The Emerald Isle Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vincent, Renee

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  A low growl emitted from his tight chest as he took in the blessed sight of her rose-colored nipples peaked to hard pebbles down to the thin line of hair running between her legs. He waited. As if his life depended on it, he waited for her to divulge her plans.

  “Why don’t you use the only part of your body that’s capable of being tender?” She sat upon the bed and scooted backward toward the pillows, exposing her most intimate part of her body for him as she erotically spread her legs. “You won’t hurt me if the tender flesh of your mouth is laid against the delicate part of me.”

  Inside, he wanted to laugh. Though she seemed to have all the confidence in the world, he doubted he’d have the might not to ravish her. But how could he turn down her oh-so appealing invitation? He’d be a fool.

  Being a red-blooded man, he yearned to put his mouth where she recommended, tasting her. Sprawled on the bed, she tempted him, the notion of kissing up her legs to the inside of her thigh went straight to his groin.

  Knees weak, he followed her to the bed, crawling up it until he was centered above her. Even as he hovered, he had his doubts. But the way she glided her hands over his chest and shoulders, her lids drifting as she glanced at his mouth, gave him the assurance he needed to be a gentle lover.

  He slowly bent his head and kissed her lips. His erection bucked in his pants, but he ignored it. He brushed his lips over her chin, and pecked a trail of tender kisses down her neck, between her breasts, and down the flat plane of her stomach.

  Body shaking with need, he continued his journey around the sensitive area of her navel and followed the strip of hair below. Dragging his hand up her thigh, he joined both finger and tongue along the folds of her flesh.

  He felt her flinch and then shudder. A split second of uncertainty flitted across his mind. As he gazed at her face and saw the way she closed her eyes in delight, he knew he had touched her the way she wanted. The way he felt he had touched her before.

  A familiar scene, though dated, played out in his head as he continued to intimately kiss her.

  ****

  I took pleasure in seeing the effect I had on her, watching her writhe and squirm about the bed. She was all mine, with just a simple touch given tenfold.

  Over and over I licked her, kissed her, feeling her swell beneath my tongue, unyielding to the attempts she made to wiggle free. I wouldn’t stop. I made it my mission to see her to the end, to hear her and see her climax from where I was lying.

  She stiffened, arms straight at her sides, fists clenched, breath held. Finally, her release came as she exhaled violently and drew her legs against my head. I thoroughly enjoyed that I was the one who made it happen. And I’d be the man she’d yearn for and beg for, again and again, from this day forth.

  I touched her ever so softly, stroking her calves and thighs, kissing her navel again and then the fullness of her heaving breasts, until finally I was sprawled upon her, waiting for her breath to catch, and her eyes to open. When they did, it was like a thousand spells of enchanting magic had consecrated me.

  I smiled proudly.

  ****

  Looking down at her, the smile he had plastered on his lips eventually faded. As far as he knew, he’d not gone anywhere, nor had she. But he couldn’t dispute that a bizarre vision overwhelmed him and brought him to a familiar, yet mysterious place. He felt almost senile as he tried to lay grip to its intangible hold. He hated the reference to losing his sanity at the moment he tasted her, but it was all he could devise at the time.

  Given the abnormal display of emotions that raged through him at the start of their evening, he hesitated to make sense of his transient trip to la-la land. It was reminiscent of the first time he’d kissed her at Dún Dúchathair, where he saw Lorraine as clear as if she were standing in front of him, but a different version of her. Had he not known any better, he would’ve sworn he’d been transported into the past, a time before either of them could have lived.

  Confounded by the thought that he might be losing it, he stayed frozen looking into her eyes. By his perception, she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. She had a blissful look to her flushed face while her body trembled from the aftershock of her orgasm, and a sexy smile curved her lips. Bringing her hands up over his shoulders and pulling him down to the sweet cushion of her soft body, she looked eager. Ready for more.

  Her kiss told him just how willing. Once she opened her mouth and curled her tongue around his, the tautness in his arms relaxed, the tension in his neck dissipated, and he fell helplessly into her embrace. His world spun around. Her passionate hands caressed the stringent muscles of his lower back until he felt her fingertips fumble over the fabric of his pants. She grabbed a handful of his bottom and squeezed.

  Frustrated that he hadn’t removed them before hand, he pushed himself to his knees and franticly unzipped his fly, kicking his pants from his legs, but not before grabbing the condom from his pocket. One minute he was tearing it open and the next he was on his back, watching Lorraine mount him. Sitting astride his hips, she smiled down at him.

  Her wet softness drove him mad and he wished he could feel her ease down over him without the hindrance of latex separating them. No, that privilege was for married men. Men who’d made a commitment and had no reservations about impregnating their wives.

  As he locked eyes with her, he could see his unborn children, he could envision a time when they’d unite as lovers for the sake of conceiving a child. For the first time in his life, he looked at a woman and wanted her to be the mother of his children. To be pleasantly round with the growth of his son in her womb.

  Feeling her grind against his hips, she shook him from his outrageous thoughts. What the hell was he thinking? Was he that far gone that he’d forget how to be a responsible man?

  Rolling the protection down over himself, he reaffirmed power, trying to feign some sort of control from the spell she’d cast over him. Who was he kidding? He was a slave to her will and, the moment he held the full width of her hips, he was slapped in chains.

  ****

  Lorraine saw the struggle Leif faced when she slid down the length of him. Though he tried to be gracious and deliberate as he slowly eased into her, she knew better.

  ****

  Through his dwindling constraint, I saw the wanton vision of blue in his eyes pierce through his darkened lashes and his face twist in delightful anguish over the feel of him burying his manhood into my silken flesh. He was an angelic sight, if angels could be brazen, and how pleasing to know that this stunning piece of Heaven was all mine.

  I dropped down upon his chest as our bodies united, exhaling at the glorious feel of extreme fullness within my body. I rocked, only giving up inches and hearing his response in muffled groans.

  I fed on those masculine grunts and huffs, amazed at how much control I had from my more dominant position, partial to the way he’d stifle another husky groan in my neck, or hide another stolen breath in my ear.

  I moved faster along his length, weakening him, torturing him, just as he had always done to me. And by the look on his face, he was desperately trying to regain some sort of control of himself, no doubt trying to halt the blood that hammered through him. Yet his sweet agony only encouraged me to continue ceaselessly.

  Being on top of him was a whole new experience for me and I found myself extremely fond of the constant shuddering that rippled through him. There was no denying what power I had over him, and into the bargain, I gained the best place for watching his journey into submission. I rode him, forcing him nearer the edge as if he had no choice in disputing what his own body was likely to give up anyway without his consent. But despite his efforts to not cross that threshold, it was too late.

  He clasped his hands firmly to my buttocks and drove himself deeper into my body. Finally, after several hard thrusts, his release came in a rush, a spilling of everything that made him the red-blooded man he was.

  Lust.

&n
bsp; Avidity.

  And that spry masculine passion that some call carnal.

  He threw his hands into my hair and gripped the knotted locks with a vengeance, crying out a winded, muttered version of my name. Like a weakened, battered man, his arms finally dropped to his sides and his eyes closed in a welcomed defeat.

  ****

  Lorraine gazed down upon him, reveling in the transcendence of her bold and brazen medieval Norse warrior materializing in the body of a modern man. There was no doubt, as she thought back to the entire course of the night, Dægan Ræliksen’s blood now coursed through Leif’s veins. He’d never be the same again.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Lorraine’s heavy lids fluttered. An immediate smile crept onto her lips as she felt the warmth of Leif’s hard body spooned against her back. His arm was protectively draped around her and, at that moment, she’d never felt more secure in their rapidly proceeding relationship than she did right now. She didn’t fear the eminent approach of her last few days in Ireland. She felt she had connected with Leif on a level that would not allow him to even think of parting ways and saying goodbye. Just as she lay within his embrace, she was confident she’d wrapped herself tightly enough around his heart that he couldn’t let go.

  Snuggling closer, she felt him stir, a long contented sigh tickling the back of her neck.

  “Are you awake?” she whispered.

  “I am.” He pulled her tighter against him. “But I think I’m still dreaming.”

  Leif’s sleepy enamored words coated her like hot fudge. Everything he said and did was like sweet yummy goodness and if there was a way to get drunk off of his amorous gestures, she’d be totally intoxicated by now. Being with him was better than opening presents on Christmas morning.

  Lorraine stiffened, remembering the present she’d meant to give him last night.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I forgot to give you your present.”

  “Present? For what?”

  “Your birthday, silly.” She spun in his arms and faced him, pulling his focus to her smiling eager face. “Which brings me to ask the question, ‘have I yet earned the right to know the actual date of your birth?’”

  A quiet chuckle sounded in his chest. “You earned that a long time ago. Along with any other secret I have.”

  She toyed with the hair hanging at his neck, twirling it around her finger. “You have secrets?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  His question struck her soundly, ricocheting in her head. If she denied it, she’d be lying. If she agreed, he’s liable to ask of hers. He had the resolve of a deep-rooted tree, but she didn’t think he had the might to withstand being bowled over by her enigmatic secret. “Only if they choose to,” she stated vaguely.

  “Then what if I told you I was ready to share mine?”

  She swallowed, unable to fathom what kind of secret Leif had kept to himself. Inwardly, she braced herself. “Then I’d say your secret is safe with me.”

  Leif flashed a bright smile that she felt all the way to her toes. “You first.”

  Her heart stopped. “W-what?”

  “You heard me,” he said coolly. “I want my present first, and then I’ll divulge my secret. What can I say? I’m a child at heart.”

  Relief washed over her. She sat up, disengaging herself from his grasp. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  Hijacking the sheet from the bed, she gathered it around her before padding across the room to the door. Hand on the knob, she glanced over her shoulder. Leif lay on his side, fully nude, his head propped up on his hand, watching her as she left. The sight of his dark muscular body against the contrast of the white sheets, on top of the way he stared at her, stole her breath away. On their own volition, her eyes drifted to the area below his midriff, amazed at how substantial he was. Even when not aroused, he could make a woman’s loins ache with his girth alone, not counting the sizeable length he added into the bargain.

  “Hurry back.”

  Inside, she wanted to laugh. Looking at his godly physique, she needed no additional coaxing. If she could, she’d be back before he took his next breath.

  The moment she returned with two beautifully wrapped boxes of different sizes in her arms, he saw the flit of disappointment in her eyes. He sat on the bed, wearing his pants from last night, and he could tell she hadn’t expected him to be clothed.

  “I didn’t want to distract you,” he confessed with a wry smile.

  Plopping down next to him, she handed him the largest of the presents. “It’s not much, but I wanted to get it for you.” As he tore open the wrapping, she added quickly. “I have one too.”

  Parting the tissue paper, he saw the woven designs of a recognizable sweater, unique to the island. “An Aran sweater,” he said as he pulled it out.

  “I wanted you to be warm,” she explained innocently. “Course, you don’t seem to be affected by the harsh winds of this place as I am, but…” She smiled, not knowing what else to say.

  “I like it,” he insisted. “Thank you.”

  “Like I said, it’s not much…”

  “No, it’s perfect. And we’ll match,” he added lightheartedly.

  She rolled her eyes and presented the next box, almost cringing as she offered it to him. “Now, this one,” she prefaced, “might seem a little cheesy given you’re a man. But the story that goes with it, hopefully, helps to remove the cheap factor.”

  “Okay…” he drew out, his interest piqued.

  “Open it first, and then I’ll tell the tale.”

  Holding the gift, he could feel the weight of it, but couldn’t for the life of him predict what she’d bought. Removing the bow, he felt his excitement grow, anticipation climbing higher as he ripped through the pretty paper. Opening the box, a dome-topped wooden lid, fastened with fake iron secures running over each side, appeared. At first glance, it looked like a pirate’s treasure chest but, once he took it out, he saw that it was a music box.

  Immediately, he flipped it open and a whimsical melody commenced, filling the room with a child-like air. He tried to appear grateful, though still wondering why she felt compelled to purchase it. Before he could offer his thanks, she interceded.

  “I know it’s just a music box, but when I saw it at one of the gift shops, I had to get it. It reminded me of a story—a legend,” she corrected. “About a king and his chest.”

  Leif’s train of thought flew straight to the chest he had found, but forced it back to the deep recesses of his mind. “I like legends. My whole life’s research is often based on debunking legends.”

  “Then you’re going to love this one,” she said, shifting on the bed to get settled in. Sitting crossed legged next to him, she interlaced her fingers and took a deep breath. She looked nervous. “You’ll have to excuse me if I mess this up. It’s been told to me so long ago, I hope I can remember it all.” After a few passing breaths, she began her narration in fairy tale style fashion.

  “There once was a king who loved a woman, and she loved him...

  ****

  “For a time, they would sneak out to meet each other, steal a kiss now and then in the thickets of the garden, but in brevity, for each was all too often called upon. Eventually, the king proposed an arrangement of marriage, but her father would not allow it as he had other intentions of offering her to someone else—someone whose rising authority was threatening his holdings. By means of his daughter, he could secure favor and gain an ally instead of an enemy.

  “One day it was done. Her father married her to another and not just any man, but coincidently, her own lover’s sworn enemy. Now, the king could have fought for her if he so chose, for it would have been very easy with the size of his army. But instead, he sank into despair and traveled as far away as he could from the woman who could no longer be his. In calming his own breaking heart, he went to the ends of the known world finding the sweetest of oils, the rarest of silk, and the most beautiful jewels he had ever laid eye
s on, gathering them all in a wooden chest unselfishly for his distant unattainable love. Unfortunately, his journey brought him many trials which kept him away for ten long years and when he returned, it was too late, for she had died.

  “Now some say it was pneumonia while others say it was a broken heart, but nonetheless, she died alone. You see…her husband had a reputation for making enemies everywhere he went and was constantly away fighting in battle. While he was frequently gone, she would sneak out, waiting for her lover king to come for her, but he never showed. It took all of nine years for her to assume that he had found the arms of another before she finally gave up.

  “After hearing the news of his love’s death, the king kept the chest with him day and night. But it was not enough. He had traveled and searched for so long to give it to her, that keeping it for himself destroyed the true meaning of it. In dealing with his own agonizing grief, he had a sudden compulsion to give the chest of valuables to her husband and end the feud between them once and for all. Upon reaching the widower’s ringfort, the husband refused to accept the gift from the king, thinking it was a trick. Unaware of the extensive value of the items within, he cast it aside, and in his own suspicion, stabbed the king, leaving him for dead. In grave desperation, the king was able to retreat south to a group of merchants who were preparing to set sail and told his story on his death bed. His exact words were that ‘it must be given to the one who holds your heart’.”

  ****

  “…and you, Leif Dæganssen, from the day I laid eyes on you, had my heart.”

  Leif’s mouth went dry. His eyes narrowed on Lorraine. He’d heard that tale before. He had no idea from whom or when, but the story felt so familiar to him, he could almost quote its ending verbatim.

  A ginger touch upon his hand brought him out of his trance. “Leif?”

  He swallowed hard, dying for a glass of water. “Yes?”

  A forced smile tugged at her lips. “Didn’t you hear me? I said from the day I laid eyes on you, you had my heart.”

  Oh, he heard her all right, but it was the reference to a certain chest that plucked the outspoken tongue from his mouth. All this time, he’d been researching his peculiar artifact through archives, historical documents, and even folklore, never recalling anything close to being relevant with the chest he’d uncovered. Until now.