He relished her boldness and sensuality. Easily giving in, he continued arousing her with his lips and tongue, indulging his most decadent fantasies.
She writhed beneath him. When she grew loud again, he placed a finger over her lips, reminding her to be silent. She bit him, then sucked on his finger, amplifying his lust.
He forced himself to stop before she reached climax, for she would scream out in wild abandon.
He flung his own clothes away, then drew off her smock.
"Oh, good heavens. Why did you stop?" she whispered, looking intoxicated.
"I do not wish you to alert the whole of the Highlands of our bedsport," he murmured low and smirked.
"'Tis your own fault."
Pleased he could affect her so, he dragged her up to the pillows and lay behind her. "If you scream, I'll have to cover your mouth with my hand." He kissed her ear and suckled her earlobe into his mouth.
"Very well." She sighed. "You take my sanity, and I have nay inkling what I'm doing."
Unable to control himself any longer, he pulled her derriere against him, parted her thighs, and stroked a hand between.
She gasped and arched against him, offering herself freely. Already positioned, he gently thrust upward into her tight, wet heat. She cried out.
"Wheesht," he breathed against her ear.
She grabbed his hand and clamped his finger between her teeth. 'Twas not painful and the firm pressure only heightened his need.
Trying to control his fearsome arousal, he began moving. Slowly at first, but with each thrust, his rational mind retreated. She was more drenched than ever before.
She locked her arm around behind his neck and with her increasing cries, he covered her mouth with one hand, while he kept the other hand busy, at first teasing her breasts, then stroking her most sensitive female spot.
Her body convulsed against him, her muscles clenching on him, and a scream threatened to escape.
He ground his teeth, enduring the sensual torment. "Shhh." He held back his own release as long as possible. Finally, he let go, driving deep, the pleasure astounding and all-consuming.
***
WILONA FLEW AS FASTas she could back to the manor house, feeling energized and eager to experiment with her new vanishing skills.
Glad to see the glowing coals remaining in her fireplace, she added straw, dried twigs, and short wooden branches until the fire blazed anew. She poured a pitcher of water into the small pot hanging over the fire.
She hated doing her own work, getting her hands dirty, and pricking her fingers with splinters. She could hardly wait until Torr was here, under her control, doing whatever she ordered him to do. He would be her slave. She smiled, imagining having a kelpie at her beck and call. Who else could brag of such a thing?
Once the water was boiling, she tossed the dried henbane into the pot along with the other necessary herbs.
When the tisane grew dark, she submerged the kelpie bridle into the magical formula. It would need to steep for a few hours.
Too tired to hold her head up, she lay on the bed.
When Wilona awoke, the room was dark. "What time is it?" she muttered and scrambled out of bed. Glancing out the window, she saw that the sky was pitch black and the moon had arisen. 'Twas growing late, possibly nearing midnight.
'Twas the ideal time to capture Torr. But she knew, because of his keen sense of smell, he would be aware of her presence long before she could slip the bridle on him. She would have to be extremely cunning. Her mind whirled with ideas.
She pulled the bridle out of the cold tisane and dried it off with a cloth. After opening the window, she wrapped the reins around the other parts of the bridle, secured it in a tight bundle, and left it on the windowsill.
Whispering the correct spell, she shifted into the large owl form again, clasped the magical bridle in her talon, and flew out the window. She could easily see in the near darkness.
A half hour later, she drew near Blacktower. Aye, there was Torr as a kelpie. How oblivious and peaceful he looked, picking grass near the loch, his white coat and flowing mane gleaming in the moonlight. She circled the loch, but he did not notice her. She wanted to laugh at his naiveté.
Wait for me there, servant. I'll be back.
