Demon Lover, page 20
Gwyneth felt her own smile rise in response, but before she could speak, Ragnorak said, “I asked them to meet us here and take Brea to the palace. We’ll join her there shortly.”
Doubtfully, Gwyneth handed her daughter over, wondering if she’d be content with a stranger. After all, it was very unlikely she would remember Agnet. But whether she remembered or not, Brea seemed very interested in Agnet’s face and bright necklace, and when Ragnorak said they would see her soon, she simply nodded and gave her attention to her new friend.
Slightly piqued by the ease of her daughter’s affections, Gwyneth shrugged and watched as the palace party walked away along the colorful stone passage. Brea even waved to her. Gwyneth waved back, and then they were out of sight.
“She will be all right down here,” Ragnorak said anxiously. “We agreed her illness was probably not caused by our atmosphere.”
“No, I don’t think it was. She can get ill anywhere, proven by the sniffles she had last month, and I’m happiest when you’re close by to heal her. I think she likes it here.” She glanced up at Ragnorak. “Where are we going?”
“Come,” said Ragnorak. He took her hand and they began to walk.
“I’ve been here before,” Gwyneth said when he paused at last. Water fell from the rocks above, rushed along in bubbling streams when it hit the cavern floor. She melted as she remembered. Ragnorak crouched down in the very place he had once seduced her to willingness and then taken nothing. His long, sensitive fingers brushed along the rock, tracing the tiny humps and valleys.
“It was here,” said Ragnorak, “that I first thought I might be winning you. I used to come to this place as a boy to think and dream in peace. Sometimes, I used to imagine bringing a woman here, a special woman, and making love to her until she loved me truly for myself instead of my power.” He gave a quick, deprecating smile. “I am, you see, as subject to self-pity as the next man.”
“No you’re not.” She knelt facing him. “And there’s no crime in loneliness. I didn’t trust you when you brought me here the first time, but I already loved you.”
He touched her cheek. “Really? And I hadn’t even made love to you. Not here.”
She swallowed as heat flooded her body. “Something tells me that’s about to change,” she said huskily, and reached up to kiss him.
At the first meeting of their lips, desire exploded between them. Kneeling opposite her, he tugged up her skirts and reached underneath without further preamble. And yet there was nothing coarse about his action. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that his wonderful, caressing hand should slide up her naked thigh to her aching pussy and claim it. Bathing his fingers in her wetness, he gave a groan that was more than half triumph.
“Then you missed me, too.”
She gave a sob of laughter into his mouth. His fingers fumbled between their bodies at his fastenings. His hand left her pussy to grasp his own cock, and she broke the kiss to watch as he guided his big, rigid shaft between her thighs.
She moaned again as it slid between her folds. It glided over her clitoris, and the pleasure was like a lightening flash. Then he entered her body, and Ragnorak gave a sigh, as if he had come home. But he stayed unmoving inside her, as if having sunk into her at last, his hurry was over and he had all the time in the world. He kissed her again and began to undress her.
“What if someone comes past?” she whispered against his lips.
“I don’t care. This is one loving no one will interrupt.”
“Then we’d better be quick,” Gwyneth pleaded, not without ulterior motive as his thumb tortured one naked nipple in slow, aching spirals.
Ragnorak bent his mouth to the other, taking it between his lips and rolling it. Gwyneth thrust forward involuntarily, and his hand covered her now naked bottom to hold her there, hard against him while his still cock throbbed inside her and his hand and mouth ravished her breast.
“Quick?” he repeated, pausing to lick at her hard, excited nipple. “Only when I decide.” With that, he took both her hands, placing them behind her back and only then began to thrust with agonizing slowness, “I like to have you naked and helpless in my power.”
“You would shame me before your people?” she gasped.
He raised his head and looked at her seriously. “Do you feel ashamed?”
He was quite still once more. But though her pussy begged to be fucked, she did him the courtesy of thinking about his question.
A choked laugh broke from her throat. “No,” she confessed. “And besides, I don’t believe you’ve left anything to chance. The ways are blocked, aren’t they?”
Ragnorak smiled and, with clear purpose, laid her on her back. He loomed over her, dark, awesome, but very far from frightening to her now. Love curled around the desire in her belly, the force of it making her want to weep and laugh and shout at the same time. She contented herself with winding her arms around his neck.
He said, “It seems you know me too well, too. How am I to make this constantly exciting for you if you guess the reality behind my fantasies?”
“Just do some more of that,” she whispered, succumbing to the soaring pleasure as he thrust into her repeatedly. “And then we can…go home and be…good.”
“Well, we can go home,” he allowed breathlessly, pausing to grind his cock against her pulsing clitoris. She let out a whimper and arched into him, squeezing. “I have something special for you tonight.”
The very idea of receiving anything more special than the exquisite pleasure of the present was enough to push Gwyneth over the edge.
“Oh, Ragnorak,” she gasped, in the sweetest of all summonses. “Oh, my demon, come!”
About the Authors
To learn more about Bonnie Dee, please visit www.bonniedee.com. Send an email to her at bondav40@yahoo.com or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Bonnie. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bonniedee
To learn more about Marie Treanor, please visit www.marietreanor.com. Send an email to Marie at marie@marietreanor.com 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.
Look for these titles by Bonnie Dee
Now Available:
Finding Home
Evolving Man
Opposites Attract
Perfecting Amanda
The Countess Takes a Lover
The Countess Lends a Hand
The Final Act
Star Flyer
Butterfly Unpinned
The Thief and the Desert Flower
Midsummer Night’s Steam
Blackberry Pie
Strangers in the Night
The Valentine Effect
Gifted
Empath
Fairytale Fantasies
Cinderella Unmasked
Magical Menages
Shifters’ Captive
Look for these titles by Marie Treanor
Now Available:
Killing Joe
Gothic Dragon
Ariadne’s Thread
The Devil and Via
Queen’s Gambit
Requiem for Rab
Fairytale Fantasies
Cinderella Unmasked
Three balls. Three sexual adventures. One true love.
Cinderella Unmasked
© 2009 Bonnie Dee and Marie Treanor
In the years since her husband King Charming boarded a pirate ship to “find himself”, Queen Ella has ruled alone. Romantic love? It’s a girlish emotion. These days, her only confidant is her steward, Sebastian.
Five years is a long time to forego sexual pleasures. She’s the queen, after all. Shouldn’t she be allowed a few indulgences? A masquerade is just the ticket to find fulfillment Charming never gave her. With Sebastian’s encouragement—and a little help from a fairy godmother—Ella prepares to make some magic.
The first masked stranger she dallies with gives her a taste of what she’s been craving. And it’s just not enough. A second ball follows. A third. Each one—and each anonymous man—sends her to new heights of sexual pleasure. And reawakens the notion that maybe, just maybe, love does not always lead to pain.
Her indiscretions have not gone unnoticed. As her stepfamily makes a move to take over the throne, Ella has nowhere to turn, no one to trust…except the men behind the masks…
Warning: This is the new “happily ever after”, strictly for grown-ups…
Enjoy the following excerpt for Cinderella Unmasked:
Alone at last in the darkness of the night, Ella let out a long breath and stretched luxuriously in her large, lonely bed. Finally, she could let go of all the vital strands of rule and concentrate on the event looming larger and larger in her mind: the ball.
Surely there would be many attractive men to choose from, many who wouldn’t be able to believe their luck if she invited them to a quiet corner for a kiss. Or a grope. A gloved, masculine hand on her naked breast, a mask surrounding eyes that glittered with lust as she let him press his bone-hard erection against her…
Ella let out a moan of frustration, sweeping her hand down the length of her nightgown-clad body from breast to thigh. Involuntarily, her hips pushed upward, thrusting her aching pussy into her own hand.
Could she do that? A secluded tree beside the terrace, her arms wrapped around it while a large, worshipping builder pounded into her body…
Ella thrust her hand under the inconvenient nightgown and pushed her fingers between her pussy’s hot, damp folds, beginning to gyrate her hips with the delicious vision of herself and the imaginary builder. When she lifted her skirts for him, he would be unable to believe his luck. He would be strong and rough, his big, calloused hands covering her breasts, kneading them, squeezing her hard, elongated nipples between his fingers…
Oh, yes. Ella grasped her own breast with her free hand, pinching her nipple. With her other hand she rubbed her clitoris harder. Her builder’s cock would be huge and blunt, and he’d be afraid to hurt her until she pushed back onto him. Then he’d power into her, slamming her against the tree, the rough bark scraping her flesh…
Ella arched upward with a gasp, thrusting two fingers inside herself. The builder would hammer her mercilessly until he gave her the release she craved. And then…
Well, she couldn’t really imagine what then. Massive orgasm there would certainly be on both sides. And no risk of pregnancy or disease since she would have taken the magic potion her godmother Lucinda provided her. Besides, she was probably barren—she’d certainly never conceived with Charming
But enough of such mood-dampening thoughts! Perhaps a tree in the open with a builder would not be best. Perhaps a lover with more finesse…a man she’d take to this very bed, who’d undress her slowly, kissing her breasts for a delightfully long time, teasing her and pleasuring her at once. He’d lick his way down her naked body, his own lean and hard and ready. But he wouldn’t just take her. He’d kiss all of her first, latching his clever mouth to her pussy, sucking and licking at her clitoris.
Ella’s fingers moved frantically. She’d be on the verge of orgasm when—hell, bring the builder back. She’d have his cock in her mouth and he’d be groaning with ecstasy while she writhed with joy under the more skilled lover’s mouth. Then, as she began to come, the refined one would plunge his cock inside her pussy and she’d be pleasuring them both at once. They’d tie her to the bed, take turns fucking her all night, take her both at once, in her mouth, her pussy, her…
“Oh, God,” Ella whispered, and fell into ecstasy at last. Her imaginary lovers vanished, leaving nothing but the joy tearing her apart.
The usual coldness crept through her as soon as the pleasure began to fade. But the excitement remained. She had no idea how it would turn out; she ached simply for a man, a lover, and right now she didn’t care who or what he was, or in what circumstances she took him. She wanted sex, dirty, fun, amazing sex. She wanted everything.
And for the first time in years she had a reasonable hope of getting it.
Sebastian’s quill broke, snapping him out of his reverie and alerting him to the unnecessary force with which he’d been pressing pen to paper. Completely unnecessary since he hadn’t actually written anything for ten minutes.
Throwing down the broken quill, he swept his fingers through his hair till it came loose from its black, confining ribbon. He pushed back his chair.
He’d done everything he needed to for this damned ball, anyhow. Decoration was almost complete, food and wine was ordered, guest list vetted, approved and invitations delivered. He’d sent dressmakers to the queen to prepare her costume, and chosen his own simple mask in case he troubled to wear it. By tomorrow night everything would be ready. And by the following morning…
Sebastian stood abruptly. He didn’t want to think about that. He wasn’t stupid. He understood what this ball was really about. He couldn’t blame her. The poor woman hadn’t been laid in years—and if rumor was true, she hadn’t been laid much before that, either. Given Charming’s recently revealed preferences, that was hardly surprising, but a woman as passionate as Ella needed far more than pretty words and flowers. She needed a man.
He didn’t begrudge her a little snatched happiness, but everything in him revolted against helping her find it like this. Apart from anything else, he wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t be aiding her political suicide. The people accepted her because they’d put her on a pedestal, which she seemed determined to dive off head first and legs akimbo.
Without their acclaim, her position was untenable. And his. What price then the ambition that had driven him from poverty to the second highest power in the land? If she fell, so did he.
Intriguing idea. At least then he might get some sleep.
Finding himself at the window, he threw the casement fully up and stuck his head out into the fresh, cooling air. His “apartment”—a tiny room that served as both bed chamber and private office—was on the ground floor, and looked out onto one of the kitchen courtyards. As if he needed anything to remind him about his true position in the queen’s life. Useful, as a pen or a piece of furniture was useful, and taken for granted to the same degree. Did she even see him when she turned those huge, blue eyes up to his in yet another request or demand? She’d look right through him tomorrow night to get at some handsome, unscrupulous rogue who could cause the kingdom untold damage, even let Malevolin in…
A loud crash interrupted his bleak speculation. Blinking, Sebastian saw a figure fighting its way out of the dustbins in the corner of the courtyard.
“Goodness me!” it whispered as more bins fell. “Oh, goodness me, what a… Oh, dear.” Stumbling clear at last, the figure shook itself out, and by the light of the moon and his own lamp, Sebastian saw that it was a woman. A very small and very old woman in a black, hooded cloak from which strands of white hair straggled free.
“What in the world are you doing?” he asked, amused.
The old woman jumped. “Oh, goodness! Oh, dear!” she said again. “I think I arrived in just the wrong…” As she spoke, she drew closer to him, peering hard into his face. “But then again… What’s your name, young man?”
“Sebastian,” he said dryly. “What’s yours?”
“Oh, that’s not important.”
“It might be to the guards when they arrest you for trespassing.”
“Arrest me?” The old woman looked stunned. “They can’t arrest me! Cinderella would never allow it!”
Sebastian frowned at her. He was sure he’d never seen her before. “Why? Who the devil are you?”
The old lady smiled—a singularly sweet if vague smile. “I’m your fairy godmother, of course.”
“Of course,” Sebastian sighed. He’d have one of the guards take the poor old thing home.
“Well, strictly speaking, not your fairy godmother, but I do like to help the unhappy—and you are unhappy, aren’t you, dear?”
“Not in the slightest,” said Sebastian, giving her the look that withered haughty noblemen.
“Nonsense, you drew me here like a bullet. No wonder I landed so abruptly. Dustbins indeed! Anyhow, now that I am here, what’s your problem?”
“I do not have a problem.” Apart from you.
He was already drawing his head back in, preparatory to summoning the guard, when she enquired, “Going to the ball?”
In spite of himself, Sebastian smiled sourly over his shoulder. “Organizing the damned ball.”
“So you’ll be there? Then perhaps I can grant you a wish.”
I wish you could.
“I did for Cinderella once, you know. At another ball. She met the prince, as he was then…” Her voice trailed off, unhappily. But Sebastian, against his better judgment, had turned to stare at her. The mad old trout actually brightened under his disbelief.
“Come on then,” she encouraged. “What would you like?”
Sebastian laughed. What I wish for, nobody can grant.
Rab’s dead, but he won’t lie down.
Requiem for Rab
© 2009 Marie Treanor
Lili’s luck is on the upswing. Her acting career is taking off, she’s home in Edinburgh to perform in a high profile Festival play, and romance is blossoming with her famous leading man. The last thing she wants or expects on her first night of passion in two years is her ex-husband looming over her new lover’s shoulder, dripping blood on her pristine sheets.
Rab, self-confessed hedonist and computer geek, has always been a joker, but surely even he wouldn’t go to this length to stop her getting laid—inventing a wild tale of being shot dead and having to track down his own body.
