The Moon, the Madness, and the Magic (8 page)

Any pain until one thought shattered her. The mate bond shouldn’t be like this, forcing their attraction. If only they had the time to grow to trust one another before the bond took over, tying them to each other for eternity. At least she knew what to expect when this was over. To their detriment, she could sense he approached this seduction like every other sexual encounter he’d ever had. Unfortunately, his attitude for now was “fuck her and forget her.”

He has a lot to learn.

She jumped when his hand pushed her thighs apart, his fingers exploring the tender skin between her legs.
Apparently so do I.

“Oh, my goodness, that feels so wonderful.”

“Wait until you feel this, then.” Pushing the string of her bathing suit aside, he freed her pussy lips to his exploration. The sound of her gasp escaped although she tried to hold it back. The pleasure in her womb built as his thumb caressed her nub and one long, thick finger parted her cleft. She tensed.

“Relax.” He groaned in her ear when he cupped her. “Damn, your clit is so swollen I want to suck it. Would you like me to do that?” He rubbed her engorged nub and pinched it slightly. “Does this feel good?”

Sparks shot through her body. Celeste moaned. “Yes.” Then she melted into his hand and couldn’t do anything except nod.

For an instant, she wondered who was the true succubus. He was stealing her life force with every touch.

Chapter 8

Virgin

Rourke waited for emotional distance to settle over him, the one he experienced with all women, even the ones he bedded. Not this time. Not with this one. Now, when he needed to distance himself, why did he feel so damn in tune to Celeste?

After last night, when no one else in the whole damn lodge had held his interest, now he felt this. This desperation.

He couldn’t wait to fuck her, yet he intended to take his time, lots of time. He wanted to spend hours with his face buried between her legs, licking and tongue-fucking her until she came in his mouth, screaming his name over and over again.

Rourke felt a ripple of amusement. Dane was right. He did have a god complex. He loved to hear the woman he was fucking cry out his name as she came. He narrowed his eyes and focused on her mouth. He couldn’t wait to hear his name on her lips as she climaxed. Then he’d devour every drop of that dense fluid seeping from her core.

Sure, she was just another woman—albeit an extraordinary woman—but he had to keep reminding himself this was just another fuck. Wasn’t it?
Fuck her and forget her.

He stared into her eyes.
Just another fuck.

Something shifted inside his chest, and it didn’t feel like the beast this time.
Forget her.

Riiiiight.
Then why did he crave inhaling her scent more than he needed oxygen?

Because it was her damn fragrance that kept him rational in a world gone insane.

He wanted her mouth on his cock and her blood in his veins.

Whew!
Did he say rational? Maybe not quite. He was getting carried away.

Take a minute.

He pulled away, examined her soft, pale skin, her raspberried nipples, and her fragile, narrow wrists. He should tell her what he was like. He should warn her what being with him would mean to her safety.

Rourke lifted the tiny pieces of her bathing suit top back into place. Breathing harder than he could ever remember doing from a simple make-out session, he nuzzled her ear. With his rough edges buffered for a second, he whispered, “If we do this, you need to know I get rough, really rough.”

* * * *

Celeste leaned into the warm breath against her neck. With her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his coarse beard rubbing against her, lightly abrading her skin, she barely registered his warning. The warning was unclear, and his lips felt too good kissing her neck to have her caring.

She asked anyway. “Rough, like punching me, slapping me around?”

“No. Hell, no.” He pulled back and stared at her. “Nothing like that.”

“Oh, okay.”

A wry smile tripped over his lips. “Maybe a little spanking now and then, but nothing violent like bruising. Unless you’re easily marked?”

The hard-ass had a dimple. Her insides melted. “No, not so easily. But maybe you should be more specific.” Celeste didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t want him to stop, so instead, she said nothing more. She wanted to kiss that dimple and slide her lips to his mouth, but she didn’t move, waiting for him to explain what rough meant to him.

Wolves had fangs and bit. She expected rough.

When he spoke again, his hands traced a path down her shoulders, and his voice sounded thick with arousal. “I like my sex hard and fast—well, not all that fast.”

When he reached her wrist, he stroked her pulse, suddenly more gentle than the tough guy image he’d portrayed all along. “You are so delicate, so very—” He stopped touching her.

She cut him off quickly before he changed his mind. “Don’t stop. I’m much sturdier than I look. I want this, Rourke. Don’t try to scare me off or bail on me now.”

“Make sure this is
how
you want it.”

He was warning her, giving her this one chance to bolt.

“I think I can handle anything
you
like.”

“You’re a spitfire, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “Don’t be so sure about the anything part.”

“If you like it, I’m sure it has to be good.” Taking his hand, she picked up her towel as she climbed out of the hot tub to lead him to her room. “Come.” She didn’t miss the crooked grin he sent at her.

* * * *

Come? Damn straight!
Rourke had every intention of doing just that, multiple times. Even if his attachment to her made his mind wary, his cock would follow her into hell right now if she asked. For all he knew, between the demon in his head and the damn divining rod in his shorts, that’s exactly where he was headed.

The water beaded up on her skin and glowed with radiant light. “Which room?” he asked.

“That one, with the door ajar.”

He needed her too much to wait. “Good, then I can do this.” He scooped her up in his arms, noting she weighed practically nothing as he carried her inside the room and kicked the door shut behind him. Only pausing long enough to locate the bed, he realized all the rooms were set up the same.

Thank God her bed was exactly where his was, because that was as far as his cock’s patience would let him go. The thing had a mind of its own and kept straining beneath his trunks to get out and touch her ass.

Rourke practically threw her on the bed and stood over her like a guard. “Take off your top. Slowly.” His demand resounded in the room.

While she untied the strings to her bathing suit with painfully slow intent, he never took his eyes from hers. Instead, he pushed down his trunks, springing his cock from the pressure of the material, and let out a sigh of relief.

He hadn’t thought about what he was doing until her eyes dropped to his groin and opened wide. When he glanced down, he winced. He looked back up at her, carefully watching the expression on her face. He could almost read her calculating mind evaluating his length and girth. There was no doubt about what bothered her when her hands flew to her breasts, pressing the tiny white swatches of material back over her nipples like a shield.

Her reaction had him grinning. Unfortunately, he couldn’t suppress the chuckle that escaped as he tried to reassure her. “Don’t be concerned. It’ll fit. You’ll see.”

Her gaze flashed to his.
Liar
was what he read in her expression.

His patience with the ache in his balls reached the end of the line. “Your breasts—I want to see them again.”

He stepped closer to the bed and studied her reaction. Apprehension froze her in place when he reached over to pull the string from her hands. The material slowly slipped past her fingers, exposing more skin than she could cover with her small hands.

“Don’t be shy. I’ve already tasted those berried tips.” He gently removed her hands from her breasts and placed them over her head. “Don’t move.”

Rourke dropped his gaze to her hips. “I can’t wait to taste more.” He switched his attention to the small piece of material attempting to cover her bottom. The triangular swatch wouldn’t be much of a challenge, no barrier at all, but it was blocking his view. Totally focused on his one goal, he slid his hands slowly up her thighs to the ties at her hips.

As he pulled the side ties with slow, painful care and excruciating patience, he wondered why. For a man used to taking neither, he was suddenly enjoying seducing her with his slow, deliberate assault.

He slid the material off her body like he was unwrapping a precious gift. “Yes, perfect.” Her pale blonde curls were trimmed into a tiny patch at her mound. “There’ll be no going back now or changing your mind. I can’t wait to see your pussy. Is it wet for me?”

He spread her legs wide with his hands, baring her pussy to him, and stepped back, staring his fill. “It is. Bare, naked, wet, and pink.”

With appreciation in his tone, he marveled. “You’re beautiful. More lovely than anything I’ve ever imagined. In just a minute, I’m going to bury my face between these thighs and lick you.” He tangled a finger through her curls and then pressed it to her exposed, swollen clit. “Here.”

She shuddered beneath his hand with arousal he could feel vibrating in the air. He wanted to fuck her, bury his cock in her and fuck her until he couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t breathe. But the other side of his nature wanted to take his time and enjoy each touch, each sensation, each moment of delight. God, this was agony.

Going slow.
Unbearable.

Soft caresses.
Hell.

Admiring the creature waiting for him to pleasure her.
Pure heaven.

Her folds separated like a flower, opening beneath plump, petaled lips, soft and moist with dew. “I can’t wait to kiss them, taste them. I want to see if these lips feel like your mouth.”

When he separated her slit, thick, hot nectar poured from her cunt, making her channel slippery, just the way he liked. Her pussy was beautiful and perfect, and her scent called to him.

Celeste inhaled, took in a deep breath and held it while he pressed one finger inside her virgin-tight opening. He was testing her readiness. But when he met her gaze, something behind her eyes flashed, telling him there was more to all this.

He stilled. Suddenly, she appeared too childlike, too innocent.

Even though she gave off sexual vibes like nothing he’d ever experienced before, there was innocent dread stamped on her face, and it made him wonder why. For a moment, he hated that he’d turned her desire to panic. Now, when he looked at her, all he saw was a frightened animal cowering on the bed, not the seductress from the hot tub.

He gave her some space, wondering where that seductress had gone as he absently touched her breast, lightly circling her nipple. She arced off the bed, pressing into his hand. Her body demanded more.

Still here.
But there was something else.

He sniffed the air. Fear.
Oh, damn. No.

The scent of her desire mixed with the scent of her fear. The beast inside him roared. The combination had his inner demons fighting what was left of his civilized side.

He licked his fingers and separated her folds, pressing one finger inside her. He slid it slowly in. She was wet, more than dripping wet. Her juices leaked like honey pouring from an overturned jug. She moaned at his touch. There was no doubt she wanted him, even though her opening clenched and tensed, trying to prevent the invasion of his single finger.

He whispered, “Relax.” Maybe his size did intimidate her.

Taking his time, he spread her cream over her clit then into her opening and probed deeper, with two fingers this time. She jumped back. He held her in place and explored.
What the fu-u—?
He bumped up against an unfamiliar obstacle and froze.

Whoa.
His cock twitched.
Virgin.
The beast roared,
Mine!

Surprise smacked him in the head. When he’d seen the strange expression on her face, he’d suspected her of something. This had never crossed his mind.

He’d never had one, never done a virgin. Hell, he didn’t know if he could, certainly not without hurting her. His demon cheered.

He tapped the monster back, ashamed.

When he touched the barrier of her virginity again, assuring himself he hadn’t been mistaken, he heard a more solemn voice in his mind shout,
Mine.

He pulled his finger out. Shaking his head, he stared at her soft, pink folds in wonder.

“Don’t stop. I have condoms,” she insisted. Her voice held a hint of panic. “I’m prepared.”

More fear.
Her desperation stirred the beast in him. Was she afraid because he’d stopped or afraid because he wouldn’t?

Damn him. He didn’t care. He had to have her. The decision was already made for him. His body refused to walk away from this woman. He rolled off her legs, lay back against the headboard with his arms propped behind his head, and growled. “Get the condoms,” he ordered.