Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - WesternWind 01 - Wynd River (9 page)

desires to have dominion over all life. It is He who is responsible for the rogues who kill indiscriminately

and with great abandon, enslaving humankind and turning it to base evil.” His jaw clenched. “It is my lot

in life to stop the spread of Raphian’s minions. To that purpose, Morrigunia sent me here to the High

Council just as She has sent other Reapers to far-flung worlds.”

“Then She is not the bad one in this,” Aingeal said.

“She’s bad enough,” Cynyr stated. “She never gives the men She chooses a choice, but makes the

decision for them. In that regard, She is no better than Raphian, though the parasites she forces on the

unwilling are good for the most part and not evil.”

Aingeal bent her head and kissed the scar on his shoulder. She traced it with her tongue then looked up

to lock her gaze with his. “Let me heal you,
mo tiarna
,” she said in a low, husky voice. “Let me remove

your bad memories and replace them with sweet ones.”

Cynyr drew in a breath as her tongue lapped at the puckered scar. The pain of that particular cut had

been deep and brutal. It had brought the only scream he could ever remember making from his throat

when the fiery curl had struck. As she laved that savage mark, he closed his eyes and could almost feel

the scar dissolving beneath her tender touch.

Gently stroking the scar at his waist, Aingeal lowered her lips from his shoulder to plant fleeting kisses on

his chest until she reached the nub of his manly breast and drew it into her mouth. She heard her lover

gasp and his hands went to her shoulders. She looked up at him.

“Put your hands down,
mo tiarna
,” she said in a seductive voice. She placed her lips upon his pap once

more and began to suckle.

Cynyr reached up for the brass crosspiece of the headboard and wrapped his fingers tightly around it.

The sensations she was causing were sending lightning bolts of heat down his sides and into his groin. Her

tongue was licking him as she drew upon that now rigid nipple. He could feel sweat popping out on his

forehead. When he thought he would go mad from her wicked tongue, she released his pap and her lips

moved lower down his chest—over his sternum and lower still as she swirled her tongue amidst the

midline of hair that trailed to his pelvis.

“Wench, stop,” he pleaded, for his rod was as hard as stone and pulsing upward in an attempt to make

contact with the sweet body so close to it.

Aingeal pushed up to her knees and, as he watched, drew the flannel gown over her head, tossing it

aside. The sway of her ample breasts caught his attention and he could not have looked away if his very

life depended upon it. He was barely aware when she slid a leg over his and knelt between his spread

thighs.

“I have no intention of stopping,
mo tiarna
,” she told him, and lowered her head once more to trail

kisses down the tiger line of fine hair running from just above his navel to the thick patch at the juncture of

his legs.

The moment her tongue delved into the hollow of his navel, Cynyr groaned, releasing and then

re-grasping the brass crosspiece so hard his knuckles bled of color. It was all he could do to hold still

beneath her velvet invasion, and the wet warmth of her tongue spiraling around and within his navel was

sending shivers up and down his spine.

Aingeal felt the tip of his staff grazing the underside of her chin as she moved lower. She moved her

mouth to that hard rod, but Cynyr slammed his hands to her upper arms and pushed her away.

“Wench, no!” he said, his eyes wide. “Only whores do such things!”

She sat back on her heels and cocked her head to one side. “Women who want to pleasure their men

also do such things, Cynyr,” she said softly, and shrugged out of his fierce grip. “Put your hands back

where they were.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer then took hold of the brass headboard once more as though it

was his anchor and he was a drowning man. Never had anything but a wanton woman put her mouth on

his cock, and only then when he’d paid her. Few whores had caught his eye over the years and those

who had not trembled at the mere sight of him were the only relief he’d known when his juices had built

to the boiling point.

“Never touch yourself, Reaper,”Morrigunia had warned him
. “I am placing a Geas upon you. Should

you try to take matters in hand, you will feel a pain that will bring you to your knees! Use a

willing woman if you need to but never mate with her unless you want her to be with you for all

time!”

The only time he had attempted to relieve the ache in his cock, he had experienced a driving, vicious

pain in his head that had, indeed, driven him to his knees. For over an hour he experienced a savage

spike of agony in his brain. He never tried masturbation again and only resorted to whores when the ache

was such he could no longer ignore it.

Aingeal’s lips enveloped the head of his cock and Cynyr groaned, tucking his bottom lip between his

teeth and biting down so he tasted his own black blood on his lip.

Her mouth was a sweet cavern of ecstasy that was sliding its warmth around and around the knob of his

rod. The wet heat of her tongue slipped over the slit and he could feel his juices oozing forth. When she

slid her mouth down the length of him and he could feel himself totally enveloped, he could not stop the

shudder that rippled through him.

Poised on her knees, bent over him so that his cock was as far inside her mouth as she could take him,

Aingeal relaxed her throat and suckled him, drawing gently upon his sensitive flesh. She put one hand to

his scrotum and began to massage him, lightly squeezing his balls as though she was milking him.

Tensed, his knees drawn up and quivering, heels pushing into the mattress, Cynyr could only stare down

at the top of his lady’s head as she suckled him. Pleasure was lapping at him in waves that sent heat

through his groin and before he realized what he was doing, he was lifting his hips in a rhythmic motion.

He was panting, sweat dripping down his forehead and temples, lining his upper lip. His heart was

beating a mile a minute, his blood rushing through his ears. Jabs of need were traveling through his belly

and stitching down into his balls and he was lost in the sweetness of Aingeal’s soft mouth.

Easing her hand from his balls and moving it upward beneath him, she had barely touched the puckered

rim of his ass when his cock exploded in her mouth, his juices rushing down her throat. She looked up at

him as he was staring at her with shock, his cheeks reddening and she knew he was horrified at what

he’d done. Before he could reach for her and push her away again, she swallowed the salty cum as easily

as if she was drinking a glass of water. She saw his eyes widen.

The pleasure was nearly more than he could stand. Her mouth was drawing upon his shriveling flesh as

pulse after pulse of exquisite pleasure rippled through him. The hotness of her moist cavern, the tiny tugs

she drew over his cock as she suckled, the steady gaze from her beautiful eyes combined to take every

last vestige of strength from him and he collapsed upon the bed, his legs shooting out as though devoid of

muscle, bone and cartilage.

Aingeal rose up, sliding her fingers ever so fleetingly across his anal opening as she removed her hand.

His gasp brought a smile to her lips. “I take it you liked that,
mo tiarna
?”

He was so weak from the depth of the pleasure he’d just received, he couldn’t even answer her. He

couldn’t even nod. He simply stared at her—his heart in his eyes—and his breath still dragging into his

lungs with harsh gasps.

“When a woman wants to pleasure her man,” Aingeal said, moving back to his side and lying down so

that her head was once more on his shoulder, “there is nothing that is taboo. Nothing that isn’t right for

the both of them.”

Her palm was on his chest, just above his thundering heart, and it took every last ounce of strength he

possessed to lower his arms so that he could cradle her against him.

“I…” he said, and had to start again. “I never knew it could be like that.”

Aingeal craned her neck back so she could look up at him. “You didn’t enjoy it the first time we made

love?”

“Aye,” he said, “but that was… It was…” He was at a loss to adequately explain to her how forceful

had been his climax.

“Only the first of many times,” she finished for him.

His heart was finally slowing, but the building emotion growing there was deepening. This tiny woman

lying beside him was fast becoming the most important thing in his universe and he wanted nothing more

than to lie there with her for all eternity.

“You know,” she said, drawing his eyes down to her, “a man can pleasure a woman in just the way I

pleasured you.”

Cynyr’s forehead crinkled. “How, wench?” he asked. “You don’t have a rod.”

“Aye, but I do,” she said, her eyes mischievous as she took his hand and moved it over her hip and to

the silky triangle at her thighs. She opened her legs and slid his hand over her damp curls.

“That’s a relief,” he said, stroking the heat between her thighs. “I thought you had sprouted something

you ought not to have.”

Aingeal pressed his hand over her then dragged his fingers up until he touched her clitoris. Moving his

finger over that sensitive nub until she could feel it harden, she watched the surprise light her lover’s gaze.

“Ah,” was all he said and unhooked his arm from around her, sliding down in the bed until his mouth was

on the same level as her nipples. With a wicked gleam in his amber eyes, he lowered his mouth to her

breast and drew her nipple between his lips.

Aingeal threaded her hands through his hair and gave herself up to the delight his suckling brought. He

was mimicking the spiral of her tongue over his pap, laving her nipple and gently worrying it between his

teeth.

His hand was moving over her belly, lightly pressing into the slight mound. She knew he was following

the unspoken desires that were flooding her, doing for her things she had always wanted and needed but

never received. For once she didn’t mind him reading her thoughts and sent wave after wave of silent

instruction to him—guiding his hands and his mouth.

Cynyr released one nipple to savor the taste of the other. Beneath his lips, he could feel his lady’s heart

pounding and could smell the release of her love juices flowing from the mysterious place between her

legs. He was anxious to taste her there but he was determined to give as good as he had gotten and took

his time with her breast—reaching up to gently squeeze one globe as he swirled his tongue around the

other. Her thoughts guiding him, he knew he was giving his lady great pleasure and that made him feel

more like a man than he ever had before.

When she sighed deeply—signaling to him he had worshipped her mounds long enough—he visited tiny

kisses from her breast to her navel then dipped the tip of his tongue inside that concave little treasure,

grinning as she lifted her hips in invitation.

“You’re a quick learner, Reaper,” she whispered.

“I’ve a good teacher,” he said around the gentle suction he plied upon her navel.

Moving lower, he trailed little flicks of his tongue down into the silky thatch that covered her pubic

mound. He buried his face in the slightly damp offering and breathed in her scent, imprinting it for all time

on his very soul. The musky scent of her sex was doing strange things to his belly and he could feel his

cock growing hard once more. Such a thing was out of his level of experience and it surprised him he

could want her yet again so soon.

The first sweep of his tongue over the folds of her vagina arched Aingeal’s hips upward. She gasped and

dug her fingers into his scalp, careful not to hurt him.

“Hurt me all you want, wench,” he said, and his voice was a gravelly demand of need.

Aingeal thrashed her head back and forth on the pillow. Never would she hurt this wondrous man. His

tongue was doing such unbelievable things to her, and she could feel her flesh rippling along her back.

Goose bumps were popping up all over her as he closed his lips around her clitoris and she whimpered

loudly.

How he knew to do it, he would never know, for it was not something that he took from her thoughts,

but Cynyr hummed against that tiny little pearl as he drew on it with his lips and Aingeal went wild as she

bucked beneath him. Thought after thought that did not come from his lady flitted through his mind and he

put a finger to her opening, sliding first one then two digits into her moist heat and turning them slightly

from side to side before swiveling his hand until his palm was up and he could find a slight protrusion

inside her.

“Press upward and hold it as you graze your teeth across her clit.”

That voice in his ears was as familiar as his own and he would have sat up to look around him had not

Aingeal’s hands been buried tightly in his hair.

“Do it, warrior, and you will have her forever.”

It was Morrigunia’s voice purring through his mind, instructing him on how to please his lady. He could

not detect her presence but he knew she was watching.

“Now move your fingers in and out of her as though you were thrusting your precious cock in her slit.”

Snarling in his own mind, ordering Morrigunia out of his thoughts, he nevertheless did as she instructed,