“Thought I’d find you up here.”
Bran stood to his full height and glared down into Rhys MacDonald’s violet eyes. “What do you want?”
He didn’t like the way Rhys was looking at him, like he was assessing an adversary for a weakness. “I saw the woman running down the stairs. I wanted to find out what’s up.”
His cock, for sure. The damn thing wouldn’t go down. Any thought of Mairi aroused him, not to mention the fact that he still had her scent burning in his nose. Her aroused scent. The heady, sensual perfume reminded him of the orchids that grew by the reflecting pool in Annwyn. He’d never look at them again without thinking of her, never see the clear liquid drip from the stamen without imagining Mairi’s core weeping in desire.
Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? She was a mortal, and he was getting way too fucking poetic.
“Raven?”
“Everything’s fine,” he growled, shouldering past Rhys.
“Did you hurt her?”
“No, damn it.”
“She told me to give you this.” Rhys tossed his coat to him. When he caught it in his hand, Mairi’s scent perfumed the air.
This was the last damn thing he needed. He was so aroused now, he’d do any mortal and enjoy it, just to relieve the ache in his groin. But I’d be thinking of Mairi.
“You’re in a bad way, Raven.”
Bran stuffed his arms into the sleeves and wrapped himself in Mairi’s scent and the lingering heat of her body. Below the cuff, the sigils on his left hand glowed, surprising him.
How could it be that he’d received any energy from her? They’d only kissed. Rhys caught it as well and snickered. “Looks like she treated you right.”
“You will not talk about her that way,” Bran warned. “She’s not like the others.”
“She’s mortal, isn’t she?”
“Shut up, halfling.”
Rhys snorted, then threw something at him, making him fumble to catch it. It was a phone. “She was crying,” Rhys snarled, “and I don’t like customers crying as they leave my club. Call her.”
“And say what?” he growled, glaring at the blasted thing in his hand. What did he know of using these mortal devices?
“How the hell should I know? Only you and she know what went down up here.”
“I did not hurt her,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Well, not in the physical sense. Number’s already plugged in. Just press send.”
Bran watched Rhys leave, then hit the silver button. It rang and rang, till a machine came on with Mairi’s voice. A beep sounded and he cleared his throat.
“It’s me. Bran. I, ah . . .” He looked back out over the terrace and focused on the waves, trying to find his calming center. “I want to see you again. Tomorrow night. I, ah . . .” He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t find the right words, the words a human male would say to her.
The wind kicked up, whipping his coat, stirring up her scent, and he closed his eyes and rested his head against the bricks. “I just really . . . need to see you again. Soon.”
Mairi tossed her keys onto the coffee table and gave her dog, Clancy, a rub between his ears. He greeted her with a lolling tongue and big wet licks. “Bad night, Clance,” she whispered as she rested her head against his. “Men. Why are they such assholes?”
The wolfhound looked into her eyes and gave her a lick up her cheek. “Except you, huh?”
She went into the bathroom, changed into her comfortable cotton robe, and washed off the little bit of makeup she’d worn and the track marks of her tears. Where had they come from? she wondered.
Weird. Just thinking about Bran turning down her blatant offer made them spring once more to her eyes. The first time she makes a move on a guy and she’s shot down. What guy turns down a no-strings night of sex?
Bran, apparently.
Poor Rowan had been subjected to Mairi’s rancor on the drive home and tried to make her feel better. But Mairi was nowhere near feeling better. She was angry and hurt, and still aroused.
Damn him.
Tossing the towel onto the vanity, she decided she’d done enough wallowing in her thoughts. In the morning, she’d call Rowan and apologize for ruining her night. Rowan and Sayer had been getting along well. Her friend was actually laughing when Mairi had found her. Just because Mairi hadn’t scored with Bran didn’t mean Rowan had to leave when she did. Mairi had cheated Rowan of a night of pleasure, and it wasn’t fair.
Back in the living room, she went to the bookshelf that housed her phone and answering machine. There was one message, and when the dark, velvety voice came over the speaker, she nearly dropped to the ground. Bran.
How the hell had he gotten her number? Then she remembered signing the VIP clipboard. Obviously he was interested enough to search that out. Or maybe he just felt bad.
Great. Pity was such a turn on.
“I want to see you . . . Soon.” Mairi replayed the message. He had definitely said he wanted—no, needed—to see her again. She played it three more times before the entire message had soaked through her brain, which seemed to fill with lust at just the sound of his voice.
He’d left a number, and she sat on the couch chewing her nail, wondering if she could call it. How desperate would it look? She glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. But he would still be up, something told her, still at the club. Beside her, Clancy panted and watched her with his head cocked.
“I know, I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”
She picked up the phone anyway, and started to dial the number she’d written down. Then hung up. She did it three more times before getting the courage up to let it ring. Two rings, and his baritone rumble was washing over her.
“Mairi?”
Was he expecting her call? Waiting for it? Her stomach churned and she lay back on the couch before she fell off.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Your voice . . . it sounds different.”
Closing her eyes, she imagined him on the other end of the phone. His voice sounded different too. If it was possible, it was even sexier.
“You are upset with me. You left tonight because you thought I didn’t desire you.”
She pressed her eyes shut, mortified that he knew. She felt her defenses fly up, and she was about to speak when he went on, his voice low and urgent.
“But I wanted you, Mairi. I still want you.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
“I would have taken what you were offering, but you’re not that type of girl. I’ve had easy lays before, and I didn’t want that. Not with you.”
A perverse sense of pleasure washed through her. He had wanted her. Still wanted her. Suddenly she felt like giving him her address and inviting him over to prove it.
“Mairi?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to get to know you.”
“What do you mean?”
There was a pause that seemed to go on forever before he spoke. “Outside of sex. I’d like to know you as a person.”
Like a date? He definitely didn’t seem like the dating type.
“I like you, Mairi.”
“I like you, too,” she replied.
“So will you let me?”
“Sure.”
“When?”
She struggled to think, but couldn’t. She swore she heard a noise, like metal on metal. Zipper . . . that was definitely a zipper.
“Mairi?”
“I’m, ah, I have this weekend off.”
“Good,” he murmured, his voice thickening. “Where are you?”
She swallowed. “At home. On the couch. What about you?”
“In a bedroom at the club. Alone.”
“Oh.” Her heart was beating too fast. She obviously wasn’t getting enough blood to her brain, because she was going to pass out at just the thought of him lounging in bed with his leather pants unzipped.
She heard the bed creak, and imagined it was his large frame settling o
nto the mattress. Her fingers were shaking as she held the phone up to her ear. Clancy jumped off the couch and went to his bed, his nails clicking on the floor.
“Who is there?” Bran demanded.
“No one. It was my dog.”
She heard the exhale of breath. “What are you wearing?” “My favorite robe.”
“What’s beneath it?”
She froze. Were they going to have kinky phone sex? She’d seen it in the movies, heard about it from her friends at work. But she had never done anything like this. She didn’t know how to do it, or if she could.
“Are you naked, Mairi, beneath that robe?”
“Yes.”
He sighed and she heard something, like the creak of leather. “What are you wearing?” she asked.
“My coat, which still smells of you.”
“And?”
“My pants.”
She swallowed, licked her lips, trying to get up the nerve. “Did you . . . unzip them?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes, imagining it all. “Why?”
“So I can touch myself while listening to your voice.”
Oh, God, we are really going to do this!
Mairi took a deep breath, wincing as she heard how breathless her voice sounded. “Are you touching yourself now?”
“Not yet. Are you?”
Her hand flew away from the tie securing her robe, as if he’d caught her red- handed. “No,” she answered, trying to sound as though she did this sort of thing all the time.
“Ah,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a husky growl. “You want to be seduced first.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, then her thighs. “Maybe.” She heard movement and asked, “What are you doing now?”
“Now I’m touching my cock.”
Mairi almost choked, but maintained her dignity—barely.
“I’m imagining it’s your hand. Soft, supple”—he made a little noise that sounded like a groan—“clever fingers circling the head, then teasing around the shaft. Then squeezing, just enough pressure to build up my desire, but not enough to spill into your hand.”
She swallowed hard and allowed her fingers, which were trembling, to untie the sash of her robe. It parted and fell open, her nipples already puckered.
“I’m wondering what you’ll think when you see my cock,” he whispered darkly, “when you feel it deep inside you.”
He must be huge, she silently thought as her fingertips caressed the tip of her nipple. The rest of him certainly was.
“I’d like to lie back and watch you take my cock in your mouth. I’d like to have my orgasm with your mouth, feel my climax crash over me, just like those waves pounding onto the beach.” Her fingertips stilled as she waited to hear more.
“Would you do that, Mairi, take me in your mouth and make me come?”
She’d not done that a lot, but for Bran, she would.
“Mairi?”
“Yes,” she admitted before she could stop herself. She heard his breath catch, the sound of the mattress creak, as if he were settling deeper into the bed.
“Christ, I’m so close, just imagining you kneeling between my thighs, my cock filling your mouth, your hair spread over my body.”
She heard his voice drop away; then it was followed by a husky demand. “Tell me what you’re imagining, Mairi.”
She bit her lip and tugged at her nipple, her face flaming with excitement and nervousness. “You, how you must look touching yourself.”
She imagined him spread out, his cock in his hand as he slowly moved his palm up and down. He would look devastatingly masculine. That much she knew.
“Is that all?”
“Yes,” she lied.
“Then I haven’t done enough to seduce you, have I?”
Oh, yes, she silently admitted, but he spoke, interrupting her thoughts.
“I can imagine what you look like, your pink nipples hard—they are pink, aren’t they, Mairi?”
She glanced down at her chest. “Yes.”
“And your breasts are big, big enough to spill out of my hands. I’d want to take them into my mouth, knead them, caress them—fuck them.”
She gasped, and felt her body spasm as her hand trailed down her belly.
“Would you let me, Mairi?”
“Yes,” she breathed as her fingertips grazed her pubic hair. “I . . . I would like that.”
“And would you let me taste you, Mairi? Everywhere? Every patch of skin, every curve on your body?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. “Do you like my curves?” she asked as she skimmed her hand along her body.
“Yes.”
“Which curve?” she asked, growing bold.
“I couldn’t pick just one, Mairi. I’m greedy. I love your breasts and your ass. And your hair,” he murmured. “I love your hair—the length of it, the way it slides through my fingers. I’d like to grab handfuls of it and clutch it as I pin you to the bed, filling you full of me.”
Gooseflesh covered her body and she shuddered as the image of Bran on top of her, pounding into her, took root.
“I like your hair, too.” It made him look dangerous and sexy. A bad boy. Never had she been drawn to that sort of man, but one glimpse of Bran and she was a convert.
“I know what you’re thinking, Mairi.”
“What?”
“You want to run your hands through my hair and clutch my head, shoving my mouth down on you. You want me to taste there, don’t you?”
She was breathing fast, her lips were dry, and she couldn’t talk. But Bran went on. “Can you see me going down on you, spreading you, tonguing you?”
She nodded, as if he could see her. Lord, she could imagine it all, and how damn sexy it would be to look between her spread thighs and find Bran there.
“I’d inhale your scent first, Mairi. I love your scent; the perfume of your aroused sex ignites me. I’d stay there for as long as I wanted, making you wait.”
Oh, God, she was wet. And aroused. Her legs were sliding up and down on the cushion, searching for relief. She didn’t dare touch herself, knowing she’d go off like a firecracker at the first touch. Besides, the sound of Bran’s voice and the descriptions of what he wanted to do with her were too good not to hear.
“Do you want that, Mairi, my tongue on your pussy?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Then part your legs.”
She did as he asked, struggling to hear his voice over the blood pounding in her ears.
“Close your eyes. Run your fingers between your folds, pretending it’s my hand.”
Mairi hesitated. But in the end, she did as he asked, and the shock that raced through her body made her breath catch. “Bran?” she asked, feeling totally out of control. “Are you . . . you know . . .”
“Masturbating?”
She stroked herself, lured by his voice and the feel of her fingers as she pretended it was him touching her.
“Yes,” he hissed, “and thinking of the next time I see you.”
She swirled her fingertip around her clitoris and moaned.
“Picture me sliding between your legs, Mairi. My fingers biting into your thighs, spreading them. Feel me shouldering my way between your legs. Then the warmth of my breath against your core.”
Vividly she saw what Bran was describing.
“One swipe of my tongue, parting your swollen lips. One more, finding your clitoris. You’re thick with desire, coating my tongue. I need another taste, Mairi. My mouth on you, covering you.”
Yes! She mentally screamed as she found her clit and rubbed it.
“I’ll build you up slowly, making you writhe and squirm. I’ll want your moans, my name on your lips, as you come.”
She was close . . . so close . . .
“I want to hear you, breathing as you are now, searching for release, begging to come. Come for me, Mairi,” he whispered. It sounded like a purr, she thought as she got lost in the sens
ations of her body. “Let me hear your sounds.”
She was so aroused, it took no time for her to shatter and cry out. When the storm passed, Bran was breathing hard on the other end.
“Did you come?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“While imagining my mouth sucking you?”
“No,” he murmured, “I came while picturing myself pleasuring your pussy.”
This guy was a sex god! He knew all the right things to say.
“When, Mairi?” he asked. “When will you let me see you again?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come to the club tomorrow night. For dinner?”
“All right,” she murmured.
“Mairi?”
“Yeah?”
“Sleep well.”
“Mmm.” She heard the sound of waves in the back of her mind, and she remembered what it was like to have him pressing her up against the wall, his cock grinding into her pelvis.
“I can smell your perfume,” he whispered. “It’ll tide me over till I can taste you.”
The phone went dead, and Mairi grudgingly placed hers on the coffee table. She couldn’t believe what they’d done, and how easily she’d gotten off. Embarrassing, she thought as she snuggled deep into the cushions. But it had been so good, and so sexy. What she wouldn’t give for the sight of Bran stroking himself.
With a smile, she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.
Hours later, the morning sun crept in through the patio door, blinding her. She stretched, realizing she had spent the night on the couch. The phone rang, and she practically fell off, trying to reach it.
One word came to mind. Bran.
“Hello?”
“Well, aren’t you breathless?”
“Oh, hi, Rowan, just waking up.”
“Just? Girl, it’s noon.”
Mairi glanced out the patio door and squinted from the sunlight. “Really? I feel like I just got to sleep.”
“Well, I have something that’s going to wake you up.”
“What’s that?”
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