A breeze filtered through the trees and grew stronger, making branches sway. The torches flickered and slowly blew out, one by one.
The women stood clothed only in moonlight, their hair whipping around their shoulders.
And then the wind died. The women awoke from their trances and glanced around their circle, sharing happy smiles.
All but Bryn, who stared forward, a frown marring her dark brow as she leaned toward him, staring straight at him.
Chapter Three
Bryn pressed her knuckles into the bread dough, putting all her strength into squeezing the air from it. Much like she wished she could do to a certain nosy man.
Ever since last night, she’d been angry. At herself for her lapse of good sense. At him for being a pervert.
What he’d seen wasn’t something witches shared with humans. Generations of self-preservation lessons handed down from mother to daughter about witch hunts and public shunnings were reason enough to be concerned. If he’d come armed with a camera or a cell phone, the damage could be so much worse.
And it was all her fault. She’d cast the spell to draw him to her. To fan his interest. He’d been unable to resist following her. Was probably beating himself up for acting like a Peeping Tom.
Ethan didn’t strike her as the kind of man to spy on a woman. He appeared stalwart, trustworthy, or maybe she didn’t understand a thing about him and painted him with qualities she admired.
The only thing she knew as truth about him was that he was the most ruggedly handsome man she’d ever seen. From his dark hair and deeply tanned skin to his heavily muscled frame, she grew hot just thinking about the power in his hands, the sheer physicality he would bring to lovemaking. And she could scarcely contain her impatience.
But she hadn’t told her sister witches that he’d been there last night, when each of them had sent their own private prayers to the Goddess.
Hers, they’d have no trouble guessing. She’d been aroused by the dancing. Imagining him there. Sweet Goddess, she’d likely conjured a spell that had him walking like a zombie into the forest, she’d been that hot. He’d consumed her thoughts. Her mind had filled with lusty images to the point where her excitement had wet her sex and trickled down her thighs.
Not that her sisters had teased her when they were done. They’d all been quiet, their thoughts turned inward, meditating on what they’d requested. Bryn wasn’t sure about the others, but when she’d walked back to the inn, she’d felt as though she was supercharged with moonlight, as though the blue moon had the strength of ten and all of its power had flowed over her body, sinking deep into her skin.
She rounded the dough again and set it in a large bowl with a towel draped over it to allow it to rise again. She turned toward the doorway, intent on making beds and tidying the rooms the men had slept in, but she drew up short, shock taking away her breath. Ethan stood in the doorway.
His gaze swept her head to toe, and she knew he was remembering her nude in the moonlight.
Her cheeks filled with heat, and her glance fell away. “You must have a dozen questions,” she said quietly.
“I hoped I’d catch you alone.”
“Oh?” She raised her head, cursing the fact her heart leapt at his words.
“I wanted to apologize for spying on you.”
She stood still, waiting for him to ask about what he’d seen. Five women dancing naked in the moonlight—she could only imagine what thoughts were running through his mind.
“I heard you leave.” He shrugged. “I live in New Orleans. A woman walking alone at night…”
“You were concerned? You shouldn’t have been. Other than snakes and the occasional alligator, it’s pretty safe here in Bonne Nuit.”
“I was concerned but also curious. I wondered if there was a man you were meeting.”
His cheeks darkened with his admission, and she nearly smiled. Had he been jealous? “I don’t have anyone in my life…like that.”
His breath left in a slow stream. “That’s good to hear.”
Glad he was brushing off the strange happenings he’d witnessed, she offered him a smile. “Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich, and there’s still a slice left of that apple pie.”
“I’d like the pie, if you don’t mind.”
She shuttered her expression, thrilled at another chance to work her spell. “I’ll get you a slice. Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee would be nice.”
As she busied herself serving him, she was aware of the way his dark gaze followed her every move. His attention pleased her. So did his appearance. Again, he wore khaki cargo pants and a dark tee bearing his company’s logo over his heart. The soft cotton stretched across his broad chest.
His short dark hair was cut close to his head. His beard must be heavy because he’d been clean-shaven that morning at breakfast but now a shadow darkened his jaw. She wished she could rub her palm over it and feel the stiff bristles. Who was she kidding? She wished she could rub her hands over his entire body. He was so large and imposing. So dark and exciting.
She set a plate and a mug on the kitchen table, poured a mug for herself and took a seat opposite him, watching as he ate.
His appreciation for her effort was there in his blissful expression when he took his first bite. “Lady, you can bake.”
“I love to cook. It’s why I chose to run a B&B.”
His gaze studied her. “The bridge being washed away must have hurt business.”
She shrugged. “Not so many folks come this deep into the bayou. The occasional hunter or swamp tourist. I do okay.”
“When the bridge is finished, you’ll get busier.”
His pointed look had her nodding. “So you know how hard we fought the project.”
“Makes me curious. I know you and your friends have businesses you run. Doesn’t it complicate things when you can’t easily get resupplied or send out your shipments? Or when customers can’t get to you?”
She smiled. “We treasure our privacy more than we do the size of our bank accounts.”
He grunted and took another bite. “I’m truly sorry about last night, but…” His gaze locked on her. “I can’t regret it. You’re very beautiful.” His words were gruff, as though he was unaccustomed to giving women compliments.
“Thank you,” she said simply. “But it hardly seems fair.”
He lifted the mug and took a sip, his gaze narrowing over the top. “What can I do to make it…fair?”
“I’ll try to think of something. Just so I won’t be the only one blushing.”
He smiled and its slow progress caused her breath to hitch.
“Let me know when you figure it out.” He pushed up from the table and stood over her, his smile leaving and a little frown pulling his thick dark brows together. “I plan to be here a while, Bryn. I don’t want you uncomfortable around me. If I overstep, all you have to do is say it. I’ll back off.”
His interest was there. And strong. Something she could almost taste in the air. Bryn rose in front of him, her heart hammering against her chest. “I’m not shy about telling a man what I want.”
There was a hint of satisfaction in the firm set of his mouth. A glint of something dark that made her heart pound and her sex begin to heat. When his head bent toward hers, she couldn’t have mustered a protest if she’d wanted to. She wanted his kiss too much.
His fingers lightly framed her face, but his lips were firm, commanding, brushing hers and then pressing deeply. The soft suction he applied made her toes curl.
But the kiss was over far too soon. He raised his head, his mouth curving at the corners, and then he left her.
Bryn touched her mouth and sighed. Ethan Thorne was a surprise. For such a large, intense man, he could wield a kiss with true finesse, like a skilled warrior holding a two-edged blade—slicing away her inhibiti
ons while never exposing his true power.
Dinner was a frustrating affair. Her sisters flirted shamelessly with both men. Double entendres piled on top of easy smiles. Bryn felt as plain as her plank table. Sure, she’d put a little extra effort into her appearance, forgoing her long, easy skirts for a mid-thigh sheath, but her sisters had pulled out all the stops. Radha’s spaghetti-strapped top was cut so low the sides of her full breasts were exposed. Aoife’s summer dress dipped daringly in the back toward her derriere. Miren and Darcy opted for sheer, gauzy fabrics that hinted at dusky nipples.
Bryn’s garnet dress hugged her curves and exposed her legs, but not in the sexy excess of the dresses the others had donned. Still, while he smiled at the women’s flirting, Ethan’s glance returned time and again to her, where it would rest for long moments on her mouth and on her breasts and then swing away.
After she served strawberry tarts, she hid herself in the kitchen, away from the noise and irritation, elbows-deep in sudsy water.
The kitchen door whooshed inward and she glanced back. “I can handle the dishes on my o—”
Ethan stood behind her. “Let me dry.”
She didn’t want him to dry. She wanted him to make her very, very wet. She swallowed hard and faced forward. “Towels are in the drawer beside the stove.”
He walked closer and bent to reach beyond her into the drawer. His proximity wasn’t necessary, but her body wasn’t complaining. Her breasts felt suddenly fuller, her hips looser. Fingers touched the small of her back, and then he moved beside her and began to empty the rack.
“Dinner was terrific.”
She’d made shepherd’s pie with a fluffy crust, fresh bread rolls and grilled string beans topped with sprinkles of crisp bacon.
“You don’t have to go to so much effort.”
“Cooking’s not a chore.”
“You love it,” he said, smiling.
“I do.”
“Well, I appreciate the results.”
“You’re welcome.”
She rolled her eyes at her stilted responses. Still, he loved her cooking. Warmth filled her chest. “You don’t have to help me with the dishes. You put in a full day’s work.”
“I prefer the company in here.”
She glanced to her side, gave him a small smile and then finished the last of the cutlery. “These can air-dry.”
He set aside his towel and moved behind her, bringing his hands down on the edge of the counter, trapping her between his thick, muscled arms. His warm breath stirred the hair beside her ear. “Town’s small. Where does a guy take a girl if he wants a little privacy?”
To her bedroom, but she guessed that would seem a little too forward. “He might ask her to walk in the garden,” she said softly. “There’s a gazebo in the back…”
He nuzzled his nose through her hair, skimmed his lips over her neck, and she couldn’t resist tilting her head to allow him a little more access to her bare skin.
“Come with me.”
Not a request. Not that she minded at all. She was eager to be alone with him. She let him take her hand and pull her toward the kitchen door. They slipped out onto the porch, and he let her lead him with their fingers intertwined past the raised-bed herb garden, past tall beanstalks and sweet corn. She led him to the trellised gate, overhung with hyacinth. “It’s not much farther,” she said, glancing back.
His expression was closed, his dark eyes shadowed. But she wasn’t afraid. He tightened his hand around her fingers. He was growing tense. Just like she was—from anticipation.
Excitement quivered through her. Every sense was alert. Just the air brushing her bare arms and legs felt erotic. The scent of honeysuckle and roses teased her nose. The sound of his heavy tread thudded like her heartbeat. Just ahead, the latticed sides of the gazebo were like silver interwoven bones in the moonlight.
Beautiful. Frightening as well, because there in the darkness they cloaked awaited the possibility of intimacies shared—with this man who had managed to consume her thoughts from the first moment his glance had landed on her. Just yesterday. How could that be?
Already, when they weren’t together, she was obsessed with thoughts of him. When he was near, her body awoke. Her breasts ached for his touch. Her sex throbbed with building heat. She was constantly wet. Constantly ready. If he wanted her this night, she wasn’t going to refuse. Her body was too painfully aroused to ignore.
They entered the structure and he tugged her to a halt. She stood facing away, trying to catch her breath. But her breathing was so shallow she was nearly panting.
He let go of her hand and settled both of his at her waist. His grip was light but insistent, and he pressed against her back. His chest was a brick wall. And below, she felt the nudge of a long, hard column against her buttocks.
Silently, he was warning her. This was what he wanted. She could refuse, ease away from the pressure, and he would accede, perhaps giving her kisses and caresses through her clothing. Nothing more than she was willing to accept at this moment.
But she was greedy. She wanted everything he had to give, and she wanted it now. Lifting her hand, she shifted her hair from her neck. “The zipper’s right there,” she whispered.
She heard a loud swallow and was glad he showed a little surprise. Was he as nervous as she was? It had been so long since she’d been intimate with a man. Nearly five years. And then she’d been in Merrick’s thrall. His to switch on and off like a light bulb when he needed release or a spell.
Ethan’s hands left her waist. Tucking his fingers under the neckline of her dress, he slowly lowered her zipper and then pushed her dress downward until it puddled at her feet.
She stepped out of it and moved it away with a toe. Now she stood, still facing away, in just her lacy panties and bra.
Within seconds, he unhooked her bra and dragged it off her arms. Her nipples puckered instantly in the night air. He smoothed her panties down, kneeling behind her, his cheek against her ass as he waited for her to step out of her underwear. There was no way he could miss the scent of her arousal.
He slid upward, gliding his body against hers and holding for a moment before stepping away. The shuffling sounds of clothing being dragged off made her smile, because he was hurrying. His belt clanging on the wood floor was the final sound before he reached around her to cup her breasts. His bare cock pushed impudently against her backside.
“I apologize for the rush,” he said, a lovely growling texture to his deep voice.
“Apologize only if you make me wait.”
His laugh was short, pained. “Then I’m sorry. I don’t want to take you on the hard floor.”
She pointed to the seats tucked against the latticed walls. “The cushions,” she said, her own voice lowering, sounding foreign it was so husky.
He stepped around her, his head bent downward, concealing his expression as he grabbed cushions and arranged them on the floor. When he’d made a bed for them, he stood behind her again. “Let me do this my way.”
His way meant she would be on hands and knees. His callused palms urged her downward, arranging her knees, sinking the center of her back to tilt her bottom upward.
She didn’t mind that he treated her like a doll, that he took charge, his body blanketing her as he set the width of her hands just so. He was warm and hard and surrounding her. His cock glided on the backs of her thighs, nudged her buttocks and slid along her wet folds.
And his cock was huge. A blunt instrument. Rock solid as the rest of him.
When he was satisfied, he moved away. Her head bowed toward the floor. She hoped he’d take her. Sink his many inches inside her. However, the first flick of his tongue against her folds sent an electrical charge through her.
She must have been wound too tight. Nearly on the verge of orgasm for it to affect her so. She steeled herself against the pleasure, not
wanting to disappoint him by leaving him in the dust.
He teased her with more flicks to her outer folds. Then he suckled there, drawing her inside his mouth for gentle nibbles. His whiskers raked her sex and inner thighs.
Not that she minded the abrasion. He could scour her skin off so long as he found her center. Which he did, dipping his tongue inside her and swirling. A deep groan vibrated against her sex.
When he pulled away again, she whimpered. She didn’t need foreplay, she needed the main event. But the nips he gave her fleshy ass made her jerk, escalating her sensitivity to his every touch.
Fingers parted her then swirled around her entrance. They eased her open, stretched her, one finger added at a time until she was beyond full. He spent so much time preparing her for his girth, she began to wonder if she’d underestimated just as how large he was.
The moment he prodded her with the blunt knob of his cock, she knew. He spread her folds and pressed against her, apparently gripping himself to circle her entrance and ease himself inside with precision and insistent pressure.
She’d dreamed about the way it would feel. Now pleasure was edged with worry that he wouldn’t fit. But she was wet, and more liquid seeped from inside her to coat his heavy cock. At last, he breached her entrance.
She sagged, her arms already shaking. Her body was too tight, too excited for her to slow her heart or reactions. “Ethan,” she whimpered.
The pressure relented. He held still. “Am I hurting you?” His voice sounded as though he were grinding rocks between his teeth.
“Yes,” she hissed, but she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted the pressure and the pain. “More, please.”
His laugh was choked. He gripped the notches of her hips to hold her immobile and worked himself inside in shallow, pulsing waves, in and out, deeper and deeper—until Goddess, he was touching her womb.
She felt a pinch deep inside her. A quiver of core-deep delight. This could be the moment. If only he didn’t realize he’d taken her unprotected and pulled free at the last.
Once in a Blue Moon: Beaux Rêve Coven, Book 1 Page 3