Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  Between yelps, pants, moans, and the other wordless noises that she was using to communicate the phenomenal level of pleasure Ciaran was providing, she enjoyed the sight of him moving above her. There was the mischief that was still present in his striking blue eyes, even as his face twisted in ecstasy. The milky white skin. The dusting of hair across his chest attesting to how young he had been when turned. The thin line of dark hair that made up his happy trail...

  And what a trail it was. His clothes had belied the toned physique they unfairly masked from view. Then again, said physique was currently working every blessed muscle it possessed in an effort to kill her with orgasms.

  “Ooohh... d’ya feel tha?” Ciaran purred with a wicked smile. He licked his lips and leaned down closer to her face, the movement spreading her legs further apart and allowing him to delve even deeper into her. Those damnably talented hips of his had not missed a beat, either. “It’s coming again, love... can ya feel it?” He whispered as her body began tensing. “Come on now. Closer... almost... just a bit more. Ah... here it comes...” he coached.

  Were she not too involved with the sensations that he was describing, she would have been marveling at how easily he could read the internal workings of the female body.

  “Now, let it go for me, darling,” he instructed as it hit her full force.

  It felt as if her body was trying to turn itself inside out at his bidding, rocking violently as noises escaped her that could easily have shattered glass. She clawed at his shoulders, pulling him down to her and kissing his mouth ravenously as she lost her mind to the pleasure he unleashed.

  When the tides of the sanity-robbing orgasm finally receded, she opened her eyes and found that he was no longer above her. She was lying alone on the bed, moaning and writhing as she caught her breath. Her brows drew together at his absence and she tried to prop herself up on her elbows to search for him...

  Only to fall on her back again when he gripped her by the ankles and yanked her across the length of the bed. She yelped in surprise, her arms flailing above her uselessly seeking purchase. She quickly found herself at the corner of the mattress with him smiling down at her.

  “Intermission’s over, love,” he told her with a wink.

  “Inter... wait, what?” She asked in stunned disbelief.

  Have you ever been with a man that was just entirely too talented in the sack? Perhaps reached the moment where you said to yourself, ‘Umm, self? We might have bitten off just shy of nine inches more than we can chew this time’? Oh yes, Skye was at that point now.

  With wide eyes, she watched him lifting her legs up and resting them on his shoulders. She let out a choppy, shocked moan as he slid inside of her again. He was slower this round – not by much, but definitely less aggressive. Judging by the devious look in his eyes, it was not out of a need for rest on his part.

  It dawned on her that the man had yet to reach so much as a single climax. The score was already something like 3 – 0. That thought alone left her wondering whether she would be walking away from this encounter, or if a wheelchair would be necessary. As time went by, she decided that surviving a sexual encounter with Ciaran was enough to qualify a woman as a yoga instructor. Every time he hit a spot that blew all previous positions out of the water, he shifted her to a new one.

  With three quarters of the contents of the Kama Sutra achieved (she vaguely wondered if he had co-authored the damned thing), she looked up and found those blue eyes flashing wickedly. She knew that he knew it was about that time again. Her feet were pressing against his chest as her body began to tense. Her ass was at least a foot beyond the corner of the bed. No worries, though – the firm grip he had on her knees ensured that she would not be falling. His hand slid down between her thighs so that he could stroke her with a level of precision that should not be legal. He gave her a satisfied grin as every muscle in her body twitched in time with the movement of his fingers.

  “Oh, good girl, Skye. Just like tha... let go,” he purred. “Let me feel it.”

  She reached the conclusion that his accented instructions must be witchcraft of some sort. It was the only way she could explain how her body followed his commands verbatim. Her orgasm erupted with unrivaled intensity, which earned a shocked stream of moans from her. She figured by now she should at least be numb or something – it would only be fair.

  Au contraire, the little Irish devil was still playing her nether regions like a traitorously responsive fiddle to his bow. The concern crossed her mind that she would need to limp (and there would be limping, of that she was sure) around the castle in the morning in search of a bag of lozenges. Damned if she was not losing her voice from all the screaming. She quaked and shuddered, the world around her slipping away again as he worked her for all that she was worth.

  Water. Sleep. They were the only things that she wanted in that instant. To drain a barrel of ice cold, refreshing water. To curl up in a tight ball that left no possibility of further sexual stimulation. To pretend that she had not unwittingly handed herself over on a silver platter to the faol version of Don Juan.

  Oh, but hadn’t he just been so damned cute with his sparkling blue eyes, dimpled smiles, and Irish charm? She had been lured in under false pretenses. How could she have known from the packaging that the adorable, funny, boyishly good-looking Celt was actually a sex god in disguise?

  He couldn’t possibly still want more.

  Shouldn’t he be chafing or something?

  There’s only so much friction a body can endure!

  Then again, hers had been more than willing to provide him with adequate lubrication. She groaned at that.

  But... he should at least be reasonably sore by now, right?

  Wrong again. He was a faol, remember? And an ancient one, to boot. His body was healing any wear and tear this encounter was causing. Panic hit her as she felt him pulling her up the bed.

  Oh my God, she realized in horror, he still hasn’t finished!

  Her eyes snapped open, that knowing smile greeted her and she whimpered. As she did, she could have sworn she heard Taran muffling a laugh in the distance. She rolled her eyes, deciding that her mate had neglected to mention Ciaran’s godly sexual stamina as payback for her attraction to the little bugger.

  Ciaran was still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, not looking the least bit tired despite having driven her around the mattress like a stolen Ferrari for the past two hours. He did not even attempt to hide his amusement at her obvious exhaustion.

  “Worn ya out already, have I, love?” He laughed.

  She scowled up at him in response, nuzzling against his chest as she continued slowing her breathing and willing him to pass out or something.

  “How about I let ya decide on the ending then, yeah?” He offered and she looked up at him curiously as he rolled onto his back. “Go on, I’m at your mercy,” he offered with a smile, holding up his hands in surrender as her eyes passed over his nude form.

  How could she still be responding to him? How was it even possible that checking out what the boy was packing had her ready to go all over again?

  Her brow arched in disbelief as her body suddenly and enthusiastically assured her that it was up to the task.

  Without hesitation, she was climbing atop of him, kissing his lips deeply, and loving the surprised moan he gave in response.

  He figured he was just going to get an exhausted hand-job, she thought with a smirk.

  She supposed that if she were a mortal like all of his previous lovers had been, she would have passed out more than an hour prior, leaving him to take care of himself.

  So, he always outlasts his partners...

  That realization brought out her defiant nature. Lucky for him, she was not mortal and instead crouched over him. Her hair – now holding no semblance of its original braid – draped over her shoulder as she pushed off his chest. She leaned back enough to let him watch what she was doing to him.

  His mouth dropped open in shock. He gripped her
hips frantically as she let him sink into her slowly, lowering herself to claim the entire length of him before rising again. The sudden desperation on his face had her smiling wickedly instead of him for once.

  Ah, this is the trick, she realized.

  Ciaran could last for days at the pace he had been moving, but give it to him slow and he instantly reverted to moaned declarations in his native tongue. We’re not even talking about modern Gaelic, either. We’re talking about the Celtic dialect of his mortal clan – the one that he had not spoken on a regular basis in over 4,000 years. Not bad, huh? Nothing like regressing a man four millennia with the pleasure you were giving him. No small feat for a girl that up until a few days prior – let us not forget – had planned to give up on sex entirely.

  Every inch of his body was suddenly covered in a sheen of sweat that his previous activities had failed to bring about. He writhed for her, pleading for more in that beautiful language that she could not begin to translate. He was hopelessly transfixed by the sight of her body enveloping him inch by inch at such a leisurely pace.

  “Who does this belong to?” She purred as her eyes burned into his.

  Ciaran answered her emphatically in words she did not understand. One definitely stood out from the rest, though – a new and wonderful pronunciation of her name.

  She smirked and continued the game.

  “It’s mine then? All of this is just for me?” She asked.

  This time, his response of heavily accented words was accompanied by frantic nodding.

  Taran stood and walked around the bed slowly, leaning against the post of the headboard. He smiled watching the look on Skye’s face as she took control, the satisfaction that she was gaining from Ciaran’s surrender. He had never seen or heard the man in such a state before and sympathized with his plight. As he had learned, there was quite a difference between bedding a mortal and bedding a faol. The voice of her lover was becoming frantic and Taran’s body (while it had found this entire scene enticing) was now begging for her as well. His breathing quickened as he watched the impossible grace of her movements, the way she was gazing down at Ciaran intensely and drinking in his submission to her.

  “Ooohh... d’ya feel tha?” She teased in a fair imitation of Ciaran’s brogue, watching his face become a mask of pleasure as she worked him toward his end. “Come on, baby. Give in to me. You know you want to. Fuck, you’re so deep... doesn’t it feel good, baby? Now just let go,” she purred and hissed in approval as he lost control at her bidding.

  He cried out and shuddered as he pulled her down to him. He crushed his mouth against hers, kissing her lips as if it was the only thing that could sustain him. His body quaked uncontrollably. His fingers sank into her hips as he frantically held her in place and released all of the pleasure that had been building within him.

  She rolled her hips in time with his, riding it out until his entire body finally went limp beneath her. He was still moaning and breathing heavily when she laid on her side next to him, watching with a satisfied smile as he tried to recover.

  “Holy hell, a stóirín,” he breathed after several moments. He looked over at her in surprise as she traced her fingers over his chest. “Way to find a weak spot and work it for all it’s worth,” he teased.

  “Look who’s talking. I’d say I’d have to keep going until dawn just to even the score,” she said as she shoved his shoulder playfully.

  “Nah tonight, ya won’t,” Taran said in a voice of mock disapproval as he lay down behind Skye and kissed her hair. “At least, nah in my bed. Come on now, off with ya,” he urged, giving Ciaran a similar shove and laughing at the pleading look it earned.

  “Ya can nah be serious! The girl’s robbed me legs of strength for a month,” Ciaran whined. “Don’t ya think I’d be smoking a cigarette right now if I could convince me self to stand?”

  Skye shook her head and smirked. “I was simply returning the favor, Thumper,” she taunted.

  Ciaran grinned. “I like tha – ‘Thumper.’ Has a nice ring to it.”

  “Thumper?” Taran asked as she cuddled back against his chest.

  “Yeah, you know – cuz he’s quick, rhythmic, and fucks just like a little jack-rabbit.” She looked over her shoulder and found a curious expression on Taran’s smiling face. “It’s from a movie,” she explained with a laugh, realizing that he probably was not hanging around the castle watching Disney flicks to fill his immortal existence. “So, I gather this is what got him in so much trouble with the church?”

  “Aye, they had a hell of a time keeping nuns around once he developed a taste for them,” Taran laughed.

  “Nah my fault in the least,” Ciaran insisted. “I was simply there to check into the latest craze in religions. I can nah be held accountable for the fact tha they kept their women in such a terrible state of deprivation. The way I figured it, I was doing them a favor. Ya know, tending the flock and such.” He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing guiltily as he continued. “Eh, but after educating them on what they were missing by abjuring men, they sorta started leaving the church en masse. Drew a considerable amount of attention to me visits after tha, as ya can imagine.”

  “Those poor women,” Skye said sympathetically. “You really are a heathen!” She declared and smacked his arm.

  “Owww – easy, kitten!” He whined. “Keep in mind tha ya just worked me over something fierce, have me all weak and vulnerable-like.” His face twisted as he recalled her words. “And what exactly d’ya mean ‘those poor women’, anyway?” He demanded indignantly. “Of all the hollering ya done in the past few hours, I don’t recall hearing anything even slightly resembling a complaint.”

  She arched a brow at him and smiled as she explained, “You went in there, laid it down like this, and they figured all sex from that point forward would be the same. Damn were they misled.”

  “Well...” Ciaran said, scrunching his face up guiltily.

  “Tha’s nah exactly true, now is it, Ciaran?” Taran said with a sly smile. “See, once they figured out tha the brand they were after was only available through a certain supplier, they tracked him down again. Had his own band of groupies, he did.”

  “Hey, they were all well taken care of, I assure...” Ciaran trailed off suddenly, sniffing the air as Skye cocked her head to the side and watched his grin widen anew. “Is tha... ? Do I smell... ?” He began before pointing over at Taran. “Uh-oh... ya see tha? I’m just too hard to resist,” he teased.

  It took Skye a second to realize to what he was referring. Firstly, she caught the scent of her mate’s arousal. Secondly, she scooted back a few inches and arched a brow when the hardness pressing against her ass cheek confirmed that he was raring to go.

  “Do nah lie to yourself,” Taran scolded as he rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen ya nude more times in our lives than I could ever repress. Disturbingly, I know your body as well as my own. I’m sorry to have to break your heart, but ya are nah the one tha’s got my attention and ya ne’er will be.”

  Ciaran clutched his chest in feigned insult. “But... but what about tha time in Dublin?” He whimpered.

  “There was ne’er a time in... !” Taran cried in stunned disbelief, but trailed off realizing that this was precisely the reaction the statement was intended to provoke. “Skye, do nah listen to this. It’ll only encourage him,” he groaned, knowing that Ciaran was likely to pull out all the stops now.

  “Yes there was! Aw, come on, Skye. Think about it. All those years he and I spent together and you think we never even once... ?” Ciaran began and Taran growled in frustration. Ciaran used his distraction to give her a discrete wink asking her to play along.

  “I believe it,” she said with a grin, winking back at her little troublemaker. “That’s actually pretty hot.”

  “For fook’s sake!” Taran groaned. “See what ya’ve done?”

  “How did it happen?” She asked in feigned intrigue, trying not to laugh as Taran grumbled angrily in Gaelic behind
her.

  “Well it was a real romantic night, ya know? Stars a-twinkling, music a-playing, whisky a-flowing...” Ciaran began. “I, of course, was looking devilishly handsome as always.”

  “Tha’s it. I’m putting ya out of my misery once and for all,” Taran said, reaching over Skye and gripping Ciaran’s throat as if preparing to choke him.

  “All right, lay off! Relax yourself, ya big bastard,” Ciaran said as he pried Taran’s hand from his neck. “So fine, it’s Skye who’s got ya all heated and such. Watching her getting pleasure like tha really works ya over, yeah?” He asked in honest interest. The notion of a new means of achieving sexual bliss was positively intriguing to him. He had, after all, devoted his immortal existence to the mastery of sex.

  Taran smiled as he decided to prove his point. He let his hand pass over her hip and down to her knee before draping her leg over his. Without warning, he sank into her already-soaked core from behind.

  Skye gasped in surprise, her body going rigid with pleasure as he began kissing the nape of her neck. A moan escaped her as he rocked his hips slowly, his firm grip on her leg guiding her to move with him.

  Ciaran’s jaw hung open as he watched her eyes roll closed, her features tensing in desire.

  Taran nodded to him over her shoulder as if to say, ‘see?’

  Okay, so Ciaran could definitely understand the attraction. It was made blindingly apparent when his entire body sprang back to life.

  “Oh God, Taran,” Skye breathed with her eyes closed, reaching behind her and gripping a handful of his long hair, closing her eyes as his touch dazed her. “Deeper,” she whispered.

  Ciaran’s breath caught in his throat.

  All right, now that’s just fucking hot, he decided. To hell with lying here uselessly.

  He reached out and ran his hand over her breasts, teasing her nipples and earning a hiss of approval. His heart was racing as he leaned forward and lathed over the taught skin, using the heat of his breath to draw panting from her. The scent of her arousal spiked as she reached out blindly and pulled him closer to her. Those blue and yellow eyes opened and locked with his as she kissed him deeply. She let her fingers wander down his delicious happy-trail until she arrived at his swollen flesh. He moaned into her mouth as she stroked him, his kiss becoming more heated as she quickened the pace.