She stood fully nude before him grasping the braided rope belt in her hands. No reason why she couldn’t have a little fun with him before the whole drain his blood into the cauldron thing.
As he squinted at her breasts, she twisted the hemp belt into a handcuff tie. “Stand up.”
He did so.
She peered deep into his eyes, as blue as the summer sky above the Irish Sea when it was mild and calm. She held the rope out. “Slip your hands in here.”
Without hesitation he did so. She drew the knot tight, binding his hands.
“Hey, what?”
“You’re mine.” She grasped his jeans at the waist, undid the button, and slid the zipper down. “I can touch you, but you can’t touch me.”
Andrew swallowed hard and rasped, “Hey, whatever you say.”
She knelt before him and slid his jeans down his muscular legs to pool at his ankles. With his hands tied and his feet caught loosely in his pants, he was at her mercy and she loved it. Of course he had no idea of the danger she truly held for him. Andrew was much more of a captive than he knew.
She tilted her head and with the bright light of the burning candles in the stalactite chandelier and in the iron sconces mounted on the cave walls, she explored his body with her eyes. Her gaze settled on the bulge of manly flesh bobbing before her.
Margaid reached out and ran her finger down his long cock. She wrapped her hand around the base and slid her tongue over the big head, then licked the smooth, hot skin up and down. The taste of salt from his skin lingered on her tongue. Andrew moaned. She opened her mouth and wrapped it around his thick cock, drawing him deep into her throat, inch by inch. She released her hold on his shaft to grasp his hips with both her hands to brace herself.
He arched his hips forward then rocked back. His cock glided in and out of her mouth. With each of his thrusts, she sucked deeper. As her mouth stretched around his girth, he grew harder and larger.
“Your mouth is so hot,” Andrew moaned.
She milked him with her mouth sliding his cock in and out. His cream shot into her throat as he groaned. The seduction was going well so far.
Margaid pulled her mouth off him. She pushed to her feet and untied his hands. Still once she drained his blood, she’d never be able to have fun with him like this again.
He stepped out of the pants puddled at his feet and kicked them aside. “You’re wonderful.”
She winced then forced herself to smile at him as if nothing was wrong. “Are you having fun?” She didn’t want to kill the delectable human. Still, she had to.
As she held the rope belt loosely in one hand, Andrew swooped her into his arms and captured her lips in his. He twisted his wet lips against hers.
A path of fire blazed through her veins. Her pulse pounded. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? He’s supposed to lose his control so I can drain his blood.
Torrid heat spread through her hands as they roamed the plane of his broad back.
Each time she stepped forward, he took a step back, as if she led him in a dance. Until she shoved him back against the cauldron, which stood waist-level to him.
With a hot, tingling sensation in her fingers, her nails extend into talons. She took a deep breath. All she had to do was claw his bare back and shed his blood. Margaid turned her head. She couldn’t look at him while she killed him.
Her gaze fell onto the wall behind the cauldron, onto a tapestry bursting with hand-stitched trees and flowers, except for the center, where a trio of men in tunics and trouser hose were depicted with their greyhounds. She wondered again, what it would be like to live on land with bright red, yellow and purple blossoms, towering green leafed trees and the mix of sweet and invigorating scents. Maybe she could live there with Andrew. If only there was a way. With those gentle, dreamy thoughts her talons transformed back into fingernails.
She felt the rope belt slide out of her hand. She glanced down. He held it now. Before she could step back, he grabbed her arms, pressed them together, and wound the rope around her wrists.
He pulled the hemp rope into a tight knot.
“What are you doing?” She had to have her hands free for her nails to extend into talons again so she could draw his blood.
“The safe word is red if you want to stop.” Andrew scooped her into his arms, and cradling her, he carried her to the wall.
He set her on her feet, grabbed her tied wrists, raised them above her head and held them against the wall. With his other hand he flicked the nipple on one breast and bent his head down taking an erect peak in his mouth. Then he slid his hand between her thighs and slipped his fingers through the folds. She gasped and mewed. All thoughts fled her mind as a fiery sensation filled her.
He slipped a finger inside her. “You’re so wet, so tight.”
Her shallow breath fell into a heavy pant. He pulled his finger out and spread her legs apart with his hand.
“I want you so bad.” He guided his cock into her. He thrust, filling her completely.
She gasped with his sudden, powerful entry. He drew almost all the way out then sunk into her, pounding her hard.
Her mind felt foggy. She drew in short breaths. “So good.”
“I wish I could see you better.” He slid his mouth down to her breast and clamped his lips onto her nipple.
Fire surged in her veins. Margaid’s heart hammered. His mouth felt hot upon her skin as he suckled her breast.
He hammered her, thrusting higher and deeper. “You like that?”
“Yes, oh yes.” I can’t kill him. Not when he makes me feel like this. “I’m so glad I decided to seduce you.”
“I thought I was seducing you.” Andrew spasmed against her, his breath came in a hard rush.
Margaid’s pulse fluttered wildly. Her moist inner walls clenched hard and her body shuddered. She’d seduced him like she was supposed to. Although she knew this wasn’t what the sea god had in mind.
With each fast gasp of breath she let out a shriek of ecstasy. Margaid was engulfed by the sensation of fire shooting through her as if she was the volcano on the Isle of Man in full eruption. Just when she felt fully spent, Andrew’s body went still. He pulled out of her.
“Can you untie my hands now?” She could hear the strain and breathiness in her voice.
He undid the knot and she tossed the rope belt onto the floor.
Once again she had her chance to save herself from transformation into a water horse. As she leaned into his sweat covered body, her breasts tingled, pressing against his chest.
She was a lhiannan shee. They seduced men, drained them of blood, and filled their red cauldrons with it. That was who she was and that was what she had to do. She had no choice, kill him or spend the rest of her life as a water horse.
With her body molded to his, she stepped forward leading him backwards, toward the cauldron. Finally, she had him where she needed him.
It is who I am, what I do. But what of his mother with the two carry-ons? She won’t have her son or his luggage. No, no, I must. I cannot let Mannan beg mac y Leir down again. Perfect. I’m ready.
She leaned tighter against his body, but before she could transform her nails and raise her hands to attack him, he tumbled backwards, into the cauldron. Lying on his back at the bottom of the great pot, his two legs dangled in the air.
She couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m glad this was empty. What do you usually keep in here anyway?”
“Usually nothing. I’m supposed to keep blood in it.”
“Oh...I know that’s a joke, but I don’t really get it.” The large iron cauldron caused his voice to echo.
She grabbed his hand, and pulled him up and out of the huge pot.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get you.” When his face screwed into a confused expression, she added, “I mean, I don’t think you should die. I can’t go through with it.”
“I thought you just did go through with it.” He laughed. “I’m not sure what y
ou’re talking about but I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”
“I don’t plan on it either, though I’ll probably be turned into a cabyll-ushtey.”
“I don’t think what we were doing will turn you into whatever you said.”
“A water horse. And it will. Mannan beg mac y Leir won’t abide me any longer. I’m a bad lhiannan shee.”
“Is that like a bad girl?”
“It’s a lhiannan shee that can’t seduce a man and drain his blood, like I’m supposed to.”
He drew back from her. “You’re getting weird.”
“I don’t think you should die without your luggage or your contacts. You should be able to at least see what’s around you in the last moments of your life. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes,” he said with a sideways glance.
Plus, I like you too much to kill you. “But Mannan beg mac y Leir won’t agree with that. I’m supposed to do what a lhiannan shee does. Yet, I don’t. I can’t, I really tried this time. I am a failure as a lhiannan shee, so I’ll soon be a cabyll-ushtey instead.”
“What is a cabyll-ushtey and what are you talking about?
“Oh, they look like a horse and they swim in the sea. I’m talking about this.” She held up her hand to show him how her nails had transformed when she was ready to take his blood.
He screamed and jumped back. “Those are claws and they look even sharper than my pocket knife. Someone at the club must have spiked my drink with something that’s making me crazy.”
“No, they’re real. You’re in an underwater cave beneath the sea with a large red cauldron in it. What did you think this was all about? If you lived on the Isle of Man, you would know about the lhiannan shee and Mannan beg mac y Leir.”
“Gods and underwater vampire women aren’t real, just myths. If you believe any of this you’re insane.”
“No Andrew, you can see it all yourself. Look, my nails are changing back, now that I’m not draining your blood.” Holding her hands up, she watched as her nails returned to their normal length. “See?” She pointed to the pot. “That is the red cauldron of a lhiannan shee. We fill them with the blood of our victims. We wander the Isle of Man at night to find men, seduce them, bring them to our underwater cave and fill the red cauldron with their blood.”
“So you’re going to kill me.”
“No, it’s too late. When we cannot seduce and drain a man of blood, we become his slave. You are my master now. I must serve you until you die, then Mannan beg mac y Leir will most likely turn me into a cabyll-ushtey.”
“No, no.” He shook his head violently. “See, I’m an American. I can’t have a slave.” He glanced toward the stairs leading out of her cave. “People go to jail over stuff like that.”
“You mean you don’t even want me as a slave?”
“All I want right now is to get out of here.” He ran to the stairs.
“It doesn’t matter where you go, I’m enslaved to you now. I’ll instantly appear wherever you are, though only you can see me.”
“This can’t be real. I’ve had fun, but it’s time to go.” He rushed up the steps, forced the hatch open, shoved the boulder aside and swam from the bottom of the sea back to shore.
Chapter Two
Every time he glanced back he saw Margay behind him. The freaky woman meant to kill him with her nails, but that couldn’t be true. He must have imagined it. And this slave stuff, the last thing he needed was a Manx woman following him around saying he was her master. That would cause all kinds of trouble.
Why did he always get mixed up with crazy girls? He didn’t even know what Margay really looked like. Damn he needed his contacts.
The water cut through his skin like ice and Andrew trembled when he climbed onto shore.
Margay pulled herself out of the water. She tilted her head to the side and shrugged. “I told you, I’m still here.”
“Go away.”
He’d just wanted a little fun. Party with a mutual one night fuck buddy. He’ d heard of this sort of thing happening to girls, after a one night stand the guy would stalk them, but he didn’t know it happened to men. Why him? He had to be the one guy who went on vacation and partied with a stalker freak.
“Andrew, I can’t leave you, I’m your slave no matter what. It’s not my choice.”
“You can’t follow me around. And don’t tell anyone you’re my slave. Now get away from me.”
Mentally insane women weren't part of his vacation plans. Even though her skin was the softest he’d ever felt, her luscious breasts overflowed from his hands when he cupped them, and when he sheathed her, how sweet, the perfect fit, so tight and wet. His balls swelled, his sack tightened and his cock twitched at the thought. Hard already, apparently his treacherous dick didn’t care if the girl was a nut, but his mind did. After all, some part of his body had to look out for him.
Coo coo was not good. Sure the girls-gone-wild kind of crazy was all right, but not the drain-your-blood kind. That was a whole different set of crazy. Not what he needed in a girlfriend.
“I can’t leave. It’s fey lore, there are rules. Think about how you swam to and from the bottom of the sea without breathing. You did it because of fey magic. Just like the cows, the pigs, even the children the fey steal are taken Underhill, places mortal creatures shouldn’t be able to live.” She raised her hands to the side of her face, they trembled with frustration. “When a fey creature wants a mortal to come with them, the human accompanies them by the rules of fey lore, which override the laws of nature.” Her features tightened like she was about to cry. “I wouldn’t make this up. I’m your slave because when you tied my hands it interrupted my seduction, what I was supposed to do. It’s the same as if you resisted my charms. So by fey law, I’m your slave. I can’t change it. I go where you go, no matter what.” She rubbed the side of her head with her hand and her plump, wet lips formed a scowl.
He had to get rid of her. What kind of person lived in a cave at the bottom of the sea? The girl was clearly off her rocker, thinking she had to fill a giant cauldron with his blood. She hears the god Mannan, telling her he’s going to turn her into a water horse.
Still no woman had ever made him feel like she did. Even now just seeing her, his cock hardened and swelled. “Look, you’re not making any sense. You’ve got to be schizo.” That’s it. Schizophrenia’s a disease. “You’re confused and that’s not my fault.” Hospitals, mental wards, that’s where people like her go. “Margaid, if you want to come with me you can. I just have to make a stop before I go back to the hotel.”
He’d like to take her to the hotel, sleep with her again, but she was too batty. He’d passed a hospital when he left the club. They would help her, hold her. “I wish I could get out of these wet clothes first. They’re kind of hard to explain.”
Glancing back, he saw Margaid walk up to a man standing alone. She reached up and pulled the guy’s shirt off him.
Andrew ran to her. “Stop it!”
“No!” The shirtless man turned to him. “You have the wrong idea. It’s not me. I’m not doing it. Something’s happening to me!” His face was red with embarrassment and his eyes were large with shock.
“No, of course it’s not you. It’s her.” Andrew pointed at the lhiannan shee. “Don’t, stop it.” Andrew grabbed her arm as she held the poor guy’s shirt. “You can’t run up to a strange man and start taking off his clothes.”
Before Margaid could answer, the guy shook his head at Andrew. “It’s okay. You can keep my shirt. Although I don’t know how you're holding it when your arm’s about four inches away from it, but hey, I’m sure I simply had too much to drink. Keep it, that’s fine.”
“What? No, I don’t want your shirt. Margaid, well she thought I wanted it, but−”
“No, don’t let him go.” Margaid shook her head. “You do want his shirt. And you need his pants, too.”
Before Andrew knew what was happening, she shoved the shirt into his arms. Then she turned back to the
quaking man and grabbed hold of his waist.
“Oh, no, don’t do it.” The moment Andrew yelled out, he knew she wasn’t going to listen.
Andrew watched in utter horror as Margaid unsnapped the poor man’s jeans, yanked down his zipper, and slid his pants all the way to his ankles.
“Damn, I’m glad he’s wearing underwear.” Black boxers with writing all over them. “What does that say?” Andrew read aloud, “B is for big.”
“You don’t say?” Margaid flashed a sheepish grin at the fairly respectable bulge underneath the man’s boxers.
Andrew held his palm up in a stop gesture. “I’m warning you, don’t touch his underwear.”
“But don’t you need a dry pair?”
Andrew shook his head. “I don’t wear them.”
The man gasped. Fear glittered in his eyes. “Please don’t touch me. You can have my clothes. Okay?”
“I don’t want your clothes. I’m not going to hurt you or touch you. Margaid misunderstood. She’s not quite right.” Andrew whipped his head toward her. “Give him his clothes.”
“No, no, it’s okay. I don’t know what’s going on here. But I’m going to leave. Keep the clothes.” The man bolted down the street at a breakneck pace.
“You’re lucky he didn’t call the cops on you.” He shook his head at Margaid.
“He’s not going to call the police on me.” She cupped the side of her face. “He might on you.”
“What? You sound like him. He blamed me instead of you. He let you take his clothes off him just because you’re a woman.”
“That’s not it.” Her tone was curt, as if she was losing her patience. “He can’t see or hear me. No one can, except you, because I’m your slave.”
“That’s nuts. I can’t believe you stole the guy’s clothes.”
She leaned her head down and rubbed her forehead. “I thought you needed them.”
“No, not like that.” She looked so downcast and confused. “Look, it’s okay, don’t cry.” He pointed to the jeans Margaid still held.
A Fine Cauldron Of Fish Page 2
