Текст книги "The Alpha of Bleake Isle"

Автор книги: Kathryn Moon

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Mairwen's nose burrowed into my throat, and I held my breath as she brushed a shy kiss over my pulse.

Patience. It would be my mantra for as long as I could hold the rut at bay.

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Chapter ThirteenRONSON

“DeRoche is walking over," Niall muttered in my ear.

I grunted and stiffened, the indigo shadows of Alpha Seamus DeRoche's great wings blocking out the glare of sunlight from the corner of my eye and the lush, rolling green landscape of Grave Hills. He paused for a moment as if posing, and a damp breeze greeted him, blowing his long, dark hair in an irritatingly heroic manner.

"Cadogan! I wondered if we'd see you today," the roguish dragon called, reaching me and clapping his hand heartily against my shoulder. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you weren't happy with the outcome for Torion."

"Not at all." I ran my tongue over my teeth, flexing my jaw to ease the tense clench. It was only being stolen from bed before the sun was up, stolen from Mairwen's soft curves and the promise we'd whispered the night before, that was putting me in a rotten mood.

But Torion had been my friend for decades, and I'd seen my own determined rise to alpha in his struggles against his father. I was glad for his sake. Even if I might've—absolutely—preferred to be in bed with my omega.

"It's your rut," Seamus DeRoche said with a nod. "Don't suppose you've finally taken your island in hand and stolen an omega out from under those betas running circles around you."

Another year, and I would've made a weak excuse to leave Seamus's irritating company. Today, I found myself smiling grimly.

He laughed, a boisterous sound, as if the man was in constant competition with the sound of thunder and waves. "About damn time. I'm surprised you bothered attending, in that case."

I shot Niall a glare from the side, and he rolled his eyes.

"I seriously considered abstaining," I admitted, and the memory of Mairwen's giving frame was far too easy to conjure and almost impossible to banish. I restrained my own groan.

"I look forward to meeting the chit," Seamus said. I snarled before I could contain the reaction, but thankfully, the man was determinedly amused and his laugh covered the inappropriate reaction.

"Are you waiting to get a word in with Torion?" I asked, turning back to the small milling crowd of dragons. I'd brought Niall with me, but the few other alphas of our region had brought entire parties of betas with them. Seamus's own crew of piratical-looking not-quite-gentlemen was drifting through the gathering, meeting women from Grave Hills, likely looking for bedpartners for the night. Not many omegas chose to take to the sea, and as far as I or my spies knew, DeRoche hadn't a single woman on his own boat.

I wonder if I ought to point Seamus in Francesca's direction, I thought, smirking. It would serve him right to deal with the contrary girl.

Seamus shrugged. "I only need to speak to him briefly, just to secure the usual trade agreements. But I like Torion. I want to congratulate him properly."

Seamus DeRoche held a unique position amongst dragonkin. While every alpha here maintained their own territory of land, Seamus's rule surrounded us all. He was the Alpha of the Craven Sea, a position claimed by a rogue dragon hundreds of years ago and regularly snatched up and stolen away. Not all betas were satisfied with their lot under the thumb of an alpha, and the Alpha of the Craven Sea was an opportunity for freedom, if you could defeat the man who'd come before you. My father had said it was a crown for the weak, for those who couldn't take the local title of alpha for themselves, but Seamus DeRoche had taken the mantle when my father was a young man and had held it ever since. His grip seemed unshakeable.

Seamus may not have had fields and farms and neighborhoods to command, but not one of us could set sail without his permission, and he held our trade routes in his fist. I respected the dragon, even if I found his cheerful humor tiresome. It was a mask that covered the steely beast beneath, I suspected.

"You're being patient for an alpha with an omega waiting on him," Seamus noted. "You're waiting for the others to leave?"

This was why he'd held his position for so long. He was more observant than his careless persona led some to believe. I respected Seamus DeRoche. Did I trust him?

"As you said, the betas of my isle are becoming…ambitious," I said, deciding that having him as an ally was worth the risk of hinting at what he likely already knew.

"It's about time you noticed, Cadogan," he murmured. "You'd better wait till Worthington leaves."

My eyebrows rose and I searched the crowd for Damian Worthington. He stood close to Torion, a pointed mark of support, but when I watched long enough I noticed an exchange between him and Francis Keane, a staunch beta supporter of the former Alpha of Grave Hills.

"I flew with Damian to face his father," I hissed.

Seamus shrugged. "You served your purpose. Bleake Isle doesn't offer anything to Skybern, and now Worthington must make nice with the old guard. He's a snake. Tries to cheat my fleet."

I glanced at Niall, who was making a thorough study of the crowd, his head buzzing, planning, untangling this new information for us both.

"Do you see his shadow?" Seamus asked me.

It took me a moment to sift through my own thoughts and the faces around us before I realized who Seamus meant. Damian resembled his father, classically handsome, not very large for a line of alphas, more a long-honed blade. And behind Damian was an echo of that resemblance—a taller, broader man, but one with the same fine features and dark hair. Unlike Damian, this man did not smile, did not charm those around him, did not wheedle alliances and agreements. If Damian was a snake, this man was solely fangs.

"Bennet Reeves, although they say he is Campbell Worthington's bastard," Seamus said. "I can't make out if Damian doesn't realize what a threat he has at his back, or if he thinks he's smarter than that man. Personally, I'd have him killed."

If Damian was cheating Seamus, the alpha had a perfectly good motive to steer my own alliances away from Worthington and to the bastard brother. After all, that was why we alphas came together. Torion's place in Grave Hills was recently secured, but certainly a man like Keane was already considering whether or not he might find a better ally. Torion was replacing a man like my father, and Grave Hills had an especially bad record of treatment to its omegas, so much so that the ratio of betas to omegas was ten to one. Some betas hoped Torion would improve the conditions, and thus the ratio; others preferred the cutthroat competition for women. If Keane was looking to replace Torion, then the new Alpha of Grave Hills and I were in a similar situation.

I wasn't sure if that made him the most powerful ally I could find—he might end up busy with his own problems before long—but unlike Damian Worthington, apparently, I planned to keep my word to another alpha.

"Come, it's time for the flight," Seamus said.

I nodded, following Seamus to where the other alphas were gathering around Torion, the betas in the crowd backing respectfully away until they were well clear of us. Torion's hands were clenched at his side, the only hint of tension he revealed. His brown chest was entirely bared today, forgoing the green woven sash he usually wore as a sign of his father's line. He was darker than the other men of Grave Hills. His mother had come from somewhere in the sunbelt region of the sea and caught his father's eye before the local selection. Lachlan was the first of the Feargus line to claim the alpha throne in Grave Hills, and without a serious family reputation and no inclination to follow in his father’s footsteps in terms of how he ruled, Torion's reign was going to be a difficult one.

His chin was held high, but I thought I caught an easing around his eyes as he found me in the stretched ring of alphas who surrounded him. I offered him a nod of acknowledgement, then remained still.

"I am Torion Feargus," the newly risen alpha shouted, turning in a slow circle, his dark green wings stretching and flexing.

"Aye!" we answered back in unison, our wings beating once at our backs.

"I have defeated Lachlan Feargus!"

"Aye!" Air churned around us.

"I am the alpha!" Torion's feet planted in the ground, his scales shimmering back and forth across his bared, light brown chest.

"Aye!"

"I rule these hills!" Torion bellowed.

We roared back together, and our roars grew louder as wind swirled and magic changed our shapes. I'd always thought the transformation was somehow both an unbearable pain, like an explosion of my form, and also a release of tension, as if I'd been too tightly bound in my man's shape.

The threat of other alpha dragons around me left me restless and temperamental, and I stomped taloned feet against the ground, wings thumping and nearly striking against Seamus's. He leapt, catching air, and I followed, Torion's own horned nose and gleaming fangs pointed high to his destination, as if he might take his first flight as alpha all the way to the sun.

"Today made me question whether claiming my place was worth the trouble," Torion said, grimacing and then taking a long gulp from his glass. "Fang's fire, Roach, this is good."

DeRoche was on better terms with Torion than I'd realized before, and it was the four us, Niall included, left lingering in Torion's tent. My eyes kept drifting to the horizon, the setting sun, aware that I was in for a long flight home and another day was passing without me having my way with Mairwen. Would she be wondering where I was? Was she impatient? Or was she enjoying her freedom in the castle without me? Perhaps when I returned, she'd have an entire house up around the bed, bricked together with her collection of books.

The thought made me smile.

"It's time we put this poor bastard out of his misery and let him get back to his omega," Seamus said, slapping my shoulder hard.

Torion's eyebrows rose. "Omega? You claimed one?"

I dipped my head. "I did."

"What on earth are you doing here, then?" Torion laughed.

"Proving my respect for you," I grumbled.

Torion's head fell back, inky black curls rioting around his head with his roar of laughter. Wings the color of a forest in deep winter shook, his bared chest and shoulders revealing his scales with a shimmer of bronze. Whatever the local betas wanted to think, Torion had his father Lachlan's huge build and thick curls, even with all of his mother's warmer coloring.

"You're honest to a fault, Cadogan," Torion said, and Seamus snorted. "I never doubted your support. Go home. You smell like a rut, and now that I've ascended to alpha, my own won't be far off. Don't need you rushing me."

Niall and I glanced at one another, and my brother's eyebrows bounced. Seamus smirked at me.

Torion wasn't blind. "Oh, I see. Not just your gesture of respect."

I sighed, sinking deeper into the seat I'd been offered as I took another sip of Seamus's admittedly extremely fine liquor.

"I uncovered a plot for my assassination," I said.

"Damn," Seamus hissed, leaning forward. "I thought you were just hearing their snark behind your back at last."

I shook my head. "They planned to use the selection to plant an omega in my bed who would give them access to attack me after the rut."

"No wonder you're here⁠—"

"No, no. I found out before the ceremony. I surprised them all by picking another." An infinitely better choice it was too, I mused. "But it won't be long before they have a new plan."

"If you're going into rut, it might not be long until you have an heir," Seamus said, shrugging and frowning. "You know what everyone says about the strength of two dragons. Even if it's a load of nonsense, superstitions make people nervous."

But Mairwen would be the new target. My family line on the alpha seat was so long, Gamesby and any other beta who wanted me dead would never see my son as anything but a threat to their own rule.

"Do you trust your new omega?" Torion asked.

"I do," I said immediately.

Seamus looked to Niall. "Well? You're the real brains of Cadogan's rule."

I huffed a laugh, and Niall smiled smoothly. "Mairwen's an unconventional omega, but yes, she's trustworthy. Ronson made the right choice…in the end."

"An unconventional omega?" Seamus scoffed. "I look forward to meeting her. And since it's obvious you look forward to returning to her, I'll say this quickly. You have my fire, Lord Cadogan, Alpha of Bleake Isle."

A rush of breath left my chest, and Niall and I shared the briefest surprised glance. I'd come to Grave Hills for Torion's vow, and probably Damian's. I'd never have imagined even asking a man such as DeRoche to be an ally, but he was a promising one indeed.

Torion smiled at me. "I should make some terrible bargain with you, since I'm more than likely facing a mutiny of my own in the near future, but you're far too honest to let me down. You have my fire, Ronson."

"Thank you," I said, leaning forward and reaching a hand for them to shake one at a time. "You have my fire, the both of you."

I should've stayed, finished my drink, continued making good bargains with these men. Instead, I accepted their laughter as I rose immediately from my seat and turned to Niall.

"Yes, yes, I know. Back to the isle," Niall said, nodding. "I'm right behind you."

I arrived back at the castle late, the sky dark and the halls quiet. Niall had, thankfully, urged me on when we stopped to rest our wings on the tiny island between Grave Hills and Bleake Isle, and I'd briefly entertained the idea that this time it might be Mairwen waiting for me on a balcony instead of one of my siblings.

But no, it was far too late and chilly out. She would be safely tucked into the nest. Waiting for me.

I grinned against the crisp air of the night as I swooped down from the sky to my personal tower, boots landing heavily against the stone balcony. The room inside was dark, but I would light candles. Would Mairwen be asleep in a pile of books? Or would she be undressed and under the covers, dreaming and waiting for my touch?

As it turned out, the answer was neither.

I scowled, shoving the new heavy curtains of the beautifully built nest aside, digging through the pillows, as if Mairwen had somehow gotten lost in the finery of blankets and cushions and silk sheets. I didn't know where she'd found it all. This was the lushest, largest, most decadent nest I'd ever had for my rut, and I suspected she raided every linen cupboard on the isle to build it. But where was she?

"Mairwen?" I called, my voice sharper than I'd intended. Not that it mattered. There was no answer. I hunted through the dark, opening cabinets and trunks as if the woman might be playing some sort of absurd game before rushing for the door, throwing it open and glaring into the hall.

I took a deep breath and snarled, my hands clenching at my sides, never more frustrated by Mairwen's elusive scent than I was now. There was no trail of perfume for me to follow, because I hadn't been here to keep her scent fresh.

"Mairwen!" Her name was harsh in my throat, tinged with something too close to anger.

Worry? Yes. A ferocious, frightened, desperate worry.

Had Gamesby grown impatient, or was he furious with me for foiling his plans? Had he taken Mairwen…or worse?

I tore through the halls of the castle, bellowing my omega's name, heaving breaths for any hint of her scent.

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Chapter FourteenMAIRWEN

“Mairwen!"

The sound of my name, tearing and clawing into my dreams, startled me upright, and I slipped from the edge of the couch I'd been curled up on and down to the hard floor with an oof! of breath.

For a moment I remained frozen, groggy and lost, squinting up at the vast shelves of books and the enormous fireplace I could've stepped right inside, and the huge, luxurious furniture that could've served as a bed, forgetting where I was and how I'd gotten here.

"Mairwen?!"

Ronson's voice, booming and echoing, shredded with a growl.

"Here!" I squeaked out, shaking my head and grimacing at the crick of discomfort in my neck. I twisted, glaring at the couch I'd fallen asleep on and the book I'd used as a pillow. Heavy steps thundered closer, and I braced myself for the alpha's anger, trying to scramble up from the floor but finding myself trapped by the twist of my skirts.

"Mairwen!" My name gusted out with a great heave of breath as the doors to the library banged open and the alpha froze in their broad frame.

He was shockingly beautiful, hair rumpled from a flight, but he looked haggard and wild as he stood there staring at me, his skin pale. His eyes shut and his throat bobbed, and he scuffed a shaking hand over his face.

"Library. I should've known," he muttered.

"Where were you—Oh!"

I'd barely gotten my question started before Ronson was storming closer, the doors slamming and shuddering shut behind him. I reared back, gaping up at the rushing dragon as he approached, the brief slack openness of his expression tightened now to a familiar predatory intent.

And then he was lunging down, arms snapping around my waist as he threw himself to the floor. His hand caught the back of my head before it could hit carpet and stone, and his chest pressed roughly to mine, his face burrowing into my throat.

"Ronson?"

He laughed, a dark and slightly ragged sound. "The damned library," he said. "I thought… Mairwen," he breathed, body sinking into mine, pinning me beneath him.

There was a clock on the fireplace mantle, and it was deep in the night, nearing morning. I'd fallen asleep in the library, disappointed by Ronson's disappearance before I woke and his persisting absence throughout the day. A day I'd spent laboring over his nest, waiting for his return. Even Beatrice hadn't known where he'd gone, although she hadn't seemed very surprised or concerned.

Ronson groaned and rocked on top of me, and my breath caught in my chest, my hands hovering in the air near his wings.

"You-you were gone," I sputtered awkwardly. I waited for you. And in a tiny private place in myself I admitted, I missed you. A dangerous confession. I couldn't afford to miss a man who would want to replace me in a decade.

"A new alpha ascended to Grave Hills," Ronson said, his lips nuzzling over my pulse, tongue flicking out. "Niall made me go."

I laughed at that, and Ronson lifted himself from on top of me, his own grin gleaming in the firelight.

"I didn't want to wake you," Ronson murmured, his hands sliding down my back to my hips, inching my dress up a little bit at a time.

"I…I couldn't have come?" I asked, wincing at my own question.

"Mmm, next time. The rut is too close, and I would've spent the day snarling at every alpha that looked at you," Ronson said easily, as if it were perfectly reasonable that other alphas would bother looking at me. He kissed across my collar, tongue teasing and lips suckling at my skin. "Mairwen, why are you in a damned corset again?"

"My dresses don't fit without them."

"Then we need to get you new dresses," Ronson said calmly, lifting my ass and rucking my skirt up.

I flushed, squeezing my thighs together, pinching my chemise in place before he could expose me. "I can't—I can't just go around the island without a corset."

"You won't go around the island at all," Ronson growled. I stiffened, and he cleared his throat, lifting his face from my collar with what I thought might be a blush staining his cheeks. "For a little while, I mean. I'm sorry, I-I couldn't find you when I returned, and I'm going a bit…" He grimaced, and I couldn't help but settle my hands against his cheeks, smoothing my fingers over the short bristles of his beard. "Mairwen," he sighed out, eyes sliding shut. "Tell me it's my turn to explore."

My breath hitched as Ronson's fingers massaged and kneaded and circled their way up the back of my thighs. I'd suffered a heavy pit in my chest upon waking and finding Ronson gone from the castle, and I'd lost my train of thought too many times to count, sinking into the memories of his touch and imagining what would happen when he returned. But imagining was easy and careless in comparison to surrendering to reality.

Ronson was vast and handsome and terrifying and so, so tempting. His stare made me squirm with nerves, and his touch left me boneless and weak.

"I know it's late," he continued, dropping a wet kiss to the rise of my breast against the collar of my dress. "I know I've left you here at odd ends for days." Another kiss, a lick of his tongue into the tight crush of my cleavage. "Believe me, it's not what I'd hoped for. I planned to spend the days leading up to the rut…well, however you wished. But as much of them in bed with you as you'd grant me."

My eyes squeezed shut, a strange dip and soar rattling inside me at his words, like we were in flight. His hands were sliding up under my bottom, fingertips inching closer to the soft insides, the warm, damp place that was aching and pounding at my core.

"The-the nest," I said, as if I could pretend this dragon, the alpha, wasn't telling me he wanted me. "D-did you see⁠—?"

"It's perfect, Mairwen," Ronson murmured.

I whimpered at the words, heat blooming in my chest, at the base of my throat, in my cheeks, and the place where Ronson's fingers were delving. He groaned on top of me, heavy and grinding and pushing up to press his open mouth against my pulse. There was a soft haze and an unfamiliar sweetness in my throat. My hands on his cheeks slid into his hair and around his shoulders, gripping his jacket in my fists.

Ronson groaned against my throat, huffing, body rocking on top of mine. He pulled away and I let out a wordless cry of objection, trying to clutch him close once more, before he wedged one of his knees between mine and then another. I glanced down between us and found the picture of my ample bare thighs bracketing his own tight trousers and muscled frame.

I moaned and released him, covering my face with my hands. Ronson tutted above me, sinking down once more, circling his arms around my back.

"Don't hide, omega," he whispered.

I shivered at the way he said the word. Omega. I'd been one my entire life, but I'd never been enough of one, and there was something frightening and wonderful in the way he kept using it. His lips kissed against the back of my hand, and his fingers worked quickly at the laces of my dress.

"Let me look at you, Mairwen," he coaxed, all rasp and whisper. "Let me touch you."

I licked my lips and peeked out between my fingers. Ronson's smiles were rare, but there was a crinkle at the corner of his eyes that gentled the clench of his jaw.

"All right."

Ronson's head tipped to the side, watching me closely, and I reached for the crumpled skirt of my dress, lifting it up to my waist. He hummed and helped me as I arched and twisted, not rising up completely but enough for me to pull the dress over my head.

"Mairwen, you know I am the alpha of the isle, yes?" Ronson said, frowning down at me.

I blinked, my brow furrowing. "Of course."

"And that my word is authority."

I swallowed hard, scrambling back, searching for the point where I had made some error or done something wrong. "Y-yes?"

"Good," Ronson said, his expression cracking, laughter twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Then please listen when I say it is a crime for you to bind your breasts so tightly."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, and Ronson's grin brightened the room. "Then I suppose you'd better help me out of this," I said, trying to be coy but knowing my face was entirely red.

He rumbled out a purr, hands sliding up my waist, barely tangible through the rigid structure of the corset. I started to roll over, and he tightened his grip. "No, don't move. Just—" The bite of boning dug into my breasts, and then a rending pop and tear cried out from underneath, the structure going slack. He'd torn my corset open!

I burst out in sudden laughter, shocked and delighted. I had another corset, but I supposed this was a lesson. He was serious about keeping me out of this one. I giggled as he finished tearing through the laces, unbinding my waist and tugging the contraption out from under me with a victorious grunt. The seams had popped and shredded, and one length of boning stuck out from its previous binding.

"What if this poked through? It could stab you," Ronson growled. He rose up onto his knees, wadding up the fabric and laces as much as he was able, and I let out another sharp bark of laughter as he sent the whole thing into the blazing fireplace.

"That was very wasteful, my lord," I said.

I liked this version of our alpha, wicked and playful. He terrified me a little too, mostly because this was so…new and unexpected. Being teased, flirted with, gazed down at like I was a bowl of ripe fruit drizzled with honey and he was a man who hadn't eaten in weeks, was such a foreign experience I sometimes wanted to search for a mirror to see if I was still…me. My hands rose to shield my barely concealed body from his stare, but he caught my wrists in his grip and then slid and fastened our fingers together.

"Delicious," he rasped, gaze stroking from my head down to my spread knees. "Do you remember what I promised you that first night?"

I'm going to go up in flames. I can't keep feeling warmer if I'm not about to combust, surely. But I nodded.

"May I?" Ronson leaned forward, still holding my hands, pushing them back to the floor as he stretched on top of me. But he held my stare and waited for my answer.

"May you…" I couldn't say it. I could barely even think it.

"May I suck and kiss and lick and squeeze your breasts until you can't stand another second, until the pressure in you is too great to bear and you burst, Mairwen?" Ronson rumbled.

Oh, that.

My tongue darted out, and my lips were numb and hot, and Ronson growled, diving down, catching my lips with his teeth, meeting my tongue with his own. Our hands separated only so our arms could twine around one another, his grip claiming my back and my waist and my thigh, drawing it up to hook around his hips, to grind our bodies together. I whimpered into his mouth, clutching the base of his wings, scrambling my hands up his side and then back down, realizing he had the right of it. Grabbing onto the firm flesh of his ass was lovely and gave me better leverage to lift my own hips, to rub myself against his trousers.

"Fang's fire, Mairwen, please."

"Yes, yes, I want—Ah!"

Ronson wasted no time, tearing from my lips and diving down. I mourned the loss of his mouth, but only until he was nuzzling and nipping and sucking on my breasts through the thin veil of my chemise. His purr vibrated into my chest and he found my nipple through the cotton, laving his tongue back and forth, creating a strange friction of slick fabric and hot pressure. His hips had drawn away from mine, but my legs could twist around his waist and back to hold him close, my fingers sliding through soft, dark curls to clutch him to me.

He was completely dressed, and I was wearing a chemise shoved up to my waist that barely disguised the soft texture of his tongue and the pattern of his teeth as he sucked a mark on the underside of my breast. We were in the library, for goodness' sake, and while it was incredibly late, there was no reason why we might not be discovered. Except Ronson's wings were lifting, stretching, shadowing us, and all anyone would see of me if they walked in was my bare legs tightening like a vice around the Alpha of Bleake Isle.

"R-Ronson, I—Please, t-touch me," I gasped, squirming and trying to press my bare sex to his body. There were too many layers, and he was mapping the heft and height of my breasts with kisses, and I'd been thinking of him making me reach some beautiful pinnacle and crash for days now.

But it wasn't my sex he reached to touch. With a yank of one hand, the collar of my chemise was down, the fabric now a useless, tangled circle around my waist, sleeves keeping my arms trapped to my sides.

Ronson's head lifted, eyes staring down at my chest, fingertips swirling over my right nipple, taking it and tweaking it gently to an throbbing point. He spoke between panting breaths. "You have the most divine form, omega. The sweetest, softest skin. Look at how perfectly pink you are. I would make a meal of your breasts, but once would never be enough. And these nipples⁠—"

"Ronson," I moaned, flames of warmth licking over my skin, my body trying to stretch away from the praise.

"You're sweeter right here. Right at the tip," Ronson whispered, the tip of his tongue circling first one tight, aching peak, and then the other. "Mmm, such a pretty color too."

I gasped, slamming my eyes shut and bowing my back, trying to silence his words by drawing his attention back to his feast.

"Those corsets leave marks on your skin, Mairwen," Ronson rumbled, stroking his thumb over a red line the boning had left. "And I am jealous. The only marks you bear should be the ones I make." He snarled, and then his mouth was fastened firmly to my breast, and I yelped, tangling my fingers back into his hair, digging my heels into his ass and thrusting my hips against his stomach.

He huffed a laugh around my nipple, but before I could blush or apologize or do anything but writhe and beg for more, he was suckling, a taut strand of pressure pulling my sanity up from between my legs and right out of my shouting throat. He worked my other breast in his hand, rolling and squeezing, pinching and tugging until I whimpered with the violent pulse of need.

"That's cheating, Mairwen," Ronson growled, and his free hand pinned my hips down to the floor before he switched breasts, feasting on the one sore from his hand, torturing the other with his fingers.

This was not the soft warmth of pleasure I'd built with shy pets and strokes between my legs and over my breasts. This was the wind of a storm and the tight hook of lightning in my blood and a rolling thunder calling over the sea, warning me of its arrival before it shook the whole house.