9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (29 page)

“Because
she’ll show him no mercy. Kali’s hot-headed and stubborn as hell. She’s in need
of taming.”

Saylym
laughed. “And, of course, the sons are not spoiled rotten? Don’t you think you
need to be domesticated?”

“No,
to the first question. Yes, to the second. You want to tame me,
La-Scheme
?
”
Talon arched an eyebrow. “Anytime you’re ready,
k
ieran
, come and
get me.”

Saylym
blushed and shook her head. “You, my prince, are incorrigible.”

He
brushed a soft curl behind her ear. “Yes, my little witch, I am.” His face
darkened with unbidden regret and pain. “My father and I butt heads
consistently. But Mother…Mom…is a special lady. She’s the peacemaker. She never
says a word against Father, but I can read her eyes. Sometimes she can’t hold
back the laughter. She makes me laugh when Father and I are at our finest hour
of arguing.”

Talon flinched as the sudden urge to bring Saylym’s mouth
to his slammed into his gut. Gods, but he needed to get his mind off seduction
and get it on business. He was here with her to learn more about her life,
present and past. He needed the information for his report to the Guild. Then
he could demand they leave her spirit intact. He could mate with her and forget
about bonding.

What
about a child?

All
right, a child—the risk of conception was pretty high at Beltane—especially
since Saylym was fertile—He’d just have to be careful.

Saylym
took another sip of wine. “In the early years, we moved around a lot and I
developed a habit of picking up slang expressions. Eventually, England became
home.” She frowned slightly. “It was always just Mum and me.”

Talon grinned. He’d heard of this England, but since he
never ventured into the
illumrof
realm, he’d never been there. Taking
her hand and bringing it to his mouth, he whispered, “Mum? Ah, that accounts
for the accent I keep hearing in your words. I’ve heard of this Britain
accent.”

“British,”
she corrected. “And I wouldn’t talk about accents, Mr. I ‘vant to dreenk yur
blood.”

Talon threw back his head, laughing deeply. “I’m not a
vampire, darling, that’s what their males say when they get ready to mate. My
accent is very old. Quite ancient, in fact.”

She
nodded, her pupils constricting as he dipped her index finger in her cup of
wine and then licked the liquid off it.

“Wine on your fingers,” he said softly, moving to the next
digit.

“Are
you telling me that vampires actually exist?”

“Of
course, they’re from this plane, but they choose to live in the
illumrof
realm, food, you know?”

Saylym
opened her mouth, but forgot what she was going to say as he drew her face down
to his and nibbled at one corner of her mouth. “Sliver of olive.”

“Uh—”

“Don’t
interrupt this seduction.”

“Uh—”

“Sshh…cheese
crumb,” he breathed slowly, moving to the opposite corner of her mouth and
licking.

He rolled her beneath his weight and snacked his way down
her throat, lingering at the pulsing mark he’d left branded on her throat.

The knot on her shirt came undone, and he parted the
sides. There was something hot and savage on his face as he raised his head and
looked into her eyes.

“Red is my color,” he said hoarsely, releasing the front
catch on her bra with an expert flick of his fingers.

Along with her shirt, he slipped the red satin straps off
her shoulders, wadded it up and thrust the bra inside his jeans pocket.
“Beautiful,” he moaned, before creating a moist trail to the soft under curves
of her breasts. He closed his mouth around a tightly puckered nipple. “You are
mine, Saylym Winslow. Never doubt that for a moment.”

* * * *

Saylym
flinched as his mouth closed hotly around the aching bud. He suckled strongly,
nipping the nipple with his teeth. Heavens. She was headed straight to hell.

“Strawberries
and cream,” he whispered, and swirled his tongue around the aching bud.

Oh,
yeah, straight to hell in a handbag. No directions required. Free passage. She
had her boarding pass. All she had to do was get aboard.

Talon wasn’t a man to play favorites. He moved to the
other breast, bit gently on the straining little berry, then soothed the slight
sting with an expert flick of his incredible tongue.

“Sweet,”
he breathed and fed deeply, rolling the nipple beneath his tongue, savoring the
delicious taste of her.

Without conscious thought, Saylym slid her fingers into
the silky strands of his dark hair and held him against her bared breast. “I…uh…
oh…stars,”
she cried as he brought
his full weight on top of her.

He felt divine and smelled like sin. Rich, inviting sin.
He moved his hips in a slow, rhythmic thrust as old as time itself. Slowly, he
pressed her knees apart and allowed the hard ridge to settle snugly between her
thighs as he rocked gently, moaning against her breasts.

Saylym felt his fingers slip to the waistband of her
shorts, release the metal button and zipper, and then dip inside. “I have to
touch you,
La-Scheme
,” he whispered against her throat. “Let me touch
you.”

“Ah…I…”
she gurgled, unable to form a complete sentence.

The
cutoffs fell away with a brush of his hands. She saw his pupils dilate. His
nostrils flared at the sight of the tiny, studded arrow pointing the way.

He
choked.

Not
that he needed direction, she thought wildly. He seemed to be blazing his own
trail pretty darned well.

Talon
slowly followed the direction of the glittering arrow with his index finger,
paused at the very tip of it, before sliding underneath to stroke the tiny bud
hidden beneath the red satin.

“Ah…I…”
she couldn’t seem to get past those two words as she arched her body against
the slow stroking of his finger. He slipped a second finger inside her, gently
stretching her, stroking smoothly in a steady rhythm.

Saylym bucked beneath his touch as he explored the silken
sheath of her womanhood. She felt him hesitate as he bumped against the proof
of her purity. He muttered something, then slid a hand beneath her buttocks,
lifting her hips. Slowly, he stroked the tiny button with his thumb, his
fingers thrusting and stroking the velvet heat within.

She moaned, clawing at his shoulders, his hair. “Talon,”
she gasped his name. Her body convulsed wildly. “I-I…”

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged. “Come for me, Saylym. I
want to feel you unravel.”

A tiny whimper slipped past her throat. He stroked faster,
deeper. She shattered in his arms, her body quaking as he held her tightly.
“Ssh…it’s all right, baby. It’s all right.”

Tiny
whimpers escaped her throat as he withdrew his fingers. “Ssh,” he whispered,
pulling her close to his bare chest, rocking her until she settled. “I need
you, Saylym.”

She
pressed her face against his warm flesh and wondered vaguely when he’d taken
off his shirt. Or had she removed it?

She
couldn’t halt the moan as he lowered her to the quilt and started over.

His tongue found the underside of her breasts, and he
paused to lick her there, before moving slowly down her stomach, straight
toward Beulah Land. He paused at the waistband of her thong.

Whimpers of desire tore from her clogged throat. Excited,
she waited to see what he would do next. He poured wine on her stomach and then
followed the red trails with his tongue, pausing to sip from her bellybutton,
swirling and dipping his tongue into the tiny opening.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

Her body burned as if he’d set fire to it. She wanted him
to touch her again. To bring her to that delicious fever pitch and take her
over the edge. He glided his tongue down her belly. Any second now she’d do a
slow burn, melt into a puddle of steaming, wine-flavored liquid.

The
man knew what he was doing.

* * * *

The
man was insane with need.

Talon
sucked in a deep, ragged breath. She was driving him crazy with those sexy
little mewling sounds she kept making. Wildly hungry with desire, he knew he
played with fire. And the more he played, the more he wanted to play, and he
knew, damn it, he
knew,
he didn’t dare seek his own release or things
could get way out of hand.

Still,
he pushed her to the brink, to the very edge of completion with his fingers.
His mind roared with the clawing need to be inside her.

Saylym moaned. “Please.”

“My
intent is to please you, lovely Saylym. That has always been my objective.”

Talon raised his head and stared down into her
passion-clouded eyes. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her. The need was so urgent, so
overwhelming, he felt as if he was going to shatter into a thousand pieces.

He fumbled with the zipper on his jeans, released his
blood-engorged cock and rubbed it against the portal of her womanhood. He swore
he’d take it slow. Just a little. He’d enter her just a little, enough to give
them both a taste of the raw heat and friction building to fever pitch between
them. Enough to gain his own release, but not so far he couldn’t pull back,
stop before he was too deep, stop, before he came inside her.

He tore the thong down her legs and tossed it to one side.
Then settling between her thighs, he nudged her knees wider apart. The broad
head of his cock stroked against the warm channel of her womanhood. By degrees,
he pushed inside her, slowly stretching the sensitized muscles.

He
rocked gently, working the tip in and out, going a little deeper with each
penetration, until the head of his shaft bumped against the flimsy barrier of
her virginity. Though he yearned to rip through the fragile membrane, he restrained
the urge to thrust. Instead, he pulled back and teased her with the broad head
of his cock, slow and shallow, rocking in and out in a torturous rhythm that
was delicious agony for both of them.

Talon
gritted his teeth against the burning pain spreading up and down the length of
his cock. It settled in his balls and hurt like hell. Gods, but she surrounded
the head of his cock like a tight glove. He had to be deeper inside her. He
wasn’t even half-way and it was killing him. The head of his cock felt like it
was going to burst any second.

He
surged deeper, stabbed the membrane that blocked his path. He pushed against
it, tempted to complete penetration. A single hard thrust and it’d be done. He
pressed harder, and heard her breath catch with a sharp hiss. She raked her
nails down his back and groaned.

Almost. He was almost there. He should stop now, pull back
and stop before it was too late. He didn’t want to stop. He had to. He couldn’t
think. His mind felt trapped in a sensual, sexual haze. He eased back swearing
as he returned to the shallow rocking that was pure torture. His body strained,
urging him to complete the mating. It was exquisite agony, shallow fucking.

Still, he teased her with the incomplete penetration,
torturing himself with the shallowness of his thrusts now, until he thought
he’d die from the pure exquisite pleasure of her warm muscles squeezing his
cock so tightly.

He hissed. His body jerked and he clenched his teeth.
Abruptly, he pulled out of her, his hot seed erupting onto her belly.

“Shit,” he said, breathing hard. “That wasn’t supposed to
happen. That was too damn fast.”

“It
was?” Saylym smiled, tangling her fingers in his hair.

Talon
lifted his head. His face felt flushed. His eyes felt hotter, as if he had a
fever. “Yes,” he grunted. “I was barely inside you. You’re so damned tight, it
blew my control.” He read the concern on her face. “I didn’t take your
virginity,” he breathed. “I damn near did. I wanted it, desperately. But I
didn’t. And I didn’t spill my seed inside you. There’s no chance you conceived.
I’d know immediately if that happened.”

“You’d know? How would you know such a thing?”

“It’s an ability a
waken
is born with.” His lips
tingled with the desire to taste her mouth. Just once. To simply taste her.

Too soon!

He knew it was too soon, too soon to stroke her with his
tongue. Too soon to push his aching cock back inside her again. His seed still
seeped. He could impregnate her with only a drop. He didn’t want that. After
Beltane, when she was no longer fertile, he wouldn’t hold back. And next time
he’d rip through that annoying fragile barrier, but he knew, he’d still
withhold his seed.

She was his for the taking.
His.
And though he’d reached satisfaction this time, it was a
temporary release and he still ached to make her completely his. To fully claim
her. Damn, this was insane.

He caught himself lowering his mouth to hers. One kiss,
his mind whispered, taunting—teasing, just one simple kiss, a mating of mouths.
He would take her mouth. Take her. Gods!

Talon shuddered and rolled away from her. Flinging an arm
over his damp forehead, he did his best to regain control. His chest heaved with
his ragged breaths. A fine sheen of sweat bathed his skin. His mind silently
shouted,
Take her.
Complete the stealing ritual
.
Complete the
mating ritual. Take what is
yours.

“Samhain,” he whispered. He’d barely touched her, barely
gotten inside her and he’d nearly lost all control. His body, his mind, had
swept into the dark hunger for her soul. Her intense response to his loving was
unexpected. He hadn’t kissed her, but damn, how he needed to taste her mouth.
He was so damn hard again, his teeth ached.

*
* * *

Saylym watched him with wary eyes. What was wrong? What
had she done to him? She started to touch his trembling body.