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Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly parted as if she were having trouble breathing. Her heartbeat filled his ears, and he wondered if it was loud in her own head as well. She’d said she needed him, but was that rapid heartbeat anticipation or… fear?
Reardon was accustomed to people fearing him. On the battlefield, he brought destruction, often in horribly bloody ways. The success of his army was bred on fear, on being the opponents’ worst nightmares, on sword blades and spear tips. Stories of his brutality traveled far and wide across Europe. Reardon McAlator was the Angel of Death.
“Are you afraid?” he asked Brandy.
“Afraid?” Her brows lowered over her beautiful blue eyes. “No. Why would you ask that?”
He placed his hand over her heart. “Your heart is racing, lass.”
A lovely smile blossomed on her lips. “Not fear, Reardon. Not at all. I want this. I want you.”
He should have told her right then that sheshouldfear him. That she should stop what they were about to do immediately. That she should order him from her bedroom, her house, her sanctuary, her life.
He should have done all those things.
“I want you too,” he said instead.
“Let’s work off those brownies then.” She pulled him down to her.
After a few moments of scorching kisses and teasing caresses, Brandy rolled Reardon to his back, pinned his shoulders down with her hands, and guided herself onto his length. Her center was hot and wet and tight.
“Oh… lass…” He couldn’t say much more than that because she started moving in steady circles that caused the most amazing sensations to course through him.
Her sweet bottom writhed against him as she took him deep, deeper, as deep as she could. He’d never felt so completely surrounded, so welcomed, so part of another human. With smooth, slow up and down movements, Brandy brought him to the edge quickly.
Reardon’s head was always on the battlefield, on the next contract, on the coming payout. When he’d tended to his physical desires with a willing partner, he’d never lost himself. He’d managed to pleasure various lasses while planning his next attack strategy, inventorying his army’s weapons and supplies, orchestrating travel arrangements to follow the fighting. He’d never given his all to a woman. Never had wanted to. Women were diversions. Things a man played with between battles. Things men used to still feel alive after causing so much death.
It was all different with Brandy.
The battlefield was a distant memory as was Ireland, his army, his weapons, his fame, his riches, his banishment. He didn’t care about any of those things right now. All he wanted he currently had in his arms.
Brandy shifted, causing all new sensations to reverberate through him. She arched her back, small gasps escaping from her throat as her motions stimulated her body as well.
Time to participate.So far he’d taken. It was his duty to also give.
He put his hands on her breasts, massaging them both until her back arched more, until she settled more firmly on him, until she let loose a moan that set him on fire. He slid one hand up to her cheek and coaxed her down so he could ravage those luscious lips of hers.
As their mouths explored, Brandy continued her movements and soon Reardon was moving in time with her. Their rhythm was perfectly tuned, a synchronicity he’d never imagined was possible. As part wolf, he was always hyper aware of his surroundings, always on alert, ready to pounce. Right now, however, there was only Brandy. Her body. The sounds she made. The reactions she caused in his body. The heat and energy that flowed between them.
They climbed higher. Together. When Reardon was about to shatter into tiny pieces, he released himself into Brandy’s warmth. She rode his release and crested over her own wave of pleasure a moment later.
Slowly, she slid off him—and wasn’t that just as nice? She lowered to lie beside him, her body shaking in the post-haze he certainly felt as well.
“I repeat, wow.” Her eyes were closed, but a grin turned up her lips.
Reardon combed his fingers through the hair that cascaded over her neck and pooled at her breasts. The strands slithered and shushed like silky fire, the red of it in stark contrast to her pale flesh. Light from the bedside lamp behind her outlined her naked body in a golden aura.
Surely, she is a goddess.
The moment that thought was born in his mind, a slicing pain pierced through this skull. He clamped his eyes closed against the feeling, but it stabbed at him again. Again. Again.
Humans are not goddesses, wolf.Flidae’s voice echoed in his head.Do not elevate them to such high status.
Wonderful. He’d angered Flidae once again, but it didn’t change his mind. Brandy was divine.
Another pain speared into him. This time his entire body went rigid with it and a groan slipped out of his throat. He struggled to breathe for a moment and bolted upright in Brandy’s bed.
“Reardon?” Brandy sat up too. “What’s wrong? Shit, are you having a heart attack?” She popped up from the bed. “Where’s my phone? Oh, God, it’s downstairs. Hang on. Shit.” She ran toward the bedroom door.
