by Anthology
She cupped his balls in her hand, enjoying the feel of the soft crinkled skin and crisp hairs. Her tongue traced a circle around the fat flared head of his penis. To her immense delight he was nearly ready again. “On the sand or on the rock?”
His fingers trailed through her hair, then he hooked both hands under her arms and lifted her to stand. She leaned into him, rubbing her belly against the thick ridge of his shaft.
“Does it have to be here?”
His rumbled question took her by surprise. She tilted her head to gaze up into his ruggedly handsome face.
“Can you leave the beach?” He trailed his hands down to her waist then around to clasp the globes of her ass. Strong fingers dug into her flesh and pulled her more tightly against him.
“Well, yes, if you want me to. For a few hours at least.” She was so lost in the warm glow of his touch that she had to think about her answers. “I need to be in the water before the sun reaches its height tomorrow.” Half a day was the longest she’d ever been able to stay ashore without repercussions. She’d never wanted to spend the entire night with a lover, though. Until tonight.
“Will you trust me?”
She gazed up into his eyes and saw nothing there to fear—just the promise of satisfaction and maybe—something more. “Yes.”
He took both her hands in both of his and lifted them to the sky. He whispered a word in Gaelic and Lyra felt the sand fall away under their feet. Blackness shot with starbursts swirled around them and it felt as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs. Before she could gasp for breath however the sensations ended. The swirling stopped, the blackness receded and soft carpeting kissed her toes.
Cian’s grip on her hands steadied her wobbling legs as she regained her footing.
“What an interesting way to travel.” Her laugh was a little throaty until she caught her breath. She looked around at a luxuriously appointed living room. Leather sofas were grouped near the huge stone fireplace, a grand piano filled one corner and a wall of windows looked out over the city skyline. She stepped over to the window and gazed out toward the lake. “So this is how a modern sorcerer lives.”
“As much businessman as wizard in this century.” He stepped over to a bar built into a wall and lifted two stemmed crystal glasses down from a rack. He appeared utterly unconcerned that both of them were naked. “Do you drink wine?”
Lyra nodded. What was she doing here? Back there, on the beach, going home with Cian had seemed like such a good idea, but now she was not so sure. Just being near this man was a more intense, more intimate experience than she’d ever had before. Standing with him here in his home was almost overwhelming. She’d been in palaces before but it had been many, many years and so much in the world had changed since then. And she’d never been with a man like Cian. Tiny goose bumps prickled on her arms as she thought of the raw power she’d seen in his gaze and felt on his skin.
He was even more beautiful now that she could see him clearly, and after the soul-gaze they’d shared, she knew that beauty went all the way to his heart. His eyes were a brilliant emerald green, full of life and intensity. His chiseled face was a work of art and his body was magnificent. Tall and strong, he was a sculptor’s dream. Even in moderate repose his cock jutted proudly away from his narrow hips. A tattooed band of bright green Celtic knotwork circled his upper arm, and even from a distance she could see what appeared to be black magical runes worked into the design. He uncorked a bottle and poured unexpectedly moderate amounts of the ruby fluid into the goblets. Then in a few long strides he crossed the room to stand by her side. She took the glass he offered. She was glad her hand trembled only slightly.
“To tonight.” His voice was a soft caress that demanded nothing and promised everything.
She touched the rim of her glass to his and smiled. “To tonight.” Why did she feel like she was saying “Forever”?
He gazed out into the night as they each sipped.
“How is a siren here in Toronto? I’d have thought you required salt water.”
“No. Just a large body of water that connects to the open sea. My race originated in the Mediterranean area, but we lived in the rivers of southern Europe as well. Now we’re spread all over the globe. Just like Irish sorcerers.”
The corner of his lip quirked upward for just a second before his thoughtful expression reasserted itself. “And you live beneath the waves?”
Lyra took a sip of her wine and nodded. “Most of the time. I’ve tried living on land, but it’s awkward at best. Being out of the water in human form takes a toll. It’s easier to stay underwater rather than to have to run back and forth every day.”
“What about when the lake freezes?”
She turned to face him, leaning her shoulder against one of the cool chrome window frames. Did he care where she would be several months from now? The thought made something tingle deep in her chest. “I hadn’t intended to stay in Toronto that long. But I could live under the ice for a few months if I had to. I can take the form of a fish. I don’t need to breathe air.”
“Woman, fish or halfway between, correct?”
“Yes. The mermaid form is more or less my natural one, if I have any such thing. And you forgot this one.” She set her glass on a small table and willed herself to change. She saw the look of surprise on his face as he looked down at the small white bird now sitting on his carpet. She laughed as she changed back into her human guise.
“A gull.”
“Mmm hmm. Can’t do the halfway step there though. The bird-woman thing belongs strictly to the harpies.” Lyra picked her glass up and took another sip. The rich mellow taste flooded her mouth and warmed her throat.
An impish grin quirked at Cian’s lips and she couldn’t resist returning the smile. This man was appealing on so many levels. “You’re not the only one with a few tricks, leannan.” He gestured and his glass floated over to rest on the same small table she’d used. Then with a flash, the man was replaced by a raven with laughing green eyes.
She clapped carefully around the stem of her glass. “Bravo. Very nice.”
He dipped his head in an avian interpretation of a bow and grinned again after he transformed back into a very handsome, very naked man. Then he looked into her eyes and the laughter in his gaze was replaced by heat. “Perhaps sometime we can fly together.”
“That would be nice.” It would be a thrill to soar with him. A wave of longing crashed in her belly. What would it be like to stay with one man, this man? Maybe even…forever?
“Would you like to go out on the balcony?” His voice dropped to a suggestive growl. “Or would you rather see the rest of the apartment?”
It was astonishing to know that the heat in his eyes had nothing to do with her song, and everything to do with the unique magic that seemed to have been created when their souls had touched. He knew what she was. He’d looked into the deepest corners of her heart and mind, and yet he gazed at her with that heady mix of desire and tenderness. She’d felt physical desire before, but never this gut-wrenching longing for one specific man. It was beautiful and horrifying, and she didn’t intend to waste it. For one night she would know what it felt like to be treasured. She raised her eyes to meet his gaze and licked her lips. “The apartment, please.”
He held out a hand and she slipped hers into it, enjoying the heated tingle that coursed through her at his touch. They each carried a wineglass in the other hand, and as they passed the bar, he caught up the bottle as well. He muttered a syllable or two and the lights behind them dimmed and went out as they stepped into a wide hallway, lined with artwork and small benches.
“Quite a collection.” She recognized some famous names on the paintings, but she was too focused on him to pay much attention to the art. “Have you been at it long?”
There was a faint rumble deep in his chest. “Are you trying to subtly ask my age, madam?”
Her answering chuckle was brief but genuine. Laughing with a lover—that was a sensation
as new as the tenderness and longing. “I suppose. Though I’m quite used to…er…seeing…younger men.”
“I’ll bet.” He stopped at a door and nodded for her to precede him through. The muted glow of a dozen fat white candles sprang to life as he waved his hand, and a fire began to crackle in a small stone hearth. “I turned three hundred and seven at the autumn equinox. And you?”
She gaped in shock. She knew sorcerers lived longer than typical humans, but he looked no more than thirty.
He used the tip of one finger under her chin to close her mouth. “Surprised, my dear?”
“Quite.” She shook her head. “Well, I am a bit older, but not very much. My race isn’t the best at keeping track of time, but I was born just a couple of years after Catherine I of Russia—so toward the end of the seventeenth century.”
“Then you’re a very well-preserved antiquity.”
“Likewise.” She gave him what she hoped was a flirty wink.
Without her even realizing it, he’d drawn them up next to the bed. It was huge with carved wooden posts and a fluffy duvet covered in gold velvet. Red and gold velvet-covered pillows were mounded against the gleaming dark wood of the headboard.
He set the wine and his glass on the table beside the bed, then drew back the duvet to reveal creamy linen sheets. Lyra swallowed hard. Being here with Cian, in his bed, was very different from an anonymous fuck on the beach. There was something new here—something more than she’d done or felt before. Then she looked up into his eyes and forgot every one of her reservations. There was no room for doubt, not in her mind or her heart. There was only room for him.
The bed was high off the ground, and Lyra wasn’t very tall by human standards. Cian solved that problem by placing one hand on either side of her waist and lifting her to sit on the mattress, which proved firmer than she’d expected, but with a soft downy layer on top. She drained the last of the wine from her glass, then handed it to Cian who set it on the table and moved to stand between her legs.
The crisp dark hairs on his thighs rasped against the soft skin of hers, but she didn’t mind. She trailed one hand through the hair on his chest while the other reached up to rest on his shoulder.
“You’re even more beautiful in my bed than you were on the beach.” His voice was a deep rumble she could feel vibrating in his chest. “I wish I could keep you here for more than one night.”
How she wished that too! At the moment though, she was too far gone to reply. Then words became unnecessary as he bent his head and took her lips in a kiss so passionate she nearly forgot her own name.
She’d been aroused before she’d started singing—that was part of her siren’s nature. When Cian had appeared, she’d gotten even hotter, and what they’d done on the beach had only left her wanting more. Her nipples were beaded into points rasping against his firm chest. Her pussy was wet and clenching with need. As Cian’s tongue stroked possessively into her mouth, seeking, exploring, claiming, she tightened her legs around his, drawing his hips closer to her aching flesh.
The height of the bed was perfect, she discovered. His massive erection prodded her lower belly, and she knew that with just a small shift, it could be right where she needed it. She wriggled helplessly, wanting his cock, but unwilling to give up the drugging glory of his kiss. She wrapped both arms around his neck and ground her pelvis into his.
Cian’s lips finally left hers, trailing down to nibble at the sensitive tendons of her neck. Lyra cried out as he nipped softly. His talented hands slid up from her waist to cup the sides of her breasts, and she drew back just enough to allow him to grasp her nipples between his forefingers and thumbs.
“Oh, Cian.” The sensations speared from her nipples to her womb. She pulsed her mound against his penis, begging for more.
“Soon, leannan.” Then he dipped his mouth to her breast and laved one pebbled bud with his tongue before drawing back to blow on it softly. He shifted his hands and treated her other breast to the same attention, following the warm puff of air with wet, hungry kisses.
When he drew the tortured peak deep into the hot recesses of his mouth and suckled strongly, Lyra moaned and fell back against the sheets. Her hands fisted in his hair and drew him with her. He didn’t even pause in his ministrations, just braced himself above her with one strong hand.
Lyra’s head tossed from side to side. Her back arched up to lift her breasts into his touch and she held his head close with both hands. He shifted back to the other nipple and feasted on that one for a moment. His cock poked straight ahead, now poised right where Lyra needed it. The fat bulbous head grazed her slick, swollen lips with each upward pulse of her hips.
“Please.” Her request came out as a fractured whimper. “Please.”
“Tell me what you want, áilleacht.” He swayed his pelvis so that his erection brushed more firmly against her mound, but not hard enough for her to take him in. “Tell me and it is yours.”
“I want you,” she gasped, straining to capture his cock with her weeping cunt.
“How do you want me?” His own tone was dark and thick with arousal. “Tell me you want my cock, Lyra.”
“I do. I want it so badly I can barely breathe.”
“Say it.”
“I want your cock. I need you to take me, Cian. I crave the feel of your rod inside my cunt. Filling me. Fucking me.” The words were nearly as erotic as his touch and she felt a fresh trickle of moisture seeping from her already drenched slit.
He groaned and gave her nipple one last lick before moving back up to kiss her mouth. “Thank you.” He levered his upper body back into a standing position and used one hand to rub the head of his cock around her entrance, wetting it even further with her juices. Then with one powerful flex of his thighs he drove inside, sheathing himself to the hilt in her passage.
Lyra screamed. She’d never felt so stuffed in all her years. No man had ever filled her so completely, so perfectly. Her muscles clenched around him greedily, as if she could hold him inside like this for all eternity. She knotted her hands in the bedclothes and felt the wet trace of a tear trickle down her cheek.
“Perfect.” Cian held himself balls-deep in the snug heat of Lyra’s pussy and let the pleasure wash through his body. He’d had plenty of women in the last three centuries, but none had ever made him feel like this. It was as though their bodies had been made specifically to fit together. More than that, sliding into the warmth of Lyra’s body felt oddly like coming home. It felt right, in more ways than his sex-hazed brain could begin to process. He knew—in the tiny corner of his mind still capable of thinking—that he could stay like this, buried in her body, for the rest of his life.
He slid one hand under each of her knees and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, allowing his cock to nudge just a tiny bit deeper. He didn’t know if the groan he heard was hers or his. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he gripped her soft full buttocks in his hands. He’d never get tired of this, of her. He truly wished tonight never needed to end.
Eventually however his body demanded that he move. As slowly as he could, he pulled back out of Lyra’s channel, until only the tip of his penis was lodged inside. She whimpered, bucking her hips as if in protest, but he held her in place with his hands. When her motions quieted, he rewarded her and himself, by pushing back in as far as he could go. Her eyes closed and her head lolled against the sheets.
Her flesh was slick and wet but her inner walls gripped him tightly and made him feel every bit of the incredible friction as he slowly stroked in and out. Lyra’s breathy cries broke over him with every thrust, urging him on.
“You’re so wet, so tight, so warm.” One hand came around to slip between her lips and find her tautly budded clit. “Your pussy fits my cock like a custom-made glove.”
“Fuck. Me. Cian.” He’d pushed back the hood of her clit and started rubbing the tiny beaded nub in counterpoint to the rhythm of his cock. He was thrilled that she had to pause and gasp between each word.
>
“I will, leannan. All night, and all day.” He refused to utter the words “until you have to leave”.
He picked up speed, unable to stop himself from pounding into her harder and faster. She dug her heels into his ass and strained into every stroke.
He felt his balls tighten as they slapped against her ass. They were ready to burst, so full he wasn’t sure he’d survive the blast. Lyra’s pussy began to twitch as her spine tightened in preparation for her own climax. He leaned down and took one shell-pink nipple between his teeth at the same time as his fingers pinched her clit. She screamed her pleasure, calling his name over and over as he slammed his cock into her one last time, feeling every pulse of her muscles. Her channel gripped and milked his shaft hungrily, pulling the seed up out of his balls with explosive force. He held himself deep, letting her clasp him close while he filled her over and over with rivers of hot fluid.
When the orgasm finally subsided, he discovered that Lyra continued to pant and pulse around him, aftershocks coursing through her limp, sweat-sheened body. He eased himself down on top of her, then rolled, bringing her to rest on his chest. His penis was semi-erect inside her heated core.
“All right, beautiful?” He kissed the tear away from her cheek.
“Marvelous,” she hummed. She snuggled her head down into the hollow of his neck. “Thank you.”
“Once again, I think you’ve gotten it backward. Thank you.”
She didn’t reply, so Cian touched her cheek, hoping he hadn’t offended her. “Lyra? Leannan?”
Again, no answer. Then he heard a faint sniffle that could almost have been—no, it was, there was no doubt about it—a snore. She’d fallen asleep cradled in his arms, his cock nestled in her pussy.
Cian smiled and waved a hand, dousing the candles and the fire with one motion. Another slight gesture brought the duvet up around them both as he rearranged them to rest properly on the bed. She’d said she’d be fine until noon. Might as well let her get some rest before he wore her out all over again.
