thing as the sun comes up.”
“Okay, Mr. Grouchy pants.” Ian followed Bran out the door. Despite his pout, Ian felt like he was walking on air. He’d gotten the one thing he couldn’t live without, Bran’s love. Now, he could face the future, uncertainty and all.
Bran set the blanket down and reached for Ian’s hand. Dropping the thermos beside the blanket, Ian walked with Bran out to the surf. “You sure you want to do this? You’ve become awfully attached to that necklace.”
“Yes. I told you, it’s not the necklace the bottle gives you, but the strength to go after your heart. I’ve found the man for me, now it’s someone else’s turn.” Bran made sure the cork was securely fastened inside the bottle neck. The necklace wrapped safely within the rolled paper. Giving the old scarred glass a kiss for luck, Bran reared back and threw the bottle as far out into the water as he could. “Find another lonely soul.”
About the Author
An avid reader for years, one day Carol Lynne decided to write her own brand of erotic romance. Carol juggles between being a full-time mother and a full-time writer. These days, you can usually find Carol either cleaning jelly out of the carpet or nestled in her favourite chair writing steamy love scenes.
Email: [email protected]
Carol loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
Also by Carol Lynne
Campus Cravings: Coach
Campus Cravings: Side-Lined
Campus Cravings: Sacking the Quarterback
Campus Cravings: Off-Season
Campus Cravings: Forbidden Freshman
Campus Cravings: Broken Pottery
Campus Cravings: Office Advances
Campus Cravings: A Biker’s Vow
Good Time Boys: Sonny’s Salvation
Good-time Boys: Garron’s Gift
Good-time Boys: Rawley’s Redemption
Good-time Boys: Twin Temptations
Cattle Valley: All Play & No Work
Cattle Valley: Cattle Valley Mistletoe
Cattle Valley: Sweet Topping
Cattle Valley: Rough Ride
Cattle Valley: Physical Therapy
Karaoke at the Tumbleweed
A LEGEND ACCOMPLISHED
Brynn Paulin
Dedication
To the newest Tartlet. I’m glad you joined us.
Chapter One
Northern England, Present Day
Legend has it that long, long ago, a great knight fell in love with a fair maiden. He took her to wife and together they lived in his great keep high on a hill overlooking the ocean…
Emily Harteger looked up from the text she’d just scrawled in her notebook, glancing around her as a powerful wave surged up the shore and puddled around her bare feet. She smiled, the warmth of familiarity creeping over her. Before long, the water would surround the stone where she sat. How many times had that happened when she’d been distracted?
She blinked. What was she thinking?
That had never happened to her. She’d never been to this beach before today.
Being here was like déjà vu or something equally weird. For the last fifteen minutes, it had seemed as if she’d finally arrived home. She knew this place. Everything was familiar—the crash of the waves on the rocks jutting from the ocean. The trees lining the shore. The castle overshadowing the beach as it stood high above her on a rocky hill. Even the wind seemed to carry a familiar scent of ocean and wood smoke.
Yet she’d never been here. She’d never been out of the United States before this week.
She looked up at the shadowy castle, wondering if the interior would be as she’d seen it in her head. Likely not. She was just a romance writer with an overactive imagination. Wasn’t it that imagination that had drawn her here to the northern shores of England?
Another wave engulfed her ankles while she watched the water hypnotically lap at the shore. She breathed in the heady scent of the salty sea air and closed her eyes. This was the sort of place where Ailig and Emma, the hero and heroine of her latest novel, had fallen in love. She imagined what it had been like for young Emma when she’d fallen in love with Ailig. Emily could see her sitting on this rock, waiting for him to arrive so they could have a few stolen moments before her parents realised she was missing.
“My love,” he’d whisper as he knelt beside her knees and cupped her cheek with his work-roughened hand.
Emily jerked as her imagining became so vivid she felt his hand. Her eyes popped open, and she choked back a surprised scream as she stared into a pair of dark blue eyes.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, his voice a deep rumble of concern. “The tide is coming in, and I was afraid you’d fallen asleep.”
Hastily, she stuffed her notebook in the bag beside her and yanked the tote’s strap up her shoulder. “I’m fine. Thanks.” She attempted to smile and soften her snapped words. She didn’t
mean to be abrupt. It was just—
He was the very embodiment of the man she’d envisioned as Ailig. Tall and sturdy with dark brown hair and blue eyes. Full lips, prominent cheekbones, muscles made to make a girl feel safe…he had it all. Granted his hair was shorter than Ailig’s whose hair fell to his shoulder blades, but aside from that difference and the modern jeans with a knit shirt, he could be her knight.
She scrambled over the flat rock to drier ground as another wave headed to them. It washed over his bare feet, dampening the bottom of his jeans.
“I appreciate your concern,” she said as he followed her at a more sedate pace. “I was just…thinking. I’m a writer. We spend a lot of time thinking.” And babbling apparently.
One side of his mouth turned up as he stepped closer. “I’m glad you’ve finally come.”
He leaned forward, pressing his firm lips to hers.
Home. Nirvana. The embodiment of many dreams. Emily groaned as the warm shroud of familiarity she’d felt since arriving here wrapped around her. Where she should have felt terror or indignation instead she felt complete rightness and belonging. What was happening to her? Her fingers curled into his soft shirt as her eyes closed and her lips opened to him. Shouldn’t she shove him away? Shouldn’t she run?
This is right, her brain whispered. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed into his embrace and the familiar strength of his body. She moaned as his tongue delved inside bringing the taste of peppermint and coffee. He used to taste of mead, she thought. Mead? Where did that come from? What the hell did mead taste like anyway?
Over and over he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. One hand splayed on her back while the other cupped her breast, finding the nipple and plucking the beaded peak. Emily trembled as desire swept her away. Ribbons of pleasure twisted their way to her core.
His cock throbbed against her belly. She wanted him. She wanted that cock inside her.
Ailig…
Wait!
Emily’s eyes shot open and she shoved away from the man. She stumbled a few feet backward and out of his reach.
“Are you high?” she exclaimed. Was she? This wasn’t Ailig and she sure wasn’t Emma. It was just her overactive imagination that attributed the features of her book’s hero to this man and it was familiarity and ease of writing which had made her give her own features to the heroine including her tendency to have visions.
All her foster parents had found that aptitude disconcerting and she’d learned young to keep it to herself but it didn’t stop her from giving such traits to her characters. Or using it on occasions like this.
Calmly, he regarded her. He shrugged as if his action—their action—was completely normal. “I saw you here and knew I had to kiss you. You’re on my beach, by the way.”
“Yours?” No wait, idiot. You’re supposed to call him on kissing you not question his ownership of the beach! She glanced over her shoulder, gauging how far it was to the place where she’d parked. She could probably sprint back to her car. And he could probably catch her if he wanted to. She wasn’t in that great of shape and he looked…perfect. She bit back an infatuated-girly sigh. She was twenty-six for God’s sake.
He didn’t seem poised to chase her, however, as he calmly studied her. He jerked his head towards the castle. “I own the bed and breakfast.”
“The castle?”
“Yes. Would you like to see it?”
God, wouldn’t she? It would be a dream. But he was a stranger and this was the middle of nowhere. Was she too stupid to live or what?
Okay, she’d been to one too many writers’ conferences. She wasn’t a heroine. This wasn’t about walking into a dimly lit basement with a killer on the loose. This was a guy. And every instinct within told her to trust him. Her instincts had never been wrong. Never.
He wouldn’t harm her. He didn’t want to harm her. He didn’t harm people.
“Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Most Americans seem to like castles. I thought you might like to see it. And I want to get to know you.” He laughed. “We did kiss. You can ring your girlfriends to tell them where you’re going. You’ll be safe.”
“Girlfriends? Why do you assume I’m not here with a man? My husband could be waiting for me at the hotel.”
He raised an eyebrow. Damn, she loved men who could do that.
Turning away from her, he went back to the rock and retrieved her black Airwalk shoes before they were swept away by the ocean. He held them out to her. “And you kissed me like that? I think not. You’re not married…or so I surmise from your lack of ring. That would leave a boyfriend. He’d be a fool to let you wander free, and apparently unsatisfying, too. But you don’t strike me as the type to cheat. Am I right?”
“Yeah,” she replied, then promptly kicked herself for being so disgustingly honest. Did she want to invite danger?
“So that leaves girlfriends. Or possibly family.”
She bit the inside of her lip to keep from telling him she was alone on her trip. “I need to get back to my hotel.”
He looked away, but not before she saw the disappointment in his eyes. He gave a single nod, then looked back to her. He held out his hand. “It was very nice to meet you.”
The bottom twisted out of her stomach, tears pricking her eyes. Suddenly it seemed she was leaving behind something imperative to her future happiness. Forcing a smile, she shook his hand, ignoring the shock that rode up her arm, then sprinted up the embankment to her car.
Alec Woods watched the woman rush away and steeled himself against the urge to chase her. When he’d seen her earlier…he’d known she was the one for whom he’d waited so long. Unlike many, his first word had not been ‘mama’ or ‘dada’ like many infants. It had been ‘Emma’.
Thankfully, his mother was a firm believer of past lives and their influence over current incarnations. She’d written down all his childish ramblings about his former life as a knight, his adventure, who he’d served, and most importantly about his lost love. She’d never said anything about this, secreting away her notes until he was much older and had forgotten all the things he’d told her. Then when he’d reached his mid-teens, she’d encouraged him to be regressed. He’d recalled many lifetimes. In all there had been something missing. A hole in his happiness. Someone who should have been at his side.
When he’d finally remembered his life with Emma, he’d known. That life was the root of all things he’d felt lost to him in the lifetimes between. He’d written everything he could remember. That was when his mother had shared her journal.
And he’d had hope. Surely Emma would come to him. That had to be the reason he’d finally remembered. The time was now.
Perhaps that was all fantasy. Wouldn’t Emma recognise him too when she saw him? He’d known her immediately when he’d seen her perched on the rock and staring out at the sea that had once taken her life. Yet she’d stared at him like a stranger.
Hands deep in his pockets, he headed back to the castle, picking his way along the rocky path up the hill.
Obviously, he’d been mistaken. The woman bore striking resemblance to Emma, but it wasn’t her soul. It couldn’t be.
Reaching the castle, he went through the stone gate and into the courtyard that was now the back entry to the castle. Years ago, an ancestor had made a huge addition to the other end of the structure, creating a new entrance. That portion housed most of the bed and breakfast while the original portion housed the Wood family.
“Alec!”
He turned as his mother, Viola, waylaid him on the way to his private apartments. She glided towards him as ethereal as ever. Born of gypsy stock, she still had pure black hair which cascaded to her waist. A bohemian skirt and blouse swirled around her while jewellery adorned both wrists, her neck, ears and every finger. Barefoot as usual, Vi clicked a toe ring on the stone floor as she walked.
“Darling, I’ve been thinking—” She tilted her head. “What is it? Have you gotten bad
news?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
Vi studied him, her toe clicking on floor. Sometimes it seemed she could see right through him. He squirmed wondering how long it would be before he could escape to his quarters. No one controlled him—no one except Vi. He figured that was because of his respect and love for her, a single mother who’d raised him alone since he’d been two and turned the bed and breakfast into a thriving livelihood.
“What were you thinking, mum?” he asked hoping to hurry along the scrutiny.
“You’ve seen her,” Vi said suddenly. “And she didn’t recognise you. Oh sweetling. Not everyone has our sight.”
He shook his head. “I was mistaken. It wasn’t her.”
She made a noncommittal sound while she examined her thumb ring. That was just like Vi. She thought he was dead wrong, but she wouldn’t say so. “Whatever you say,” she finally replied. “Darling, since it’s the off-season, Max and I are thinking of heading for Scotland for a spell. I have this inkling that I’d like to photograph the scenery in Rannoch.”
“Didn’t you do that last year?”
“Yes but your stepfather is indulging me. Actually, I want to visit the bed and breakfast there and check out some of our competition.” Though he now owned and managed their business, Vi still kept her hand very much in the middle of things.
“Good idea,” he said. Right now, he’d rather be alone. He didn’t want her hovering over her ‘sweetling’. Next thing he’d know she’d make some of her soy and carob chip cookies. He kissed her on the cheek. “Have fun. How long will you be gone?”
“Just a week. I can stay if you need me. You must be upset.”
“I’m fine. Have fun. Don’t forget to call me when you get there.” He headed towards his quarters. Suddenly, he turned back. “Max is driving, right?” he asked, recalling the incident on her last trip that could only be called bovine road rage. The cow had won, destroying Vi’s car.
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