Who had the time for a romantic rendezvous with a child like that? And when Linnea recalled how blind she had been the last time she’d fallen for a man, how much it had cost her, how could she possibly take that kind of chance again?

  Badger had turned toward the hidden hotplate where she concocted her potions and teas and drew Linnea’s gaze as she came back around, holding out a mug of steaming liquid that smelled of apples and cinnamon. “What is that?”

  “A new mixture I need you to test for me. If you do, I promise I’ll stop nagging…for now.”

  Linnea laughed and took the proffered mug, inhaling the aromatic fragrance before raising her eyebrow suspiciously. “Would I be afraid to know what’s in this?”

  Badger snorted softly and began to straighten up her counter as Linnea drank, smiling genially at passersby, her eyes narrowing as they seemed to pause on a particularly interesting view.

  “Nothing too dangerous, I assure you. A little bit of this and that. Cinnamon, of course, and just a pinch of pixie dust to taste.” The last was said so low that Linnea almost missed it, although she was too busy gulping down the last of the tea to care. It was delicious.

  She stood quickly from the stool, handing Badger her empty mug. “That was incredible! The best one yet. I don’t know how you do it.”

  Hugging her curvaceous friend, Linnea smiled. “Thank you for worrying about me, Badger. I don’t think I tell you enough how much I appreciate all your help with Crystal and how much your friendship means to me.

  “Let me just get the hellion through this ‘gravity doesn’t exist’ phase, and maybe then I can worry about the fact that I’ve practically forgotten how to attract a man, let alone what to do once I catch him.”

  She giggled, covering her mouth in surprise at the sound before shrugging and walking back into the bright October sun.

  “Take the garden path. It’s a lovely day for it,” Badger called.

  Linnea nodded agreeably and turned in the direction of The Magic Garden.

  It was a lovely day. And now that she knew Crystal was in good hands, she could take a moment to herself to just be. When was the last time she did that? Linnea couldn’t recall.

  She wasn’t a “just be” kind of person. She organized. She planned. She worried. She never went with the flow. She’d always thought the current too unpredictable. But right now it seemed the perfect plan.

  Linnea loved this particular path. It seemed as if she’d entered another world, secluded by tall greenery from the loud, boisterous festival, surrounded by the fragrant flowers and beautiful statues and sculptures that lined the twisting walk. It was even lovelier today. The colors brighter, the flowers more aromatic than she remembered. It was heaven.

  It always surprised her how few people took advantage of the gardens. Occasionally she would see people wandering through, taking pictures by the golden Tree of Life or walking quickly in giggling groups on their way to see Ded Bob or The Washing Well Wenches.

  But then again, that was part of its charm for “in the know” rennies. The hidden nooks and crannies offered a perfect amount of privacy for the romantic trysts that happened with amusing frequency among this group of free spirits.

  She chuckled softly as she walked deeper into the dappled shadows. She hadn’t strayed from her path for four long years. She couldn’t say she was never tempted. How could any normal, red-blooded woman not be when muscular men in kilts and little else paraded around each day, acting out, enjoying their romanticized roles with a lusty abandon that could make a nun break her vows.

  And then there were those playtrons. “Playtron” was the name the regulars had given to the visitors in each town who did more than pay for a ticket. They were loyal followers of the Faire, often dressing in elaborate costumes and playing their own role for a day, sometimes for the entire length of the festival.

  The excitement of seeing a handsome playtron dressed as a Scot, Barbarian, even a Dark Elf, was tantalizing for Linnea. Especially since she didn’t know if he was bad with his accounts, had a wife and four kids or practiced questionable personal hygiene.

  Sexy and mysterious always got to her. Like that blond Viking she’d seemed to run into every time she’d turned around today. In the Gypsy camp, the faerie court, with the king. Everywhere she’d gone to look for Crystal, that glorious, golden specimen had passed.

  It wasn’t unusual to see the same faces as you wandered through the circular Faire grounds, so Linnea thought nothing of it. But she did notice how her breath seemed to catch if he happened to glance over and find her staring.

  She noticed how he seemed to stand out, though his costume wasn’t unique by any stretch of the imagination. Leather pants and boots, the thick strap of his sword’s sheath crossing his broad, well-defined torso.

  His well-defined, completely bare torso. She hadn’t realized abs could be so chiseled, that a body could be that perfect—at least, not outside of airbrushed posters and movie screens.

  And that tattoo. The hawk on his biceps was so detailed and alive that she was sure it would leave its perch at any moment in search of prey. Just thinking about him actually made her thighs tremble. She shook her head at the unusual reaction. How odd.

  Linnea ran her hand over the simple linen bodice of her dress, noticing for the first time how lovely it felt against her skin, how sensitive her nipples were as they poked against the natural fiber. She’d often groused about the fact that she had no need for a corset. There was, quite simply, nothing to pull in or push up. Her figure was hopeless. She was plain brown wrapping from the top of her short brown crow’s nest of hair and drab, dishwater gray eyes to her skinny chicken legs.

  The only body part with any feminine cushion was her posterior, though no one could see it in her daily costume, which seemed a shame to her now.

  She patted her bottom consolingly as she meandered into a cozy little sanctuary, complete with a wooden bench and a lovely statue of a nymph. She knew that just behind that nymph was a barely visible path, a path that many of her friends chuckled and gossiped about around the fires at night.

  As Linnea snuck her head around the coy expression carved in marble, she wondered what was back there. Her mind returned instantly to thoughts of her Viking. What wouldn’t she give to spend some time in the woods with that one?

  A wave of dizziness hit her and she turned to hold the statue’s shoulders for balance. Linnea laughed under her breath, her feet crossing each other and tangling in her sky blue skirt. She felt herself falling, wondering why she wasn’t more put out with gravity’s strange whims, when all at once she stopped.

  She opened her heavy lidded eyes and grinned. It was him. Her Viking. His thick, strong arms were holding her up from the ground, his smile perplexed.

  “Are you all right, my lady?” He rose, taking the nearly horizontal Linnea with him until they stood upright once more, his arms still wrapped around her.

  “Not my lady.” She told him slowly around lips that tingled for some unaccountable reason. “Li-nne-a. Are you, by any chance, following me, Viking?”

  She hoped the teasing tone of her voice would let him know that the idea didn’t bother her at all.

  She stared openly. He was just as perfect close up. At any other time, she would have been thoroughly intimidated by someone like him. Suspicious at the very least. Movie star good looks in a man had never worked out for her. But he didn’t look smoothly controlled or plastic. Far from it.

  He looked like a warrior. And his expression as she continued to watch him was anything but practiced. His eyes, a rich, dark brown, flashed amber, narrowing with new purpose on her. He looked…hungry.

  Just that quickly, she was hungry too. How long had she cried herself to sleep without strong arms to comfort her? How many nights had she tossed and turned, aroused by erotic dreams that she was too embarrassed to act on? Too many, she decided as she took a step back.

  Her Viking tightened his grip, thinking she was trying to escape. Linnea smiled, entranced by the ever-changing color of his eyes, and took his hand. “Follow me.” She gestured toward the narrow opening behind the nymph and his grim lips quirked upward in understanding.

  She was about to push through the brush that would lead them toward the Faire’s equivalent to lookout point, but he stopped her. Stepping in front of her, he placed a hand on her hip and pulled her close behind him as they entered the path. Linnea was confused, until she realized he was protecting her from the thorny branches that hid their destination from prying eyes.

  She sighed happily, nuzzling his back in gratitude. Now she knew this was a fantasy. Gorgeous and a gentleman.

  Muscles tensed beneath her lips as she breathed him in, his scent causing that long neglected area of her body to heat and grow moist with need. “You smell amazing.”

  His hand clenched, pulling her closer, his steps lengthening as he pushed through the last of the branches. He spun her toward him as they reached the clearing, his intent clear.

  Linnea tried to look around, curious, but she was dizzy and breathless, the tense look of need on her Viking’s face causing her to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling his head down toward her waiting mouth.

  He leaned his forehead against hers as if fighting for control.

  “Your eyes. What color are they?”

  Linnea heard him groan at her question and then she was lost as he slid one hand into her tousled hair, tilting her head to ravage her lips with his own.

  His kiss wasn’t hesitant. He conquered. He demanded. And Linnea was in no mood to resist. She even did a little conquering of her own, biting his full lower lip tauntingly. His growl was harsh as she sucked his tongue into her mouth to play. He tasted of ale and cloves, dark and delicious. She couldn’t seem to get enough.

  She squeaked into his mouth, laughing in delight when he raised her high in his arms, walking without lifting his lips from hers. She felt the scrape of tree bark against her back, smelled the fresh, woodsy mixture of sap and moss rising in the fall air.

  Opening her eyes as he stepped away from her, she looked around to realize he had set her down on an oddly shaped tree that was situated in the middle of the clearing. It had two thick columns that joined near the base, leaving a natural seat in the middle. The perfect height for what they both had in mind.

  The Viking stared at her in silence with the eyes of a predator, the color now a solid, glowing amber. Her heart pounded hard in her ears. He stepped between her legs, his hips pressing them back against the tree. He lifted her skirt to her waist until she could feel the leather of his breeches pressed against her naked thighs.

  His unblinking attention should have made her nervous. Being outside, exposed, with a stranger should have made her panicky. Why wasn’t any of this making her uncomfortable? Truthfully, she felt amazing. And more turned on than she’d ever been in her entire life.

  “I don’t normally do this,” she felt compelled to say as she leaned her head against one of the columns of wood. “In fact, I never do.”

  He didn’t offer any response beyond methodically loosening the laces of her bodice. Then her arms were forced down to her sides as he lowered her top. Her large nipples, already sensitive, stiffened further under his gaze. She sat up straight and her eyes widened as she realized she was trapped. Trapped by the snug material lodged around her elbows, trapped by the desire in his expression.

  Liquid fire lashed her pussy at the thought. He licked his lips and her legs tightened around him, arching her back, begging for something. For him.

  “Taste me.” Linnea could hardly believe the seductive command had sprung from her lips. Neither, apparently, could her Viking.

  He went completely still, his eyes rising from the skin he’d bared to clash with hers for a breathless heartbeat. For a moment, it seemed the color in his blazing gaze would change yet again. But the golden hue remained and he looked at her with a determination that had her squirming against the worn grain of her seat.

  “Taste you.” He repeated her words in a low, gritty voice. His eyes returned to her peaking nipples, reaching out to take one almost casually between his fingers. He rolled and pinched the tightened flesh, causing Linnea to arch her neck on a moan.

  “Where shall I taste you?” His fingers tightened. “Here?”

  Another calloused hand slid up her thigh. It traced the front of her lace panties before pulling them aside so roughly that the lacey web-like material ripped, leaving them dangling in tatters around her waist.

  His broad hand slid across her chest, reaching her other nipple just as his fingers lightly grazed her clit. Linnea cried out softly, already aroused past the point of sanity—too close to coming to be embarrassed by her actions, by the way her juices were drenching his hand and dripping down between her thighs. “Or maybe I should taste you here?”

  Linnea nodded with a whimper, inwardly amazed at her reaction to this stranger who seemed so determined to tease her. But he didn’t feel like a stranger. Hearing the pained groan that came from his chest as his fingers slid through her sodden folds, she knew that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

  His breath heated her neck as he bent closer. “Where shall I taste, Linnea?” he growled into her ear.

  She opened her eyes and sought his gaze with her own. Why did he hesitate? Why were his touches so light when it was obvious they both wanted so much more?

  He seemed to read the question in her eyes and lifted the hand between her thighs to paint her lower lip with her own gleaming arousal. Then he leaned in to lick the wetness away, his tense whisper both an order and a plea against her mouth.

  “Beg me.”

  Linnea didn’t hesitate. She could be horrified at her actions tomorrow. This moment, all she knew was that she would die if he didn’t taste her, fuck her, make her come. “Please, Viking. Anything. Anything you want, just please do it now.”

  That one word galvanized him. To Linnea, it seemed that he was everywhere at once. His full lips nipping at her own, eating at her mouth, her neck, her shoulder. He tongued her nipples, suckling deep as he slid one arm around her back to pull her closer. When he undid the laces of his pants and pressed closer, Linnea nearly panted at the feel of the thick, heated length of his cock against her thigh.

  His hand returned to her pussy, two fingers pressing in deep, her muscles tightening around them in needy welcome. She could feel herself coming closer with each stretching thrust, her hips moving jerkily against his hand in desperation. It had been so long.

  She made a sound of distress as they slid out, leaving her unsatisfied. In an instant, he pressed the wide-flared head of his cock against her clit and lifted the hand around her back to grasp the short hairs at her nape, pulling Linnea’s head back to look into her eyes.

  “Hawk”, he gritted out, his jaw tense, face flushed with arousal. “My name is Hawk. I want to hear you say it.”

  She wished she could touch him, but her arms were still pinned by her clothing.

  “Hawk,” she whispered, looking into his fever bright eyes. “Please, Hawk.”

  “Yes.” He pressed in, his cock spreading her wide, stretching her almost painfully as he slid into her soaking sheath. As aroused as she was, she still wondered if she could take all of him. Never had she felt so full. It was devastating. It was incredible.

  “Take more.” His uneven growl had her shivering. He slid his arm under her leg, tilting her hips higher against him. His tight grip on her hair, her thigh, the only thing keeping her upright as he continued to thrust slowly forward until she could feel his balls pressing against the cheeks of her ass.

  Oh God, he was so big.

  Another flood of her arousal coated him, easing his way, and he shuddered against her. He whispered her name beneath his breath and then he was powering into her, hard and deep through the newly stretched tissue.

  She bit her lip to keep from screaming his name, some part of her still intensely aware of where they were, only a thin tree line away from civilization. Anyone could hear her. The thought only aroused her more.

  Her free leg tightened around his waist, the only part of her she could move. The muscles of his ass clenched beneath it as he fucked her, his hard thrusts growing frenzied.

  He bent his head down and took one long nipple between his teeth, lapping at her with his tongue, biting down gently. Electricity zapped through her to her core.

  The new position pressed her clit against his hardened abs and the dual lightning-like sensations combined to send Linnea shattering over the edge. “Hawk.”

  Her sex spasmed around his cock as she came and he shouted low against her breast at the sensation. “So fucking tight.”

  He pulled back, his hand tightening its grip on her thigh. He continued to thrust, hard and fast inside her. “I can’t—”

  She heard his growled words and then he was coming inside her, hot jets of come filling her as his hips jerked against her. She reveled in his loss of control. She reveled in the power of the orgasm still pulsing through her limbs and the sensation of their combined juices dripping from her sex, joining them together in the most intimate of ways.

  Her eyes popped open as she became aware of several things at once. The beautiful fog she’d been surrounded in seemed to vanish as she realized what had just happened. She’d just had sex with a stranger in the woods. And he hadn’t worn a condom.

  The second, and perhaps more immediate, concern were the footsteps she could hear pressing through the brush, along with what sounded like a bickering couple arguing about the location of someone named Brad.

  Hawk had released his grip on her hair and she took that opportunity to place her foot against his belly and push. He stumbled back several steps while she leapt from her perch and struggled to slide her arms back through the sleeves of her top.

  “Someone’s coming.” She hissed, gesturing toward his breeches, her face turning red with embarrassment and horror as she saw the evidence of her carelessness on his still-hard erection. Felt it dripping down her thighs. Idiot.

 

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