Brigid's Flame

by Laura DeLuca

  “Come into my arms, my love. Let me warm you with my flame.”

  It was a request that River could not ignore. He yearned for her touch, to feel her hot hands against his icy skin. This time there was no resistance and no inhibitions. Yet, it was not lust that steered him forward but an adoration that bordered on unadulterated love. With unbridled passion, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips against hers, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth. River was immersed in invisible flames as soon as their bodies collided. Every inch of his flesh burned hot and feverish with desire and yearning. The heat even poured from her full lips, which smothered his own with an equal desperation and wanting, leaving them both panting and gasping for breath when they finally pulled apart. His skin burned, but instead of draining him, the heat instantly invigorated him and set his loins on fire. The skin of his manhood stretched tighter as his erection grew, and he knew he had to take her soon.

  River brushed her long red locks to the side, and took one of her succulent breasts into his mouth. He was amazed at how hot, almost feverish her bare skin felt, despite the cold February night. She was practically sizzling and yet there was not one bead of moisture to mar her perfection, though already River felt the sweat dripping from his own brow. He almost expected to see steam rise as he gently ran his cool tongue in circling motions along her nipple, tickling and teasing until she moaned and pressed her body harder against his. The other bosom he cupped with one hand, exalting in the firm feel of it because it was proof that she was real and not simply a figment of his imagination.

  Brigid tired of the playful teasing quickly and pulled River toward the bed with demanding need. She pushed him onto the down comforter, and fell to her knees in front of him. With an almost wicked smile, she took the whole of his engorged member into the warmth of her mouth while her long fingers gently massaged his tender pouch. The whole time her eyes stayed on his, watching for every tremor and moan as the ecstasy took him in waves, enjoying the control she had over him.

  It was almost embarrassing how swiftly he exploded from the pleasure of her erotic kiss. She didn’t seem to mind his quick release. She greedily sucked every last drop of his essence until River shuddered and collapsed back against the sheets, feeling as though he had been drained by the most beautiful of succubae. She didn’t give his trembling body long to recover before accosting him once again. She threw her milky white figure down on the bed beside him and opened her legs. Throughout the whole of the encounter, she somehow still managed to hold her eternal flame high above her head in the palm of her right hand.

  “Come taste my fire,” she told him.

  It was an invitation she didn’t have to make twice. River turned so that he was on his belly and buried his face into her moist folds. He exalted in the sweet taste of her and the feel of the velvet soft patch of pubic hair that was nestled at the center of her most sacred space. She arched her back, bit down on her lower lip, and ran the fingers of her free hand roughly through his dark hair as he began his tentative exploration. His tongue discovered the deepest recesses of her cavern before finally coming back around to frolic on the small mound whose sensitivity almost instantly brought her to a breathtaking orgasm. Before she reached her peak, he thrust his fingers inside her even while his tongue continued its teasing probe. Her cries shattered the silence as she screamed out her intense pleasure. Even as her legs convulsed and snared his neck, he did not release her, but continued to lick and suckle until once again her body shuttered and peaked. The flood of warm juices that rushed into his mouth was sweeter than fruit and hot against his throat.

  The multiple climaxes still did not sate her sexual appetite. Seconds after River sat up and wiped his mouth, Brigid was already demanding more. She pulled him toward her, pressing her lips roughly against his. He was beginning to worry that as a mere human, he might not be able to satisfy her immortal hunger. But the second her free hand stroked him, he hardened so tight it was almost painful. When she opened her legs for his embrace, he never faltered before pounding into her with an all-consuming yearning unlike anything he had ever known.

  Even as she wrapped her arms around him and guided him inside of her, the flame she carried was not extinguished. Instead, it was as though River took the fire into himself even as Brigid took every inch of his manhood into her tight grotto. He plummeted into her again and again, and being inside of her was like being enveloped in endless miracles. Each joust sent spasms of ecstasy coursing through every inch of his body, and a thousand mini orgasms racked his frame with a pleasure that was almost unbearable. She cried out with a craving that matched his own and arched her back high to meet his every penetrating thrust. Her hands, now finally free from the fire he had ingested, raked down his back before attempting to pull him even deeper inside of her warm, wet nether region.

  As their love making intensified, River at last found the muse he had sought for so long. In her arms, his story, their story was unraveling, playing out like a movie in his mind. Every heartfelt moan was another chapter unfolding. Every shuddering mini climax filled him with new inspiration until finally the full novel was clear. In the arms of the Goddess Brigid, River found an uninhibited passion he had never known and had never even imagined existed. It was a rush as sensual as the joining itself to know that his creativity had been restored. His pleasure became more intense. He hardly noticed the strain of his muscles or the sweat that dripped from his brow. He was bordering on his peak and holding back until he was certain she had reached her own.

  River watched with masculine pride as the goddess of inspiration thrashed in his arms. Finally, she cried out and dug her nails deep into his skin. She had probably drawn blood but he didn’t care. River’s seed stirred and burst forth within her in one final rapturous eruption, just as the seeds were stirring below the earth on Imbolc night. At the same time the seeds of his new novel sprouted, thrived, and grew to fruition.

  Perhaps Brigid could have continued that way for eternity, but River was only human. After two more rounds of mind blowing sex, he fell, exhausted against the pillows. He was spent, and all he wanted was to close his eyes and rest for just a few minutes. Yet, he was afraid that if he took even that brief reprieve, if he turned his eyes away from his beautiful goddess for just one moment, she would vanish forever—that the whole night and all its wonders would have been nothing more than a dream or an illusion.

  Forcing back a yawn, River sat up in the bed and picked up the extra pair of glasses he kept on the nightstand. He leaned over to study her, wanting to memorize every detail and hoping to at least get a clear view of the face that had somehow stayed hidden in shadows throughout their night of passion. Still, he found he couldn’t see because her long red hair was blocking his view—hair whose sweet vanilla and jasmine scent suddenly seemed strangely familiar. Even as he brushed the curls aside, the last of the fog fell from his eyes. He finally saw everything clearly and he gasped from the shock of it.

  “Brie?”

  She yawned and giggled a little as she turned to meet his questioning gaze. “Were you expecting someone else?”

  River smiled too, and looking down at the woman he adored, he felt his heart swell. “Of course not,” he whispered. “You have always been my goddess.”

  “Well, that was some damn good sex, but I wouldn’t go so far as too call me a goddess,” she teased. Then she turned more serious. “Really, I’m not sure what came over me. When I came in, I just had this undeniable urge to find you and…well, you know.” River thought it was charming the way her cheeks turned almost as red as her hair. “They do say that make up sex is the best, and I did feel really bad about the fight we had before I left. I didn’t mean the things I said. You’re an amazing writer and you would have sent in that manuscript eventually, with or without me. I wanted to make it up to you and—”

  “Shhhh.” He smiled and entwined his fingers with hers. “It’s okay. We both said things we didn’t mean, but it was all my fault. I wa
s the one being a jerk, but it’s all good now. I think this was just what we needed. It was a…a rekindling of sorts.”

  “I’ve been rekindling a lot of old passions today,” she told him seriously. “I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, but I landed a gig with a little Jazz trio. I was out at the tryouts tonight. The group plays every Friday and Saturday night at this little bar called The Common Ground over on Sixth Street. It’s just like The Rusty Nail, except there are actually some people there.” Her lips pulled back into a conspiratorial grin. “Maybe it was my excitement over getting to sing again that made me so…insatiable tonight. It always was our love of art that drew us together.”

  “Whatever it was, I hope it happens again…and again…and again,” River teased. Brie laughed, and to River it appeared as though she were glowing again, but this time it was just with happiness and not with that supernatural hue she had earlier. “When is your first show?” he asked. “I want to come hear you sing.”

  “I’d really like that, River. Having you in the audience always gives me more confidence. When you’re out there, I’m not nearly as nervous.”

  “Well, I am your number one fan,” he said with a playful wink.

  “And I’m yours.” She almost leapt back into his arms to kiss him again. He could taste her familiar kiwi-strawberry lip gloss, and wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. “I always have been and I always will be your biggest fan, no matter what the critics say. You just write what’s in your heart. What makes you happy. Don’t worry about the rest of the world.”

  “And what about you?” River asked. “Can I worry about what makes you happy?”

  Brie waved her hand in dismissal. “You don’t have to worry about that because just being with you makes me happy. I know we’ve been having a bit of a rough patch lately, but you do know how much I love you, don’t you, River?”

  River was so overcome with sudden emotion; he had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “Of course, I do. I love you too, Brie. More than anything.”

  He pulled Brie against his bare chest, exalting in the feel of her familiar touch and the sweet scent of her hair. The two of them laid there for a while, listening to the crackling of the fireplace and the sound of their hearts beating in time. A few minutes later, River heard the gentle even breath that signaled Brie had fallen asleep. Again, he studied her familiar features from the shocking mane of red hair to her rose petal skin, and it was as though he was seeing her beauty with fresh eyes. He understood the true gift the goddess had given him, and it was more than a new story and some hot and heavy love making. Brigid had reminded him that Brie had always been the embodiment of the goddess to him. At the height of their passion, she had literally taken on that form, but it had always been Brie that he longed for. Brigid had answered his prayer by rekindling that flame that had always been there between them. Her eternal fire had thawed the icy layer he had allowed to grow over his heart. Now that heart swelled with love for the woman who was his soul mate. Brie was his goddess as she had always been. Brie was his inspiration.

  “I love you,” he whispered, and stroked her fire red hair as she slept.

  Even in the mist of her dreams, River knew she heard him, because her eyes fluttered and her lips turned up into a pleasant smile. She rolled over, and he tucked her in under the heavy blankets. River kissed her cheek before hauling himself up from the bed. He wrapped a robe around his naked body, pulled out his laptop, and sat down at his desk. It was the wee hours of the morning, but sleep could wait. His mind raced with ideas and he wanted to document them while they were still fresh in his mind. With more excitement and enthusiasm than he had felt in weeks, River started to pen his next fantasy novel. It was an epic tale of love and passion that would be titled, Brigid’s Flame.

  Also Available from Author Laura DeLuca

  Falling Star

  A Jersey Girl Novel, Book 1

  Excerpt from Falling Star

  Chapter 1

  “Cut!” the director shouted. “That’s a wrap! We’re finished!”

  Instantly, the dimmed room flooded with light and the crowd of people hidden in the shadows erupted in applause. Cast and crew, in an odd mix of modern clothes and eighteenth-century costumes, flocked from the stage. The last scene of the movie was officially completed. Actors, cameramen, even makeup artists, and hair stylists, were excited about the finished product. It was always a momentous occasion when the final scene was shot. Of course, there would still be months of behind the scenes work to do as far as editing and such, but for the majority of them, the hard part was over. It was time to relax and wait for the traipse along the red carpet.

  Drew squinted against the bright overhead lights as he stepped down from the set, a convincing castle bedroom, complete with a canopied bed covered in hand embroidered linens and an authentic vintage armoire, neatly nestled in the heart of Hollywood. Most of the movie had been filmed on location in France, but they’d flown back to the studio in Los Angeles for the more intimate scenes. The whole endeavor had been months of hard labor. Shooting took place in all types of weather and conditions, and the work day sometimes lasted sixteen hours or more. Everyone was glad it was finally over, including Drew, but he was still the only one who didn’t clap along with his fellow cast mates. In fact, the loud noise amplified the pounding in his head. Another migraine. They were getting worse and closer together. Sometimes he felt like he’d never get a reprieve.

  “Great job, Andy!”

  One of the cameramen slapped him on the back, and Drew did his best to coax a smile. Sometimes he still had to remind himself people were speaking to him when he heard the name Andy. His real name was Andrew DiPalma and all his life, family and friends called him Drew. But when he finally landed a big-time agent, he convinced Drew to go with something catchier, more all-American. Thus, Drew became Andy Palmer and that was the only name his current co-workers had ever known him by. Sometimes, it was as though the whole world had forgotten Drew DiPalma ever existed—like he’d been overshadowed by his famous counterpart. If he wanted to be really honest, even Drew was beginning to forget about the small town kid who’d grown up in the suburbs of Pennsylvania and later moved to the small town of Athens, Georgia. After ten years in Hollywood—a world of fast cars, hot models, and a night life that spun well into the early morning hours, it was easy to allow the little things that made him who he was fall to the wayside.

  “Andy!” A short, plump, and highly caffeinated man pushed through the crowd. He looked anxious, but that seemed to be a perpetual state of mind for Paulie Mazurek. Drew was pretty sure his agent was on speed. “I’m glad I caught you before you left! We got a lot to go over. I already have three new scripts for you to read through, not that the storyline matters. We should go for the highest bidder. You’re so hot right now, they’re blaming you for global warming. I bet we could have you booked solid through the end of the decade if we set our minds to it. Maybe even pump out five or ten movies a year!”

  Drew raised an eyebrow. “Personally, Paulie, I prefer quality over quantity. I’d rather shoot one or two good films each year than fill my roster with B horror movies and soft core porn.”

  “Trying for that Oscar again, are you, Andy?” Paulie cheered. “Once you got that under your belt, we won’t take less than thirty for any role we’re offered.”

  Paulie always managed to steer the conversation back in the direction he’d been aiming for, which for him, always led to his wallet. Thirty, Drew knew, meant thirty million, and Paulie took a whopping twenty percent of whatever the going price was for Andy Palmer.

  “Do you think we could have this conversation later?” Drew placed his palm on his forehead, hoping to stop the incessant thump. “We just wrapped up this film a few minutes ago. Can’t we wait a month or two before diving into something else?”

  One of Paulie’s grey eyes twitched, a sure sign he was displeased. “Buddy, in this business you can be a has-been before you’ve even
been. You might have one Oscar nomination under your belt, but that was already a few years back. You don’t want people forgetting your name, do you, Andy?”

  Everyone’s already forgotten my name!

  That’s what Drew wanted to shout. He wanted to grab the director’s bullhorn and scream it at the top of his lungs, but neither Paulie, nor anyone else loitering around the set, would understand. To them, it was all about the bottom dollar, all about fame and fortune; and what it could buy them. So instead of arguing, Drew feigned acceptance. He was an actor after all. Might as well put his talents to good use.

  “Have the scripts sent to my trailer,” he relented. The heavy wig he wore wasn’t helping to alleviate his headache, and the old-world clothes suddenly felt constricting. All he really wanted was to get back to his trailer and lie down. “I’ll take a look as soon as I change and see if I can’t at least narrow it down.”

  “That’s my boy.” Paulie breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Take your time ... but not too much. I have the producers on standby waiting for your decision.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Drew tried not to sound trite when they parted ways. Paulie had worked hard to help him make a name for himself. Hadn’t he landed Drew his first starring role in the box office smash, Sunken Treasures? He’d scored the part of a lifetime when he played the tragic hero Johnny, a third-class passenger who sacrifices his life for a beautiful aristocrat when the huge sea liner sinks. It was the film that thrust Drew into the spotlight almost overnight, after years of struggling to get by on the small royalty checks commercials and bit parts in television comedies provided. With the launch of that film, he achieved the type of fame most people only dreamed about and a fortune to go with it. But from there, it was all downhill.