The Druid Chronicles: Four Book Collection

by Phillips, Christina

  He jerked, obviously not expecting such a touch and widened his stance. “Better?” His voice was deliciously raw with frustrated need.

  Her heart thundered in her breast and her breath escaped in a ragged gasp. Speech was beyond her. She traced the curve of his firm arse to the inside of his thigh and then repeated the maneuver on his other taut cheek.

  His fists clenched against his thighs, the muscles on his forearms and biceps bulging with reined in tension. The knowledge that he was holding back so she could explore and learn his body caused a bittersweet pain to engulf her heart.

  She slid her arms around his thighs and pressed her cheek against the firm swell of his backside. He curled his hands around her arms, just above her wrists. It was a light touch, one of tenderness. To convey he wanted to touch her, not command her. No matter how much he might wish to.

  The tips of her fingers stroked his shaft. He was hot, hard and the sensation was enhanced because she couldn’t see his impressive organ.

  Her breath was uneven as she cupped his heavy sac. His light grip on her arms tightened and his arse tensed. Daringly, she nipped his succulent flesh and squeezed his vulnerable balls. His Celtic curse ricocheted around the room and his fingers bit into her arms.

  “Be still,” she panted, her gaze riveted on the mark of possession she’d inflicted on him. “I didn’t draw blood.”

  His hoarse laugh sounded pained. “I can’t promise to remain still. Your methods of torture slay me.”

  She smiled and couldn’t resist giving his backside another leisurely nibble. His cock jerked in her hand and her grip around him tightened. His shaft was so thick her finger and thumb could not meet around him. The memories of all the times he’d filled her hammered through her mind and she quivered with need.

  “I haven’t finished yet.” Her whisper was jagged and in response, he flexed his arse in a deliberately provocative manner. She slid her hand along his rigid length and then brushed her thumb over his wet slit. His moan of appreciation rumbled through his chest.

  Slowly she pulled back and curled her hands over his hips. He didn’t move a muscle, simply waited for her next move.

  Nerves and anticipation fluttered in her stomach. She wanted to do this. I can do this. Because he was Gawain, and he expected nothing from her that she was not willing to give.

  “Turn around.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. She sounded like a sultry siren from ancient myths.

  He turned, and she stared in silent worship at his glorious cock. She’d often looked at it, touched it, and the truth was that this part of his body fascinated her. But she had never put her mouth to him. He’d never asked her to, after that first humiliating time when she had made a fool of herself.

  “You look like a goddess kneeling at my feet.” There was a note of awe in his voice as if he could not quite believe his eyes. “A goddess shouldn’t kneel before a mortal man.”

  His words tore through the web of nerves that threatened to overcome her. She looked up at him and caught the reverential expression on his face. One of them might well have the blood of the immortals in their veins, and it wasn’t her.

  “You make me feel like a goddess, Gawain.” She deliberately allowed her breath to drift across his erection and he swallowed, clearly struggling to cling onto his control. “But more than that, you make me feel like a woman should.”

  “Antonia.” His voice was deep, threaded with desire, and need coiled tighter in her breast. In her peripheral vision, she saw him clench his fists, clearly fighting the imperative to grip her head and force his cock into her mouth.

  But Gawain would never do that. It was the reason why she wanted to give him this parting gift. Something he would, she prayed, remember with pleasure when his anger had finally cooled.

  She took a deep breath. The indefinable scent of fresh male sweat combined with the heady odor of arousal caused damp heat to slick her pussy. She wrapped one hand around his shaft and felt him throb against her palm.

  “Sit back on the bed.” Her voice was uneven and she pushed ineffectively against the top of his thigh with her free hand. It was like trying to shift a mountain.

  “No. If I move I may break this spell.”

  “You won’t.” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the swollen head of his erection. She had the sudden, savage urge to discover his taste. “I promise you won’t.”

  He plunged his fingers into her hair and held her head as he stepped back. She shuffled forward, uncaring of the dirt floor that was surely staining her gown. The bed was lower than she was used to, and when Gawain sat with a pained grunt, he stretched out his legs and trapped her between his granite-hard thighs.

  Now she was level with his face. Her thumb caressed his sensitive glans, his slick arousal sliding across her skin like ambrosia from the gods.

  Slowly she bent her head. His fingers were still buried in her hair. She licked her lips, her mouth dry with nerves. But the butterflies in her stomach and the erratic pound of her heart were nothing like the blind panic she’d always experienced before when in a similar position.

  I’ve never been in a similar position.

  Gawain’s hands cradled her head, his grip firm. But there was no malice behind it. She knew she only had to lift her head and he would never try to stop her.

  The knowledge spurred her courage. She held his shaft and tentatively flicked the tip of her tongue along the underside of his erection. The faint taste of his arousal rippled across her tongue and raw pleasure surged through her core. Even the painful jab of his fingers against her skull, his instinctive response to her wet touch, didn’t alarm.

  “Your promise was true.” His voice rasped with barely contained lust. “This spell continues.”

  Her breath escaped in a rush, leaving her lightheaded. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his cock.

  “This enchantment will never end.” The words were whispered, not meant for his ears. Not meant to be uttered aloud at all. Yet the pressure of his fingers, the way he hitched in a sharp breath, told her he had heard.

  She leaned in closer, one hand splayed against his hip for added balance. The glistening head of his cock enthralled her. This time she would do more than merely look, as she had before. This time…

  The thought drifted through her mind, an unimportant distraction. She knew what she would do.

  Chapter 27

  Antonia shifted on her knees and wished she’d taken the time to strip off her gown. She wanted to be naked before Gawain. But it was too late now.

  She tried to regulate her erratic breath but it was impossible. Her fingers twitched around his organ as she carefully eased his thick length toward her.

  His groan shuddered along his body. “I swear on all the gods of my forefathers, Antonia. I won’t break.”

  She’d held him before. Had avidly studied this part of his body before, much to his amusement. But this time there was added tension in the heavy air. He knew, of course he must know, that today she intended to do so much more than merely look.

  “I know.” Had she spoken aloud or was her whisper only inside her mind? She didn’t know. Didn’t care. Her pulses raced, heart thundered. There was no moment in time but this. And this moment would last her for all time.

  She opened her mouth. And fastened her lips around the head of his erection.

  His strangled moan and the way his fingers tangled her hair heightened the desire that throbbed between her thighs. The tip of her tongue skimmed across his flesh. He was so hot. An elusive saltiness, the essence of Gawain, teased her senses and instinctively her hand tightened around him.

  She liked his taste. The revelation flooded her mind, along with a faint sensation of shock. Again, she slid her tongue over the head of his cock, this time lingering. Savoring.

  He tasted of wild, untamed man. He tasted of her man.

  His thighs tensed, enslaving her more securely. But she had no desire to move. Her nails dug into his hip as she lowered her head a l
ittle more. He slid farther inside, filling her mouth, but no terrifying urge to gag overwhelmed her.

  For a moment she stilled. His hard length compressed her tongue and burned the roof of her mouth. Only her fist around his shaft prevented her lips from sliding farther along his cock.

  Her pussy clenched and liquid heat trickled between her thighs. She wanted him there, stroking her clit, filling her aching cleft. But she couldn’t move. Didn’t, in truth, want to move. Because, in spite of the need thudding through her, another need hammered with insistent demand.

  The need to take him, as he had so often taken her, using only her mouth.

  Slowly she pulled up, her lips clinging to his rigid flesh. For a moment he resisted, his hands on her head rendering her immobile, but then the pressure eased. And only the feel of his fingers in her hair remained.

  “This feels so good.” His voice was hoarse. Feminine power surged from her core, flooding her body. She sucked him deep into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with effort. His choked curse and savage grip on her hair sent thrills cascading through her.

  Was it her imagination or did his hands shake?

  “You’re killing me.” With obvious effort, she felt his fingers release their deadly grip. But she wanted him to grip her hair, hold her still. She wanted everything, now, that she had always feared before.

  She growled in the back of her throat and slid her hand down his shaft to his root. With her other hand she cupped his heavy balls. And squeezed.

  Gawain’s big body jerked at her touch. His hands clamped against her head, holding her still. Her heart hammered high in her breast, her breath came shallow and ragged. His male scent cocooned her as she knelt before him, her face buried between his thighs.

  He flexed his hips and pushed his cock farther into her wet mouth. Her pussy spasmed, her fingers tightened. It was hard to breathe.

  She never wanted him to stop.

  He rocked into her mouth, the drag and push of his shaft over her tongue and teeth insanely arousing. Beyond the erratic thud of her heart, she could hear the harsh, uneven sound of his breathing. Could feel his balls harden with impending climax.

  Could feel the possessive clamp of his hands around her head. Holding her immobile for his ruthless penetration. Immobilizing her for his oral pleasure.

  A desperate moan razed her throat and shuddered around his thrusting cock. Slick heat tormented her sensitized cleft. She massaged his root, palmed his balls. How she would love to see his face when he finally spilled his seed.

  With a guttural curse, he released her head. Shock spun through her. Even now he gave her the choice. She sucked hard, her fingers gripping his root with relentless, single-minded purpose. Blindly she sought his hand, her fingers reaching for him above her head.

  He threaded his fingers through hers. She pulled him roughly back to her head, pressing him against her tangled hair. His cock jerked in her mouth, thrilling her. He knew what she wanted.

  Once again, his hands cradled her, his fingers biting into her head. She dug her nails into his rigid thigh as he hammered into her mouth. Fast. Hard. The way she wanted it.

  She felt his muscles lock beneath her. His entire body vibrated with leashed need. His roar of release thundered through the room, shattered through her mind. And then he came, violent spasms, his hot come filling her mouth.

  She swallowed. And swallowed again. Goddess, it felt so good. Greedily she sucked on his pulsing cock, milking him, wanting everything he had.

  “Fuck. Antonia.” His voice was uneven. He continued to thrust inside her, as if he never wanted this moment to end. “My sweet Antonia.”

  His endearment wrapped around her heart. She closed her eyes and savored his taste, the feel of him in her mouth, the scent of their lovemaking in the air. She wanted to hold him like this forever.

  After countless heartbeats, the unyielding grip on her head relaxed and his hands slid to her shoulders. Then he gently pushed her from his still hard erection.

  But she didn’t want to let him go. Not yet.

  He gave a ragged laugh at her reluctance and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. He cradled her face with his other hand, and his thumb tenderly caressed the corner of her mouth.

  “You have developed new appetites, my lady.” He sounded well pleased by the notion. Before she could respond, his mouth captured hers, his tongue sliding between her parted lips.

  It was a tender kiss, yet a kiss that claimed and conquered and proved that, for all time, she was his.

  Only when he pulled back did she realize she’d wound her arms around his neck and plunged her fingers through his hair. She was still on her knees and she resisted when he tried to lift her to her feet.

  “Antonia.” He breathed her name against her ear and shivers of need cascaded along her sensitized flesh. Instead of trying to pull her to her feet again, he began to tug on her gown. She rocked from knee to knee, allowing him to painstakingly drag her gown along her legs until the material no longer hampered his access.

  He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, the tips of his fingers causing havoc to her senses. She squirmed helplessly. This wasn’t what she had planned, but she couldn’t resist his insistent touch.

  When he cupped her sex, she ground against him, unable to stop herself. Not wanting to stop herself. Their gazes locked and she clung onto his hair and drowned in the lust and amusement and love she saw glinting in his dark eyes.

  His thumb brushed her swollen clit and she bucked her hips with mindless need. He pressed against the sensitive nub. Her juices flooded her channel and she contracted around his probing fingers.

  “My beautiful Roman noblewoman.” Gawain’s voice was husky and she gripped his hair, her only lifeline. “Come for me, sweet Antonia.”

  “Gawain.” She didn’t recognize her voice. She sounded parched, desperate. Lust coiled between her thighs, fiery, untamed. Wild need thundered through her blood and tightened her nipples. Her pussy convulsed, back arched. But still she clung onto his hair. Still she gazed into his dark eyes. And her body and soul came for him, her only love.

  Chapter 28

  Gawain tightened his hold around Antonia’s shoulders as shudders rocked her body. Frantic gasps spilled from her lips and she clutched his head as though she would never let him go.

  Watching her climax caused his cock to thicken once more. Her eyes were dark with passion. Her elegant ringlets were messy by his hands. And her lips were pink and swollen from having taken his cock into her mouth.

  The memory caused his groin to throb with renewed lust. His Antonia would never cease to surprise him.

  A smile of contentment, of masculine satisfaction, curved his lips as she finally sagged against him. Her erratic breath was warm against his chest, and her nails gouged his scalp, unmindful of whether she might be hurting him or not.

  Slowly he slid his fingers from her slick folds and wrapped his arm around her waist. Her shudders became less frequent, but still gratifyingly intense. The urge to pull her down onto his bed, to keep her with him until the morning, drifted through his mind.

  Soon such a fantasy would be his reality. Soon, she would never have to leave him to hurry back to her restricted Roman existence.

  Soon he would have to tell her of his plans.

  But not right now.

  Finally her breathing eased and her fingers relaxed, releasing her claw-like grip on his head. A few moments later, her hands dropped to his shoulders and then, with clear reluctance, she lifted her face from his chest.

  Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glazed. She looked like a woman who had just been thoroughly satisfied by her man.

  He intended to satisfy her further before she escaped him this day.

  “Come up onto the bed.” He brushed a curl back from her warm cheek. “Your knees must be sore.”

  She didn’t answer him or sit by his side as he indicated. Instead she stared at him, her gaze roving over his face as though she was memorizing every featu
re. An odd shudder inched along his spine, although he couldn’t imagine why. There was nothing sinister in her appraisal. Yet the feeling lingered, like a malevolent shadow across his soul.

  Her hands sculpted his biceps, a languorous caress. Yet inexplicably another prickle of unease skated across the back of his neck.

  Instinctively his hold around her waist tightened. She let out a ragged breath and used his arms to push herself to her feet. He held onto her hands and watched her gaze travel slowly down his body until she reached his far from disinterested cock.

  The feeling of unease vanished and a satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “There is something very wrong with this, Antonia.” He waited until her startled glance meshed with his. “You’re not naked.”

  She swallowed and whatever spell had held her silent for the last few moments appeared to shatter.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was low, husky. “I shouldn’t have—I can’t stay.”

  He sighed heavily and pushed himself to his feet without relinquishing her hands. He looked forward to the day when they’d settled in the land of the Picts, and Antonia had no need to rush from his arms.

  “You had best call Elpis, then. You look as though you’ve been thoroughly ravished.” Despite his irritation that Antonia had to leave when he wanted her to stay, he couldn’t help the grin he shot her way. She didn’t merely look ravished. She looked fucking ravishing.

  Antonia glanced down at her gown and her eyes widened in clear horror. He followed her gaze and a wave of raw possessiveness gripped him.

  “Carys will lend you a gown.” Lust throbbed through every word. He knew Antonia was distressed by the state of her gown, but he couldn’t share it. The dirt smearing her pale blue linen where she had knelt before him reminded him of the feel of her mouth sucking him. And the unmistakable traces of their shared passion that stained her elegant gown made him want to fuck her all over again.