She gave him a small nod, and then surrendered to the need to touch him. She smoothed her hands over his hard chest, raking her fingers in the dark hair cloaking his skin. She glided over his shoulders, following the ripple and curve of his arms.
She traced the shape of a tattoo on his shoulder and leaned to take a better look.
A rounded circle with scrolled legs. A troll cross. At its center, was the Nordic P-shaped rune—thorn. Which marked him as a protector. If she’d seen this in the gazebo, she’d have known exactly what he was, even before she’d noticed the green glow of his troll eyes.
Leaning toward him, she licked a small flat nipple, enjoying his reaction, a shiver of delight that quivered down his belly. She followed that shiver, bending to trail her tongue over his ribs, licking along the curves carved into his muscled abdomen, an eight-pack that jumped and tightened the lower she traveled.
He fisted his hands in her hair but didn’t tug her in any direction. He allowed her to explore. So she went to her knees, roaming hands over his sides and hips. She nipped the skin of his lower abdomen, swirled her tongue in his navel, and then nuzzled his sex, breathing in his earthy musk while she brushed her cheeks against the curling hairs coating his groin.
His half-hard cock stirred, filling steadily, rising upward without a kiss or a lick of encouragement. She sat on her haunches and stared, following its progress as it unfurled and straightened.
He was massive. Thick, with gnarling veins rising like vines up the shaft. Fantastic for an inner massage, she thought. Her mouth watered, and she rose on her knees to smooth her cheek up and down his length, rubbing on the soft, stretched skin, breathing in his scent, which drew a wet response from her. Her sex was growing engorged, hot and aching. She placed a heel beneath her pussy to press against it, while she stuck out her tongue to lick her way up to his swollen crown.
Openmouthed, she wagged her head and circled him without latching around him, swiping her tongue over his surface as she learned how he tasted. Salty. Musky. Manly with a hint of grass. Troll.
Her bracelets jangled as she wrapped both hands around his shaft and tilted his cock toward her mouth. Working him with sideways twists, she closed her lips and drew hard on him, sucking, her tongue exploring the texture of his cap, finding the eyelet opening and teasing it.
She glanced upward to find he’d thrown back his head. The tension in his strong jaw had muscles rippling along the edge. She sank deeper, taking more of him into her mouth, and gloried in the hard scrape of his nails against her scalp.
“Enough,” he growled, shoving her backward. She landed on her rump, legs sprawled.
He glanced down, his chest billowing with deep breaths.
The sight of him, so large and so intensely aroused was its own magic. She pushed up from the floor, walked on trembling legs to the bed and bent over the mattress, stretching out her arms to sink her hands into the soft cotton coverlet where they bunched.
He followed closely behind and molded his hands over her bottom, his grip not the least gentle, rotating her cheeks, together, apart, while his feet nudged hers to widen her stance. And then he bent over her, hands braced beside her shoulders.
He licked her. A long swipe from the center of her shoulders upward. Another growl sounded, and she smiled, knowing if she looked back she’d see the animal, the troll peeking out of his glowing eyes.
His cock slid between her cheeks and gave her a grind that made her breath catch. Goddess, she wanted him. Wanted his thickness inside her. Wanted his strength overwhelming her. She wanted to be taken, used…fucked hard and long.
And she didn’t want him holding back. Didn’t want gentleness or restraint. He believed his inner demon was an animal. Well, she wanted that ogre-like strength and ferocity hammering right between her legs.
He clapped a hand against her swollen pussy. “Witch.” He thrust a thick finger inside her. “Wet.”
So he was past stringing words together. A good sign. She bumped up her ass and gave it a wag. A blunt, lewd invitation.
His torso came down on top of her, pinning her beneath him with his weight. “Stop,” he bit out.
She reached back and clawed at his neck, clutched his ears and pulled while she tried to buck.
He gave a low growl and pushed his cock against her opening. He angled his hips from side to side as he worked the blunt head into her pussy. “Hot,” he rasped, “Fuck.”
She sobbed with excitement and raked him again with her nails. “Fuck me, Ethan. Just fuck.”
He arched upward. Gripped her hips. A strong push forced his cock deeper. Another push made her hiss between her teeth, because he was doing it, giving her exactly what she’d incited him to give.
He began to thrust, each stroke deeper than the last. Her channel heated with the friction and stretch. Moisture seeped around him, coaxed from her core, easing his intrusion. The sounds he made as he pumped, the choked, rasping growls as he churned inside her, made her whimper, had her mewling with pleasure and painful urgency.
She reached behind her, touched his hip and scratched again, nails biting into his skin, demanding more of his rough, plunging movements.
The bed shook, creaked, and then scraped on the floor as it shifted with his hard strokes. She was there, almost there, not needful of a finger sliding on her clit.
Suddenly, he pulled away. Left her. She pushed up and glanced behind her. His eyes glowed, his frame was thick, muscles clenched, veins tracing the contours of his arms and thighs. Sweat gleamed on the ridges of his chest and abdomen.
His hands were curled into tight fists, and his face was screwed up into such a fierce, frightening scowl, she knew he was barely holding on. She backed off the bed and stood, quivering with need and want, but knowing he’d never forgive himself if he hurt her.
Not trusting herself to speak because she knew she’d beg, she pointed toward the bed. He stalked closer, butted his chest against her, and hung his head, his expression so terrible, so beautiful, her chest tightened, stealing her ability to breathe. “Lie down,” she whispered. “Grasp the rails. I’ll give you what you need.”
His face descended. His mouth was curled in a snarl, but he nuzzled her cheek and sent harsh gusts of breath into her ear. A shudder shook his tall frame, but he backed away, gave her a blistering glare, and then sat on the bed, lay back, reaching his hands upward to wrap around the spokes of her headboard.
She hoped the thick oak dowels wouldn’t splinter. When he was staring at the ceiling, she climbed onto the mattress, lifted a thigh and straddled his hips. Rising on her knees, she reached for his cock, fisted it with her hand, and guided it to her folds.
Just like her dream. She bent over him, pushed down on him, and felt the enormous pressure as she crowded downward, taking him. Something was missing.
She glanced at the curtained window, raised a hand in the air, and jerked it, causing the curtain rings to glide on the metal rod. An upward flick of her fingers raised the window. Wind rushed through the opening. Moonlight drenched the bed and their bodies.
She shook back her hair and stared down at him. “I’m a witch but not as delicate as I appear.” Leaning back, breasts thrust out, she drew the moonlight and wrapped it around her body, letting it cloak her and sink into her skin.
Then she bent over him and pressed her lips against his snarling mouth. It softened beneath hers. He angled his head and returned the sweet pressure, added suction to his kiss, suction that pulled the moon into his body.
Their communion was sweet and hotter than anything she’d ever shared with the hellhound. Wind gusted against the window, blew inside, lifting her hair and whipping at the tendrils. And still, they kissed, until she heard a rumbling, not from her troll, but from the shuddering of the floorboards beneath the bed.
There were shouts outside their bedroom, footsteps pounding on oak floors and then the door, but she and Ethan were sheltered at the center of the storm. Static crackled. Electricity arced.
He released the dowels and clamped his fingers on her buttocks. They broke the kiss as the storm heightened, clouds stealing through the open window to push against the ceiling, flashes of light brightening, and then darkening in their misty depths.
In the back of her mind, she knew what was happening. Knew there was danger. Knew this was impossible. She’d already been claimed. She’d already mated, and yet here they were at the center of a new storm, a binding that echoed through the ether and heralded a new beginning.
A new beginning with a new mate and a resounding stamp of approval from the Powers That Be. Bryn decided to let go of any doubts she’d held about what they were doing. She’d trust in the Goddess and the demon watching her so closely now.
She smiled, loving the curve of his mouth as he stared up at her. He moved his hands from her hips to her breasts and fondled the pendant dancing between her breasts—the mother symbol, bloated with child. Bryn closed her eyes, breathing harder when he moved to tweak her nipples, pulling and pinching the tips, drawing them into exquisitely aroused points before smoothing downward again.
The roar of voices in the distance receded as she bent and braced against his chest. His bruising grip lifted her and shoved her downward, again and again. They pushed together, drew apart, catching the rhythm of their heartbeats, the pace of their deepening breaths.
Below, her sex clenched around him, ripples moving up and down her inner channel, caressing him, accepting him, gripping him and holding him inside her.
She dug her fingertips into his skin. “I’m there,” she whispered.
“We’ll soar together,” he said, his voice deep, echoing around her. “Once bound, we’ll never part.”
He’d said the sacred words. She had no time to gasp. He rolled them and came over her. Quickly, he shoved up her legs, forced her ankles to lock behind his neck, and then he took over, pistoning inside her, faster and faster.
Tears leaked down her cheeks, her hands roamed his face, touched his shoulders. How could this be? This perfection, this brilliant storm. When the moment came, she dug the back of her head into the pillow and screamed as licking fire and static flooded her body and blackness closed around her.
Ethan sagged against her as his balls clenched, and he emptied himself inside her.
A thud sounded against the door. He lowered her legs and covered her with his body.
The frame gave, the door splintered, and Renner and Khan fell through the opening, the women, and more of his men, crowding into the room to stare at the clouds now dissipating, wisping away.
Darcy shoved past Renner and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at Ethan, her glance going to Bryn’s slackened features. “What the hell have you done?”
Ethan raked a hand through his hair and leaned on an elbow to allow Bryn to breathe more easily. “She’s mine. Claimed. Blessed by your Goddess. There can be no arguing my right.”
Darcy’s eyes filled and dropped to Bryn. “Is she even breathing?”
Bryn’s sex pulsed around his cock, a sexy caress that caused him to stir inside her again. An aftereffect, he knew. She was still unconscious. “She breathes.”
Renner shook his head. “Well, if they didn’t know where we were before, the council’s seeress can point them straight here now. Others in this area can’t have missed the echo.”
“You all came prepared for battle,” Ethan said, frowning at the group still hovering inside the room.
Beneath him, Bryn moaned. Her eyelids drifted sleepily open. Her mouth began to curve as she looked at him, but then she glanced to the side. “Oh Goddess, we’ve gone and done it now.”
Ethan laughed. He couldn’t help it. He was filled with elation.
Bryn’s mouth tightened. She glared at him and slipped her hands between their chests to cover her breasts.
He sighed and reached down to pull the edge of the covers over their nude bodies, although all that was visible of her was sprawled legs. His entire backside had been in full view.
Not that he minded one bit. Theirs was an openly sexual society. Uninhibited by humans’ odd rules regarding modesty.
Her sex clenched again, and his body began to relax, enjoying the feel of her beneath him, of the warmth and wetness that surrounded his cock. “You should leave,” he said, not looking at his men or the sister witches, but at Bryn’s stark gaze.
“Sorry about the door,” Renner muttered.
Their audience shuffled away. The door creaked on strained hinges and several hard pulls finally closed it.
Ethan settled his elbows on either side of Bryn and gave her a nudge with his thickening cock. “There’s more.”
She shoved at his chest. “This is all my fault,” she said, her voice a thin wail.
“How is it yours? I’m here, too. And I think I did most of the work.”
The corners of her mouth turned downward. “I wished I’d never been claimed by Merrick. Last night, when we drew down the moon. I wished it. Wished you were Other. That we could be together. I wished for a child.”
“So many wishes…” He smiled inside. She’d wanted him even thinking he was human. For more than just his seed.
“I’ve put us all in danger. Stupid. Stupid.” Tears gleamed in her eyes.
“Bryn, we can’t fight fate. But I will fight Merrick and anyone else who comes for you.”
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. She blinked, sending one sliding into her hair. “The echo…” She shook her head. “It was so much stronger this time.”
“Because we were meant to be.” He felt it to his toes. Which was why he couldn’t be concerned about repercussions. About what their lovemaking might bring down on them all.
He pushed back the covering and slid his hands beneath her body, down to the sweet round curve of her ass. He gave it a squeeze and flexed his hips, reminding her they were still connected, and that he wasn’t nearly finished.
“We should join them,” she said, gasping. “Plan for a defense.”
“There’s time for that. Later. We shouldn’t disappoint your Goddess.” He lowered his eyelids. “Are you sore?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I have a tree trunk shoved up my vagina, what do you think?”
He grinned. “Are you too sore?”
Bryn huffed. “This is what it’s going to be like, isn’t it? You lolling in bed. Wanting to fuck morning, noon, and night. I’ve heard tales about you trolls.”
Ethan nuzzled her ear. “And every one of them is true,” he whispered. Leaning on one elbow, a hand still clamped on a soft buttock, he began to rut in shallow thrusts, because she’d admitted she was sore.
But soon the mattress springs squeaked, and the headboard banged against the wall. Bryn’s tears dried as she answered his challenge, raking her nails over his back.
Ethan relished the battle to come—with her, with the hellhound who would track them to the bayou. Trolls were warriors. Born to fight. He’d been made for this. Shaped in rock and sweat just for her.
Chapter Six
‡
The next afternoon, the women gathered in the kitchen to prepare the evening meal. With so many to feed, all hands were needed. Besides, after the previous night’s events, the witches were confined to the house. Orders from Ethan at breakfast. The women had contacted their workers and made excuses for why they wouldn’t be coming in for a few days—relatives from out of town.
And although his assumption of authority rankled, Bryn conceded he was right. It was no longer safe for them outside.
“I don’t see why I couldn’t have gone out on the boat today,” Miren said. “We’d have been out on the ocean, a draugr and two mermen to protect me. Who the hell could get to me there?”
“A whale?” Darcy raised an eyebrow. “One call on a conch from someone like Liliana, and you’d have been in the drink, matey. Garrr,” she said in a mock pirate voice.
But no one laughed. Mention of the council’s high priestess only turned the mood inside the kitchen more sour. L
iliana had been the one who’d pushed for Bryn’s alliance with the hellhound. She was only interested in increasing witches’ power, which any witch would agree could be a good thing. But Liliana served her own selfish purpose. During their ceremonies and rites, she pulled all their power, making herself the focal entity. A star among their kind, and the most powerful ally to the rulers.
Liliana’s ethereal blonde beauty belied her ugly heart. Something Bryn and her friends had seen from the start of Liliana’s rise.
“Do you think she’ll come?” Aoife said in a small voice.
“Since she sleeps with Merrick. I doubt she’ll let him come alone.” Bryn glanced up at the others. Liliana hadn’t hidden her interest in Merrick. In fact, she’d tried on more than one occasion to draw Bryn into a threesome, a chance to drain Bryn of her strength to feed herself and Merrick. Bryn felt nothing but revulsion for the pair, and even though Merrick had been her mate, she’d been only too happy when he’d stayed away at night.
She wouldn’t be so tolerant with Ethan. Not that she believed he would ever betray her. There was an upside to mating beneath your station.
Bryn winced at the snarky thought and pounded harder on the steak she was tenderizing.
“Ooh, you’d think she’d be in a better mood,” Darcy said, narrowing her eyes on Bryn.
Bryn bent her head. “I can feel you staring,” she muttered.
Darcy moved closer and set her chin on Bryn’s shoulder. “So tell us, what’s it like being with a troll?”
“A troll.” Miren shivered. “I still can’t believe that.”
Bryn beat the meat with her tenderizing mallet harder. No way was she going to give the women a play-by-play of what had happened between her and Ethan. She still quivered just thinking about it.
“I did a little research on Vindlér Construction.”
All gazes swung to Aoife.
Aoife shrugged. “An internet search. They have quite the story. Seems Ethan and Renner came south with a few of their buddies after Katrina hit. They didn’t have two pennies to rub together but managed to get construction contracts for the reconstruction in New Orleans—roads, bridges and even a couple of schools. They aren’t hurting now.”
Beaux Rêve Coven 01 - Once in a Blue Moon Page 5