“Such sweet, plump little nipples, Zarn,” Graedor suddenly drawled from just above her head, the words ripping her out of the inner, private thoughts consuming her. “I could suck on them for her, while you fuck her, and make the little lass feel good all over. What do you say, blood brother?”
“I say you’re begging to have my fist in your face,” Zarnak snarled, and to her breathless satisfaction, he began to move…to fuck her, his rhythm thick and hard and grinding, and her body screamed from the heart-stopping sensation.
Tilting her head slightly back, she watched the knowing grin play mischievously over the lycan’s wicked mouth. “Maybe you should ask her what she wants.”
“Maybe you should shut the fuck up, Grae!”
The werewolf cocked his head to the side, his fingers flexing in slow movements against her pinned wrists while those golden eyes gazed unblinkingly at her lover. “You know, I’ve never seen you this possessive over a woman, before. Then again, I’ve never seen you fuck one with quite so much…passion, either.”
Zarnak stared at the man from beneath his lashes, never once faltering in the driving tempo of his thick shaft into the drenched, gripping tissues of her pussy. “What are you doing?”
Grae’s smile flashed, brilliant within the deeper tan of his face. “Making sure the little mortal understands she’s not just another fuck to you.”
“The little mortal has ears, you know,” she moaned breathlessly, bemused…and oddly touched by the werewolf’s caring.
“Oh, I know, lass,” Graedor said with a hard grin. “I just want to make sure you understand everything happening here. I’ve witnessed times with this man, back in his day, when women would throw themselves at him, and never did he look more than mildly amused with their attention, even when giving them a toss. Never, not even once, did he fuck a woman as if it truly mattered. For necessity and relief, yes, but never for more.”
“Your point?” Zarnak growled, slamming her with a thick, grinding thrust that ripped her attention completely back to him, which she strongly suspected he had done on purpose.
Graedor chuckled softly. “My point is so obvious, but then pleasure must be clouding your brain. To put it simply for you both, she matters.”
“Of course she does,” he grunted, staring down into her wide eyes with stark emotion written in every facet of his expression. “More than anything.”
Three simple words and Tess was suddenly stumbling down a shifting emotional landscape. There were too many unknowns and variables and her mind spun with the confusion. She felt steeped in the wreckage of a life destroyed…and yet on the horizon the promise of a life that could be seemed to lie there, just waiting for her to reach out and embrace it. It was something simply spellbinding and beautiful that bloomed from hate and terror and desolation.
But I have to reach out and grab hold of it.
It wouldn’t come to her, and oddly, a measure of her panic seemed to ease, mimicking the quenching caress of her vaginal muscles around the buried stalk of his demanding cock—the heavy, extraordinarily intimate presence that had suddenly made her reel. So much of him fought for space within her, and yet, she wouldn’t have had him any differently. No, it was too perfect, in a raw, animal way, the way he filled her…and it was that perfection that urged her to grab that new promise of life.
Only, I can’t do that. Not now…probably never.
But god did he tempt her. The chaotic emotion that danced like silvery flames within the blue horizon of his dark eyes, swimming through those silver striations as his brilliant, devastatingly tempting gaze glittered down at her, pleaded for her complete surrender—but she withheld. She did not reach out.
“You will,” he snarled beneath his breath, and all at once, his eyes darkened, and Tess knew he understood the strange chaos going on within her, and for a moment, she thought he would argue. Here. Now. Buried within her for the first time. But then he hardened the arrogant line of his jaw, leaned his face down until it hovered just above hers, and then crushed her mouth beneath his own. His wickedly clever tongue thrust past her lips with purely carnal intent, and her fears faded into the background, drowning beneath the delicious taste of his mouth.
Raw, pounding, brutal sensations hammered through her senses, from the warm, erotic touch of his lips to the greedy grasp of his hands against her naked flesh—so tight, she could feel the grip of all ten fingers imprinting themselves upon her skin, like fingerprints upon her memory.
And in that moment she knew what he was telling her.
Whether I reach out or not, he’s never letting me go.
With no other choice, Zarnak saved the emotional battles for later and lost himself to the passion of the moment. “Stop thinking, lass. You can worry later, but for now, I want you to know nothing but the feel of my cock fucking you. Nothing but the feel of this.” He shoved into her with another thick, relentless thrust, giving her every inch until he was lost in her. She gripped him, squeezing his cock, so voluptuously hot and slick and melting that it was all he could do not to roar out his pleasure. Her smooth, snug walls clutched at him like a hot, silken mouth trying to swallow him down, and he shifted so that he could watch as well as feel. It was a brutal sight, savage in its perfection, the way his long, thick root drove into the tiny mouth that led to a heavenly rapture. Pure perfection. He braced his hands against the very tops of her inner thighs, stroking his thumbs over the crease between thigh and groin, watching through narrowed eyes as he plunged deep, her body jerking beneath him, then pulling back, his teeth grinding at the way her inner tissues gripped him. He watched for as long as he dared, then leaned over her once again, knowing that if he didn’t, he would not last.
“Do you love it, Tess?” he asked, the silkiness of his tone in no way disguising the hard demand of his words as he planted his forearms against the rock on either side of her face.
“Oh god, yes,” she gasped, coming completely undone and struggling against the lycan’s hands, until Graedor had to tighten his hold on her delicate wrists.
“Then tell me, lass,” he grated out on a harsh breath, hammering ruthlessly into her like an animal, like the beast that was so much a part of him, holding nothing back. “Tell me what you love.”
“I love it…all of it. Your cock, the feel of…the feel of it inside me, so deep that I can’t… I don’t know how I’ve taken it all. But I love it,” she panted, her voice hoarse and raw from her cries. “I love feeling it forcing me to make room for it, love the feel of you shoving into me, fucking me.”
“That’s good, because you’re taking it every day and night for the rest of your life,” he grunted, the sound of his breathing violent, harsh within the mystical stillness of the forest. “Taking it in every hard, vicious way I want to give it to you.”
“Yes,” she sobbed, arching wildly with his next powering thrust, her sweet cunt gushing around him as he crammed himself into her, so drenched and hot he couldn’t stand it.
With his forearms planted firmly against the cold stone, he stared down at her, jaw locked tight against the indescribable pleasure of fucking her. He felt dizzy—dazed at the feel of her warm, drenched pussy closing around him, sucking him in as he shoved into her over and over. She was so fucking tight, damp and perfect. He loved the way she felt, the way the air filled with wet, desperate little slurping sounds as he pushed deeper, forcing his way through those warm, tender walls. Gods, he’d never felt anything like it. The pleasure was indescribable…the sheer perfection of the way she held him, as if she were a little mouth struggling to swallow him, sucking tighter and tighter, grasping at the heavy ridges of his cock, clutching at his blood-thickened veins as they throbbed, painful and urgent. He couldn’t wait to feel her explode around him. Couldn’t wait to feel that warm cum cover him as her walls clenched and then the rippling pleasure of her orgasm ripped though her, burning them both alive. He wanted to feel it, so creamy and sizzling, squeezing out as he drew back, making the slapping sounds of their hard,
pounding fuck louder…wetter. Hard, brutal fucking that soaked them in sin-filled sensation—and yet, took him closer to rapture, to the lands of the gods, than he’d thought he could ever achieve.
But she was fighting it, he knew. Fighting her pleasure, afraid to give in to him, and he wasn’t having it.
Shifting his upper body, he caught one plump nipple between his lips and trapped the tender bud against the roof of his mouth, loving the way it felt there. Then he suckled, pulling and working the satiny nub with his tongue, while his hips ground against her swollen, pleasure-ripe clit.
“Give it to me,” he growled, grunting as his body worked her harder, faster, urging her to stop struggling against the cresting rise of release. “Let it go, Tess. I need to feel it, little one. I need to feel you crashing around me.”
And it was suddenly as if his words had reached down into her lush depths and flicked the switch, for the next thing he knew she was screaming, crying out a sharp, keening sound of beauty as her cunt squeezed down on him so hard it made him groan. He ground his teeth, readying himself for the moment she broke, and when she did, he went crashing after her. One instant the pressure was tight and fierce around his aching length, and then he felt the ignition and all those tight, snug muscles began dancing down the length of his cock in a writhing, clutching rhythm of release as the hot wash of her cum coated him, burning his skin. It was perfect and blinding and brilliant and he nearly died from the intensity of the pleasure, throwing back his head and shouting as the brutal wave of cum rolled through him in a thick, scalding wave and erupted from his cock head, shooting into her. He shoved himself impossibly deep, forcing her to take him as far inside as she could, and there he spent himself into her, filling her with his cum, his heart pumping heavily as the pleasure whipped through him like a storm.
Svarqak, she nearly killed me, he thought sleepily, collapsing over her as the intense spasms eventually slowed, leaving him drifting in a heavy state of satisfaction, the likes of which he’d never experienced.
“Now, Grae,” he gasped, fighting for the air to speak. “Now…you can…get lost.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched as Graedor tempted fate and leaned down, pressing his mouth to Tess’, swiping his tongue along the plump, damp flesh of her lower lip. She gasped in startled surprise around her own panting breaths, and Zarnak’s growl echoed the deeply dominant sound rumbling up from the were’s chest. Standing to his full height, the lycan smiled down at her, but it was a hard smile, tight with frustration. “Goodbye, beautiful. I’m sure we will meet again…and again.”
“Meet, yes,” Zarnak muttered, knowing he was too spent to kick the lycan’s ass at that particular moment in time, and unwilling to give up his position to do so. “But you touch her and I’m leaving you with a bloody stump, Grae.”
“I’ve never seen this jealous side of you before, Zarn. It’s so…refreshing,” Grae threw over his broad shoulder as he walked away, and a wry smile curved Zarnak’s mouth as the man’s laughter rang out, his tall body disappearing into the lush foliage of the forest.
Chapter Six
Loves Lost and Found
“All my possessions for a moment of time.”
Alleged last words of Elizabeth I
Graedor wiped his damp mouth against his shoulder as he left The Clearing and The Circle of Stones behind him. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement off toward the line of trees at his right. His nostrils flared and the scent of lilacs filled his head, tightening his gut and sending a renewed surge of blood thundering to his groin, stiffening his cock to ungodly proportions.
Anissa. The thorn in his paw that he doubted would ever fail to incite him.
So, the little fae was going to follow him now, as well as spy upon him. The thought made his mouth flatten into a hard, irritated line—he was nearing the end of his patience with her.
And what pissed him off most was the sad fact that it was not only his patience wearing thin. Each time he saw her, the irrational need she sparked inside him cut a little deeper, until he felt as if he were carrying around a deep, bleeding wound within his body that only she could heal. It was infuriating, but he was damned if he knew what to do about it. Avoiding her hadn’t worked, for she was always there, teasing his senses and his mind even when he wasn’t with her.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think she’d had a spell put upon him, but he knew his affliction wasn’t something that could be so easily explained. No, Anissa was a torment that had plagued him for too long, and no matter the number of eager females within The Wood that he “rutted” upon, as Zarnak had put it, he couldn’t fuck this burning need for her from his body.
Gods, it made him so angry he wanted to scream and shout and rip something apart with his fangs and teeth and claws in a vicious, violent rage.
Fuck it, he thought with a harsh, bitter laugh. You can lie to her all you want, but at least be honest with yourself. She may piss you off more than anyone you’ve ever known, but mostly, she just makes you want to find her, bind her and fuck her into submission. Makes you want to pound yourself into her until she admits that she needs you as deeply, as completely, as thoroughly as you fucking need her.
And he knew there wasn’t a chance in all the hells of the Blood Goddess that it would ever happen.
The thought made him snarl beneath his breath, and when a small sound whispered in the draping ivy at his right, he lunged, smiling with cruel satisfaction when his long fingers curled around the delicate, fragile bones of a feminine wrist. As his fingers closed, he heard her sharp hiss of breath.
“Come out, come out, little faerie,” he drawled snidely, knowing she would be furious that he’d caught her. Lately, she’d been spying on him more and more frequently and he was beyond ready to know why. One hard tug of his arm, and she came stumbling through the ivy curtain, her pale, strawberry blond curls snagging in the prickly leaves, scratching against her baby soft skin, leaving rosy streaks upon her cheeks and arms, as well as her calves and the smooth inches of thigh visible beneath her short sapphire colored skirt. It was made of shimmering, iridescent velvet, and he hated the way that deep, vibrant color contrasted against the silken beauty of her creamy flesh.
Ripping his eyes from the exposed length of sleekly muscled leg, Graedor glared down into the enraged face of the most tempting woman he had ever known. Not the most beautiful, for her features were put together too uniquely to be considered classically attractive, but more alluring, intriguing, and impossibly stunning to him than the most perfect woman he’d ever had. And lately he’d had far, far too much perfection for his liking.
What he wanted was a little warrior beneath his hungry body. One who smelled of lilacs, who would scratch and claw and beg him to fuck her harder and deeper than he would ever dare. One who never worried if her wild halo of curls were being tangled or if her lips were curled in a sultry smile, displaying her mouth in its most provocative form. No, the woman he wanted would lose herself in the hunger and passion of their physical battle for pleasure, and undoubtedly give as good as she got.
Gods, the thought was nearly enough to make him take her then and there—tackle her to the forest floor and shove himself into her before she could tell him no—but he knew he would never do such a thing. No matter how desperately, how fiercely he wanted her, he could never take her against her will.
And he knew firsthand that Anissa would rather die than come to him willingly, which meant he would never have her, no matter how badly he ached.
Strange, how his stubborn pride refused to accept that rather irrefutable fact. But when it came to this impudent, headstrong Princess of the Fae, Graedor knew he was anything but logical.
Tantalizing eyes of a color that seemed lost somewhere between the sea and the sky—a myriad, mesmerizing mixture of smoky blues and greens—blazed up at him with more hatred than he had ever seen in the most adamant enemy, and he refused to think too clearly about how that fact made him die a little
inside. As much as he’d struggled against it, it seemed his unwanted desire for this woman had been killing him bit by bit for the past five years, until he wondered if it would actually be possible for unrequited passion to destroy an immortal.
“Well,” he drawled in the face of her stubborn silence, hoping he sounded as mean as he felt inside. “What have we here? Could it be that you’ve grown so desperate to again have a man of your own that you’ve taken to watching others to get your thrills, little Princess? I wonder what your da would have to say about such a thing.”
Not even a flicker of an eyelash betrayed whatever thoughts were scurrying through that too-clever brain of hers, and so he used his other senses to seek what she felt. He’d hoped for anger, that sharp, biting scent of fury, but nearly groaned aloud when the rich, succulent perfume of feminine arousal filled his head, nearly bringing him to his knees.
“Ah,” he smiled, hoping it looked more cruel than hopeful, “I can smell that hateful little quim between your thighs, Anissa. Did you enjoy the sight of their fucking? Or was it me you enjoyed watching, snowflake?”
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