“You presumptuous ass,” she sputtered, slipping off the desk to stand beside it, cutting him with her glare. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Wide shoulders shrugged casually, the muscles shifting with a predatory grace beneath the fine white linen of his shirt. “The answer to that is easy, Té. I’m the man who’s going to be fucking you. The only man who’s going to be fucking you. So you can just call back and cancel whatever the hell it is you think you’re doing tomorrow night.”
Her mouth opened and closed twice before she said, “No.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “What do you mean, no?”
“I meant it just like it sounded. You can’t dictate to me where I go and with whom. And there’s no way in hell I’m canceling tomorrow night. It’s important.”
“Then I’ll be going with you.”
She crossed her arms before her still damp chest in a mutinous stance. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”
“I dinna give a fuck where you’re going,” he stated implacably, that fascinating muscle jerking in his tight jaw, dark eyes glowing as they reflected the light of the flames. “The only thing that matters is that you’re going with me.”
She watched him with her large, shimmering eyes, blinking slowly. “I can say no. After that stunt you pulled back there and your seriously aggravating attitude, I should say no.”
“But you willna do it.”
Her eyes narrowed in surprise at his cool, male confidence, her expression completely transfixed. With her lips barely moving, she managed to ask, “And why is that?”
“Because you know damn well that I didna have anything to do with what happened back there, but mostly because you want me just as badly as I want you. Can you honestly tell me that you dinna want me to fuck you? That you’ve no’ thought about what it’ll be like between us? What it’ll be like to have my cock crammed up tight in your little cunt, and us grinding each other raw?”
She frowned, giving him her best dirty look, but he just laughed softly, the dark sound warm and deep, like slow, thick, melting molasses. It did all kinds of wickedly heated things to her insides, not to mention her quivering pussy. Jesus, at this rate, her panties were going to end up a great sopping mess.
Her attraction to him was undeniable, despite what Evan had revealed to her this evening. She still didn’t know what to make of that wild tale. It was unbelievable—and yet, she somehow believed.
And God help her, she still wanted him. If that wasn’t a sign she had it bad, she didn’t know what was.
What Evan had claimed seemed impossible, but looking at him, Té knew she believed it. It was there in every relentless line of his body, the reined animal just waiting to be set free.
A wolf, Evan had claimed. Kieran McKendrick could actually shift into a deadly beast—an animal. It should have terrified her, but instead she felt the fascination burning like a hot little ball of fire in her belly, spreading warmth and eagerness through her system. Was it the taste of the forbidden that had her so intrigued, or the simple fact that she was completely knocked out by the gorgeous stud standing before her, looking at her like he wanted to eat her up, piece by piece?
A predator preparing to pounce.
According to Evan, his skin became covered in a gleaming, silky, blue-black fur when he changed, the length depending on how far he let the change progress. His eyes would bleed to a brilliant metallic silver, glowing, and his teeth would lengthen into a deadly set of fangs that could pierce and rip with the ease of any deadly carnivore. A snout would transform his nose and mouth, again depending on how much of the change he allowed, and his already muscle-ripped, mouthwatering physique would gain near a foot in height, muscles expanding with unbelievable, savage power and strength.
Evan had shivered during the telling, a wicked spark of mischief firing her gray eyes. “Actually,” she’d said with a smile, “I think it all sounds kinda sexy. I wonder if Lach could—oh, never mind.”
Té had laughed and told her she was warped, and then spent the rest of the time getting dressed wondering what it would be like to be taken, to be ravished, to be consumed by a man as wild and wicked as Kieran McKendrick.
Hell, who was she trying to fool? She wanted him bad, even with a freaking curse or two on his sexy head.
“You want me,” he repeated, his words eerily mirroring her thoughts. It was a statement. A fact. Not something he was putting up for argument.
But she wasn’t ready to let him win. “No,” she whispered, unwilling to admit to him what she’d only recently been able to admit to herself. Something told her that giving in would be the wrong move, because this was a guy who would take the power and run hard and fast with it, never giving it back. “You’re wrong.”
Kieran couldn’t stop the slow smile of anticipation from settling across his face, the animal in him enjoying her challenge. There was something about her that tempted him, called to him, made him—hungry. Yeah, that was it. Thinking about her was like thinking about a feast, one prepared specifically for his pleasure, on which he could dine for an eternity and still not get enough.
He took another step toward her, maneuvering her right where he wanted as she back-stepped to keep from touching him. “You’re lying, lass. And you’re no’ verra good at it.”
“Like hell,” she said with as much conviction as she could assemble, and yet, she knew her look was questioning. How could he read her so well? God, please don’t let him be able to read my mind. She was going to be such a goner if he caught so much as a glimpse of the things she’d like to be doing to his gorgeous bod. Hell, even she was shocked, and they were her fantasies.
One strong hand reached toward her face, cradling her jaw, and she tried not to melt at the exquisite touch of his warm palm, the latent strength she could feel just beneath the hot surface of his skin, the slightly rough scrape of his calluses against the softness of her flesh. He may be a man, a Warlock, of extraordinary power, but he was still a man. A man who worked with his hands. Who had molded his body into a thing of beauty and power. A man who was obviously not afraid of hard work. A man, who as a high-ranking Council soldier, had vowed to protect others with his life.
A man who could make her completely forget why she didn’t want a man.
He cradled her face, his expression intense, as if he could see straight into her soul, straight down to the pool of need bubbling to life in her core, gathering like rich cream between her thighs. The corner of his mouth twitched as he took a slow, deep breath, his thumb moving out to stroke the fullness of her lush lower lip.
“You’re wasting your breath lying to me, sweetheart. I can smell the way your little pussy is going all warm and wet, melting for me, just waiting for the moment my mouth will eat into it.”
Her lips thinned, teeth grinding. “That’s not possible.”
She watched through lowered lids as his head cocked slightly to the side, smile twisting into a look of carnal speculation that made her womb contract, her pussy swell with the need to feel him right there, hard and solid and strong, stretching her so wonderfully wide.
“For a mortal, no. But then I’m no’ mortal, love.”
Her brow lifted in imitation of his annoying, if not sexy expression. “Have I mentioned that I don’t like arrogant men, even if they are Warlocks?”
His lips twitched again, slowly twisting into a grin of unfairly sexy proportions. “Well, your lips say one thing, lass,” he said, his seductive voice lowered to a husky whisper as his other hand moved to settle onto her lower belly. “But your little cunt says another.”
She jolted at the wicked word on those sinful lips, her face flushing with heat while her body responded with surprising speed, going liquid and soft, liking it…a lot. No one had ever spoken to her this way. Not even Lexi, whose language had been rawer than any of the fledgling men from her youth. She hadn’t really understood the attraction of such words, until she could both watch and hear as they slipped from that heav
enly mouth that surely belonged to a devil.
And he knew it. The smoldering heat in his eyes told her he knew just what his voice and language did to her.
“Are you reading my mind?” she demanded in a breathless rush, eyes bright with fury.
“Nae.” He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring, eyes dilated with desire. “I can smell it on you—your need.”
“No,” she whispered, willing it to be untrue.
He leaned closer and drawled in a husky rasp, “You’re wasting your breath, beautiful. I can smell the way your little piece grows warm and wet, making those tight little panties slick, every single time you set eyes on me.”
His fingers contracted, massaging her stomach as it cramped with need, the edge of his pinky finger nearly grazing her mound. Suddenly there were too many damn clothes between them, and she wondered what he’d do if she just lifted her skirt and shoved his hand between her trembling thighs, proving that every wicked word he’d drawled was true.
He leaned closer, surrounding her with his heat and that smoky, male scent that made her head feel fuzzy with lust. She licked her lips, and tried to concentrate.
“Would you like to hear what it’s telling me?”
“Not particularly,” she said in a halting rush, a small gasp escaping her parted lips.
“Tough, because I think you need to hear it. You want me. You want me so damn bad you can hardly stand it.”
“No,” she sighed, grimacing at the wistful sound of her voice, wondering why she was still bothering to deny something so blatantly obvious.
The corner of his wicked mouth twitched at her tone, the pad of his thumb pressing purposefully into the pouting flesh of her lower lip. “You’re lying again, lass. And it isna nice to lie.”
Chapter Six
Everything happened in a bewildering, spellbinding blur of movement and sound. One second she’d been telling him to go to hell for calling her a liar, and the next thing she knew, his hot, corded length was plastered against her, his big hands hard on her ass as he ground her up against a mouthwatering erection. With long, purposeful strides, he carried her to one of the immense chairs before the fire, covering her the instant her backside hit the warm burgundy leather beneath her. And then the lean line of his hips was pressing between her legs, forcing her thighs to part while his strong hands held her upper arms in a biting grip and his mouth…
God, his mouth.
His mouth attacked her in ways she’d only read about in books, warm lips moving against her own with torrid intent, slashing from one angle to another, testing and retesting their fit until he found the one allowing him the deepest penetration. He tasted like wine and blazing lust, deliciously addictive, his tongue rubbing past her lips in blatant imitation of the immense, pants-covered ridge stroking the apex of her thighs. It was a voluptuous tangle of hungers and textures, scratchy jaw against baby smooth skin, the soft roughness of his tongue stroking sleek, moist tissues, teeth nipping into the vulnerable fullness of her lower lip.
Her body was on fire, so damn hot she expected to start smoking at any second, combusting into scalding flames beneath the carnal mastery of his seductive mouth and the delicious press of his heavy, very aroused male body.
How in the hell had she gotten to this point?
Where had she gone wrong?
Damn it, she’d been so certain she could resist him, and now look at her.
Tumbling headfirst into the sexual abyss he ripped open at her feet, Té moaned a throaty plea of surging need, tangling her tongue with his. She battled for control and finally won, sucking greedily at the tip the exact way she’d been dying to do to the head of his cock. Slow, deep pulls that had him shouting into her mouth, an answering cry slipping through her sex, leaving her liquid and soft.
Kieran shuddered and tore his hot face away, only to push it instantly into her crotch, knowing he couldn’t walk away if his life depended on it. He pressed closer, burrowing into the warm, sweet crease at the top of her thighs, just wanting to eat her alive. Humid warmth met his hungry, passion-dazed senses, spiced with the rich, honeyed scent of her cream, and he began to wonder if a Warlock could actually die from lust. His cock throbbed like an angry beast within the confines of his pants, feeling as if it would simply explode from the mounting pressure, while the remembered taste of her mouth continued to devastate his senses.
And her scent. Saephus, he just wanted to lap at her like a dog. Just shove his muzzle into her delectable pussy and gorge himself on every single delicate inch of her pink flesh. Wanted to rub his face into her warm, slick folds, his tongue stroking her swollen, creamy slit in long, hungry licks. Wanted it spearing into the exquisite clench of her inner muscles, fucking her with deep, greedy strokes until she flooded into him, filling him with her lush, salty-sweet juices.
“Gods,” he groaned, the heat from the fire blazing against his back while she seared his front. He nudged the damp fabric of her skirt with his nose, wishing he could have her naked and spread open, his thumbs spreading her lips so wide that her little slit pulled apart and he could look up into her clinging depths. Wanted to search with his eyes what he knew he might never be able to have with his cock, just so he could keep the memory burned into his brain for eternity, engrained on his desperate senses.
This was so ironic, that he’d found a woman who made him finally feel more than any other creature he’d ever known—who made him understand how a man could utterly commit himself to one person for the entirety of his life with absolute abandon and joy, giving all that he was because without her he’d be nothing—and he couldn’t have her.
He was ruined for any other woman now. But, fuck, what did it matter? He didn’t want another woman. What he wanted was Té Hayes. Every little mouthwatering inch of her. There was a fire inside the headstrong American—a brilliant spark of incandescent light—and it called to him like a moth to a flame.
He forced her sweet thighs wider and bit at her cloth-trapped pussy, swearing he could taste her juices in the damp cotton as his big hands grabbed her knees and wrenched them even wider. He could hear her shallow breathing over his low, rumbling groans, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair, but she didn’t push him away. She simply held on, as if he were her anchor in a world spinning too quickly out of control.
“I just want to fucking eat you alive,” he grunted, the wet, slippery feel of her pussy through the thin skirt nearly driving him insane. “Bite by bite. So bloody hot. Sweet. Delicious.” The words were short, sharp blasts of sound, so ragged they seemed torn from the depths of hell.
He had to have this. At least this, damn it, he thought as he lifted his head and ground his mouth into hers again, demanding she open for him with a ruthless, savage pressure that he knew would leave her pink lips swollen and bee-stung. His hands caught her behind the knees and he lifted her legs, hooking them over the wide arms of the antique chair, while his mouth ate at hers, desperate in its need.
And all the while, his cock throbbed—a painful ache that spread through his groin, poisoning his blood. The blunt head was wet with surging blasts of pre-cum as drops spilled from the narrow slit, so fucking hot and full, he wondered at how it didn’t simply pump itself into his pants—but then he remembered.
The curse.
He wouldn’t come until he was buried hard and deep inside of warm, wet cunt, and the one he wanted was right here, drenched and so ready he couldn’t resist.
“Kieran…no! I can’t—” she panted when he began to gather the long folds of her skirt in his powerful fist, twisting the light fabric around his clenched hand, the long, sinewy length of his body shuddering, heat blasting against her in overpowering waves of sexual hunger and frustration.
“Please,” he groaned against her parted lips. “Please, Té. Just give me this. Let me feel you. I bet you’re so fucking hot and sweet, you’ll burn me alive.”
His eager hand slipped beneath her skirt to find her wet panties and he groaned like a man in an agony
of need, cupping her throbbing sex completely within his calloused palm. “Oh hell…you feel so…fucking amazing,” he gritted through his clenched teeth as he buried his dark head between her quivering, cotton-covered breasts, his words halting and harsh.
Her knees dangled over the wooden arms of the chair, helpless in her pinned position, and he could have howled at the need to lift the loose fabric of her skirt and rip the soft cotton of her panties completely away so he could stare down at her naked flesh, spreading her lush, liquid folds until he could watch the juices flowing from her pink little cunt. But he didn’t trust himself with the dangerous visual, so he focused on his other senses, and found them just as deadly to his control.
With deep, panting breaths, he took in the rich, heady perfume of her arousal, nearly drunk on her scent. There was a desperation in his soul to explore the tender folds beneath his fingers with lips and tongue and teeth, until there was no part of her sweet pussy that failed to recognize his ownership—his claim—his possession.
He wanted to feel the shy, nestled slit bloom with pleasure, to feel the grip of her inner muscles as he fucked her with his thrusting tongue and felt her mouthwatering juices flood into his throat. The feral idea of simply eating his way through the crotch of her miniscule underwear, right up into the core of her cunt, was a powerful, painful cramp in his gut—as if he were poisoned and only the tender release of her rich cream bursting over his taste buds could soothe his demons, easing the ache.
He’d had so many different types of women in his life—all that he’d ever wanted or needed—but whatever pleasure he’d taken with a woman before proved a pathetic comparison to the smooth, silky lips spreading beneath his fingers as he deftly slipped his hand down the front of her bikini briefs. She felt so sweet. So delicate. A hot, voluptuous heaven of tight flesh and slick juices, the tips of his fingers moving easily around her puffy vulva to the swollen mouth of her vagina, dipping gently inside, swirling in her syrupy cream.
She felt so perfectly his.
A Bite of Magick Page 9