The Fae's Fire (BBW, Paranormal Erotic Short Story) (3 page)

We
lay in the grass for what seemed like ages, my head on his chest, his hand gently stroking the soft folds of my stomach. Too be honest, I couldn’t have stood if the entire Loughsidhe police force came swooping down on us. My legs were still quivering ten minutes after.

“I don’t even know your name,” I said finally when my voice returned.

“No, but you always know where to find me don’t you?” He smiled down at me, the teasing now gone in a haze of satisfied desire.

“At the lough.
It’s a sacred place, isn’t it? A
protected
place.”

“Yes, it is and always will be. Go to sleep now, Moira, a
stóirín.” Feather-light kisses brushed my eyelids. From very far away I heard his voice, “Go to sleep and dream of love and desire.”

I awoke early the next morning, stark naked beneath the birches. My clothes, so casually cast aside last night, were folded next to me. For a minute I had no idea where I was and then it all returned in a wave, memories of heat and desire, silver skin beneath the moon. Easy enough to assume I had had a particularly vivid dream or drink-induced hallucination.
Pink elephants were the cliché but why not a fairy lover instead? Well, it was hard to deny the evidence even in the light of day. Love bites still dotted my exposed breasts and his seed was dry on the tops of my thighs. Everything between my legs felt swollen and satis
fied. I could convince myself that an unusually attractive man from town, possibly really,
really
into role-playing had seduced me last night but my heart knew the truth. All of my senses cried out that he had been from another world: the sight, the smell, the taste of his skin that lingered on my tongue.

By the time I stumbled back onto the high street I was moderately well put together. There was no denying in my cocktail dress, stilettoes slung around one of my fingers
, that I was doing the walk of shame but I’d be damned if I didn’t make it look good. Luckily enough, I only encountered a few older men and women on the street, busily sweeping their stoops and raising metal grates that had covered their shops for the night.

I paused momentarily before The Crooked Hill, the bar from last night. For some reason, everything before I reached the park had grown hazy in my memory. There had been a bartender, a cute one. I had considered bringing him back to my hotel.
What had his name been?

As if my thoughts had conjured him, the bartender—
Aidan, that’s right
—appeared walking down the alleyway pulling a garbage can out to the curb. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me and looked me over carefully.

“You’ve been to the lough,” he said, a trace of disappointment in his voice.

“Yes, I must have fallen asleep. Strange dreams…” How could I explain my night to him or anyone? For starters, I didn’t need to end up in a psychiatric ward somewhere explaining to an overly sympathetic doctor that I had indeed had my brains fucked out by a supernatural creature.

“There’s no need to lie to me, Moira.” I didn’t remember telling him my name. “I can smell him on you and I know the look of a girl who’s been fay-struck or fay-fucked if you prefer.”

“I don’t need your judgment,
Aidan
,” I said throwing his name back at him. If he was going to critique my love life I decided we must be on a first name basis. I turned to march angrily back to my hotel when he reached out and touched my arm tentatively.

“Nah, nah don’t be like that. I’m worried about you
is all. They’re not like us, you understand? Their hearts are still and cold. Women who love Cas Corach do not meet happy endings, as a rule.”

I smiled, softened by the true concern I heard in his voice. “I hear you and I
will
be careful. Thank you and see you around.”

I turned away once again and started walking down the street. Whether Aidan would be comforted by my words I didn’t know but I didn’t have the mental energy to worry about him now. It was 8 o’clock. I had a half an hour to shower and change before I met my family for breakfast in the hotel café. It was going to be an awkward meeting. They wouldn’t understand why I wasn’t going on to Dublin with them anymore. They wouldn’t understand when I told them I didn’t know when I would be back in America. But I had made up my mind. I had a date on a moonlit shore tonight and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
For all the worlds.