Blooming Desire: An Extraordinary Spring Romance Collection

by S. J. Sanders

  “It’s so dark,” she whispered, realizing she needed to lift her voice to be heard above the strange song of the night animals. Critters. Insects. Strange, nocturnal flying beasties. Things that might slither, too. And bite.

  This was really happening. Here she was, on her very first experience roughing it. Her skin prickled at the possibility that there could be nameless, unseen things crawling over her body, ready to drink her blood.

  That was reason number one that she never went camping.

  “It is the first stage of the spring moon,” he murmured. “Are you afraid of the dark?” Amusement teased his words. He nuzzled her hair behind her ear and then drifted lower, making a path down the length of her neck to her collar bone.

  “No. Not afraid. I don’t like bugs.” She tipped her head to the side, giving him more and better access to the column of her throat.

  He took advantage of her adjustment and the warmth. His mouth grazed the center of her throat. His lips were just as plush and soft as she’d imagined but so much warmer than she expected. A’pone kissed her again, opened mouthed this time and he plied her skin with slow, searching flicks of his tongue. “I’ll protect you from bugs,” he growled into her skin.

  The firm assurance in his tone made her laugh. “I don’t think you can promise to keep me safe from all of them.”

  “You doubt my dedication to your wellbeing, lady?” he asked, sliding his hands down her stomach to her hips. “I can be extremely persistent when I set my mind to it.”

  “Oh,” she breathed out a sound between a gasp and a moan as one of his palms cupped her between her thighs.

  His other hand roamed up her body, leisurely stroking from her belly to the warm valley between her breasts. He teased her with slow sweeps of his thumb, the rough pad sliding back and forth like a pendulum. He traced crescent strokes into her skin, each time drawing closer to her nipples. He made her breathless. She wanted to beg him to touch the sensitive peaks.

  His other hand, the one cupping her mons, gave a slow squeeze. His fingers didn’t pry or dip into her, but his warmth nuzzled, not quite hard enough to offer relief as he drew her ass against his stomach.

  Her nipples tightened to sensitive buds of pleasure under the silk of her bra. Spine bowing, she strained toward his hand, resting between her breasts. She craved his touch, needing him to sooth away the ache that had consumed her since she’d first seen him.

  She feared she would come the moment he actually touched her.

  He drew in a long, slow breath. “Your desire smells so good.” He sounded surprised and delighted, nuzzling a new spot on her throat, clearly savoring the experience.

  “A’pone,” she whispered his name in invitation as she let her knees part, spreading herself for his access.

  His breath caught at her action and his hands stilled mid exploration. “Veronica?”

  “Yes.” She covered his hand where it rested between her breasts. When he gasped, she squeezed his fingers, pressing him against her in encouragement. “Please, A’pone. Touch me. You feel so good.”

  She felt him nod, his silken hair tickling her where it tumbled across her shoulder. “You are pure divinity,” he whispered in awe as his hand moved, thumb finally brushing the peak of one of her aching nipples through the fabric. “I want to bathe in your fragrance.” The opposite nipple got a teasing caress in time with his words.

  Then his big hand cupped her breast, gathering her fullness and giving a squeeze before releasing her. A quick tug and the thin strap of the bodice slid down her arm. Another pull and chill, midnight air whispered over her flesh. She gasped in shock at the contrast before his hard, callused palm covered her naked breast. The warmth of him suffused her, her nipple scraped by the textures of his rough touch.

  Warrior’s hands.

  Lover’s hands.

  The feel of him turned her on even more, because in contrast to his size and strength, his searching caress was gentle. Seeking. Claiming.

  He stroked over her hips and thighs, teasing her as he drew the skirt of her dress up. First exposing her legs, thighs and finally her hips as the fabric was pushed up to her navel. His fingers ran along the delicate fringe of her lace panties where they hugged her skin, tracing from her hip to the cleft between her legs.

  She echoed his groan when the tips of his fingers discovered the wetness at the apex of her thighs. Moments after meeting him she’d soaked through the fragile strip of decoration that shielded her sex. She was surprised they hadn’t burned up completely when he first started touching her.

  Hooking his thumb into the cloth, he gave a tug and yanked them off her and ran painted silken lines of fire between the bared folds of her sex.

  “Your pussy is so hot, ‘Nica. You’re wet enough for me to bathe in you and I have only just touched you.”

  “Yes. Oh yes.” She groaned when he explored her, petting and caressing. She writhed, spine flush to his bare chest, legs spread as wide as she could manage so his big fingers could splay her open. Instead he teased her, spreading her with two fingers while the middle digit circled her clit. The slippery touch not using enough pressure of friction to bring her ultimate release.

  She reached up to him, sliding her hand along his cheek to his jaw. He moaned brokenly against her flesh as she teased the elegant curve and point of his ear.

  His mouth moved along her neck, his lips, tongue and teeth trailing over her until he reached her pulse point. With a low snarl he kissed the fluttering spot of her jugular, lapping where her blood thrummed just under the skin like a hummingbird’s wings. A delicious pang of sensation bordered on pain as he sucked harder. The tip of his fangs pricked her skin.

  “Oh, god,” she cried out, loving the unexpected thrill of the fierce bite. “Yes, so good.”

  His growl of agreement set her on fire and she tipped her head more, so he could fully mark her. Drink from her if that is what he was doing. She didn’t actually care, he felt so good and she was that far gone. His hand squeezed one of her heavy breasts, his fingertips plucking and rolling her beaded nipple in time with his sucking lips on her neck.

  In the inky black, it was easy to forget he wasn’t more than a human man. A big, powerful male who touched her body with a mixture of new discovery and commanding confidence. It made her breath skitter wildly from her lungs. Intuitively he seemed to be listening to her body. Not just noting the way she moaned when he stroked her perfectly, but also in the way she moved when it wasn’t quite right. He read her. Learning her with a dedication she’d never had with a lover before.

  “Veronica.” His voice, muffled against her skin, was desperate and full of longing. “I need more.”

  She fisted the handful of his hair, lost in the moment. The feel and scent of him surrounded her in an intoxicating spell. She was lost. Right there with him, her body balanced on the edge.

  His finger slid deep into her as his whole body shuddered. The sound that tore from his chest echoed through the darkness. His voice rose in a powerful roar of pleasure that crested before ending in a broken whimper.

  “Yes, A’pone. Oh yes,” she cried as his thick digit pumped into her, hard and fast, his knuckles grinding against her clit with a rough force that sent her soaring into climax. She was thrown high into release and shattered into stardust. Her heat and lust soaked his hand, her pent-up passion flooding through her.

  He continued to hold her, touch her and pleasure her as she rode the last waves of her release down from the peak of her orgasm. They were both quiet except for their heavy breathing. Even the night creatures had lowered their voices, as though sensing what had passed between them. There was a faint tremble to his touch when his hands stilled at last. His finger slid from her pussy but his palm cupped her mound.

  She’d made him lose control, she realized with a touch of pride followed by sympathy for the virgin centaur. It wasn’t anything he should be ashamed of, but she had not been with such an inexperienced lover before and didn’t know if she sh
ould comfort him. She was about to tell him how wonderful he made her feel. Would it sound too weird for her to assure him that premature ejaculation was common for young men their first time?

  And then he moved his equine forelimb to curl affectionately with her leg.

  Not human.

  Monster.

  The words died in her throat.

  She froze at the sensation of warm horse flesh against her bare thigh.

  “I would protect you from every danger this world has.” His words came out breathless, husky with his pleasure and with an imploring edge that made her chest tight.

  “What about the threats in my world?”

  “Why can’t our worlds be one and the same?” he asked, his whisper so soft, she almost didn’t make out the words.

  “I don’t belong here.” Her stupid voice shook as she spoke those words. “And you don’t belong there.” She bit her lower lip until she tasted blood. She couldn’t say more than that. Not after the pleasure he’d given her. Not with the sound of her name on his lips playing on repeat in her mind. Tears burned their way past her lashes to trickle down her cheeks.

  He didn’t pull away from her and she didn’t retreat from him but neither of them spoke again. Somehow, between her tangle of warring emotions and worry for her daughter and her own future, she drifted off, lulled into a dreamless sleep by the deep, steady breathing of the centaur who held her protectively in his powerful arms.

  4

  Waxing Crescent

  She woke in the darkness again. Not completely night but early dawn and this time she was cold and alone.

  It wasn’t only her body that ached from sleeping on the hard dirt but her heart felt raw and decidedly fragile. It wasn’t like her to be emotional but her vision blurred with tears threatening to spill.

  Could she really blame him for leaving her?

  She’d used him ruthlessly the night before.

  Young men were impressionable and vulnerable. She should have used better judgment and a hell of a lot more self control instead of grinding one out against him. She didn’t even have the decency to offer him a reach around.

  She never thought she’d be the villain of one of those horrible first time stories.

  “Heartless, Veronica.”

  For a few moments she tore herself down, pointing out all the wrong deeds she’d done in the past forty eight hours and then allowed herself a self-flagellation inspired sob until the tears were wrung out from her system.

  When that was over and she’d pulled herself together, she sat up and took stock of her situation.

  Camping sucked.

  Her mouth tasted like a dry old sock and she probably had bug bites in weird places, considering she had fallen asleep with her dress hiked up her ribs.

  Thanks for that, A’pone. Could have at least covered my ass when you left.

  She probably deserved it, considering her behavior.

  The forest looked the same as it had the day before, except the trees were smaller. Above, the canopy of branches weren’t as thick but blocked most of the sky from view. The dawn light cut through, slowly changing from foggy blues and purples to greens and golds, but mist still hung low on the ground.

  Great, she would stumble around in the trees until she starved to death.

  The thought of her lack of food made her stomach growl. The only thing she’d had to eat recently were the acorns yesterday. Thinking of them made her heart lurch. The last of them had been bundled in her skirt but last night’s exploits had surely scattered them far and wide.

  She glanced around, trying not to look at the space beside her where the big centaur had lain. Unfortunately, his imprint drew her anyway. There were places where his hooves had scraped the earth, likely during their intimacy and likewise the wet spot left by his release.

  Blushing, she adjusted her dress, making sure she wasn’t flashing any innocent woodland creatures. Beside her was a flat rock and arranged in a natural indent were her acorns. Someone had stacked them into an artful pyramid as though they were golden foil Rochers. A’pone must have done that for her. Or the magical nuts did it themselves.

  Reaching out for the pile she was about to greedily snatch up one or two of the delicious suckers for a much needed breakfast when a soft chirping just above her made her start. A blur of motion caught at the corner of her eye and she turned her head just in time to see the vibrant glint of jewel tones like the iridescent feathers of a hummingbird—greens, indigo and sapphire. The musical trill sounded at the other side of her but it zipped away before she could focus on it. All she processed was the flurry of blue wings.

  “It’s trying to get to the bloom in your hair.” A’pone’s voice rumbled from behind her, pitched low. It did something to her insides, liquefying and tightening sensitive, intimate parts of her. The place deep inside her pussy where he’d left his mark on her. That slightly bruised ache where his finger touched her and his teeth pierced her. Memories of his touch flashed through her mind like red hot sparks, each one lighting her up and inflaming her. “Stay very still.”

  “Why?” Alarm thrummed through her and she froze in place rather than look over at the centaur. “Is it going to attack me?”

  “Attack? Oh, Veronica. No, he isn’t going to attack.”

  “Should I take the flower out of my hair?”

  “No.” His voice was a low, firm command that stilled her hand from the path she’d started to bring it to the bloom tucked behind her ear. A chill ran up the back of her neck. “Remain still.”

  His demand was unlike his treatment of her the day, and night, before. It was probably due to his anger with her. It certainly shouldn’t excite her. And yet her nipples pebbled despite herself.

  Veronica let her shoulders relax but otherwise didn’t move. She was about to ask if it was gone when rhythmic gusts of air stirred her hair. The sound of soft wingbeats grew closer and she pushed away the urge to tip her head to look at the animal.

  “Stay still,” A’pone’s gruff warning held her steady.

  The flower twitched as the curious, probably hungry, animal inspected it. From the corner of her eye she could see vibrant feathers, or perhaps scales forming intricate scallops. Was it covered in fur or hide? She didn’t even want to draw breath. Uttering a satisfied warble, the animal landed on her shoulder, wings beating slowly as it balanced on her and wrestled with the blossom. From the crunching sounds, it was eating her flowers.

  “Ha’chiha, cheroush,” A’pone crooned, low and sultry. “Lenina’ti.”

  Veronica wasn’t sure what that meant but he sounded reverent as the strange words spilled from his lips. That tone reminded her of the night before and how he’d moaned her name, and I need more.

  I need more.

  A soft purring vibrated from the guest on her shoulder. It was much larger than she’d expected, but not heavy despite the size, perhaps offset by the fanning of its feathery wings. A long tail looped around her shoulder, further securing itself to her. Fur and feathers tickled her skin as velvet paws settled onto her more firmly.

  She realized she’d been sensing its wariness only after that particular emotion had ebbed away. Now what she sensed from it was contentment, satisfaction and…possessiveness?

  Or was that the tree? Tree had melted into the back of her mind. It was only when she focused on the fact that its awareness might have abandoned her that it swept to the fore and greeted her with paternal affection.

  Should she look at the thing? Would she scare it away if she did?

  From the corner of her eye she could mostly see deep sapphire fur blending to violet but the tail was emerald, gold and bronze.

  “You can turn your head now, I think,” A’pone murmured.

  She did so as slowly as she could manage, not sure what she’d find on her shoulder. Bright gold colored eyes were staring at her from a bobcat-like face. The feline was shades of iridescent blues and purples. Its Long ears perked toward her, the feathered tufted tips quiverin
g. Their gazes locked and the purring deepened. It thrummed low, striking a matching chord in her.

  Joy and delight suffused her. All the good emotions she associated with coming home enfolded her. Crackling fires, Swiss chocolates, silken pajamas and the cat-bird at her feet.

  Murial, cat-bird corrected cheerfully. I hungry.

  “W-wait. What is it…d-doing?” She snapped her eyes closed but it was too late.

  The damage was done.

  The cat-bird—Murial—had already lovingly nestled inside her head.

  “No,” she moaned in frustration and lurched to her feet, casting both arms skyward.

  The little interloper belted out a silvery trumpet of surprise and launched off her shoulder. He screamed in outrage that matched her own emotions and spiraled away from her. The sound of his staccato wing beats echoing off the trees as he went.

  No one had asked her if she wanted to have her mind shared with one soul let alone two. She could barely handle her own damn thoughts. Now she had a meddling tree and a flower-munching, cat-bird hijacking her thoughts and emotions.

  “What are you doing?” A’pone asked and then shouted out an oath and bark of pain. “Veronica!”

  She whirled at his cry and gawked as Murial dove at the centaur, golden claws unsheathed and flashing. A terrible, cat-bird war cry rang through the forest as the beast defended her.

  The creature was larger than she’d estimated by his weight when he was on her shoulder. He was the size of a large bobcat and was a strange mix of feline, peacock and dragon. He had a furry body but feathered wings, with a crest around his shoulders and neck of fur and feathers that formed a lion-like mane. The mantel was extended fully as he went into attack mode.

  I will never let him hurt you again, Murial told her, his voice turning savage.

  In an instant his outpouring of thoughts and emotions swamped her. She struggled to process and translate. He’d followed her from his nest in the Blessed Tree and witnessed the male who had scented her, then abandoned her. He’d been curious as he watched her cry and was drawn to her emotions. She was the Elder Tree’s chosen and she was in pain. Then she’d invited cat-bird to share the precious flower. Murial was so happy he no longer had to be alone. But when she got angry, he knew it was because that male, the centaur, had returned.