by Bonnie Dee
He thrust up inside her, making her gasp as the pleasure soared. He reached under her top, finding and caressing her breasts. “You got under my skin. I’d have found you again. But it doesn’t matter, does it? We are together, and nothing, either human or magical, can break us apart.”
She put her arms around his neck and bent her head to kiss him. They moved slowly, sweetly, without urgency now that their bodies knew each other so well. And yet to Aurora it always felt new, always different. This time was like an affirmation, about the sheer emotion of loving him rather than the physical ecstasy they could achieve. Not that she rejected the pleasure. Indeed, she accepted it, helped drive it onward, writhing, rising and falling on his cock, and lapping up his groans of delight. Sensing her mood, he kept it slow, even at the end when she knew his urge was to pound into her. Instead, he stroked her clitoris with his clever, sensitive fingers, while pushing rhythmically inside her. He watched with hot, triumphant eyes as she fell over the edge into bliss. And even then, trembling with his own need, he kept the slow pace, holding her there until he came too with a long, deep groan that seemed to fill her soul.
As her heart slowly quieted, and she lay on his chest, listening to the strong, still wild beats of his, she knew that this was the time.
“Joel?”
“Mmm.” She could tell, just from his tone that his eyes were closed, that he was half-falling into post-coital slumber.
“We never used protection. Ever.”
“I know.” The smile was in his voice again, making her smile back as she lifted one lethargic hand to stroke his chest, rubbing her finger over his nipple. He was always amused when she picked up modern phrases or concepts. “It doesn’t matter now we’re together, but at the beginning, it used to eat me up with guilt. I’m a controlled man—at least I used to be—but I could never wait to screw you. Part of me even liked the risk.”
“As if you wanted to impregnate me?”
“Maybe. Maybe I knew I’d never let you go.”
“So you’d be happy if we had a baby?”
Somewhat belatedly, Joel appeared to pick up on where this was going. His hand in her hair drew her head up so that he could look into her face. “You want to have a baby? While you’re still studying?”
“Would you mind?”
“Mind? Of course not!”
“Good,” Aurora said with relief. “Because we are.”
She sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of her eyes. Joel stared up at her in bemused wonder, fear and joy chasing each other across his face. She took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry if you don’t like this, but I plan to tell her—or him—everything from the beginning. Our child will grow up knowing all about magic—including Valborga—as well as his own world.”
Slowly, Joel reached up and drew her back down into his arms. “Oh, we’ll tell her,” he promised. “This time we’ll learn from history. Our child will be as precious as you were to the world, but her protection will be knowledge.”
Satisfied, Aurora laid her head on his shoulder. At this moment it felt as if her contentment was complete. As if she was truly happy not just for this moment, but for ever after.
About the Author
To learn more about Bonnie Dee at www.bonniedee.com. Send an email to Bonnie Dee at [email protected]. Join her Yahoo! group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bonniedee. Her Facebook address is http://www.facebook.com/people/Bonnie-Dee/1352577313 or you can follow her on Twitter: http://twitter.com/Bonnie_Dee.
To learn more about Marie Treanor, please visit www.marietreanor.com. Send an email to Marie at [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Marie! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sexydelights. Subscribe to Marie’s Newsletter at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/marietreanornewsletter, and her Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Marie-Treanor-Paranormal-Romance/105866982782360?
Look for these titles by Bonnie Dee and Marie Treanor
Now Available
by Bonnie Dee
Finding Home
Evolving Man
Opposites Attract
Blackberry Pie
Heat Wave: print anthology
Perfecting Amanda
The Countess Takes a Lover
The Countess Lends a Hand
The Final Act
The Valentine Effect
Strangers in the Night: print anthology
Empath
Gifted: print anthology
Butterfly Unpinned
The Thief and the Desert Flower
Fairytale Fantasies: Cinderella Unmasked
Star Flyer
Magical Menages
Shifters’ Captive
Fairytale Fantasies
Demon Lover
Now Available
by Marie Treanor
Killing Joe
Gothic Dragon
Ariadne’s Thread
The Devil and Via
Queen’s Gambit
Requiem for Rab
Fairytale Fantasies
Cinderella Unmasked
Demon Lover
Rumplestiltskin is not his name, and this hunk’s no gnarled old goblin.
Demon Lover
© 2010 Bonnie Dee and Marie Treanor
Fairytale Fantasies, Book 2
In his quest to land her a rich husband, Gwyneth’s father has gone one step too far and bragged to the king’s steward. Now she faces an impossible task: spin a room full of straw into gold by morning, or their lives are forfeit. She despairs, until a black-garbed figure offers to solve her problem for a price. One kiss.
He returns the second night, and the third. With each sensual encounter, the stakes escalate along with her attraction to her mysterious visitor. Then he claims the ultimate price—her child—and she realizes too late she’s made a deal with the king of the Underworld.
From the moment he kisses her, Ragnorak knows Gwyneth’s child will be a worthy heir for his kingdom. But with each touch, he wants more. He wants her to be queen of his strangely beautiful world—and for her to want to stay. But that will mean giving her the ultimate weapon—the power of his name.
Gwyneth has only three chances to drive her demon lover over the edge of bliss. But when the stakes suddenly shift, it’s Ragnorak who stands to lose everything…
Warning: This book turns a well-known fairytale upside down, and involves hot sex with a villainous demon—or is he…?
Enjoy the following excerpt for Demon Lover:
Once more Gwyneth waited in the room full of straw, desperate and alone, but with a sliver of hope which she hadn’t possessed the previous night. For now she knew there was someone who could give her the magic to perform the impossible task. But what could she do to summon him?
She stood in the center of the room, sneezing as the chaff in the air tickled her nose, and examined the chamber from corner to corner. How had he entered the room? Did one of the great stone blocks which made up the walls and floor move aside to provide him entrance? And where exactly had he come from?
She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Sir,” she called softly, “I beseech you to come to me again. I need your help. Please.”
There was no answer. The dead silence was disturbed only by a tiny rustle, perhaps of a mouse brought in with one of the bales of straw.
Gwyneth clasped her hands together. “I cannot do this alone. I need your magic. Please, I’ll do anything you require if only you will save me once more.”
More silence. What if he didn’t come this time? Now that the king was convinced she could perform the task, he might take her refusal to accomplish it a second time as willful disobedience—perhaps treason. Could she convince him that her magic power was used up since the full moon of the fifth month was waning? She couldn’t be expected to produce gold again until another eighteen years had passed, according to her father’s bizarre claim.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tears slipped from the corners to trickl
e down her cheeks. “Please, I need you,” she whispered.
“Then you shall have me, my lady.” The voice murmuring near her ear, hot breath tickling her neck, nearly jolted her out of her skin. She started to whirl to face him and her shoulder slammed into his hard chest. He stood right behind her, as solid and immovable as a wall.
One gloved finger reached out and caught the tear which had dripped nearly to her jaw. “Diamonds,” he murmured. “More beautiful than the green glass you wear around your neck.”
Gwyneth automatically reached up to touch the elaborate emerald necklace that draped her throat. “You’re here,” was all she could manage to say.
He dipped his hooded head slightly. “Your wish is my command, but as before, I will demand a payment.”
What this time? Her heart pounded as she remembered the ravishing kiss last night, the way it had stolen her breath away and made her skin burn.
“I have this necklace.” She fingered the cold, hard gems. “Although I don’t know how I would explain its loss to the king.”
“Then you don’t really have the necklace if it doesn’t belong to you.” He stroked a hand down her arm from shoulder to wrist, and her flesh tingled. “But you have other jewels more precious than those. Rubies.” He touched her lips lightly with a fingertip. “Star sapphires.” He indicated her blue eyes. “And a single precious pearl.”
One gloved hand slid down the front of her gown to cup her mound through the layers of silk and petticoats. He pressed hard with his finger on the very bud she had massaged earlier, and warmth bloomed from the sensitive spot.
Gwyneth drew in a sharp breath.
For a sizzling moment they remained locked together with his hand on her pussy the only point of contact, and then, abruptly, the demon stepped away from her. She felt the absence of his commanding presence which had made the air around her positively crackle with energy.
She licked her lips before she spoke. “What would you have me give?”
He looked around the room. “There’s more work to be done tonight.”
It was true. The room was filled with nearly half as much straw as the previous night.
“I would need more than a kiss this time.”
Scissors of fear and excitement snipped through her mask of calm. “How much more?”
“I want to touch you. Everywhere. And I want you to touch me.”
Her excitement mounted. He would unmask, then. She would see his face at last. But then the other half of what he demanded struck her. He wanted to see and touch her body—naked. She’d never been naked in front of anyone in her entire life.
At her hesitation, he added, “I will not have sex with you, nor will I force you to do anything you don’t enjoy. But I must have something for my trouble.”
Gwyneth had no other options, and a deep-seated part of her wanted to know his touch and to have his gaze travel over her body. Just thinking about it set her afire all over again.
“Very well. It’s a deal.”
“Then you may begin to spin. I suggest you hurry, as there’s a great deal of work to be done and I demand some time at the end of the evening for myself.”
Gwyneth gazed at the mountainous bales of straw and empty spindles waiting to be filled. Her fingers were already swollen and sore despite the balm one of the serving women had treated them with. The task before her seemed monumental—but at least not impossible now, she reminded herself as she cut the twine on the first bale of straw.
She sat on the stool and fed the strands into the flyer while her foot pumped the treadle, making the wheel spin round. Gold thread began to coil around the first empty bobbin. She fed her lapful of straw into the machine and reached for more, all the while rhythmically pumping her foot up and down. It was impossible to see at what point the strands of straw became metallic gold. The wheel was a blur, the distaff spun and Gwyneth gave up trying to see the moment of change, accepting the magic as she did the mysterious wizard himself.
She hummed softly and rocked in time to the rhythm of her foot on the treadle. All the while she was acutely aware of the man who watched her.
“Do you enjoy spinning?” he suddenly asked.
“When I’m not doing it to save my life, yes.”
“What is that song you hum?”
“An old spinning song one of the women in the village taught me. It helps me keep a rhythm so the thread is spun evenly.”
“Your mother didn’t teach you?”
“No. She died when I was very young.”
“I see.” He had moved to stand beside her, watching her hands move and standing with his own clasped behind his back. “And what of your father?”
“He raised me the best way he could, I believe.”
“The way one would raise a prize calf for the market.” His tone was as sour as week old milk.
She stopped spinning and turned to him, glaring. “My father loves me. He wants the best for me. Is there any harm in that?”
“When it puts you at the king’s mercy? Yes.”
Gwyneth nearly knocked her stool over as she rose and marched over to fetch another bale of straw. She was sweating as she dragged the heavy load past the dark-cloaked man.
“You will never be done in time at this rate, and there won’t be time for my payment,” he remarked. “I will help you to finish faster.”
With a swirl of his hooded cape, he turned from her and brought over another bale of straw. He handed her bundles of straw and replaced her distaff each time it was full of gold. Gwyneth’s hands flew as she fed straw into the flyer, her foot was a blur operating the treadle and the wheel spun so fast it made her dizzy. She was fairly certain the stranger was responsible for this increased speed with his mysterious magic.
Much sooner than the previous evening, or at least she thought so, although she had no timepiece with which to measure the night, the seemingly insurmountable task was finished. Rows and rows of golden thread sat on the floor. Only a few bobbins were still empty, and there was no straw left except for chaff and dust that littered the floor.
Her back stiffened as Gwyneth became aware of the stranger standing behind her. His hands rested on her shoulders, heavy and warm. She was torn between pulling away from the unfamiliar touch and purring like a cat as he kneaded her muscles lightly.
“Are you ready to pay my price?” The low rumble of his voice set her very bones trembling in a not entirely unpleasant way.
All her light—and all his love—may not be enough to hold the nightmares at bay…
Dust of Dreams
© 2010 Renee Wildes
Guardians of Light, Book 4
Mingling with other races is strictly forbidden, but dream faerie Pryseis has no choice. An innocent goblin child suffers dangerous nightmares, and it should be a simple task to cure him and return to her anxious sisters before the council knows she’s gone.
Yet there’s a reason a creature of air and sunlight has no business underground. Now in chains, prisoner of an ungrateful goblin sorcerer, Pryseis despairs that anyone will save her. Her only comfort—the memory of a man she can only touch in her dreams.
Benilo ta Myran, with the reluctant blessing of his elven king and queen, takes up a quest some would call mad, driven by the certain knowledge that the beautiful faerie who invades his dreams is in danger. He carries a terrible secret—war has broken his healing powers—yet he cannot leave her to face the darkness alone.
The first touch of their flesh surpasses their most erotic dreams, but the nightmare has just begun. There’s the suffering child, and a sorcerer who won’t go down without a fight. And the clock is ticking down for Pryseis, who must return home—or fade away.
Warning: Beware of wounded bunnies, hungry trolls, low ceilings, glowing mold and goblins bearing gifts. Most of all, beware beautiful faeries and hot elves appearing in your dreams. They may lead you astray…and steal your heart.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Dust of Dreams:
Prysei
s watched the goblins leave the encampment and gave up trying to discern their intended target. Benilo was right. She curled up next to him. They both needed rest. At least she wasn’t alone. He pulled her into his arms, and she ended up half-sprawled across his chest. She stiffened and pulled away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Does not hurt in the slightest,” he said.
She felt no deception in his thoughts. And she felt better, surrounded by his warmth, his strength. His heart beat under her ear, slow and steady. She went boneless by slow degrees, matching him breath for breath. His scent curled around her, through her. That’s what had been absent afore, in her dream. He’d not felt real, for all they’d shared. Now there was solid warmth, hot male skin scented with sunlit ferns. She toyed with a lock of his hair—unexpected softness, a cascade of light. His calloused fingers caressed her back, and she shivered at the goose bumps that rose in their wake. Unbidden, her mind drifted back to the dream. Her breasts swelled and she flushed, embarrassed as her nipples tightened against him.
His fingers trailed over the curve of her backside. She tried to squirm away, but Benilo held her still. “Shh, easy, beauty,” he soothed, the brush of his mind in hers seduction itself. “Do not fear me. I would never hurt you.”
“It wasn’t real,” she denied.
“But it was, and this is. Look at me.”
Pryseis was caught in the hypnotic blue power of his gaze. Blue as the mountain sky, hot as the living fires within the earth. Open desire there for her to read, to feel. She gasped, and his eyes darkened. She reached out to trace his lips with her fingers. He captured her hand in his, raising it so he could tease, not her palm, but the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. It caused an unexpected tingle in her breasts, and she whimpered as her nipples tightened further, an almost painful arousal.
