by Bonnie Bliss
His vulgar words washed over her and she was liquid. She was a mess of melted woman as he thrust lazily against her pussy. His dick slowly dragged back and forth, pressing against the seeping opening of her cunt. Her hips started to thrust and she growled.
“Yes, fuck my dick, little one. Take, own me.” His voice has become hoarse and broken.
She felt his pulse against her tender flesh. He never entered her. The flared head pumped against her tender clit, each time taking her higher, then pulling back. Both hands cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples and rolling them between his fingers. He didn’t rush; the man savored her.
The rise inside her sat at the peak. Tethur knew how to draw her close, and then stop her.
“God, please, I need...” she trailed off. That soft drag of his cock against her clit knocked the air from her and she was panting, moaning, crying out his name.
“What, little bird? Tell me what you need,” he whispered against her ear.
“I need it,” she cried.
“Need what? Say it. I want to hear it. Tell me, I want to hear it.” He stopped moving and she screamed out.
Sorscha struggled to thrust. Tethur’s hands on her hips held strong and her fight was useless.
“Say it.” he demanded.
“I want to come all over your cock!” she wailed.
“Good girl,” he rumbled before thrusting against her harder.
He never pressed inside her, just allowed her to ride the length of his dick. She was lifted to her toes and he started to pound against her. His groin slammed into her ass and he ground so her clit took more pressure. The orgasm rose inside her, and she knew what it felt like now. The need, the heat, the frantic drive to reach that peak clung to her and she slammed her palms against the balcony.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, there, please, oh shit, God,” she cried.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard him curse, and then he stopped moving. The orgasm tickled her womb and spread through her clit and stopped.
Sorscha screamed his name and pushed back, but he was gone.
“NO! FUCK! NO!” She started to melt to her knees but strong arms locked around her waist and she was pulled into the powerful comfort of his chest.
Pressing her face into his powerful pectorals, she whimpered.
“Why, God, why, Tethur?” she whimpered.
“I’m sorry, little bird. We can’t. I mean...” He paused. Sorscha looked up at him and saw the pain and hunger reflected back at her.
He leaned down and took her lips in a kiss so demanding, so claiming, she lost her legs and he swept her up into his arms. Walking them back into the room, he set her on the bed carefully.
Still gazing down at her, he brushed his finger over her moist cheek. Sweat had beaded all over her body in anticipation of her orgasm—that never came.
“I’m sorry. They are here. We need to go.” He leaned over and brushed his lips over hers. He gazed down at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes and that sexy smirk. “Gods, you are going to come so hard when I get a hold of you again,” he promised.
Pulling away from her, he winked. “Get dressed, Sorscha. We need to go.”
He was gone, she was trembling, and then she was pissed.
“That fucking bastard of a big ole’ grumpy bear.” She fisted the sheets and screamed at the top of her lungs. “Fuck you!”
Chapter Eleven
The mountains in the distance resembled a jagged blade. Ryken brought his horse to a stop, the other three pulling up beside him.
“Seriously, a castle made of ice. I mean yes, it’s impressive, but surely it’s gonna melt,” Diarmait said, looking down at the valley.
“So long as she stays there it will flourish around her. It will never melt,” Ryken added.
“Well, I guess that’s all right then.”
“What is that damn bird that’s been following us?” Óengus spoke, looking up, shielding his eyes from the glowing sun.
“No doubt a spy of Dubheasa. She’ll be using it to see who came through the mirror. Its eyes are hers.” Ryken looked to the giant raven on his forearm. It weighed a ton. “Why don’t you go up there and pester it, Muirch?” It cawed loudly, tipping its head sideways, the big black eye catching the shadowy spy high in the sky.
“Yes, go on, Muirch. Go tip him out of the sky. He’s getting on my nerves,” Domnall ordered, no doubt hoping the raven would.
“Not yet. Let him stew up there. It’s not as if the dark bitch doesn’t know already. Let her see what she wants to see and let the bitch worry her pretty dark head off.” Domnall shifted in his saddle.
Ryken looked to Muirch, the shifted Muirchertach Mac Ercae. The king preferred his other self, unlike the others, who mostly considered their beast a curse. Muirch enjoyed the freedom and had formed a special bond with Ryken, a warlock of repute and great age.
Diarmait pulled his bow from his back and nocked an arrow. “I reckon I can hit it from here.”
“Don’t you dare. Let the bitch Queen see what we want her to see.”
“And what will she see, Ryken?”
“Tethur Mac Cecht.”
The four of them grinned in unison.
“I thought Tethur would be the last to cross─with the exception of Slaine maybe.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because of his damned pride. The man must be as grumpy as fuck knowing he’s the first. It will niggle his big furry bear ass like nothing else.”
Muirch cawed again, louder this time as if laughing along.
Ryken felt a power in the air. It caressed the breeze around him, and it felt good to know war was coming. It was why these men existed, to fight and to kill.
Óengus Olmucaid was known as the wolf because of the huge beast he became when enraged. Domnall Mac Áedo, the shortest of the High Kings, was the bull, a large beast with great horns, adept at killing with his weight and sharp points. Diarmait Mac Cerbaill, the black boar, his beast reflecting his ability to strike his enemy with weight, speed and killer tusks. Ryken was indeed in great company.
Yet these great Celts preferred their true existence, large powerful warriors who could kill as in olden times with large blood axe and double-edged swords. In human form they were truly in their element.
“Well, let’s go see the old sod, see what he knows,” Domnall suggested.
Without agreeing, the four horsemen started down the hill. Soon enough the horses started to complain as the ground became hard frost, then ice.
“Bastard cold, how in god’s name are we expected to cross this without falling on our arses and our horses’ rumps?” Diarmait rattled as he looked down, steering his unhappy steed the best he could.
“Hold on. Muirch, go scout the enemy, count them and return, quickly now!”
The huge raven lifted and opened its wings, stretching to twelve feet or more from tip to tip. He ascended quickly, rising above the ugly spy watching over them, buzzing him with a threatening screech. Within a minute he was gone from sight.
“So, warlock, about this ice.” Domnall raised his brow.
“Far from me to go up against the ice Queen. Not polite.”
“Fuck polite, I’m not breaking my arse on that shite.”
“Why, you look good flat on your backside, short arse.” Óengus started to wind him up.
“Enough, we may not need to.” Ryken pointed to the castle, still over a mile away. Outside the gate walked the Queen. She raised her arms and before they knew it the ice exploded, filling the air with a cool mist that fell as powdery snow.
“Well, I guess it’s an improvement.” The horses didn’t seem to mind as they moved on. As they neared the castle the bulk of Tethur appeared, walking with his usual heavy gait.
“Bastard hasn’t aged a minute. Good to see the old bear.” Domnall nodded.
“Don’t start with the old sentimental bullshit. It’s only been, what, twenty-three years or so,” Diarmait answered back. “It takes longer to piss in
the wind.”
“Aye, well, some of us piss with it, not against it.”
The bear closed, a grin spread across his face.
“Well, well. Are you gonna stay on your nags or are you gonna greet your old bear?”
“Nags, cheeky bastard, you’re going to get a good back slapping for that.” Diarmiat jumped down, almost starting to run. Ryken watched as they slammed into each other, hugging and slapping each other’s backs like long-lost brothers. The rest dismounted and joined in. Ryken went last, soaking in the moment.
“Hey, warlock, come hug the bear.”
“Well, at least you’re dressed this time. Last time you got pissed at us and hugged us naked.”
“Well, if you want I can...”
“Don’t bloody bother. Come here.”
Tethur almost crushed him, but Ryken didn’t mind. He was glad to see the old grump.
“How’s the kid?” Ryken asked.
“Grown up and all woman.”
“So you fuck her yet?” Óengus asked with a wry grin. “If so I want details.”
“Tough shit. She’s only just got used to the fact I’m a big bad bear.”
“I doubt it’s that putting her off. It’s the size of your cock, Tethur.” Óengus winked. “Admit it, though. You’ve tasted the honey, haven’t yer?”
Tethur tapped the side of his nose.
“Yeah yeah, you’ve licked the fruit.” The others simply shook their heads at Óengus’s crudeness.
“So, Ryken, any news?” Tethur asked. “The elves say there are a thousand orcs nearby. We were attacked by Osmaldis and orcs at the house. That’s why we had to come across.”
As the snow fell, the flurry increasing in intensity, Muirch dropped down from the sky.
Ryken held out his arm. The two of them had a telepathic link. Muirch opened his beak and bobbed his head to Tethur, who nodded and grinned at the old king.
“Over three thousand, give or take a few, stags have joined them, a few other misfits, walking dead orcs, dark magic. Why make new ones when you can resurrect the dead?”
“So just the five of us and an innocent princess against three thousand.” Tethur sniffed, twitching his nose.
“Yup.”
“Not bad odds at all. We better go get some food in us. The chase could be hectic. Come on. Oh, and the elves are especially sarcastic in this place. Just grit your teeth and let any crap talk go over your heads. They are allies, after all.”
Ryken got on his horse amidst under-breath groans and swearing. Muirch bounced onto his shoulder. He waited and followed the others, led by Tethur on foot, entering the ice cold castle and the realm of the ice Queen.
Chapter Twelve
Tethur knew he had a problem on his hands as he led his fellow kings and warlock through the castle gates. They would rib him to hell over Sorscha and his sexual exploits. A grumpiness was building inside him over the very thought of it. The thing was, they were like him, rowdy, feisty and outspoken in such matters. Not only that, they were strong and handsome─well, most of them. Although Fergus had chosen him, promised him to Sorscha, the forthcoming days would torture his mind about making her his. The icy cold only reminded him of the fact. Tethur had only been intimate with her since arriving in the Realm. Thankfully, she had responded well to his advanced sexual needs. But now with three woman-hungry Celts and a handsome warlock at his back, it would be hard for her to focus on just him. They wouldn’t make it easy, either.
Twenty-three years or more had passed and he knew nothing of their relationships. Yes there were women in his home castle and yes, they would have tasted the delights of the young, luscious buxom wenches in the town. Were they married? Were they happy? He didn’t know.
The large ice gates, some twelve feet thick, closed behind them as they entered the courtyard. Several elves stood on the battlements, armed with bows and swords, walking and watching the distant hills. Even Tethur knew attacking the ice Queen was pointless. The enemy would wait until they made a run for it─and it would literally be a run. With their horses, they could make a three-day journey into maybe two at the most, with no stops. A good feast now would be important.
The rest dismounted and let Tethur lead them up the steps, into the great hall. More elves prepared food on tables. Females walked like beautiful ghosts, carrying trays of fruit and meats. Males carried great jugs of sweet drinks, better than any ale but twice as refreshing and heavily laden with energy.
“I’ve never seen a female elf naked,” said Domnall. “I must before I die; I bet their quims taste of nectar.”
Tethur shook his head. The teasing wasn’t far away.
“All women’s quims taste of nectar,” Ryken replied.
“No, not all. I tasted one woman once and she tasted of rotten banana.”
“She was a witch with a passion for unwashed Celtish kings. A banana-tasting cunt would be an improvement on your taste buds.” Diarmait laughed.
“You’ve been here a while, Tethur,” Óengus said loudly. “Have you seen one naked? I bet they are glorious, all soft and tight. Most have small, petite tits though; I like mine to pop out of the dress tops. These are all wearing high necks.”
“No elf woman is going to want any of us. They have standards,” Ryken uttered.
“True, yet I hear the Queen is quite a tasty bitch. Surely if she’s lived around these big-eared oafs for too long, she might take us to her room for a fruity feast.”
Tethur wanted to shrink away at Óengus’s words, even more so at the sweet voice which broke the silence.
“Ah, I see my hot Celts have arrived─hot looking, dirty mouths. What a fine bunch you are, handsome as fuck and reputations to swoon over.” Cassandra’s smile belied her cheekiness; her eyes went straight to Tethur’s as if she knew what he was thinking.
“Sadly, there will be no fornication in here or any rooms. There is no time. You must feed on the food on the table and the drink in the jugs provided. You...” She pointed at Óengus. “My handsome rogue can put all hopes of a fae Queen gang-bang out of your wild primal mind. Although it sends a tingle down my spine thinking of it, my husband would cut out your heart if he heard you speak of it, so─” She put her finger to her lips.
Óengus grinned. Tethur wanted to disappear.
“See, my little one, this is what you have to deal with. You thought my elves were hot with all their pheromones setting off your naughty feelings. Look at this lot. Not a pheromone in the air, just hot sweaty men of legend.”
Sorscha descended the stairs behind her, dressed once more in her stunning earth dress. Tethur had left her quickly and she looked beyond him to the hungry eyes and muscle-bound warriors. He watched her all the way, her cheeks bright red with heavy blushing.
Both walked to greet them.
“Well, Tethur, where are your manners? Introduce us to your─friends.” Cassandra winked at him.
“Certainly. My kings, this is Queen Cassandra and this is Sorscha, daughter of our high king.” The men moved forward, each standing in line.
“Maybe you should have bathed first, gentlemen.” The Queen smirked.
“This is Domnall, Diarmait and Óengus, kings of Ireland and guardians of the wall.” They all bowed in the best fashion and stood up, smiling from ear to ear. “This is Ryken, the warlock.”
“Well, fine men of my homeland, nice to meet you.”
“Sorscha, say hello.”
“Hi, nice to meet you all.”
“Likewise, did Tethur tell you all about me?” Óengus said, looking Sorscha up and down. “Has he made a woman of you yet?”
Tethur slapped the back of Óengus’s head.
“Hey, no need for that. I was only asking.” Óengus took a step back and muttered in Tethur’s ear. “She is hot. Claim her.”
Diarmait circled Sorscha, and when he disappeared around her back, she flinched.
“Nice ass.”
Tethur felt his rage build. He gritted his teeth.
“Touc
h her again and there’ll be a boar’s head on that table with an apple in its gob!”
“Boys, please, less of the teasing and taunting. All this testosterone is making me dizzy.” Cassandra motioned her hand toward the tables.
Sorscha made her way and sat, Tethur watching her all the way. He sat beside her with Diarmait at her other side. Cassandra sat opposite with Domnall and Óengus. Ryken sat at the end as Eridus and Eridor joined them.
The elven women placed great platters in front of them and offered up food.
“So what is your plan, Tethur?” Eridus asked.
Tethur looked to Ryken, who held out his hand to allow him to respond.
“We set off as soon as we have eaten. I can’t thank you enough for your help.”
“We can give you an escort. We have several hundred warriors ready to ride with you,” Cassandra said. Eridor looked at Sorscha, winking at her. Tethur saw him and growled.
Eridor gave Tethur a tongue flick. With that, Tethur lunged and Eridor slipped his chair back, grinning heavily.
“Boys!” Cassandra ordered.
Tethur regained momentary composure.
“Thank you for the offer, but we can move faster as a small group. Our horses are a special breed. Besides, we want you to be safe here. They may take action against you for helping us, and you need all the forces you have.”
“They won’t attack us, but I get your point.”
“More than Sorscha has, eh, bear? You should leave her here and let me keep her. She would truly be safe in my bed each night.”
“Oh.” Diarmait leaned forward. “Such a feisty tongue. Won’t be as feisty on my plate, wiggling and writhing as I put it in my mouth and chew on it. Hey, Sorscha?” He squeezed her thigh as Tethur grabbed her waist and quickly lifted her onto his lap.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sorscha whispered in Tethur’s ear. “Don’t embarrass me in front of your friends. It’s bad enough that Eridor is making a fool of himself. And, Mr. Bad Grumpy Bear, you're the one who just... well... stopped right before I was ready to come. What exactly do you expect, you big ole' brute?”