“Just cards,” Sín repeated scornfully, turning to face him. “Then what am I, Gerry O’Keith? Am I a card?”
“Hardly,” he replied, “although what you really are I am at a loss to explain.”
“Precisely, sir,” she said, stepping closer to him. “And yet, you have touched me, kissed me, tasted me. Am I less than flesh and blood?” The memory of their last encounter filled Gerry’s mind, bringing back the softness of her skin, the heat of her mouth.
“I don’t know what you are,” he said. “I don’t even know what you represent. I mean – you must be hundreds of years old, if you’re the same woman that is mentioned in those old tales I read, and yet...” His voice trailed off.
“Do I seem as if I am hundreds of years old, Gerry? Look at me,” she said, twirling around on her long, lissome legs. “Do I look hundreds of years old? Did I taste like a dried up old crone to you, sir?” She stood in front of him.
“No,” he said quietly. “You look young and beautiful and strong and...” his voice tapered off, unwilling to complete his thoughts.
“And irresistible?” she said, looking into his eyes.
“Yes,” Gerry O’Keith said. “You are irresistible.” He looked away, breaking the spell of her gaze. “So,” he continued, “what did you mean about the true power of the cards? What is the secret of the Tarot of the Acolyte?”
“Ah, what indeed?” She stepped a little closer to him, scanning his face. “Tarot is a representation of the sojourn through the trials and challenges of life, and the secret of success is based on the combination of the tools you use to navigate the pathway.”
“O.k.,” he said, not quite convinced. “And what might those ‘tools’ be, eh?” She laughed at his scepticism, her eyes twinkling at the challenge.
“The tools I speak of are three in number,” she said. “‘Head’ would be the first, sir, meaning the knowledge stored and wisdom learned, and the ability to bring these into use at the appropriate time. Second would be ‘Heart’, meaning all of the feelings and emotions the body knows and experiences, and which allow us to temper our deeds to succeed at the cause in hand.” She paused, watching him as he tried to assimilate her meaning.
“And third?” he asked, looking into her eyes.
“Third, sir,” she said, “is what you might term ‘Hand’, and which means the physical skills and strength needed to...”
“Succeed at the cause in hand,” he said, interrupting her. “So, Head and Heart and Hand. How nicely alliterative.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, ignoring his sarcasm. “The Threefold Path, or the True Way, or, as the Roma would have it, the Tatcho Drom.”
“Ah ha,” he said. “It seems so simple, but I bet there’s a catch in there somewhere, right? And where do you fit in to this Threefold Path, my little Queen of Storms?”
“Alas, you have chosen not to learn that part of the mystery, Gerry O’Keith. Our time together is over, and you must find another guide through this part of the journey, if that is possible.”
“Wait,” he said, suddenly alarmed at the prospect of her leaving. “You cannot go! I won’t allow it!” She laughed in his face and, as she did so, a rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.
“You, my friend, have no power over me! I come and go as I please, not Gerry O’Keith!” She turned away from him and walked towards the door, throwing her cloak around her shoulders as she went.
“Oh, don’t I, Sín?” he said. She froze as he pronounced her name, a hiss of anger escaping through her lips.
“I warned you, O’Keith, about the power of a name! Did you not believe me?” she said without turning around.
“Oh, I believe you, Sín,” he said, and watched as her back straightened and her shoulders shook, but whether in fury, or some other emotion, he could not tell.
“Be very careful, sir,” the Queen of Storms said through clenched teeth. “You know not what you are dealing with.” The thought crossed his mind, just then, that maybe she was right – he didn’t know what he was dealing with, but, then, he’d come too far to stop now.
“True, Sín, true!” Not knowing what to expect, he braced himself for some furious assault, but, instead, his fear changed to wonder as she slowly turned around to face him, a smile of what appeared to be pure happiness spreading across her face. He watched as she demurely curtsied before him, then looked longingly into his eyes.
“What is it that my master desires of me?” she asked timidly, almost adoringly. The change in her demeanour had him not a little puzzled, and he cautiously put out his hand and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his finger. Again, he felt the dewy smoothness of her skin, its gentle warmth radiating into his hand. And what is it you want of her, Gerry? he thought, and still he could not answer. Perhaps, just one night, to shrieve my soul of its desire for her? To learn what I can, and then send her on her way? Just one night!
He stepped a little closer to her, scanning her eyes for any sign of anger or betrayal, but all he saw was desire, echoed in the way her lips quivered as he neared her. Fuck me! he thought. Is that all it took to tame the Queen of Storms? He couldn’t believe it was seemingly so easy, and neither could his prick as it hardened in his shorts!
“What is it your master desires of you?” he repeated, looking her up and down. “So submissive, eh, my little Queen of Storms? Aren’t submissives supposed to be naked?”
“Submissive, master?” she queried. “I am not familiar with the term.”
“Remove your clothes, Sín,” he said, not expecting for an instant that she would comply with his command, but, to his surprise, and with a willing smile on her face, she slowly started to remove her clothing. Piece by piece, she undid the cords and knots that held her garb in place, and dropped them onto the floor, until she stood before him, totally naked. Gerry stood there in silence, his throat tightening and his hardness throbbing at the vision before him. While her skin was as pale as alabaster, her body was exquisitely formed – tall and lithe and muscular, with a long, slender neck leading down to strong, rounded shoulders; a full, broad chest sporting her firm, high breasts with their dark red nipples, hardening as he watched them; a tapered abdomen, showing off the chiselled muscles of her stomach wall, widening at her hips; and a small, tidy triangle of hair that invitingly pointed the way down to the warm wetness of her vulva. She smiled as she observed the effect her nakedness had on him, while he continued to stare at her, taking in every detail of her exquisite perfection, a hunger to devour her, emotionally and physically, growing more insistent with every passing second.
“Do you see something you like, master?” she asked ingenuously, a smirk playing on her lips. “You suddenly seem a little...distracted.”
“Like?” he said, inhaling deeply. “Mm, I’m not sure ‘like’ is the word I would use to describe what I am feeling. I am not really sure what I am feeling, to be honest.”
“And why is that, sir?” she asked coyly. “Is there something about my appearance that displeases my master? Please tell me, so I can correct any deficiencies.”
Without warning, he put his arm out and grabbed her by the back of her head, then pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. She responded immediately, her lips parting to give his rampant tongue access to hers, the heat of her lips melding with his. On and on they kissed, their bodies closing the space between them until they were wrapped together, his hands caressing the dewy smoothness of her silken skin, squeezing the exquisite firmness of her bottom, pushing her vulva against the straining mound of inflamed man-flesh still entrapped within his shorts. His nose inhaled the growing sweet scents of her arousal, filling his lungs with their passionate message, and his mind exploded with visions of wild, storm-wracked forests and tall-grassed meadows freshened with warm summer rains, through which he and Sín ran, naked, making love.
Breaking their embrace, he swept his arm around her legs and lifted her off her feet, then carried her through to the bedroom at the back of the cott
age. Throwing her down roughly on the unmade bed, he literally tore off the clothes he was wearing, then clambered up beside her, his mouth retaking possession of hers, as his hands sought the firmness of her waiting breasts. Mercilessly he squeezed and tugged at her nipples, feeling them heat up and harden as she writhed beneath his touch. Nibbling her lip, he broke their kiss, his mouth gently caressing the skin of her neck, as he worked his way down to gorge himself on her breasts – alternating with mouth and hand between them, tasting again the subtle flavour of her skin’s secretions, feeling her body squirm and gyrate, as her essences filled his mind with a powerful, insistent longing.
Outside the cottage, some way in the distance, the rumble of thunder made its way towards them, but Gerry was too engrossed in his passions to pay any attention to the sudden change in the weather. Sín moaned beneath him, her body pulsating and trembling with pleasure, as her master, slowly, oh, so slowly, ate his way lovingly down to the heart of her sex. He’d paused at her navel, to dip his tongue in there, and nipped and licked at her sinuous abs, and now he was poised, with her yoni in vision, to sample and savour the full sweetness within. She watched him through eyes almost closed with arousal, as he took in the beautiful sight of her wanting, waiting cunt.
He took hold of her thighs just behind her knees, and lifted and pushed them up and apart, exposing and expanding the delightful flower within. Her pale outer labia spread gently open, showing the dusky pink inner lips of her yoni, glistening now with the juices of arousal, warmly inviting his tongue to a taste. At their apex, the hard, reddened nub of her clitoris seemed to glow with the enticing heat of her fire, luring the watering mouth of her master down to eat. Gerry watched, entranced, as a small drop of fluid escaped from her cunt and ran down and over the pretty pink pucker of her anus, the lump in his throat making it almost impossible for him to swallow.
Slowly he lowered his head down to inhale a lungful of Sín’s sweet aromas, then his tongue delved between her succulent lips, stroking across the dark entrance of her cunt and running over her sensitive, juice-laden skin, soaking up her delicious, tangy secretions. Carefully he sucked one of her labia into his mouth, then tugged it with his teeth, causing her to gasp and shudder as ripples of ecstasy ran through her. Then he covered her hot, red clitoris with his lips and sucked it hard, releasing a deep growl from the depths of her lungs.
“Is that good for you, dear?” he asked, looking up between her thighs at her rolling head.
“Oh, yes, master,” she moaned again, as Gerry continued to suck and nip her clit, her juices running over his chin, too copious now for his mouth to consume. Gently he tickled the wet sphincter of her anus with the tip of his finger, then, dropping his tongue to delve deep into her sex, he simultaneously slid his finger deep into her ass, causing her to buck on the bed, mashing her vulva into his face, as she shrieked his name. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder rolled, as the Queen of Storms hit an orgasmic peak, but Gerry was so engrossed in his sexual prowess, he barely registered the storm at all. As the thunder rumbled away, and Sín lay trembling on the bed, he sat back on his haunches and let her legs stretch out. Licking her juices from around his mouth, he looked at the emotions crossing her face, her eyes closed as she enjoyed her afterglow. He took in the darkening pinkness of her hardened nipples, and the contours of her abs as they rippled with aftershocks, each of which was accompanied by a rumble of thunder somewhere in the distance.
“Are you enjoying the view, master?” Sín’s voice, husky with arousal, drew his attention from her body to her face. Her blue eyes twinkled, and her lips smiled at him, drawing him closer. Sitting up, she put out her arm and stroked his face, bringing him to her so she could kiss him, savouring the flavour of her sex on his lips. Gerry climbed up and across the bed, laying her down again, and then lying beside her, their arms enclosing each other. As they kissed, her hand drifted down to his manhood, swollen and hard and seeking attention. Gently she coddled his balls, squeezing them, milking them, feeding their contents into his body, where he could feel the insistence of oncoming orgasm building. Pushing him onto his back, she straddled him carefully, positioning herself just above his throbbing, waiting cock.
“Is this what my master wants?” she asked, seeking in his eyes for one final confirmation. He returned her gaze with commanding candour.
“Yes, Sín, my mistress, this is what I want,” he replied. She smiled in response, then, holding his wrists down on the bed, she positioned her hot, dripping sex over the head of his expectant hardness, and, eyes closed and mouth open in quivering passion, slowly, so slowly, inch by rigid inch, so long it seemed to him that his manhood must have grown, she lowered herself onto him, engulfing his pulsating need in the furnace that was the cunt of the Sidhe witch-queen.
Gerry cried out in surprise as the heat from her insides seared along his sensitised skin. While he remembered the passionate warmth of her mouth, this was a new, higher level of heat altogether, and he squirmed underneath her as she filled herself with his hardness, the tightness if her yoni gripping him strongly. She growled with satisfaction as his balls hit her ass, and lingered a moment, gyrating her clit against his body. Then, just as slowly, she pulled herself up his shaft, and the air of the room seemed frigid as it wrapped itself around the wetness of his freshly exposed skin.
Leaning forward, she kissed him again, and descended once more along his tingling prick, their mouths clamped together like voracious animals, feral with hunger and need for each other. Quickly she worked herself into a rhythm, rising and falling, her thigh muscles flexing with strength and vitality with each consumption of his cock. Gerry could feel his hardness burning and swelling with each passing minute, pumping as hard as he could into her furnace. When their mouths came apart from the effort of fucking, he gasped in huge lungful’s of sweet sex-scented air, but Sín dropped her head down the side his face, and rode on his manhood as if she were riding a thunderous horse, moaning deeply, and muttering sensually in a language he did not know. Thunder now rolled almost constantly around the cottage, as if they were in the centre of a deepening maelstrom, but all Gerry could pay heed to was the passion rippling through his pre-orgasmic flesh. His mind was a blur of her flavours and touches, his groin a conflagration of her consuming fire. So engrossed was he in his rapidly approaching sexual explosion, he didn’t notice the smooth, subtle change in her grip on his wrists, didn’t notice the strange tendrils of willow vines that slowly stretched out from that quaint rustic headboard to gently wrap themselves surreptitiously around his extended forearms – once, twice, thrice – and then looped through themselves, making their eldritch knots. With eyes closed and mouth open, his body bucked against the plunges of the Queen of Storms, grinding against her in ragged arousal, while she raised her head now, to watch her willing victim as he stumbled on to orgasm.
Suddenly, she rose up, majestic, unbridled, screaming his name, as orgasm ripped through her. With her head thrown back, she yelled out in Gaelic, a sharp cry of triumph, and, as she did so, the lightning responded. A brilliant blue bolt hit the roof of the cottage directly above them, blasting a hole through, and showering the couple with glittering sparks. Opening his eyes and seeing the cinder-ringed hole, Gerry screamed loudly, trying to warn her, but Sín only laughed at him, and slid off his cock and coiled over his legs, holding them down as her mouth found his hardness and sucked on its head.
Panicking like a cornered wild animal, Gerry tried to buck and kick her off, but then found that he couldn’t move his arms. He looked at the knots of the vines around his wrists, and suddenly felt a sick, hollow feeling, as fear seeped into his brain.
“You fucking witch!” he yelled at the fiend as she fellated him, but she responded by sinking her teeth again and again into the head of his rapidly shrinking prick. “Sín, please don’t do this,” he pleaded, and, for a moment, perhaps, maybe she relented, lifting her head to smile at his face.
“Not afraid of a little thunderstorm, are you?” she quipp
ed, then returned her attention to sucking his cock.
“Fuck you, you demon,” he screamed at her. “Sín! Sín! Sín!” he cried out in quick succession, trying to regain control of the Sidhe, but she threw back her head, blood drooling from the corners of her mouth, and yelled out in Gaelic – and the lightning yelled back! With ear-splitting thunder, a bolt blasted the cottage, striking the old wooden beam directly above the bed. Like a deer caught in some monstrous headlights, Gerry O’Keith watched in fascinated terror as, almost in slow motion, the beam shook, crackled, splintered and, snapping apart, fell down like some hideous, malformed flame-engulfed javelin, and pierced him through the solar plexus, pinning him to the bed.
Suddenly, it seemed to Gerry as if everything went quiet. If he’d been expecting pain, he was surprised to find there was none. His head fell back on the bed, and he watch in fascination as flames spread along the rafters, catching on the piles of dry dust and cobwebs, licking the old, seasoned wood with a hungry fury. His face felt cold then, and he realised that rain was pouring through the hole in the roof directly above his head and, just for an instant, he felt a flash of hope that all might not be lost.
“Ah, Gerry, Gerry, Gerry! Are you feeling shriven yet, master?” As she spoke his name for the third time, he felt something loosen in his brain – almost like a popping feeling. He couldn’t move his head, but he turned his eyes to look at her standing by the side of the bed, blood still trickling from the corner of her lips. She smiled at him, and spoke. “Blathach and blood, Gerry,” she said. “My two favourite flavours, remember?”
If he could have seen, he would have noticed the flush of colour that enriched her silken skin – no longer ashen white, but a warmer, rosier tone. He would have seen the look of curiosity on her face as she watched his body jerk and twist on the bed. He would also have seen a hand of flame flicker around her breast, making her tremble and sigh in arousal as its fingers tweaked her nipple. Then she shrugged the fire-demon away, and slowly headed for the flame-ringed doorway. Pausing, she turned to take one final, wistful look at her hapless victim, a wry smile playing across her engorged, blood-red lips.
Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance Page 192