Starry Knight (12 page)

Pleasure sang out like a plucked string, pushing her over the edge. As the climax crashed over and through her, she arched and bucked. Her sex spasmed around his, urging him to join her. He stilled, made a sound like a hushed cry, and spilled himself in violent pulses she could feel all the way to her bones.

When his body ceased convulsing, he pulled out of her, and tumbled onto the bed beside her. After removing the condom, he gathered her into his arms and held her against his heaving chest.

She snuggled against him, reveling in the afterglow. “So, was it worth the wait?”

“Oh, aye,” he rasped in his sexy burr. “It was bloody brilliant.”

* * * *

Callum rolled onto his back and pulled her body atop his. She squealed with delight, setting off sparks in his groin. She sat up, set her hands on his chest and, with a salacious grin, pushed back against his budding erection. All the blood in his brain raced southward. He took the fullness of her breasts in his hands, marveling at their supple heaviness. Throwing back her head, she laughed and tossed her hair.

“You really are rapacious, aren’t you?”

Taking hold of her face with both hands, he pulled her mouth down on his. The desire to be inside her burned in every cell of his body. So did the dark thirst. He liberated another condom from the nightstand and put it on. Then, he lifted her hips and entered her, sinking into luscious heat with a groan of pleasure. Capturing her tongue between his lips, he nipped it just hard enough to draw blood. She cried into his mouth and tried to pull away. Holding her tighter, he sucked hard, tasting briny sweetness. The head-swimming sample only heightened his need. He groaned and thrust his hips, burying his cock as deep as it would go.

He was dimly aware of hair caressing his face, of hot blasts of breath, of fingers pinching his nipples hard enough to hurt. Slipping a hand between their bodies, he maneuvered until he found the wee magic bean hiding within her folds. He began to work it as she slid up and down his length, squeezing his sex with her internal muscles with exquisite finesse.

Feeling her trembling on the brink of orgasm, he let go of her mouth. She sat up, set her hands on his chest and rode him hard. His gaze darted between the expression of pleasure on her face and her lovely breasts. Though his bollocks ached for release, he clenched against the urge to come, waiting for her. Her rapid breathing and breathy moans suggested it wouldn’t be long.

It wasn’t. The moment her sex started convulsing around his, he drove into her like a demon again and again until his seed cannoned forth in pulsating ecstasy.

“You bit my tongue,” she lisped accusatorily.

He opened his eyes, unaware he’d closed them, to find her frowning down at him. He gave her a penitent smile, hoping she wouldn’t catch on. “Did you not enjoy it?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said, still frowning. “It was just, well,
different
.”

He brushed her cheek. He didn’t want to disconnect from her. If he had his way, they’d remain as they were until he roused again, which wouldn’t be long.

“Would you like to have another go?”

She gave him a hesitant smile. “Is it possible to die from too much pleasure?”

“If it is,” he said, moving inside her, “can you think of a better way to go?”

“Good morning,” Callum offered with an adorable grin as Vanessa opened her eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really well,” she said, yawning. “You wore me out.”

They’d made love at least six times—not that she was counting. Or complaining. According to some of her past lovers, she had the drive of a nymphomaniac, so she and the baron were well matched in that regard. And, except for the kinky tongue-biting thing, the sex had been nothing short of mind-blowing.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, looking disappointed.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, already wanting him again.

“Does that mean you fancy another go?”

“I do,” she told him. “Very much.”

A glance at his crotch told her he was hard. After putting on protection, he moved down the bed, positioned himself between her thighs, and licked her sex, calling her passion like a genie in a lamp. As he attended to her pleasure, his intense golden gaze holding hers, something silly popped into her mind. She fought to suppress the grin the thought engendered—God forbid he mistake her mirth for laughing at his technique—but lost the battle.

“What?”

He licked her sex like a big cat, only with a tongue like velvet.

“Nothing.”

“What?” He kissed her clit with a swift softness that made her shudder.

“It’s just a corny joke.”

“Tell me.” He kissed her again, lingering this time.

“It’s stupid.” Her face burned with embarrassment. “Incredibly stupid.”

“Tell me anyway,” he insisted between pleasurable oral stimulations.

“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He kissed her pubis, then her clit, then her vagina. “Tell me your corny joke,
mo dearbadan-de
, so I can get on with making love to you.”

Face heating, she let out a nervous laugh. “All right, here goes. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Knock, knock.”

He flicked his tongue against her sweet spot. “Who’s there?”

“Connie.”

Kiss, flick, circle. “Connie who?”

It was all she could do not to crack up as she delivered the punch line. “Connie Lingus. Can your tongue come out to play?”

He lifted his head and smiled. “I’ve heard much worse.”

Moving over her, he took a nipple in his mouth, hardened by his previous devotions. She brushed her fingers up and down his sides, relishing the feel of soft flesh and sinewy muscle over solid bone.

“You’ve got lovely breasts,” he said.

Her insides turned to syrup. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Nay, lass.” He touched his lips to hers. “Only the ones with lovely breasts.”

He moved lower, leaving a trail of tender kisses. She raked her fingers through his silky golden mane, struck again by its softness.

“You’ve got great hair.”

“Thank you.” He pressed his mouth against her pubic mound. “So do you.”

He ran his hands down her thighs, lifted her hips off the bed, and sank into her, slow and deep.

God, he was good. So much better than the other men she’d shagged. If only their affair didn’t have to be so short-lived. She hadn’t told him yet she was moving to the states, probably for the same reason he’d lied about his wives. Why risk opening a big, ugly can of worms when they’d be parting ways so soon?

Callum was hitting that magic spot again, pushing her toward another thunderous climax. As the pleasure mounted, her insides coiled and melted. She writhed under his weight and clawed at his back. The orgasm struck like a lightning bolt, spreading its charge through her system.

“Vanessa.”

He spoke her name like an incantation.

There was no need. She was already falling under his spell.

Crashing down like a wave, his sweat-slickened body unfurled over hers, his hands grasping her face as he claimed her mouth. She shuddered under him, boneless and satisfied. Pushing up on his arms, he ended the kiss and brought her back to reality.

Meeting her gaze, he smiled. “What would you like to do today?”

She returned his smile. She really should be poking around in search of the rumored vampire or trying to talk to the ghost, but she’d much rather attend to the castle’s drool-worthy laird. “Don’t tell me you’ve hung up your tour guide’s cap already.”

“I thought we might take a day off from sightseeing.”

She ran her hands down his bulging biceps. “In that case, you know what I’d like to do?”

“Tell me.”

“Spend the whole day in bed making love.”

He gave her a quick peck on the lips before disposing of the condom. “That can be arranged. Shall I have Hamish bring our breakfast up?”

“Yes, please.”

Euphoria swept through her, bathing her insides in warm, golden light. She’d never felt so satisfied or comfortable with a lover before. Or so completely contented. It was a feeling she didn’t look forward to leaving behind.

* * * *

Callum was more than happy to spend the day making love. Even as they sat across from one another on the bed, sipping coffee and sharing the food Hamish had brought up, he yearned to be inside her again.

Her dispassionate sun sign made him fear she might be as frigid as Sorcha, another Aquarian, but those fears proved unfounded, thank the stars. Lady Vanessa was passionate, responsive, and refreshingly open—except, of course, when it came to her true motive for being at Barrogill.

As he reached for a slice of cheese, she did the same. Sparks sizzled at the spot where their hands collided. With a smile, he surrendered his claim. Would he be able to surrender her just as easily when their time together ended? Aye, well. Like it or not, he’d have to give her up.

“Callum?” Meeting her gaze, he waited for her to continue. He’d been right about those eyes of hers. He was going under. “Tell me about your first wife.”

Dread jabbed. He wanted to spend the wee bit of time they had together making love, not talking about his past, especially his disastrous marriages, which would kill his desire quicker than he could say “saltpeter.” Licking his lips, he asked guardedly, “What do you wish to know?”

“When did you marry her?”

“When I was younger.”

“That much I’d deduced on my own.” She swept her fingers along his bent leg. “What happened between you?”

The old resentment reawakened like a dormant virus. “She didn’t like being touched.”

Surprise mottled by sympathy played on her features. “Oh, dear. It was like that, was it?”

“Aye,” he bit out. “It was just like that.”

“What did you do?”

“I locked her in the dungeon and fed her salted beef until she went mad.”

Her eyes widened. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Of course I didn’t.”

“Why did you marry a woman who didn’t enjoy sex—especially given your overactive libido?”

“I didn’t know she was frigid until after we were wed.”

“You didn’t sleep with her before?”

“Nay,” he said, treading as carefully as if crossing a stream on wet, mossy rocks.

The truth was, he didn’t meet Sorcha until she was brought to Barrogill by her parents for the betrothal ceremony. The match had been arranged by their parents and neither he nor his bride had a say in the matter. Love matches were unheard of among noble families at that point in history. Marriages were made to merge fortunes and forge alliances.

“I couldn’t imagine marrying someone I hadn’t slept with.”

“Nor could I,
now
.”

“Did you divorce her?”

“Nay, she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Aye, well. So am I.”

Resentment weighed down on him like the stones once used to crush witches. Just like her, he’d never felt love—from his parents, his wives, or the whores he bedded. While he wasn’t enamored of his wives, he cared enough to be hurt by their rejection of his advances.

“Can we please talk about something else?” he asked. “Or better yet, not talk at all?”

They sat in silence for a few strained moments before she reached out, took one of his hands, and lifted it to her mouth. The desire killed by talk of Sorcha re-sparked as she kissed his knuckles, one by one.

“And your second wife? Where’s she now?”

The question threw sand on his reviving passion. “Also dead, I’m afraid.”

“Jesus, Callum, you sure have been unlucky in the marriage department.”

“Tell me about it,” he returned glumly.

“Would you ever consider marrying again?”

“Only under extraordinary circumstances.”

* * * *

Vanessa dozed off in Callum’s arms after making love, but woke alone. Seeing her chance to have a look around, she crawled out of bed, threw on a sweater and some jeans, and looked around for her mobile phone. If she did stumble onto evidence of the vampire, she’d need to snap a picture. Unfortunately, her phone was nowhere to be found.

Undeterred, she decided to start with the dungeon, which seemed the most logical place for a vampire to hide. First, though, she’d have to make her way to the dining room without arousing suspicion—or, better yet, enter through the hidden door in the woods. That way, if she was missed or got caught, she could claim she’d simply gone out for a walk.

Satisfied with her plan, she made her way through the castle and out a back door without being spotted. She walked the garden, searching the ground for the hidden entrance, but found no sign of a trapdoor. Heart beating fast, both from the exertion and her fear of discovery—yes, she had a cover story, but she’d still have to sell it—she circled the castle again and again, moving a few feet farther out with each go-round. As she completed each loop, she stopped to look around and listen. No one appeared and no human noises disturbed the sounds of nature.

Frustration thrummed in her blood as her fruitless search continued. Surely, Callum would have missed her by now and would appear any second. Would he detect the lie as he searched her eyes? More than likely.

Shit. Maybe she should give up for now and head back inside, then try again next chance she got—or just forget the outdoor access and enter via the dining room. First, though, she needed a breather. The exercise had made her sweaty and her legs were aching something awful.

Spying a bench nearby, she walked over and took a seat. Just as her pulse returned to normal, she saw movement among the manicured hedges. Her heart leapt into her throat as she strained to see what had caused the commotion.

When the culprit showed himself, she nearly shit herself. It was a lion—a full-grown fucking African lion. Her mind spun in search of an explanation. Had the animal escaped from a circus or wild animal park somewhere nearby? Wherever he’d come from, he probably wasn’t tame. She just hoped he wasn’t hungry. Heart hammering, hands shaking, she remained as still as a potted plant, praying he wouldn’t notice her. The big cat, to her dismay, looked right at her. She didn’t move or breathe. As much as she wanted to run, she knew it was the worst thing to do. Even if the lion wasn’t inclined toward eating her, running would trigger his hunting instincts.