Could swallow the length of a man in.
Was a rare one of those
Could suck golf-balls through hose,
And make men shoot off loads like cannons.
Indeed, far and wide, chaps were braggin’
Of how after her blows they were saggin’.
But I sadly report
Tha her life was cut short
When one gave her the ol’ angry dragon.”
The men roared with laughter at that one.
“Damn and I was aboot to ask for her number,” Eògan joked.
“What’s the ‘ol’ angry dragon’?” Miko asked in confusion.
“Ever seen someone laugh so hard tha milk shot out their nose, bud?” Ciaran offered, waiting for that image to form in Miko’s mind and realization to sweep over his features.
Miko covered his mouth as he burst out laughing. “Dude, you are so frigging wrong.”
Ciaran grinned as a fresh bottle of whisky was quickly passed down the line to him. “And another cautionary tale, gents. Tragedy can strike at any time, go easy on the girls. Let’em up for air, lest ya suffocate them,” he joked, still trying to avoid Skye’s gaze.
“Well played,” she admitted before leaning closer and saying in a feigned confidential tone. “Oh, and by the way? Your cheeks are looking a bit rosy, in case you were wondering.”
The men were knocking on the table excitedly again, cheering not only the latest lewd rhyme, but also Skye’s goading.
“Aw... those be fightin’ words!” Ailean taunted.
“Ya gotta make the lass blush now, or forever give up your title,” Latharn teased.
Ciaran smiled devilishly, knowing exactly how to accomplish it.
His eyes flicked up to Taran’s, asking for permission and receiving a discrete nod from his brother in response.
Go time.
“Man’s name?” Ciaran asked.
“Wait, wait! We need to place bets first,” Drostan insisted. “I’ve 200 says he makes her blush and close her eyes,” he said and slapped the bills down on the table to a chorus of ‘ooh’s from the crowd. He knew Ciaran well and had not missed the exchange between him and Taran.
“450 says she smiles and even arches a brow, but still she does nah give him a blush,” Lorcán called, stretching to toss his money down.
After another few moments of this, and with a heaping pile of money in the middle of the table, Latharn nodded that they were ready. “I think it should be a new subject. He’s had entirely too much time to consider the current one,” he suggested and the men all agreed that this was a valid point.
Ciaran locked eyes with Skye. “Subject?” He asked the group.
The sound of a chair being pushed back across the floor caused the men to turn.
Eògan stood, clearing his throat to give a proper introduction for his suggestion. “A personal favorite of so many our kind, and one I’m told Taran and Skye busted a Jaguar partaking in just last night,” he began and the men whistled and howled in approval. “The one, the only, the incomparable: doggy style,” he declared.
All of them leaned forward hopefully, searching for even the slightest hint of a change in Skye’s complexion at the mention of her and Taran’s Jag-totaling tryst. Alas, it was a no go.
“Name?” Ciaran challenged, smiling and licking his lips as his wicked mind got to work.
“Susan,” Drostan said, turning to the other men and offering, “Hey, I’m just giving the ones that bet against Ciaran a fighting chance. Who knows? Perhaps the ‘S’ name will throw him off.”
“Ready?” Ciaran asked her. His eyes were now smoldering with lust.
Skye was suddenly hit with the realization that her cheeks were not going to stand a chance.
“Give it your best shot,” she said with false bravado. She was definitely unprepared for him to lean forward and snake his hand behind her head.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her toward him as Taran released her. He pressed his mouth to her ear through her hair, panting between lines and whispering low enough for it to be their little secret:
“This will nah be about Susan,
For it’s nah her tha I’ll soon be bruisin’.
Once I get consent,
O’er a bed you’ll be bent,
And I promise your voice you’ll be losin’.”
Her eyes rolled closed of their own accord in response to his low tone, as well as the images his words brought to mind. The room erupted in both cheers and boos as her cheeks turned a lovely shade of scarlet.
“Closed eyes and a blush! Oh, pay the man!” Drostan declared victoriously, holding out his hand and awaiting his winnings.
“And the Pornographic Prince retains his title,” Latharn laughed.
Ciaran pressed his lips to her cheek, leaving them to linger for a moment before he backed away. He took a long swig from his bottle as he triumphantly inspected the results of his work. When Skye opened her eyes, those yellow storms were raging. He could hear her heart thundering in her chest. Catching the scent of her arousal, he met her starved gaze and ran his tongue across his lips provocatively.
“And this is what happens when we give the cheeky wee bastard a limitless supply of whisky,” Taran laughed as she leaned back against him and tried to regain her composure.
34: A Gift
They kept up at this same pace well into the early (or ‘wee’ as she caught herself thinking) hours of the morning. She only decided to call it a night when she looked over and found Miko leaning heavily against his chair, fighting desperately to keep his eyes open. He was at an extreme disadvantage due to his status as a mortal. The alcohol was affecting him far sooner than the others. He had held his own, though, and earned a great deal of respect in the process. The men all commended him for his performance, insisting that were they still mortal, they would have collapsed hours earlier. As the group began to disperse, Eògan and Ailean helped Skye get him up to his room. Taran took the opportunity to catch Ciaran alone.
“Goodnight, Miko,” Skye whispered to the murmuring mortal as she pulled his blankets up over his shoulders. After Eògan and Ailean left, she sat on the edge of the bed and studied him. He looked so peaceful and childlike when he slept. She ran her fingers lightly through his Mohawk, smiling as he muttered incoherently in response. He rolled his head against her hand, seeking out more of the comfort. She had no clue why she was even providing it. The same feelings she experienced for him on the plane washed over her once more. She sighed and shook her head.
Damned if I don’t really care for this menace, she thought.
And how could she not? He was carefree and playful, maintaining an air of innocence that belied all that he had endured. She envied his ability to remain as he did. She wanted to protect it – to ensure that the hardships of life never took it away from him.
“Ah,” Taran whispered from the doorway.
She looked up at him in surprise, shifting guiltily wondering how long he had been standing there.
“Now tha, my love, is a very different type of look in your eye,” he observed as he approached.
She smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, well... don’t tell anyone,” she whispered back.
He chuckled before standing behind her and resting a hand on her shoulder. They stayed in silence for a long while, and Taran marveled at what he was seeing in her.
“Is it difficult for ya?” He finally asked. “To feel such things as this?”
She leaned back against him and considered her response as she continued watching Miko.
“It is,” she finally admitted tearfully. “Terribly difficult and painful. It’s... risky... letting people get so close. I don’t know if I’m ready to take so many risks.”
He kissed the top of her head and smiled when she gazed up at him.
“Well, wee one, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but life is all aboot taking risks. If ya cut others off, ya can nah enjoy living. Ya need to feel,” he said softly, tracing his fingertips down
her throat tenderly as she took a choppy breath. “And yes, sometimes tha means pain. But if ya do nah endure the bad, ya can ne’er truly appreciate the good.”
“I know,” she sighed and looked over at Miko sorrowfully. “But... if I let myself care about him... and he dies...”
“So ya live each day as if it is the last,” Taran cut in quietly. “If he passes, ya hold tight to the memories of the time ya spent with him as a friend. Death happens to all eventually – even to us. Immortal or nah, there are still ways for us to die.”
“How?” She asked gravely as she looked up at him. “How do we die?”
Taran arched a brow, tilting his head to the side and studying the sadness in her eyes. “What’s all this talk of death tonight, wee one?” He finally whispered worriedly as he ran the backs of his knuckles across her cheek.
She shrugged self-consciously and leaned into his touch.
“I don’t know. It’s just... I’m happy,” she confessed grudgingly.
“And you’re waiting for it all to go away then, is tha it?” He asked sympathetically.
She swallowed hard and nodded in response.
“Well stop thinking aboot it so much,” he instructed in a stern tone despite the warm, understanding smile on his lips. “If ya are sure it’s doomed to end, then tell yourself tha you’re simply enjoying it while it lasts.”
She smirked up at him as he took her hand in his and led her out of the room.
“How’d you get to be so wise?” She asked once he had closed the door behind them. She bumped his shoulder with hers as they walked down the hall.
“Ah, I do nah know. I think it came to me somewhere between the ages of 1200 and 1300 years,” he teased. “Maybe tha’s around the time ya will lose tha volatile temper of yours.”
“What would I do without it?” She laughed. “Life would be awfully boring without fights to keep things interesting.”
“Oh, there are always other things ya can do to occupy your time,” he said with a wink when they stopped in front of his bedroom door. “Like tonight, for example.”
She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him coyly.
“Had something in mind, did you?” She asked.
“Aye,” he purred. “I’ve a gift for ya. And I’ll be here to watch ya receive it.”
“Ooh, a gift?” She whispered with a smile and draped her arms around his neck. “What kind of gift?”
“Why don’t ya go on in and see for yourself?” He said, nipping her bottom lip and motioning for her to open the door.
She turned the handle, laughing as she entered – but freezing mid-step the second she was inside. Her surprised eyes focused on Ciaran where he stood beside the fireplace. She spun back to Taran in confusion and he laughed, kissing her cheek before closing the door.
“I told ya I’d speak with him, love,” he whispered in her ear.
“But... but...” she tried, looking over at Ciaran, then back at him nervously. “I mean... you’re... ?”
“Staying,” Taran confirmed with a wink as he took a seat and poured himself a drink.
Skye did not know how to respond to that. The surprising revelation that Taran was going to stay and watch was nerve-wracking. At the same time, it somehow added to the deep, primal lust burning inside of her. She had given Taran her heart. He was so secure in that bond that he was not the least bit threatened by her taking a lover. He wanted to watch her gaining pleasure from Ciaran. The idea of his eyes being on her as she did this was proving to be more thrilling than troubling.
But through the haze of her intensifying lust, the unspoken yet primary motive for his presence slowly dawned on her. She fought to keep the tears of appreciation from her eyes when she realized what Taran was really up to. Knowing what she had been through in her life, he wanted her to be completely certain of her safety tonight. Given how briefly she had known Ciaran, Taran knew that some part of her might still be apprehensive about trusting him so completely. Taran was staying to ensure that she felt at ease.
With her eyes glittering tearfully, she smiled and bowed her head to her mate in appreciation. That very morning, he had told her he loved her. There was no possible way to deny that fact now.
Taran inclined his head to her, knowing that she understood and appreciated his reasoning. For the sake of allowing her to save face, however, he spoke as if his interest in this event was purely sexual in nature.
“All right, Ciaran. You’re up,” he told him and motioned for the man to get on with the show.
Upon Taran’s words, Ciaran began his approach.
All Skye could do was watch with wide, shocked eyes, rendered little more than a doe in the headlights. Part of her was having an all-out nervous breakdown, demanding that she walk away from the situation...
But sweet, fluffy Lord did she want him.
She found herself expecting Ciaran to speak, to joke around with her to ease the tension. For some reason, he remained silent, uncharacteristically focused, and single-minded. He closed the distance between them slowly with his eyes flashing in the firelight. When his body was mere inches from hers, he stopped, letting his eyes pass over her face for a long moment and leaving her with a maddening desire for his touch. He merely smiled down at her, learning the intoxicating scent of her arousal for him, listening to the sound of her heart beating desperately inside her chest.
Unhurriedly, he reached a hand out to her face, ghosting his fingertips across her cheek. He watched as her eyes roll closed, her lips parting in longing. She was dizzy with need, drunk off the barely perceptible contact, and starving for more.
Finally, he leaned down to her, kissing her lips softly and sweetly, smiling at the way her body quaked in response. She was letting him lead, not rushing him along despite her frantic desire to do so. At a tortuously slow pace, he began undressing her, those beautiful blue eyes locked with hers as he moved. His lips greeted every inch of her porcelain skin as it was exposed, each kiss earning a soft moan or hiss.
Skye was not sure whether or not she would be able to remain upright through this at the rate he was going. She was soaked already and he had barely done a thing to her. She stood naked before him, strangely comfortable in her own skin despite the presence of both men. She marveled to herself that she never would have pegged Ciaran for being such a tender lover...
And of course, it was then that she spotted it – the mischief in his eyes that had been missing.
Ciaran bit his bottom lip and flashed a wicked smile, waggling his eyebrows at her. She tilted her head to the side in confusion. The instant it dawned on her that he was up to something, he dropped to his knees in front of her. She barely had time to grip his shoulders for support before he had lifted her foot from the floor, rested it on his shoulder, and went right in for the kill.
“Holy fuck!” She cried in surprise. The position that he had placed her in provided his face ample access between her thighs.
Taran could not help but laugh hearing the shock in her voice. He decided that the choice to stay for this was one of the best he had ever made. He knew that Ciaran was a wild little bastard in bed. Four millennia of friendship assured that he had been in the area during many of the man’s trysts. But watching Skye’s reaction to his antics was as comical as it was enticing.
Ciaran’s normally quick tongue proved just as dangerous in this capacity, delving deeply inside of her as she shuddered and clung to him. Her fingernails were digging into his back as she cried out, but it did not slow his assault in the least. He seemed to be on a mission – lapping, sucking, and nibbling at her delicate flesh until she no longer cared how loudly she was calling out for him. She gripped a handful of his hair; her head rolling back as she frantically tried to bring his mouth harder against her. Faster than she had thought was even possible, her body was rocking as she came, her legs trembling severely beneath her. No rest for the wicked, though. He continued his tortuous suckling in the same pulsing rhythm as the aftershocks that were hitting her.
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Dazed and swaying, she watched him stand upright in front of her and remove his clothing in record time. He lifted her up and kissed her deeply as he carried her to the bed, falling onto it atop of her and dragging her up to rest her head on the pillows. When he broke the kiss, he laughed at the stunned expression on her face and ran his fingers through her hair.
“Rested enough, then?” He asked, cocking his head to the side and biting his bottom lip again. She learned an instant later that it was his tell, it would always be a sure sign that she was in trouble.
A response had barely formed in her mind, not even having the time to reach her lips before he was sliding deeply inside of her. She cried out and clutched handfuls of the pillows overhead. The sensation of his hot skin sinking into her was somehow bringing the orgasm she had sworn was over back for a second round.
“Tha’s it... come on, love... just a li’l bit more,” he coaxed, grinding against and flexing inside of her.
The movements played her g-spot like an instrument for the soprano notes pouring from her mouth. He stared down at her, smiling as her features twisted in pleasure. Once she was looking up at him in shock again, he spoke.
“Welcome back,” he teased with a smirk. “So what d’ya think, enough playing around? Shall we get started, then?”
She whimpered in response, wondering what he was planning if this had not even counted as part of it.
Taran tried not to draw attention to himself by muffling the laughter that threatened to spill from his lips. He took a drink and continued watching in silent amusement. This was proving to be far more entertaining than he had anticipated.
Skye let out a long stream of an impressively wide array of profanities as Ciaran quickly maneuvered her body into the position he wanted. He rolled her onto her side, draping one of her legs over his shoulder but leaving the other on the bed between his thighs. The result was penetration deep enough to rob her of the power of speech. With the loss of that function, he was off.
Forming coherent thoughts became hopeless as he got to work. He reached down and squeezed her nipples roughly while his hips moved in an impossibly fast rhythm. The vague concern formed in her mind that he was going to break Taran’s bed, but it quickly dissolved when Ciaran bit down on her ankle.
Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel Page 49