Chapter Six
Angus felt her indecision, knew when it shifted to desire as urgent as his own. Recognition flared that she had wounded places, regret that ran far deeper than his since she’d lived so much longer.
Or had she? Now that he had some inkling of his origins, how long had he lived?
He didn’t want to think about the unknowns that plagued him. Not with her in his arms. She’d given him a gift, an unexpected windfall. He’d sort through what the knowledge meant later.
The lithe body pressed against him held great power and great longing. She was supposed to be the virgin huntress, yet she was no maid, not if he were any judge of such things.
Angus teased her mouth with his tongue. She tasted sweet, like summer wildflowers or well-aged brandy. Arianrhod gave herself to their kiss, melting into his arms as if she’d been born to be a part of him. Her nipples pebbled where her breasts pressed against his chest.
He wanted everything. To see her, taste her, run his tongue and fingers all over her magnificent body. She bit his lower lip, and he nipped back, making a low moan of need bubble from her throat. Or maybe it was he who made the sound.
She tore her mouth from his and moved her hands around his body, where she slid them beneath his worn, woolen top. Once it had been a rich, dark blue, but it had faded to gray in some spots, pale blue in others. Her hands lit a fire beneath his skin, and he worked at the lacings holding her leather top in place. Frustrated when the knots didn’t yield, he pulled her top up to expose her breasts.
Breath clotted in his throat as he stared at the firm globes tipped by golden nipples.
She laughed deep and low. “Ye doona have to worship me. I’d much rather ye did more than look.”
Yearning filled him so full, his erect cock was the least of it. He tumbled both her breasts into his hands and bent his head to take a nipple into his mouth. It hardened still more beneath his questing tongue, and he sucked until a sharp, gasping breath told him there was far more of her to explore. The body beneath his hands and tongue held magic, power. Her milky skin glowed with an inner light as if she were on fire. Just like the dragons.
Just like him.
Arianrhod tangled her hands in his hair and pulled him away from her breasts. “Let me undress you.”
“What if I want to do the same to you?” He was surprised he could get words past his tongue, which felt stuck to the roof of his mouth.
She pushed her top back down, undid the laces with a cunning twist of her hands and pulled the soft leather over her head. Next, she tugged his shirt out of the way. It was still heavy with rainwater. She tossed it over a nearby chair and chanted something. Vapor rose from it, and he understood she was drying it for him.
He made a grab for her breasts again, but she shook her head and wriggled downward until she was next to his laced boots. “Turn around,” he commanded. “I’ll get yours off at the same time.” His fingers weren’t quite as uncooperative as his tongue when he attacked the laces.
Once he had her boots and stockings in a heap off to one side, he moved back to where he could circle her slender waist with both hands and bent to string kisses from her breasts lower to her flat belly, still covered by her clothing. Someone, maybe him, maybe her, made short work of the leather lacing that held her breeches in place. The intoxicating scent of her engulfed him as he pushed her pants down her legs, followed by smallclothes of finely milled, ivory silk.
She writhed beneath his grip, back bowed with desire and head thrown back. He could’ve gazed at her for hours. She was the apex of everything female. Beautiful, desirable, and soon, very soon, his. He moved his mouth back to her stomach and kissed his way down to tight, silver curls guarding the entrance to her sex. His hands found their way under her glorious ass, and he held her before him, breathing on her, teasing her with the rolled tip of his tongue.
Her hips bucked toward his mouth, and he settled his lips over her nub, sealing them around her engorged flesh. As he sucked, he slid a hand between her legs and pressed two fingers inside her body. Muscles clutched him, and he worked her between his mouth and fingers until rhythmic contractions and a low, keening moan told him she was coming.
She buried her hands in his hair and held him against her, twisting and squirming until her pleasure settled.
“I want you inside me.” Her voice was rough, harsh with needing him, and she jackknifed her body out from under his and tackled the buttons that held his trousers closed. He was so lost in rut, it didn’t occur to him to help until she pushed his pants down enough to extract his cock.
“Magnificent!” She ran a fingertip from the base of his penis to its tip and cast a coquettish glance his way. “How many girls back home are standing in line for this?” She caressed him again, and her touch ignited a depth of longing he’d only dreamed of.
“Just one, and she’s a Selkie.” He slithered out of his pants and turned back to her. “Tell me how to please you.”
“Ye already please me. More than anyone has in a verra long time.” Her eyes twinkled, and she rubbed a clear drop of semen around the head of his cock. It jerked in her grasp, urging him to move beyond talking.
He pulled a pillow off one of the couches and lay on the floor, tucking the pillow beneath his head. His cock jutted out from his body, and he wrapped a hand around his shaft. He gestured with the other, and she understood. Tossing a leg over him, she straddled him and lowered her body slowly over his waiting cock. She made small, eager sounds, punctuated with Gaelic, as his girth stretched her. He steadied her with a hand on her hip until he was fully encased in the heat of her body. She rocked and tightened herself around him.
Pleasure flooded his senses, cutting a broad path from his toes to the top of his head. He joined her in small movements, teasing, getting to know her body. Sensation, sharp and urgent, prodded like a thousand tiny flames. He reached for her pussy and rubbed her clit. She covered his hand with hers, showing him what she wanted. Tension ratcheted in the slick tissue surrounding him. Her breathing quickened, and she swirled her hips around his shaft, deepening the delight that grew between their bodies.
He withdrew all the way and drove himself into her, no longer satisfied with teasing. They needed the real thing, coupling as bawdy and vital as anything Aphrodite, Pan, or the Satyrs could imagine. Her breasts bounced above him, their nipples tight buds of desire. Her clit hardened and lengthened beneath his questing fingers.
When he felt the flutters in her body that signaled her release and heard her cry out, he let go of any semblance of control. Semen boiled at the base of his balls and juddered from him in white-hot gouts. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and he felt her come again, quivering around him as she yielded to the craving that bonded them.
He’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted the one in his arms. Not that he’d spent very much of his life fucking, but the desire he’d felt before was a pale, pallid thing compared with what ran through his veins now.
“Aye, I feel it too,” she murmured, and he knew she’d been inside his head. For a moment, he felt embarrassed, but pushed it aside.