Mists of Velvet

by Sophie Renwick

  She nodded, and with a wave of his hand, she was divested of her panties. “I’ve thought of it, too,” he whispered. Then he slid the pad of his thumb between her swollen folds until he found her clitoris. She sucked in a breath as he passed his thumb lightly over it. “I’ve thought every day about going down on you, tasting you. I’ve imagined you naked, but nothing compares to what I see now.”

  “Keir, you’re saying all the right things,” she gasped.

  “All true,” he whispered as he kissed his way down her chest. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you in your store. I’ve had you every night in my dreams.”

  “Then why did you wait?”

  “Because I was afraid that I would hurt you. That you would see my tattoos, and that they would remind you I was not . . . human.” He met her gaze. “I want to be with you, Rowan. But I’m not a mortal man.”

  “I see only you now. I feel only you. Right now, it’s just you and I.” She was amazed at the words that fell so easily from her mouth. But they were the truth. Right now her past was forgotten. It was only Keir with her.

  “I’ll make this right for you, Rowan. I swear it.”

  She moaned as he slid down her body and put his mouth to her sex, blowing hot breath against her swollen, sensitive flesh.

  “You need it, don’t you? My mouth down here, tasting, licking . . . eating.”

  “Oh, God,” she cried as she felt his mouth pressed against her. She felt the firm, wet tip of his tongue thrusting between her sex until he could flick her clitoris, and she wanted to beg him to press his face into her so she could feel that hot, hard tongue on her skin. Thrusting her hips back so that his finger could enter her, he groaned and cupped her pussy, rubbing her with his palm as his finger sank into her.

  “You’re so wet.” His eyes had darkened to a glittering silver. The violet edge was now a dark purple. She saw that his fingers were wet and glistening, and that he wiped the moisture from his hand onto the black satin square.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Shh,” he whispered. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

  Then his jeans were off, and he was naked—and how he took her breath away. He was big and gorgeous, and his cock was huge, the tip glistening wet.

  Rowan thought she should be terrified, but she wasn’t. She wanted him inside her. She wanted to feel him.

  Reaching for him, she curled her fingers around him, stroking him. His eyes sparkled as he leaned into her. “This is going to be so damned good.” And then he brought his mouth down slow and soft against hers. Fisting his hand in her hair, he angled her head so he could taste her, and Rowan opened her mouth to him, allowing him to search between her lips with his tongue. He kissed her long and slow, his tongue moving with hers, his hand fisting and loosening in her hair.

  It was a kiss with no ending, and soon she was so needy, so reckless, that she was clutching him to her and rubbing herself against his hard body.

  “Lie back and spread your legs for me.”

  She was completely naked, and a little unsure of baring herself to him. But she did what he wanted and was rewarded with the hottest, lustiest growl she had ever heard.

  “I knew your pussy would look this good. Damn, I can’t wait to get inside you.”

  She smiled. “You are a talker. I’d wondered.”

  His eyes flashed to hers. “Is that all right?”

  “What you say makes me feel alive, and beautiful.”

  “You are.”

  His palms were rubbing along her thighs, and he took her knees, spreading her wide, so that when he leaned down, his shoulders were between her legs, and his face was buried in her pussy.

  She cried out then, not in fear but in sheer ecstasy. Keir had a tongue that could make her eyes roll back in her head. Damn it, his rhythm was slow and lazy as he made a path of slow licks and delicate circles. He was in no hurry to make her come, she realized.

  “I can’t wait,” she panted as she pulled his hair.

  “You have to.”

  “Keir, please.”

  “No,” he whispered as he went back to licking her. Only this time, he slid his fingers deep inside her. She felt the flood of fluid seep out of her, which was followed by Keir’s murmur of pleasure.

  She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or pleased by his reaction.

  “God, you’re perfect,” he murmured. “Made just for me.”

  She was crying now from the pleasure of a building orgasm constantly out of her reach. She wanted to scream for him to take her, but he was in control now.

  “Put your arms over your head.”

  She clung to him, and he stopped, making her cry out. Fear flooded her. He smelled it.

  “Give yourself to me,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you safe. Now, arms over your head.”

  She looked down at him between her thighs. She had never seen anything sexier than Keir with messy hair and lips wet from her pussy. She wanted this; this orgasm with him. She didn’t want to feel fear anymore. She wanted to be alive for however long she had left.

  “I’ll stop,” he teased as his tongue came out to lick. Only he didn’t touch her, but just let her see what she could have if she did what he asked. “You want that, don’t you, my tongue on you?” Then he smiled and lifted his body away from hers. “What if I let you tie me up, instead?” Rowan felt her eyes grow round. “You be in control,” he murmured, “taking what you want, when you want.”

  The fear ebbed, allowing her to think. She didn’t want this to end. But she couldn’t be vulnerable to him—not yet. And the thought of having Keir all tied up and at her mercy was very arousing.

  He produced two white strips of material; from where, she had no idea. But he held them out to her and moved so that his back was to the headboard and his arms were spread out at his sides.

  The satin slipped through her fingers, and she bit her lip, wondering if she could really do this.

  “You can,” he said, detecting her hesitation and encouraging her. “And if you don’t tie me up, I’ll use magick to do it.”

  With a shy grin, Rowan straddled his thighs and went to work on his right arm. It was damned difficult tying him up, because his lips were on her cheek, near her ear, and then lower as he brushed his mouth against the curve of her breast. His murmur of appreciation as her breasts bobbed with her efforts made her blush.

  “Let me touch you as you tie up the other arm.”

  She laughed and moved to his left. “Touch me with what?”

  “My tongue.”

  Rowan gasped as he leaned to the side and flicked her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Floundering with the satin tie, she barely got it knotted before he sucked the nipple deeply into his mouth, pulling on her.

  She moaned, arching farther into his mouth, and he smiled, his gaze locking with hers.

  “That’s what I wanted,” he said appreciatively. “Now, cup them for me.”

  Rowan did as he asked, and he watched her, the way she kneaded her breasts and pulled at her nipples. He lowered his mouth to her once more, drawing her in and suckling her fiercely.

  She was impatient against him, writhing on top of his muscular thighs. She needed more, the ache growing hot and hard inside her.

  “Stand,” he gasped, ordering her up.

  She couldn’t. But one look at his glittering eyes told her of the immense pleasure she could experience if she would only obey him.

  Standing with one foot on either side of his hips, Rowan blushed as she looked down to find her sex level with his mouth.

  He was staring at her, and she felt horribly exposed. But then he kissed her, and moaned, and she grasped the headboard tightly in her hands, trying to keep herself up as her legs threatened to go down.

  “Closer,” he demanded, and she pressed in until she felt his tongue parting her folds with one long stroke.

  “More,” he growled as he strained against the ties she had bound him with. His voice was dark, and
needy, rushing up her spine in a delicious tremor. The sound, the sensation, peaked her nipples. “More. Onto my face, until you are all I can smell and breathe and taste.”

  “Keir,” she cried as he moved his thigh behind her knees, bumping her forward so that she was shoved against him, her sex pressing against his seeking mouth and tongue.

  His words had aroused her and had let her inhibitions break free. She was holding him to her pussy, her hands grasping his hair. She held his mouth to her and felt his tongue probing and parting, licking and circling; she cried out as she rocked against him, building her orgasm as she listened to their sounds—her breathless pants, his deep guttural sounds as he pleasured her.

  And then she came, shaking and shivering until she collapsed against him. He kissed the top of her head, brushed his cheek against her temple, and allowed her to sink into him, taking his heat and strength.

  His body was hot and hard beneath hers, and she felt him stir against her. She touched him, her fingers skimming along his jaw and throat, then down to his shoulder. He moaned, and Rowan lifted her head in time to see him close his eyes and tilt his head back.

  Mesmerized by him, she let her fingers trail down his shoulders and arms, tracing the intricate designs on his body. His lips parted, and she pressed forward, kissing him. He kissed her back but did not go any deeper. Frowning, she kissed him again. Again, he kissed her back—waited. And then she clutched him, kissed him hard, slipped her tongue past his lips, and kissed him as she had dreamed about.

  It was long and drugging, intimate, and wanting. Her nails were biting his shoulders, but he only moaned, captured her mouth when she would end the kiss, and deepened it—claiming her.

  When she broke it off, she was trembling, her nipples beaded and aching. She wanted to feel him, to memorize him—how he smelled, the texture of his skin, and the smoothness of his chest.

  Bending over him, she inhaled the spicy scent of his skin and licked him, tasting the fine sheen of sweat that made his skin glisten. Closing her eyes, she absorbed every nuance of him—his size, the taste of his skin, the heat radiating out to her.

  “Yes,” he groaned as she licked her way down his neck, letting the tip of her tongue flick the hollow of his shoulder. He moaned as she went lower, her tongue tracing the swirling lines of his tattoos, which had turned a vibrant blue. Something was happening to him, and she was doing it to him. A sense of power infused her, and Rowan circled his erect nipple with the tip of her tongue. The tattoo around it glowed, and his breath came in short, harsh pants.

  “No, don’t!” Suddenly he was straining against the ties. “You’re taking me away from you.”

  “How?” she murmured, and continued licking and sucking each nipple in turn.

  “A divination. By touching them, you’re starting one. And I want to be here with you. I don’t want my spirit separated from my body. I want to be here with you—all of me—alone with you.”

  When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her desperately. “Don’t take me away from you.”

  She smiled. “Then say I can touch you here.”

  She reached for his cock and let her fingers glide over the glistening head. His moan was her answer. She touched him again, this time squeezing the wet tip, then running her fingers up and down the thick shaft.

  “Yes,” he growled, his hands fisting and his arms straining against the bonds. “Touch me.”

  She did, with two hands, working her way up and down and watching as he thickened even more. How would she ever accept him into her body?

  “Rowan,” he said, his voice dark, beautiful in its huskiness. “Taste me.”

  She glanced down, wondering. “I don’t know how. I’ve never done it.”

  “Just explore. Take what you want. Do what you want. Just let me feel your mouth around me.”

  Lowering her head, she licked his tip. He strained, and she heard the tearing of the satin. She lapped, nipping at him, and he growled, his whole body tense—dominant.

  “My whole cock. Suck it.”

  His hands broke free of the bindings, and he gripped his cock, holding it out to her. With his other hand, he cupped the back of her head and moved her forward so that he was brushing his cock against her lips.

  “Claim me as yours.”

  Something in his voice, his words, broke through her fears, and she sucked him in deep, roving her tongue along him as he thrust up into her mouth. His hand fisted in her hair, and his other hand claimed her breast, which swayed as she rocked over him.

  He was breathing hard, his hips thrusting; then he stopped and pulled out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why?”

  “Too rough,” he growled.

  “No, it wasn’t, and I wasn’t afraid.”

  “Gentle and tender. That is how I need to be with you.”

  “No!”

  She slapped at his shoulder, and he froze. “No? You no longer want me?”

  “No. I want you. The real you. Not someone you think you have to be.”

  His eyes became hooded. “You wouldn’t like it.”

  “I want you.”

  His eyes flashed silver, and then he lifted her up and lowered her to the bed until he was above her, his hands twining with hers, the white tails of the satin strips winding between their clasped hands, holding—binding—them together.

  She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling as they brushed against his. Her sex was pulsing, wanting more. She felt his cock nudging between her thighs, searching for her heat, pressing between her swollen, slick folds.

  “Look at me, beannaithe leannan,” he whispered.

  She did, and when their gazes locked, he clutched her fingers and brought his mouth down next to hers. “Beannaithe leannan means sacred lover.” He pulled away, catching her expression of wonder at the beautiful endearment. “Because you are. That is what you mean to me.”

  Slowly he entered her. She stiffened, and she felt the calming pressure of his fingers against hers, the brush of satin against her wrists.

  “It’s me loving you,” he whispered. “My body in yours.”

  She nodded while she focused on his eyes and the feel of him moving lazily inside her. He was big, and he engulfed her.

  “Can you feel me?”

  He pushed against her, filling her, and she squeezed his hand. “Yes,” she said, sighing, “and it’s good.” Oh, so good.

  Keir kissed her cheek, letting his lips brush her skin as he kissed her ear. “Let me make love to you.”

  “Yes.”

  Moving so that he was directly on top of her, Keir blocked out the candlelight with his shoulders. He was all she could see now. He was above her, surrounding her. And he felt large and commanding as he thrust once, then twice deeply inside her.

  Rowan let her body relax. She absorbed him, the feel of him. Her hips rose with his, and soon her hand was in his hair and she was whispering his name.

  “Keir,” she whispered as she rose one final time.

  “I’m here,” he answered. “I love you, Rowan. I’ll always love you. Mo bandia, mo aingeal, mo beannaithe leannan.”

  The world stopped, and all she heard were his words and the sound of his body loving hers. My goddess, my angel, my sacred lover . . . Rowan closed her eyes on the sensation of his love. She could feel it surrounding her, pushing into her, just as his body was pushing inside hers. And she opened to him, letting him in in a way that no other man had ever been allowed.

  He kissed her, touched her, whispered into her ear as he filled her full. And when she was begging and pleading, he forced himself deeper, harder, faster. When she was crying out his name and gripping his hips with her thighs, he lifted her legs over her shoulders and drove into her, filling her so full until he brought her to orgasm, watched her beneath him as she came around him, then poured himself into her, stroking inside her until he was spent.

  “You are going to need a lot of loving, beannaithe leannan. And I will
give it to you. As much as you want,” he said as he pulled out of her body.

  Rowan turned in time to see Keir wipe his fingers along his cock. Bringing them to the black satin, he wiped the remnants of their mutual pleasure. He murmured something, then reached for the paper, which he ignited in the flame of the candle. Then his eyes met hers as he blew out the flames.

  “What was that you said?”

  Gathering her up in his arms, he kissed her.

  “It was an urnai,” he whispered into her ear. “A prayer for you. A prayer for us that we might be able to stay together—forever.”

  Rowan met his silver gaze. “It wasn’t a prayer, was it? It was a spell.”

  “In my world, beautiful, magick is a prayer.”

  “It’s magic what you’re doing to me now.”

  He smiled. “Then let me do it some more.”

  Rowan felt his cock growing hard once more against her belly. Then he reached for her leg and placed it over his hip. They were face-to-face when he slipped slowly inside her. He closed his eyes as he penetrated her fully, the walls of her sex clamping around him. Rowan watched as his lips parted in ecstasy, allowing a low moan from deep in his chest. She was mesmerized by how beautiful he was, by the beauty of their bodies together, brushing and rubbing. He pleasured her, his rhythm slow and unhurried, as if they had decades of loving ahead of them. And when they were done, Keir repeated the spell, but this time, he folded the black satin and slipped it into a box before gathering her up into his arms.

  “Wear the quartz,” he reminded her. “It’s how I’ll always be able to find you.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Stirring beside Bronwnn, Rhys smoothed a hand over his face and glanced at the window. The big silver moon of Annwyn hung high in the sky, telling him he hadn’t slept long. It was still night, and he had hours yet to spend with her.

  “Mo bandia,” he murmured. She stirred, mumbled something, then snuggled deeper against him, making his cock grow once more. With a groan, he moved away from her and caught a handful of her pale hair in his hand, allowing it to slip through his fingers. He liked the way it shimmered in the glow of the candles, and in the moonlight that shone through the window.