The Fire and the Earth: Glenncailty Castle, Book 2 (7 page)

He pulled back only long enough to tug the panties to the side with his teeth. The cold air was a shock against her wet and ready sex. Then there was no time to think or feel anything other than his touch.

He was gentle and thorough. If she’d been asked to guess, she would have said that Séan would be a gentle and thorough lover. She just didn’t know exactly what that would mean or how it would feel. He kissed her mound, the outer lips of her sex. Then he licked the seam over and over until her body opened for him. His tongue dipped inside, touching her inner lips, before brushing her clit. She jerked at the jolt of pleasure. Her movement took them both by surprise and Sorcha fell back on the bed.

Séan grabbed her legs, pulling them together so he could draw her thong down and off. Sorcha pushed the teddy, which was crumpled around her waist, over her hips and he pulled that off too.

Now she was lying fully naked before him, while he still wore his pants. He looked at her with such longing that Sorcha wanted to roll away and cover her face. He looked at her in a way that made her think that he saw something more in her than the sexy, ready, redhead.

This was supposed to be sex, nothing more. All she wanted him to see was this—her naked body, ready and willing.

He rose to his feet, his gaze met hers and Sorcha sucked in a breath. He was dark, handsome and powerful. Far more powerful and dangerous in that moment than she’d ever fathomed he could be.

“I wanted to bring you pleasure before…” He trailed off as his gaze roamed over her.

“You have, you have brought me pleasure.” Arching her back, Sorcha lifted her leg, pressing her bare foot against his shoulder. He turned his head and kissed her ankle, his hands kneading her calf.

“I want to see you come apart.”

Sorcha stiffened. She knew what he meant, and she had no problem orgasming from oral sex, but she did not want to come apart. She’d had a hard time putting herself back together after she’d last come apart.

Sorcha lifted her other leg, hooking her heels around his sides and pulling so he lost his balance and fell over her. He caught himself on his hands, his gaze switching between her lips and breasts.

“Maybe we should do it together.” She used her legs to lift and rub her pelvis against the rough material of his pants.

Her words and movement were stopped by his lips. The kiss became a battle, tongues dueling, lips nipping. He tangled a hand in her hair, tugging her head back and holding it still so he could lick and kiss her throat. Her fingers raked his shoulders as he licked his way down to her breasts.

His body was a solid weight in the cradle of her thighs, and with each touch her need grew. She didn’t want kisses and licks—she wanted to feel his cock pressing into her, opening her, filling her.

“I want you,” she moaned. “I want you in me. Now.”

“Are you ready?” His hand slipped between her legs, fingers sliding along the slick moisture of her sex. He pressed one, then two fingers into her.

“Yes.” She tried to reach between them and undo his pants, but she couldn’t reach. She settled for pushing on his shoulder until he rose to stand beside the bed. She sat up and together they made quick work of his pants. He kicked them off even as Sorcha grabbed the waistband of his briefs and shoved them down to his knees.

His cock was thick and hard, the tip wet. It bobbed as Séan kicked off his pants and Sorcha took hold of it. As soon as she did, he went still.

“I’m barely controlling myself,” he warned her.

Sorcha had a crazy urge to slip off the bed and take him in her mouth, pleasuring him until he trembled, until he was vulnerable the way he made her feel. But then she wouldn’t feel that thickness opening her, stretching her.

Reluctantly she released his cock. He fumbled with a condom packet, tearing it open and rolling it on. He shuddered a little when it was on.

Sorcha pushed the sheets and duvet off the bed. It was late and there was a chill in the air, but she knew she wouldn’t have to worry about being cold. She slid to the center of the bed and lay on her side. She traced her fingers up and down her belly, occasionally circling her breast with her fingertips. His gaze tracked the movement of her hand.

She took her nipple between finger and thumb, pinching and twisting, pulling hard, showing him that she wasn’t as delicate as she looked, that she wanted and need more. He came down on the bed beside her, stretching out. His hand kneaded her thigh, making its way up towards her sex.

This time Sorcha didn’t make it easy. She crossed her legs and bent her knees, forcing his hand away from her. Séan’s gaze met hers. He broke the stare to grab the ankle of her upper leg, holding her foot steady so he could kiss and nip at her arch. His attention moved higher, over her calf to her knee.

When he could go no further, he grabbed her legs and forced them open, baring her to his gaze, his hands and his cock. She was willing, more than willing. She needed him, but she wanted that—wanted the sensation of being forced to yield, made to give in.

He pinched the lips of her sex, then with finger and thumb pushed them open, baring her to his gaze.

“You like it like this, rougher.” His words wavered between a statement and a question.

“Sometimes.”

He released her legs and shifted so he lay between her splayed thighs. “You’re wet, ready.”

“Then you should take me.”

“Look at me.”

Sorcha’s hands fell away from her breasts and she met his gaze. He was both the mild, kind man she’d known for years and someone new, someone dark and intense. He slid up, his cock pressing into her thigh, her ass, before resting in the cradle of her sex.

“Hold on to me.”

Sorcha wrapped her hands around his shoulders, keeping eye contact. His eyes were brown and gold and green. There were wrinkles at the corners from squinting. In his eyes she saw a reflection of herself, and who she was to him was someone far more beautiful and pure than she was. But now, caught up as she was in the pleasure, she didn’t fear it—she reveled in it. She wanted that pure, beautiful girl he saw to be ravaged by him. Wanted to be taken and pleasured—to give up control in a way she never did, even in sex.

The head of his cock rubbed up and down the cleft of her sex, bumping her clit.

“Sorcha,” he whispered, his accent thicker, his voice deep.

He filled her with one hard thrust. Sorcha threw back her head and screamed as the pleasure crackled through her body.

This was the moment of her greatest pleasure. That amazing sense of being filled, of her body opening and yielding in the most primal way.

He looked down at her, and she could see that he wasn’t sure if she’d really just come. Most men loved that about her—now they were free to take their pleasure, and for Sorcha the rest of the coupling was just afterburn.

“Keep going,” she reassured him. They were words she’d said before, and she wished she hadn’t resorted to them, even as she said them. “That was wonderful, now it’s your turn.”

“That was one,” he said, pulling out.

He thrust in again, hard and deep. Sorcha’s teeth clenched as a fresh wave of pleasure rattled through her. Her gaze flew to Séan’s.

“I’ll be having more from you than just that,” he assured her, with a wicked smile.

Sorcha opened her mouth to assure him that she was more than satisfied, but she never got the words out. Her breath caught, her pulse raced, and her toes curled against his calves. His fucked her with slow, deep thrusts. His thick cock caressed her with each stroke, touching the places inside her that made her belly flutter and skin tingle. It was like an endless wave of pleasure.

“More, more,” she begged, barely aware of what she was saying. “Take me, please, Séan, take me.”

With a growl, he pulled out and rolled to his side, then stood beside the bed. He hauled her to the bottom of the mattress, then pulled her up to stand beside him. Her legs were quaking and Séan’s gaze was wild. He guided her to the chest of drawers. She looked at him, confused.

“Reach back and hold it,” he said, guiding her into position. When Sorcha had her hands braced on the cool, heavy surface, Séan grabbed her legs, locking them around his waist. Sorcha leaned back, putting the weight of her upper body on the dresser and holding herself up with her arms.

One hand cradled her ass while the other held her thigh, keeping her locked in place. His cock found her sex, nudging its way in.

Sorcha screamed, fingers clenching hard around the edge of the dresser top as Séan’s cock penetrated her. He could go deeper like this, and she felt every beautiful, thick inch of him.

“Oh yes, oh, Séan.” Sorcha tipped her head back, keeping her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to look at the upside-down world. “I feel you, I feel all of you.”

“You’re mine.” He took his hand from her leg just long enough to fondle her breasts before shoring up his hold on her. “Hang on,” he said.

His hips pumped, his cock tunneling into her, each thrust deep, even as the pace increased. Sorcha was helpless, utterly helpless and at his mercy. Her body bounced as he fucked her, her breasts jiggling, her hair thrashing against her back and arms. A third orgasm shook her, and Sorcha screamed and moaned her pleasure. Vaguely she had the thought that she was glad they were so far from the castle so no one could hear her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he growled. “I can feel you clenching around me.”

Séan hoisted her, Sorcha’s upper body smacking into his chest. The orgasm was still riding her and Sorcha took fistfuls of his hair, savaging his mouth in a deep, wet kiss. Séan spun and slammed her back against the wall, his hips now thrusting quick. He buried his face against her collarbone as her nails scored his back. She felt the orgasm overtake him, felt it in the tension that pulled him taut as a cable. The muscles of his chest and back were massive and hard against her breasts and under her fingers. She felt overpowered, owned, used in those final minutes as he drove himself relentlessly into her.

He shouted as he came, his teeth closing around her shoulder. Sorcha didn’t mind the little stab of pain. She liked it.

He shuddered, his hips slowing and then stopping. He released her and her legs slid from around his waist, though she was still pinned to the wall by his body. His shuddering breath rattled in her ear. Sorcha ran her hands lazily over his back, wincing when she felt the raised lines of welts her nails had made.

“Sorcha.” There was a note of concern in his voice. He eased back just enough to look at her.

“Séan.” She took his face in her hands and placed a light kiss on his lips. A lump rose in her throat and her eyes prickled with tears. She willed them away, forcing a smile as she said, “That was amazing.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yes, it was.”

They stayed that way for a moment, hands cradling one another’s faces, gazes locked. “You’re not what I expected,” she said.

He frowned. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or scare you.”

“You didn’t. I liked it…very much.”

And then her kind and thorough lover who was so much more lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he lay down beside her.

“Next time I’m going to touch you everywhere.” He pressed his hand to her belly, his fingers long enough to span the space between the lower swell of her breasts and the upper curls of her sex.

She wanted to say,
next time?
But she bit the comment back, not wanting to introduce any awkwardness. Instead she drew him down for a gentle kiss and then let him tuck her up against his side before he drew the covers over them.

Chapter Four

An Old Trouble

She was late to work the next morning. She wasn’t set to start until nine, but she’d been wakened at eight by a sexy man, and something that good shouldn’t be rushed. It wasn’t until she was jumping out of the shower after a very pleasurable thirty minutes in Séan’s arms that she realized he’d been up for hours.

She looked at his clothes as he pulled them on, puzzlement knitting her brow. “That’s not what you were wearing yesterday.”

“I got up to go do the morning milking.” He looked around uncertainly, then sat on the small dressing chair in her room. He seemed relieved when it held his weight.

“You got up, went to milk cows and then came back.”

“I showered.” He looked up, eyes wide. “I promise you, I showered.”

“That’s not what I’m worrying about. I just can’t believe you came back.”

His fingers stilled on his laces. “I should have asked. I’m sorry.”

Sorcha chewed her lower lip. Normally she hustled men out the next morning with a smile and a wink. She didn’t want to do that to Séan. He was too kind, too good.

“I’m glad,” she said, a little scared at how true it was.

He stood from the chair, now fully dressed, and started to awkwardly make her bed. All his surety from last night was gone. Now he seemed wary of her feminine room and furnishings. She hadn’t bothered with much, since the cottage was not a permanent home. She’d settled for nice carpets to keep her feet warm, a few pretty pastorals and paintings depicting the strength of women in past times. Her dressing table had her make-up and perfume bottles, while a lace runner covered the top of her chest of drawers. Remembering what they’d done there last night brought a blush to her face.