Velvet Haven

by Sophie Renwick

  “I want you naked,” he said in a gruff voice. He wanted to tear that dress from her body, but he didn’t want to spare the time, so he waved his hand and the fabric melted away.

  His gaze took her in, and he hungrily devoured her. He couldn’t wait to feel her thighs wrapped around him and his cock sinking into the cunt he had been dreaming of all day.

  He found her mouth again, ravishing her lips. He cupped her, skimming his thumb along her nipple. She moaned into his mouth and he filled his hands with her breasts, watching the expression of pleasure cross her face. Their gazes met and he very purposely skimmed both thumbs across the taut, pink nipples so that he could watch her eyes widen and her tongue come out to wet her lip.

  His body was raging with heat and the urge to take her. To fuck her—hard.

  He pressed forward, nuzzling the valley of scented skin between her breasts. Then he kissed a path down her abdomen as his fingers set about stroking her calves, working their magic up past her knees to the inner facings of her thighs.

  Mairi was panting with lust. She twisted beneath him, but he stopped her with his heavy thigh on hers. “Be still.”

  Bran’s tongue crept out and raked along her flesh. He felt in his own body the stabbing pleasure that snaked through hers. They were connected in a way Bran had never known. His sigils, already glowing, were now a pure white, instead of gold and pewter. Something was happening. The exchange was different, more powerful. Exciting.

  He returned to her quim, stroking it with his tongue, covering every inch of her. “Watch me between your thighs,” he demanded. “I want you to know who is giving you this pleasure.”

  Mairi studied Bran’s dark head moving languorously between her legs. Reverently she raked her fingers through his hair, watching as he slowly made love to her with his lips and tongue, listening to his sighs of pleasure as he brought her closer and closer to orgasm.

  Mairi drew her knees up, holding her thighs to Bran’s head. He took his time, savoring her; bringing her up, then slowly down, each time building her up higher and higher until she was nearly there, nearly able to grasp the orgasm, only to have it snatched away.

  “Oh, God, Bran, please,” she cried, reaching for him, but he pulled away and sat up, away from her reach.

  He looked down at her, and wings suddenly appeared, black and shining, from between his shoulder blades. She gasped in surprise, but they were beautiful, magnificent. They wrapped around her, cocooning her as he grasped her wrists and brought them above her head. She gave a little moan of pleasure, at the strength in his hold, and the erotic play of feathers at her back.

  “Have you ever been tied up, Mairi?”

  She shook her head, her hips meeting the thrust of his, the folds of her sex opening, rubbing against his cock. A black feather gently brushed the swell of her breast and she moaned, liking the sensation and the tingling.

  “Will you let me?”

  Trust. It would take so much to allow this. But this was Bran. And inside the span of his wings, she felt safe and secure. “Yes,” she breathed.

  A feather fell from his wing and stretched into a band of black silk, then wrapped itself around her wrists and tied them to the headboard.

  She gasped as it pulled tighter, making her arch till her breasts were at the level of Bran’s mouth.

  “Very nice,” he whispered, touching his tongue to her nipples. His gaze flickered to the feathers that brushed against her hair. They came free and trailed down her body until they pulled at her ankles, spreading her legs as Bran straddled her hips. The feathers became lengths of black silk that tied her to each post on the footboard.

  “Your magic comes in rather handy,” she panted, trying to lighten the mood.

  With his hand, he spread her sex and touched her. Around her all she could see was the black of his wings. Before her was Bran, looking feral and beautiful.

  “You’re very wet, Mairi, and that’s not by magic.”

  “No, you’re right.”

  He rolled her nipple, pinched it, letting it sting, before soothing it with his touch. His sigils glowed where he touched her, and she watched, mesmerized as they moved, absorbing the pleasure she felt.

  “You are very powerful, Mairi. Already I can feel you creeping into my blood. Your energy makes me strong.”

  “I’m glad,” she murmured, wetting her lips. His thigh rode up, pressing against her sex, and she moaned.

  “I like you spread like this,” he whispered darkly in her ear. “You’re dripping wet, Mairi. And it’s just for me.”

  Nodding, she moaned, closed her eyes, and felt the vibration of his body as his chest brushed against hers. She was aching for it, the feel of him, pierced and hard entering her.

  She arched more, trying to get his thigh in the right spot, but he moved back and reached for her hips. Lifting her, he thrust into her, firm, hard, and she cried out, feeling the hum in him course through her entire body.

  He moaned as well, and thrust again, slow. Intent. She opened her eyes, saw him watching his invasion of her, and grew wetter. He touched her clitoris, flicking it just the way she liked.

  “Faster,” she begged, twisting in her bonds. The tips of the feathers that lay near the curve of her breasts whispered softly against her nipple. “Bran,” she cried, needing the orgasm that was so close.

  He stroked her faster, harder, his cock going deep inside her. “Muirnin,” he whispered as he pressed against her, his mouth finding hers in a hungry kiss.

  Rocking against her, he entered, retreated. She felt at his mercy like this, unable to touch him, and she knew that was what he had intended, to have her feeling him surrounding her instead.

  He thrust hard, the bed groaning beneath his weight. She took him all, wanted more, until his hands slipped between their bodies and he found her clitoris, finishing her off. He swallowed her sounds, fell atop her. The binds released her and his wings were suddenly gone.

  He curled into her, holding her tight, breathing in the scent of her hair as his body trembled atop hers. She held him safe as she ran her hands over his shoulders, kissed his neck.

  She loved this man. She had known it all day. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him. Nothing.

  All he could smell was her, coating his skin, his nose. He felt her touch, stroking him, and he felt himself grow strong, yet weaken. He pulled away and got off the bed, watching her, knowing that this was the moment he had envisioned for weeks. This was his death vision. And all he could think about was how damn much he wanted to sink deep inside Mairi’s body and fill her up.

  He didn’t want to believe that Mairi would kill him. Would take the athame that lay on the nightstand and plunge it between his shoulder blades. Not a mere mortal. Not Mairi, the woman he had fallen in love with.

  But if he died tonight, so be it. He was done denying himself.

  Mairi dropped her arms and slowly lowered her leg, revealing a thatch of soft black curls and a glistening pink quim. Her scent was thick, evocative. His head swam with it, and his taste buds tingled. Even his sigils flickered, remembering the kind of magical essence Mairi possessed.

  “Bran?” she asked, and he reached for her ankle and pulled her to the end of the bed.

  His hand fisted in her hair and he sat her up, fitting his cock into her mouth. “Please,” he begged, as her tongue flicked over the sigils that ran up his shaft. The energy she created snaked up his cock, making the piercing burn. It felt so damn good.

  She looked up at him as she sucked him, and he watched her, loving the way she looked with his cock in her mouth. Her fingers wrapped around the base, stroking up and down, and he groaned, unable to hide the sounds of pleasure that erupted from deep within as she flicked her tongue over his piercing.

  “Mairi,” he whispered as orgasm threatened him. She wouldn’t listen, but sucked him harder. He pulled away, crawled on top of her till she lay flat on her back, her tongue on his cock. His hands found her breast, then her nipple, and he tugged gentl
y, then harder as she increased the suction on his cock.

  She was wild beneath him, and he slipped a finger between her folds, making her moan.

  “You flow heavy. And it’s all for me. Isn’t it, Mairi?”

  She moaned as he filled her with another finger. He wouldn’t last like this, and if this was the last night he was to have with her, Bran didn’t want it to end so soon.

  Mairi wrapped her thigh around his waist. He rolled with her onto his back so that she straddled him. Her heavy breasts dragged across his chest, and he felt the sharp stabs of her nipples brushing his skin.

  “Kiss me.” He reached for the back of her head, fisted his hand in her long, tangled hair, and brought her mouth down to his. But she took over, and instead of pressing her lips to his, she flicked her tongue along his lips.

  She repeated the movement, but this time she swirled her nipples against the width of his chest. Again her tongue crept out, but he tricked her and met her tongue with the tip of his.

  Slowly, erotically, their tongues touched in curling flicks, reminding him of the way her tongue had licked its way up his cock. As he gazed up into her eyes, Bran felt her hips shifting, rocking against his shaft, her pussy trying to find its way to him. He reached down between their bodies and stroked himself, rubbing the head of his erection against her sex, which was hot and wet. The slick head found her clitoris and her eyes flared, deepening to black as he circled the erect nub with his cock.

  Now fully ensnared in her trance, he wet his lips and cupped his hand around her head. His fingers tangled in her hair, he brought her forward, crushing his mouth against hers. Like the animal he was, Bran broke the kiss and fitted his hands around her waist, lifting her up, bringing her breasts to his mouth. Hungrily he took from her, suckling her—starving for her.

  His hand moved between their bodies, as she writhed atop him, her moans filling the room. He reached for his cock, brought it to her opening. She sank down fast and hard, taking him all the way in her tight cunt, which squeezed him like a choking fist.

  He groaned, clasped her hips in his palms, and showed her the rhythm he wanted, a slow, writhing dance of seduction. He wanted to last, didn’t want to spill inside her after a handful of strokes. He wanted to be inside her all night.

  He was watching her. Mairi knew it, even though her eyes were closed. She could feel the heat of his beautiful gaze traveling along her body as she hovered over him. She was in a shaft of moonlight, and she knew that the silver glow gave a luminescence to her body. She could literally feel his desire coursing along her skin where he touched her.

  “You look so good riding my cock, muirnin.”

  Her body hummed. His words were so arousing, just like the incredible vibrations from his big hands, which were roving up her hips. She felt his gaze burning her nipples, and knew then that he was watching the sway and bounce of her breasts. Suddenly he covered them with his hands, and she opened her eyes to see how they spilled out of his palms.

  “I like the way you feel, big and strong between my thighs. You make me feel wild.” With a smile she tossed back her head and listened to the harshness of his breaths as she leaned back, giving him a full view of her undulating body. She writhed and moaned on top of him. “Harder, Bran. I want to feel you go deeper inside me—so deep,” she moaned.

  He surged upward, filling her full. “You fuck like a nymph,” he said, his voice now a low growl in the dark. “A beautiful seductress, sucking the life out of me. It is a torture I’d willingly die for. But you know that, don’t you?”

  His words broke her heart. He truly believed that she would take his life. She tried to show him with her body how she felt. Tried to make him see that it was her love for him, and not some curse, that made her desire him.

  “You have no need for nymphs,” she whispered as she bent to kiss his nipple. “You have me. No one can love this body better than me, Bran. No one can love you, as you are, more than I do.”

  He moaned, reached for her hips, and thrust deeper into her.

  The bed was rocking with his thrusts. Mairi rode her lover harder and harder, and still he wanted more. When she grew tired, and her thighs burned, he helped her, thrusting his hips up, filling her impossibly farther and deeper, unrelenting in his strokes until she was sweating.

  And then, knowing she was so close, he found her clitoris and stroked it, pulled at it, until she screamed and stiffened, but he kept thrusting into her, and her body took him, until he stiffened, pulled her roughly down to his damp chest.

  “I am your slave,” he moaned as he came hot and hard, pulsing heavily inside her. “Do with me what you will.”

  “I want you to submit to me,” she whispered, kissing his mouth.

  “Yes, muirnin. For you, anything.”

  Rolling off of him, she pulled out the iron manacles. She couldn’t believe he was going to let her do this. She could not look into his beautiful mismatched eyes. She knew if she did, she could never go through with her plan.

  “You may use my feathers, Mairi.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, but she ignored it, knowing she was doing the right thing. “You’re so strong. How could I feel like you’re at my mercy wrapped in feathers?”

  “You don’t need chains to have me at your mercy. Can you not feel how weak I am now? I’m yours to do anything you want with.”

  “This is how I want it. Now roll over.”

  He turned onto his stomach. She straddled him and he looked up at her unblinkingly.

  Her heart felt heavy, and she kissed him. “I love you, Bran. Believe that.” With a click, she manacled his wrists.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Bran was on his belly, his wrists manacled. He was sweating, knowing what would come. He felt Mairi straddle him, her wet core dampening his skin. She licked away the rivulet of sweat, and his body strained, his wrists tugging at his bonds. Her tongue was flicking along the tattoo of the sword on his back, and he felt his curse grip him even tighter.

  He wanted her again. Her sweet, wet cunt that was teasing him. She licked him, and he arched, trying to connect once more with her tongue. Beneath her, his ass flexed, rising up hard between her thighs to nestle between the folds of her sex.

  He moaned as the heat from her core swamped his skin, coating him with her own arousal. Tormenting him more, she dragged her nipples along his back, scraping the pointed tips over his skin as her tongue flicked up his spine in teasing, insinuating lashes. He was shackled, his wrists in black manacles, his fingers curled into fists. On his left hand he wore a ring that bore an oval stone, the color of fire. It was the seal of the king of Annwyn. With her lips and teeth she pulled it from him, allowing him to feel her mouth wrapped around his finger. She sucked it, torturing him. He wanted that mouth on his cock, sucking him in deep, drinking him down.

  “I can’t wait,” he said in a voice that sounded intoxicated with lust. She didn’t answer him, and he growled, pulling at his bonds. “Let me taste you one last time,” he begged. Inside him a fever raged. She rocked her sex against his ass. She was wet. He groaned and shifted, the manacles straining with his immense strength.

  “Once more. Let me you feel you again.”

  “You are too impatient,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I would feel you now,” he growled, a sound that made her shiver, which he felt all over his body.

  “All right.” Reaching between his thighs, she teased him until he lifted his hips from the bed. He wanted her to reach for his cock. Instead, she reached for something just as hard. Her breasts scraped against his back and he closed his eyes, tortured by the feel of the hard nipples moving along his flesh. She reached over his shoulder, saw her fingers curl around the hilt of the athame. Her body shifted; the petals of her sex caressed his skin. He inhaled her scent, let it wash over him, just like he had done when he had picked the flowers by the reflecting pool. She lifted the athame high in the air. When he turned his head to look up at her through strands of damp, black h
air, he felt his entire life force stop, then hang by a thread.

  “After all this?” he murmured. “After everything we’ve done, you would betray me now? Why, muirnin?”

  Mairi’s grip on the athame faltered. This was her dream. Down to the very last detail.

  She was breathing heavily, knowing what would come next. Tears trickled down her face and she squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to see him.

  “Mairi?”

  She didn’t answer him, but her eyelids flew open and she held his gaze as she plunged the blade of the athame deep between his shoulders. Using all her weight she shoved the blade deeper, feeling it tear through muscle and connective tissue, scraping between two ribs to puncture the tough tissue of his heart.

  She heard Morgan’s voice whisper in her ear, “In a house of mourning, a garden of pain, a path of tears, you will find him.”

  “No riddles,” Mairi screamed, but Bran’s cry of agony deafened her to Morgan’s answer.

  With a flash it was dark and she felt the familiar veil flutter down, covering her body.

  Rain poured down on them and Bran opened his eyes to the sounds of Mairi’s scream. They were on the ground, in a grove. In Nemed, his sacred space. Back home. In Annwyn.

  Rain fell onto his face, and he wiped his wet hair from his eyes. His wrists. They were freed. Pulling himself up, he saw Mairi lying next to him, writhing in pain. Blood pooled beneath her. There was so much of it that the rain could not wash it away.

  “Mairi,” he cried, reaching for her, cradling her in his arms. “What have you done?”

  “Saved you . . . from Morgan’s curse,” she said between harsh breaths. “You’re free now . . . Your brother is free . . . I know where to find him. He’s—”

  “Shh,” he whispered, holding her closer. “Why did you do this?”

  “To break the curse and . . . and save your brother. The thing you want most in this world.”