Moonlight Captivation [Moon Shadows Book 1]
Read Moonlight Captivation [Moon Shadows Book 1] Online
Authors: Angela Castle
Whiskey Creek Press
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Copyright ©
First published in 2012
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An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC
Whiskey Creek Press
PO Box 51052
Casper, WY 82605-1052
Angela Castle
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
"Ms. Castle did an amazing job from taking us from a fantasy world into the world we know and blending the two for an amazing read."
Raine
Joyfully Reviewed
www.torridbooks.com
Abducting Alice
Tempting Tara
Resisting Rachel
Claiming Claire
Dragon Down Under
"Aaaaahhhhhh. Oh God, that feels good! Don't stop!"
If Neman had a choice, he never would. He slammed his thick cock into the woman's willing body, over and over. At no time, in all his existence, did a woman feel so good around him. Every lush, pale curve, every dip and hollow of her body was a potent aphrodisiac, which even the gods themselves could not duplicate. Bending down, taking a full, dusty pink nipple into his mouth, he sucked in time with his fierce thrusts. She curled her legs around him and tilted her hips to take more of him. Neman responded by pushing her legs higher, angling his hips to hit home deep inside her.
It wasn't like Neman to take advantage of an intoxicated, potential victim of a Gorlon Kat demon—so what the hell was wrong with him for doing just that? And why, in all his existence, did it feel so right...
Fifteen minutes earlier...
Neman thought her totally mad when he found her in the alleyway trying to befriend the creature from the Lower Realms. It stalked towards her; its red, glowing eyes would have alerted any sane person—it was not an alley cat. With a distorted, black body, twisting on its four, deadly claws, its thickly muscled form closely resembled a large jaguar.
"Heeerrre kitty, kitty, come to Mummy."
Her slurred words alerted him to her drunken state. He had tracked this demon across several different continents after it viciously killed a string of middle-aged women. Neman jumped from the roof of the tavern building—a twelve-foot drop—and landed directly in the demon's path, drawing his lightweight, custom-made scimitar.
"Crikey, it's raining men!” the woman said from behind him.
Neman didn't have time to deal with her; he never took his eyes off the demon. It hissed, turned its back on him, crouched low and then leapt over the tavern wall. Neman was about to give chase, when the woman stepped up behind him and grabbed onto the sleeve of his long, black leather coat.
"Where'd my kitty go? You scared him away!"
Her intoxicating vanilla and strawberry scent hit him, stunning him. As Neman turned towards her, she stumbled and he caught her with one arm. Like dragon's fire, the heat of her body pressed against his sent a shock through his system.
The wavy-haired, lushly curved brunette was certainly not the prettiest or thinnest woman he'd ever beheld, yet she had eyes like the first morning sky, pale blue, with a smattering of freckles across a her pert little nose and deep, pouty, pink lips.
"You!"
Her hand found his cock through his expensive, black, tailored pants, as her other hand poked a pale pink-painted fingernail into his chest. She squeezed and almost made him come on the spot.
"You are going to turn my night from the worst one of my life into the best."
"How do you wish me to do that, my lady?” Purring like a man who'd just discovered the greatest treasure under the heavens, Neman allowed his hands to roam down her perfectly sized back, to a heart-shaped ass any man would die happy to pound. Neman had a good mind to do just that.
Her brow creased in a serious expression, as she said, “I want to be fucked until I can't walk, talk or do anything at all. Got a problem with that?"
Neman sheathed his sword and swung her up in his arms. “Not at all, sweetness—I do like a woman who knows what she wants."
"Paint me green and pickle me whole! I got a he-man! You're not going to break your back or something?"
Neman laughed. “No, sweetness, you're lighter than a moonbeam. Where do you live?"
"Can't go home, man—whore of Babylon in there."
Neman didn't even want to know what it meant—he was Sumerian, not Babylonian.
Anchoring her hands around his neck, she bent her head to lick the side of his throat. Neman groaned.
"Mmmmmmm, you do taste like chocolate."
He needed to get them out of this dark alley before he pushed her up against the wall and took her like a primitive savage. Neman had never been impulsive, until now. The roller-coaster had started, and he felt there was no way to end it until he was seated fully inside her. Summoning his powers, he gripped her closer to his chest. “Hang on, sweetness; we're going to my place.” With a fizzle of energy in the air and a
pop
, he landed in the center of his Zigg.
"Yippee, that was fun. Let's do it again!"
Her wide, blue eyes thrilled with the ride of teleportation, which scared the shit out of most mortals. He set her on her feet. She smacked her lush, pink lips together, before wetting them with the tip of her tongue, firing his blood even more.
"Right, let's rumba.” Her hands gripped each side of his expensive, long, black, leather jacket, tugging him down. She kissed him hard on the mouth, her hot little tongue pushing into his mouth.
Gripping the back of her neck, Neman groaned again. Damn, if he wasn't in control of his body's reaction to her, at least he would control how he kissed her. Everything about this woman called to him, cried out for him to touch her, to have her naked beneath him. He slid his fingers up into her hair, angling her mouth before pushing her tongue back, savoring essence and flavor like a starving man. She tasted of strawberries and vanilla—potent and addictive.
Feeling like a clumsy youth, he tore at her clothes; he desperately needed to have her naked. Neman growled and snatched her up in his arms, taking the stairs two steps at a time. She laughed and tugged at his clothes. They crashed through the bedchamber door, Neman pausing only briefly to slam it shut and flick on the security switch before taking her across the room and tossing her onto his bed. He tore at her clothes until she was in nothing but her dark blue panties and bra. He ripped the flimsy material from her, tossing the remnants aside, to bask in all her naked glory. She had wondrously creamy skin—every lush dip and hollow begged to be licked and explored with his fingers and tongue. Her breasts were so full, more than even a king deserved. Dark areolas with pink, tight nipples to be suckled and teased. Her body was made for love. Neman wanted to drown himself in her.
"Wow, you are a he-man!” she exclaimed, with a breathless little pant. “I love strong men—Larry ain't strong."
Neman growled. He didn't want to hear another man's name on her lips. “I am Neman."
"Wonderful, now I know whose name to scream when you fuck me!"
"It will be a pleasure to hear.” His weapons went flying to the ground with a clatter, quickly followed by the rest of his clothes and boots. He could have taken the easy way to undress, but didn't wish to startle her. “What be your name, my lady?"
"Vanessa, but my friends call me Nessa."
Her gaze scanned his body, eyes widening with obvious delight, before lowering to his sizable cock. She licked her lips, looking absolutely ecstatic at what she saw.
"Holy cow, look at all this brawn and muscle—you are one hunk-a-licous! Oh, baby, you are some eye candy. You're not a man, you're a god, and tonight, you're all mine!"
Neman chuckled at her awe; she was not far off the mark. He felt a strange sense of masculine pride that she found him so attractive. “You, Vanessa, are more beautiful than a goddess, and tonight you're mine."
"Neman, I want you, I need you, please take me."
Her hands reached out for him.
Unable to deny her, he climbed onto the bed. In one swift movement, he pushed her legs wider and mounted her, pushing all the way inside her in one powerful thrust. Oh gods, it was like entering into paradise; the sheer bliss of her tight inner walls squeezing his cock. It had been too long since he'd felt a woman this way. This was something he wanted to feel again and again...
Back in the present...
"Yessssss, oh, Neman!"
Hearing her scream out her pleasure heightened his own passion, and he was unable to hold back; the force of his release hit him harder than a warlock's spell. Spewing forth into Vanessa's tight, slick passage, Neman was in awe of the powerful encounter with this strangely beautiful woman. Every possessive instinct screamed at him to claim her and not let her go. Her eyes were sleepy and sated.
"Oh, wow, you've totally blown my mind. No man is ever going to be the same again,” she said with a soft sigh.
He watched her body relax. The thought of her with another man was unsettling. Slowly, he withdrew from her, instantly missing the hot, wet comfort of what felt like home, like a place he belonged. He laid small kisses over her eyes in gratitude.
"I know, sweetness—sleep now.” He looked down upon the naked mortal he'd just bedded. What craziness possessed him? He'd never brought a woman into the depths of his Zigg before. Her staying wasn't an option. She wouldn't retain much of a memory of him in her inebriated state. This was no place for a human, let alone a tempting siren such as this one. As much as it killed him inside, he knew he could not keep her. He would find out where she belonged and return her, for her own safety.
He trailed his hand over her soft skin and lust flared once again. In his rush to be buried inside her, he had not taken the time to fully taste and explore this wondrous beauty. A smile snaked across his face. The night was still young. Maybe a little more exploring of her lush body wouldn't do any harm; he would take her home afterward.
"Wake-up, sleepyhead, wake-up, sleepyhead, wake-up, sleepyhead, wake-up, sleepyheaaaaaaaaaaaaddd!"
Nessa's arm stumbled out, her hand feeling for the thing which was splitting her head, and she promptly threw her eleven-inch tall, flower-shaped, alarm clock out of the open window, giving a satisfied, yet painful, grin when she heard it shatter into a thousand pieces on the sidewalk, two stories below. Whatever possessed her to buy a
Sister Act
alarm clock in the first place, was beyond her. It was another of her stupid “I like that movie a lot” phases.
