by Billi Jean
“How do you know my hair was straight before?”
Shrugging, he let her curl go. “It was when I first kidnapped you, eh?”
The way he’d said kidnapped sent a shiver of lust up her stomach, and made her breasts feel heavy and achy. She swallowed nervously, not sure what kind of game he was playing. “Mmm, I suppose so.”
“Why is it so curly now, then?” He stalked around her, circling her and testing another curl around his fingers. Their bodies touched in places she wanted touching naked. Naked and hot and sweaty.
“Does it matter? Where are we?” Goddess, was that her breathless voice?
“A hunter’s lodge. There are many of these old abandoned shacks left behind and forgotten. We are safe here. The fire will keep us warm and I filled the place with fresh supplies before…” He trailed off and looked distracted by her hair of all things.
“You kidnapped me?”
He tilted his head and watched her face, teasing more of her long hair around his hand, tugging gently. “Tell me.”
Stubborn man. She was tempted to claim she didn’t know what he spoke of, but shrugged and said, “I straighten it.”
“Aye, and you wear your makeup to hide your beauty, and your tailored sophisticated clothing to hide your fiery nature, eh? I don’t like it. I much prefer you wild—wild and natural, like this land, eh? Our homeland.”
Holy Bridget. What was happening here? The way he looked at her, as if he saw her, clearly saw her, and wanted her, made her mouth go dry.
But for how long? How long will he want you?
His witch.
She glanced at the shutters at the call of a mourning dove. She’d taken him, given him something no other man could have ever claimed—her. Had she shown him that she was more than a witch?
“How long do we have here?”
“A few hours.” His voice had gone deep, his eyes the intense brown she knew meant he was aroused.
He didn’t promise her forever. He didn’t promise her anything, not really, but he wanted. He wanted her.
With a dip of his head, he murmured against her jaw, “I need to feel you under me, know that you’re whole, witch.”
She met his hungry gaze and read the desire there. For her.
“One last time then, before we continue this craziness.”
Alex guessed by the look of acceptance on Sorcha’s face that she had no idea he’d never allow this to be their last time together.
He had a lot of making up to do, he realised that now.
Hell, she’d thrown him. He’d lived for centuries. He’d nearly died from wounds a mortal would never survive. He’d watched as Zith had burnt his family alive. He’d held comrades he’d known for hundreds of years while their life force left them. Nothing had prepared him for the sound of Sorcha screaming in agony.
And that had been the first time.
The second had nearly ripped something from him he’d not known he wanted—needed. Her.
She’d been in such pain. Willingly, she’d put herself at risk for him. The knowledge twisted him inside out. He’d decided sometime during her thrashing to stop his own fight and simply accept that her safety meant more to him than anything else.
What would he have done if this woman’s last breath had been full of pain because of him?
That question had haunted him, tortured him while she’d suffered. He’d understood finally—as he’d held her in his arms—he wanted her completely. He wanted to own that smile, know that when she needed, it was him—and only him—she turned to in passion. Hell if he was letting this be ‘one last time, before we continue this craziness’.
She watched him now, her icy green eyes hiding much, and he guessed that he deserved that. Why should she trust him? He’d got her into situations where she’d had no control and had taken what powers she had had away from her. She’d suffered for him, because of him. Why would she believe him now?
He’d show her she could. Starting now.
He pressed her back to the bed, a bed he’d held her in and had rocked her shaky, pain-filled body in. Now he wanted her trembling for a different reason.
The way she watched him, as if she were memorising every moment to store away for the time without him drove him to pull her out of her gown roughly and lay her out, all gloriously naked.
He stripped his shirt off over his head and tugged his pants carefully past his erection without moving more than a fraction of an inch off her. Holding her for that long had been a kind of torture and pleasure all wrapped up in one. He eased down so their bodies touched and rolled to his back so she was on top. He squeezed her close, too hard maybe, but he wanted to feel her heart beating strongly against him. Her slim leg slipped between his and she smoothed her hands along his chest and arms. She shivered against him, and along his thigh he felt her grow wet.
“So hot,” he murmured in approval, stroking the smooth warmth of her body as he lifted her and shifted his hips to find her entrance. She drenched his cock with her silky wetness as he carefully eased the tight, hot embrace of her pussy around his cock, allowing them both to savour his possession.
Her breasts bobbed when she tossed her fiery curls over her shoulder, enticing him until he couldn’t ignore the desire to suckle her. Still half outside of her pussy he lifted her by her ass and tipped her so he could latch onto one stiff pink peak. She tasted like warm, wild woman—his woman. He nipped her, careful not to let his sharp canines mark her too deeply.
She let out a muffled cry and dug her hands into his hair, tugging the strands in rhythm to his suckling. He flexed his hips, driving his hard shaft deeper and raised his knees to try to enter her more fully. Her body so hot and wet for him he wanted to be inside her so deep she’d always know where he belonged.
The rhythm brought another rush of wetness along his flesh and she bit down on his shoulder. Thoughts scattered. His body took over. He circled her waist with his hands and tossed her on her back, still embedded in her hot body. She gasped, and arched her neck, making her breasts quiver.
The soft keening sound goaded him. He wanted her cries loud, so loud her goddesses would hear her. Pinning her legs to his chest he positioned himself to enter her fully. She looked so beautiful she stunned him. Her glorious hair spread out like red flames, while sweat beaded along her brow making her face shimmer in the firelight. How could this woman be here, with him? Give him this?
With a low possessive growl, he thrust inside her wet, silky soft pussy. She belonged here, with him. His girth slid in easier now with his first, heavy thrust until he settled himself all the way to his balls. She shuddered out a breath and fisted the covers. He began a hard, possessive rhythm that made her breasts bounce.
It still wasn’t enough. He wanted to imprint himself on her so deep she’d never forget him. This. His possession. Digging his knees into the firm bed, he bucked into her, holding his hips tight to her core and rocked to fit them as tight as possible.
Sweet wet softness surrounded his girth, dragging along his erection with such tight pressure he fought not to come. He wouldn’t. Not too quickly. This time he’d show her such passion she’d never be able to put out the fire. He ducked and latched onto a rounded ripe nipple. The first draw brought a cry from her like before, only she bit it off and tossed her head. He rammed in giving her hard lunges of his hips and sucked on her sweet flesh until he felt her trembling grow and she whispered his name. When she did, he pulled almost free from her to watch her face.
If he burnt, Sorcha was on fire. Sweat stood out on her flushed face, darkening her rich hair. Her lips drew his attention and he couldn’t resist the need to taste her again. Her eyes blazed at him, so full of passion she knocked his control aside with just that one look. He fought it, struggling with the need to thrust into her until she came. He wanted her to see him and know she’d never experience this, have this with another. Only him.
Only him?
He took stock. His heart raced, his body felt ready to burst
at the seams. He’d forced her to say it before, but now he knew he meant it. He couldn’t remember one single other woman before her. Not one. She filled him as much as he wanted to—fuck that—needed to fill her. The thought of her with another man didn’t anger him, it enraged him.
Yes, only him.
“Look at me, witch.”
She bit her full bottom lip but lifted her green eyes from where she’d been staring at his chest. At the scratch marks, she’d left last night, maybe. The thought fired him up until his shaft actually grew stiffer. She moaned and shifted her hips, trying to make him fill her deeper.
“See me, do you see me?”
“Yes.”
The one word burnt between them, but it wasn’t enough. She tried to lift her hips to gain what she needed. He rubbed his thumb along her clit instead, balancing on the edge of pleasure and pain himself.
He needed this—her saying his name—as he took her climax. Possession slammed into him. He plunged into her harder, increasing his tempo until her breasts bounced against his chest. When she cried out, he took her mouth, devouring her in a kiss that blew them both away. She scored her nails down his back and he groaned in pleasure. She slid her tongue along his, so hot and wicked, he had to tip her head back by her hair and end the kiss or come on the spot.
They broke apart with a gasp.
“Say my name, witch. Say it,” he whispered in her ear.
She cried out but resisted him by biting his shoulder again. The sharp feel of her teeth on his flesh set off a whirlwind of fire along his body that almost sent him over the edge. Gripping her lush ass, he held her so firmly he’d leave marks, but she shivered under him close to coming from his tight hold alone. He bucked into her with short, hard lunges of his body that drove his cock upwards at an angle he’d learnt she loved.
Sorcha gasped, tossed her head, and reached for his wrists.
“Say it, say it.”
In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her shoulders off the bed to press her lush breasts against his chest and called his name with as much passion as he’d ever heard from her.
“Alex, Alex, Alex.”
His hips rolled with each word, matching his thrusts to her cries. She tightened her arms around him, drawing his aching flesh deeper into her embrace until his balls slapped where they connected. She hugged him closer, pressing hot kisses to his neck with each of her hectic breaths.
The tenderness tore at his soul. His muscles hardened, and emotions rocked through him, trapping him under the spell she wove. He bit hard on the flesh of her shoulder near her neck, finding the same mark he’d left last eve.
Under him, Sorcha gasped and curled her hands into the muscles of his back. The points of her nipples rasped along his chest, driving his lust higher. She sobbed his name and he felt a rush of pleasure jerking his back in long, agonising bursts of exquisite sensations as he rocked into her soft, warm pussy. He wasn’t going to last. He knew it, felt in every fibre of his being, but held out, giving her as much pleasure as he could before he climaxed.
She clenched around his cock milking his shaft rhythmically with devastating results. His erect flesh filled and hardened until with a roar of her name he shuddered through a mind-blowing orgasm only this woman could give him.
When he was able to gather his scattered thoughts, their breathing was still hectic. Sorcha trembled under him. He moved to ease off her, but when she whimpered in pleasure, he froze. She shifted and rubbed her breasts against his chest. Her nipples drove him mad. He wanted those hard buds in his mouth—always. Around his cock, he felt her contract and squeeze.
She was still coming.
A burst of happiness spread through him. He felt like he could conquer anyone, anything. He’d done this to her, not some other faceless warrior she’d cried over. Not Agni. Him, Alex. Pride suffused every inch of him.
With a growl, he bent his head to brush his lips along the bite mark he’d given her. The mark tasted of them. Her sweet salty skin mixed with his male spice. She moaned at the first pass of his mouth along her skin. With a toss of her head, she drove her fingers through his hair to hold him in place.
“Alex?”
He stiffened inside her from that one whispered word. She said his name differently now—with layers of emotions he couldn’t decipher in the heat of lust, but he would. All he knew now was that when she spoke his name like that, he wanted to love her softly, gently, for hours. But each time he drew near her he felt overwhelmed with the desire to possess her. He’d just come, but he knew now, that every time might be like this—frantic and fast—until he had his fill of her.
When he didn’t respond, the tension left Sorcha’s body. Her hands dropped to the bed as if they were too heavy to hold up and her long, slender legs fell past his hips. He withdrew from her carefully, resisting the urge to sink back in her warmth and gazed at her flushed face.
She looked at him with an odd expression, almost defenceless or maybe, he thought, trepidation. His chest grew oddly tight at the look.
Did she fear him? He’d taken her virginity, she’d suffered from taking a potion to strip her of her powers, and now he’d tossed her down and taken her again. He’d not said, nor done anything to change her opinion of him.
But what could he say? What could he offer her, a powerful witch, that other warriors had not already tried throughout the centuries—and obviously been denied?
Yet, he’d been the man to claim her, to take her virginity and make her cry out in pleasure.
She was strong, a survivor. Intelligent, sexy, caring and so sweet, he wanted to curl around her and tell her how sorry he was for causing her any pain. But did she want to hear that? Could he even say such a thing to her? It didn’t matter that he’d not wanted her harmed, she had been, and no matter how he felt about her now, he still wanted his revenge.
He knew he had to say something, but the words weren’t there. What could he say? He watched instead, as she gathered that ice around her like a shield. He’d melted it, but her expression grew closed and distant—cold—until with a low, halting breath she covered her breasts and tried to turn away from him. He pressed his hips against her, anchoring her in place.
He wasn’t budging and neither was she.
“No.” The one word stopped her, but she didn’t look at him. She’d turned to the side and her red hair fell to cover her expression.
He cupped her jaw and turned her to face him.
“Alex, I simply want to get cleaned.”
“Cleaned?” He glanced away from her glacier stare to where their bodies meshed. His seed had dried on her thighs already, but he could close his eyes and still see her glorious body covered with his seed from their first encounter in the Fay Realm. He’d wanted her to stay with his scent all over her. This time he’d barely spilled on her body, too deep inside when he’d come to spill a drop on her.
“Yes, I need to wash.” She grimaced distastefully and tried to wiggle out from under him. He pressed his weight harder along her and anchored his hand by her face. She froze. He was hard again. The pulse of his cock matched perfectly the steady beat of her heart under his.
“No. You stay this way. That way when you try to deny this”—he brushed his lips against the mark on her shoulder and fisted a hand in her silky hair so he could guide her lips to his. “You’ll remember coming apart in my arms. For me. Because of me.”
He didn’t let her speak—instead he rocked forward and latched onto her soft, pink mouth. She gasped, the opening all he needed to thrust his tongue along hers in a mimicry of sex. It wasn’t enough. An agonised groan broke free from him as he dragged her hand to his aching erection. How did she do this? Make him feel like an animal in rut?
She wrapped her warm fingers around him.
“Stroke me off,” he ordered her with a nip to her lip that he soothed with soft licks.
Her grip tightened but she didn’t give him the long, hard pulls she had before. Instead, she grabbed
a handful of his hair and surprised him by biting his bottom lip and angling her hips up, feeding his shaft into her warm, sweet pussy.
He grabbed at the sheets next to her head and tried to slam home. She stopped him with that hand, allowing just the head of his cock inside her warm embrace while she held his lip captive. Slowly—her eyes darkened with passion again—she released his lip but didn’t let go of his erection. She tightened her fingers in his hair and his cock, driving him close to coming just from her aggression. She started grinding down, gliding her wet pussy along his shaft while holding him back from moving simply because she’d surprised the hell out of him. This was Sorcha. This was his witch taking over and damn the need to rut, he needed this—her—taking what she wanted he realised with a burst of satisfaction.
“Yes.” The word left on a hiss when she gave him more. She rolled her hips, then jerked a handful of his hair at the same time, dropped her grip on his erection, twisting them until he landed on his back with her on top. “Fuck, yes.”
“No,” she husked against his lips. He opened his eyes to meet her hungry gaze, stunned again by her beauty. “You get to stroke me off.” She slid along his shaft, not taking him in but teasing him with slow liquid strokes of her hips.
“Jesus,” he choked out, stunned, but pleased as hell by her. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to fucking breathe for fear of doing something that would make her stop.
She tossed her hair off her face, revealing her half-lidded sexy eyes. His muscles tightened until they ached along with his pulsing erection. But he didn’t move.
Had he ever seen something so beautiful as Sorcha using him to gain her pleasure? Her silky hair fell across his chest rousing him higher—like a match to gasoline. He lifted his hips, rubbing against her in the need for more.
She slapped both hands on his chest and narrowed her eyes, hiding most of the brilliant green. With that sultry look, she bit down on his lip.
He nearly shot off. Frantic, he gripped her waist and dug each finger into the firm rise of her lush ass. His jaw ached from gritting his teeth, but he held back the rushing sensations trying to tumble him into an orgasm. She released her bite and he panted for air.