Enjoying the ache of need. Amazing. "Again," I begged. "Please, do it again."
Somehow with the rock of his hips, he caressed my inner flesh where his throbbing presence seemed permanently lodged inside me.
Talk about magic. Nothing more than miraculous sorcery. This is what all the girls chattered about.
His groin thrust my hips again.
Sinfully skyward.
Another wave of desire shook my soul. "It feels amazing," I moaned at the night sky.
His palms slid up my back, drawing me down, against him. Then his arms tightened around me. He rolled me onto my back.
Talk about how a man's weight could make a girl ache down there. With mind-boggling intensity. Everything about being with him is just one big demanding thought.
He drew my hips off the hard ground and stood up on his knees.
Finally thrusting inside me needy channel. Tracing out a path to somewhere. I just needed to grab onto him. His shoulders. His ass. Or something. Anything to hold this club inside my clenching channel until the waves of shivers his thick rod set off inside me subsided as he raked his pliant flesh back and forth along my trembling channel.
A tremor burst through me.
Racked my soul. Morphed into pure gasping flinches of pleasure. That's the place. The tiny bundle of nerves. Right there. Where he suddenly shifted the tip of his cock back and forth. My G-spot. And, God, I needed to claw something. G for grab. G for groan. G for god-damn! I g-ripped his shoulders.
Him. His thick muscles. His back. I think.
My clawing fingers slid free of him.
Why can't I reach him? "Murdo," I think I squealed.
There's nothing like a Mr. Perfect strumming a girl like a g-uitar. He found my magic button. One that turned my fingers off and made my limbs thrash. I managed to dig at the g-round.
The wicked internal tickle mushroomed until I couldn't swallow any of screams. His needy grip, the intense pressure of his frantic plummeting shaft, and his ragged breathing drove the night away. Back behind my eyelids until all I could hear was the wet sound of our bodies merging in the darkness and our ragged exhalations. I snaked my legs around his waist.
He groaned and thrust.
Over and over. Shoving every straining muscle he had into the effort.
The muscles of his lower back and upper ass tightened more and more with each wave of the most amazing ecstasy building inside me. With his hip's forward and backward rocking. Tilting my groin upward with a motion that pleaded for more. So much more. As if that button he kept pushing made my body suddenly curl beyond belief. For his pleasure.
The wave of bliss washing through me turned into suffocating pressure.
Expanding inside me. Consuming me. I had to move faster. Thrust into each of his desperate attempts to slide once again. To end the need. To breathe. To hold him right there where he made the world end and begin with an indefinable sensation--pure agonizing desire that made me lose every thought in life but the one to perpetuate the delicious quaking of my soul. All I could do was throw back my head and squeak out sounds of absolute joy.
Reality suddenly burst into brilliant blinding light. Light that energized us enough to keep us thrusting.
Tranquility blanketed my trembling body.
Wonderful warm throbbing brightness. Happiness. Him and the light.
We groaned together.
Squirming. Grinding our hips as if something more, deeper, by far more beautiful would come from our desperate movements. Then I felt it. His stiff manhood lurching inside me where he'd wedged his pulsing presence into my body, filling me with amazing heat. His chest leaned down even more, pushing a bubble of heat around me, thrusting and thrusting, grinding his body against my clit, pushing that tiny needy nub with intoxicating brutality. So much that a new round of agony shivered into my existence and burst like a bubble. A second dose of pleasure.
My body jolted against the iron of his. Our bodies locked. At the place we'd merged together. Is this over? No. It can't be.
The shocking blinding light curled around my mind, cradled me with blissful serenity, then slipped away. As if to tease me with the knowledge of what I'd had and what it stole. Murdo and I merged into one like a beautiful amalgamation of male and female. The perfect bride.
Why? I wanted to always feel this way. Loved. At one with him.
His movements slowed, stunting, dying.
In death throes. Why must this beautiful moment end? Beauty distorted into nightmare.
His gasping sweaty weight toppled onto my bodice. He snaked his arms underneath mine.
That's it? We're supposed to face tomorrow when we wake from this dream? But half a person?
"I love you, Katie Innis McEwen," he gasped.
Now that's a thought worth dwelling up at the end of lovemaking. And I can add something to it. "I love you too." We aren't actually married. But, oh, who wouldn't feel wed after sex like that with Mr. Perfect?
Murdo fumbled with his boot, his arm arcing back toward me in the faint silvery moonlight. Something glinted in his grasp.
A ring? Diamonds are good. But I don't have to have diamonds.
"Give me your hand, my love."
Hopefully the ring didn't cost too much. I thrust a palm at him.
He firmly took my hand, stretching all the fingers backward, flat, almost hyper-extending them, and tickled my palm with a moustache and long warm kiss of soft lips before rising to stare at me with a twinkle in his dark eyes. "Hold still, my love."
Hell, move and lose a ring in the darkness?
A sting traversed my palm.
The irksome pain grew into searing heat.
What's that? "Ah." I tried to pull the hand away, but he squeezed my wrist.
"Forgive me. It hurts less if you're unaware of the cut." He grabbed my palm against his, forcing his fingers between mine, clutching our palms together. "By the God-dess-Spirit, we are bound for eternity. Now and forever, Katie Innis McEwen, I am your guardian and lover. No matter how many lives we live, I will desire only your soul for eternity."
Forever. Eternity. Souls? "What?"
Chapter 18
"'Tis the way of the future, my love." My husband rested his warm cheek between the bulges of medieval gown's bodice my breasts formed as we rested beneath the twinkling stars. "On another planet across space. A twenty-first- century ceremony is fine though, if 'twill make things normal for you. Just tell me what to do. I'll manage."
Married. I don't feel officially united through wedding vows. But no way am I losing him after what I just felt. "What of this time-travel talk?"
"Aye." He remained motionless. "I can tell you everything now that we've eternally bonded."
Then that declaration would explain the sword. "The sword? You said the metal is from the future. The metal isn't malleable?" Maybe there's something to Murdo's fantasy.
"Aye." His voice faded into the nature's humming music of the night.
"So, you're stranded here with me?" I could keep him forever. Live off his crazy story. Why not? Time travel could serve a greater purpose. Or, at least, the idea of it.
"Unless you repair my sword."
Even if I did, we could travel through time? Yeah. Right. Well, I'm keeping Mr. Perfect. For now. Nut or not. He'd make the perfect odd spouse for a weird artist.
****
My wife's moonlit features couldn't be more beautiful pinned beneath my body. She stretched out upon the white silk scarf though. Such a maidenly façade. So like a bride on white after consummating the relationship. But we'd never even undressed. No complaints there. Is she comfortable though? "Are you cold?"
Her warm soft palms rubbed up the length my arms. "No."
But those curious palms halted. Left me craving more. I almost begged for her touch.
"Who travels in time in the future?" she whispered.
Her sultry voice luring the information from me. But I could speak of time travel now. To my soul mate. Wife. And it was good
to hear her ask a genuine question. "A few trained Gaels."
"A few. The proud? An elite force?" She chuckled.
That particular advertisement was a long-term Mother World concept for the Marine Corps every Ring Master learned about in history class. I couldn't help but chuckle too. "You're witty, Katie McEwen."
"Oh?" Her palms rubbed more friction into the muscles of my upper arms. "What do they call you time travelers?"
Watching her glinting eyes, I leaned into her medicinal hands. "Ring Masters and Druids."
Her hands froze, and she stiffened.
Moonlight brightened to illuminate her stern gaze.
"What, Katie?"
"Ring Masters? You're from a circus? A carnie?"
No. Although, life felt like a three-ring show lately. I couldn't choke back my laughter at the irony.
Katie squirmed beneath me. "What?" she almost snarled.
Probably at my laughter. "Not with a circus," I managed, shaking my head for effect. "No circus rings." I might as well explain. I looked her in the eye. "Stone rings. Stones circles. The Stones of Destiny."
****
Stone circles? I studied the shadow-cloaked silhouette of a man's head beneath the full moon. My man. He's a master of Stonehenge?
Murdo's laughter quieted.
But the moon behind his head didn't reveal his facial features to offer a good guess at his thoughts. "You're serious? Stonehenge?" I stared where his eyes should have been.
"I've no reason to lie," he timbered, his body steady except for the vibrations his voice caused in his chest.
"How many of you are there? Why--" Do I really want to know why he's here? Maybe to sabotage something. Political? Freaky flashbacks from sci-fi movies popped into my head.
His fingertips whispered across my cheek.
"I'm not here to hurt anyone or change things. Gaels seek knowledge of their history. They secretly work to reconstruct their post-English-domination cultural heritage. And I wasn't sent to this time with a mission. On a venture homeward through time, the fairies dropped me here. Why? I'm not certain. I had been on a training mission, teaching cadets how to operate the rings."
The dark void shifted overhead.
He moved. Why? Besides, he's talking about fairies! And he knows he ridiculous it sounds.
His soft moist lips latched onto mine then fluttered away with a gust of his warm breath.
To snuff my questions that prove he knows he's crazy. And why do I smell cinnamon again? Pictures of sleek vehicles and metal rocket-shaped buildings replaced the haunting creepy saboteur images in the whirlwind blaring through my mind. A cinnamon-red dust devil. I shook free of his lips to press him for more information. "What's the thirty-first century like? Is the Earth beautiful?"
"'Tis not the time to worry about such things." He sighed. "But I'll tell you a little to ease your mind. Earth is beautiful in the future only because humans don't live there anymore."
My gut sank into a pit of eerie harrowing reality.
No way. "What?" I searched the darkness for a gleam of eye, something to ensure he was joking.
"'Tis true. I'm from planet Scotia Major. 'Tis where the Ring Master Keep guards Druid Chapel."
A girl had to see that to believe it.
"If my sword were functional, I'd show you." His voice pleaded I believe him.
Yeah. Yeah. "Nothing matters. Where you're from. When you're from. Or how in the heck you got here. As long as we're together, I'll be fine."
"'Tis the binding."
"What do you mean by binding?"
"Soul lovers. A fairy boon for members of The Orders who sacrifice their lives for humanity."
Great. He's getting loonier by the minute. "Fairies? I'm starting to think I shouldn't have asked."
"Know this, Katie McEwen. The Gods have brought us together, bound our hearts for eternity. We will never be happy unless we are in each other's arms. 'Till the rocks melt with the sun. For you alone I ride the ring. For you I wear the blue. Warm as my plaid the love I bring.' Those poems all mean something."
The bits of poetry began to piece together his groom's slag of a story into one cohesive iron mass. Well, all but the blue part. "What do you wear that's blue?"
"For a Druidess of The Order, 'tis her blue eyes. For a Ring Master, 'tis tattoos."
His blue tattoos. "Those tattoos are like badges then?"
"Aye. Badges of accomplishment. Honor. A palimpsest of every Ring Master's deeds. And if I return to the thirty-first century with you, they will hold a ceremony. The High Grand Master will seek a location on my upper body where he will carve a symbol of my achievement for all to know I have served the Gaels well."
Wow. I'm kind of curious now. I'd go if possible. Just to see that kind of place. And the story could be true. Or fanciful fiction. But didn't I just spend the evening at a medieval feast in twenty-first-century post-industrial Scotland? Oh, Murdo McEwen is going to test my ability to reason. Who cared? I slid both palms up the bulging iron muscles of his arms.
He braced his hands against the heather and pushed his weight off me. "I still don't know why I'm here. Black Liam only said I was to tend to you. We'd best return before sunrise."
Black Liam? "But..." I pushed onto my elbows.
Moonlight gilded his handsome profile. "But what?"
"What does Black Liam have to do with this? And I want you to recite that poem to me at sunrise again." It couldn't hurt to throw that in.
He chuckled softly. "Katie, Katie." His hand found my elbow, and pulled me to my feet. "Come now. There's always time for poems. Do you want your uncle to stab me through with one of his wee swords?"
Uncle John would take matters in his own hands if he felt the need. "What of Black Liam then?"
"He said I was to protect you. 'Tis all I know."
****
I dashed around the end of the car in the moonlit gravel driveway to walk to the front door with my husband. Lordy, had I thought the word? But the word resonated family. Comfort. And the idea is really growing on me.
Murdo waited at the end of the sidewalk under the amber garage light.
He sure looked ready to support the world. Maybe he's one of these time-traveling guardians of time. And Black Liam too. This is all way-out-Martian nuts. I grabbed his sturdy warm hand, stretched up onto my tiptoes, and planted a kiss on Murdo's wonderful massaging cinnamon lips.
The front door whined.
White light shafted down the front walk from inside the front door.
"Katie?" Aunt Iona called. "Och!" The Scottish expletive died into a muffled groan.
Lord, caught kissing in the driveway. Again. I spun toward where Auntie Iona reached for the doorknob in her pink terrycloth bathrobe.
The door whined again, shutting out the interior house light.
Iona stood hidden within the front porch's shadows. "Hurry inside out of the chill," she whispered conspiratorially. "Your Uncle John's fallen asleep in front of the telly." She kept waving with one arm in the moonlight. "Don't let him catch you fornicating on the lawn."
How sweet. Both had waited up just like my parents used to. A girl really loved being loved. Scotland finally made my life complete. I tugged Murdo's elbow toward Iona. "We're coming."
Iona reached for the doorknob, casting everyone in bright light, then stepped aside, holding the door. "Are you hungry?"
Maybe for another piece of Grade-A New-Zealand haggis a girl could use to whip this circus back into order. Food couldn't satiate me more than a familial high though. "No." I stepped onto hard slate inside the warm foyer.
A gasp shook my homecoming.
Someone tugged at my hair.
"Quickly, up to your room," Iona whispered over my shoulder.
Say goodnight to Murdo? Not after I just caught him. I turned to Iona's wide eyes. "Why?"
Iona stretched up to my ear, thrusting a bit of grass in front of my nose. "You've brought the heathered hills home in your hair, lass."
L
ord, Uncle John better be asleep. I darted upstairs.
Curse thundering girlie shoes.
****
Breathing was nigh impossible standing in front of wee Auntie Iona who watched her niece disappear around the corner at the top of the staircase. Life's end hung before me. Castration. The punishment for botching the uncle and aunt's wedding plans for John and Katie. More so, it'd be just my luck Katie would leave a trail of heather from the bits stuck in her hair. A path for Big John to follow.
My tongue swelled in the back of my throat.
Iona turned an arched brow to me. "We'll keep this between us, Murdo McEwen. Whatever Katie fancies is best kept from her uncle. Until the wedding." She nodded.
Bless Conn for some sort of baffling reason. "You'd permit me to attend Katie's wedding?"
The woman's flapping raven wings of eyebrows squared above her eyes. "Why wouldn't I wish for Katie something so opposing what she wants for herself?"
Females rarely made sense. "What?"
"How else would she step before the altar when it's you she favors?"
"Me? But what of your son's plan to marry her?"
Aunties have a way of twisting their features into the most terrifying smirks. "John? He's not marrying my Katie. They're first cousins!"
The liar. Why should that be surprising? The man is dishonest, lazy, and disrespectful. And I'd won in the end. I bowed slightly. "I'll say goodnight."
Iona patted my upper arm. "You'll be good to my Katie, Murdo McEwen. I can see it in your eyes."
Good to hear I have the aunt on my side. I headed up the stairs to sleep off this crazed day.
****
A whispering creak woke me in the darkness of my room at the Innis house. Most likely Cousin Carcass seeking assistance with releasing his last breath. That I can do. For what he'd done to Katie. For his lies. For the disrespect of his parents. But mostly for Katie.
My very soul seethed.
Aye. But the man can't be killed until the time-travel sword is straightened. Then, I will help the bastard wholeheartedly. I faced the shadowy door.
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