The Witch's Dream - A Love Letter to Paranormal Romance (Black Swan 2) (40 page)

He looked down at the red ribbon sash at the waist of her gown. Something about that streak of soft, satiny red against the palette of pure white was arresting in its subconscious promise of raw, unvarnished, uninhibited sex. He took hold of one end of the ribbon tie. "Can I help get you out of this?" He pulled on the ribbon, trying to free the knot with big, masculine fingers.

"Here. Let me do that." She said it softly, wondering if he would remember that she had once said that to him in a dream.

He surrendered the red ribbon to her expertise with every intention of undressing while she did. He took hold of the hem of his tee shirt and started to pull upward, but his eyes caught and locked on her fingers undoing little mother of pearl buttons, such an effortless thing for her that would have made him look and feel clumsy. Still as a statue, he watched as she undid buttons to her navel, enough buttons to free the gown so that it would fall past the swell of her hips in a maddeningly soft swish of fabric. The loosened front closure gaped open with temptation, causing Storm to silently beg to see and touch the secrets still hidden beneath the gown. He was holding his breath in anticipation. Another minute and he would have forgotten all about his honorable intentions of preserving the integrity of the garment.

Rising to her feet with the grace of a dancer, almost as if she was performing an ancient ritual of seduction, she pulled the gown open, exposing her breasts, and let it slide from her shoulders so that it drifted down and pooled at her feet in front of where Storm was frozen in place, on his knees.

He was looking up at Litha's gloriously naked body, his lips parted, his hands still clutching the hem of his shirt. With eyes riveted on her nipples, his tongue absently poked out to wet his bottom lip and he swallowed so that she could see his throat work even in the moonlight.

The celebrated knight who was known for decisiveness, envied by others for his ability to think quickly in dubitable situations, was mesmerized, lost in indecision. He didn't know where to start. There were too many things he wanted all at once. One of those was to tell Litha that she was, without question, the most magnificent woman ever created. That was what he wanted to say, but his brain wasn't cooperating well enough to allow his mouth to form words.

Seeing that Storm was paralyzed and essentially struck mute by the sight of her nakedness was the sexiest and most flattering tribute Litha could have been paid. She would have been charmed right down to her socks, had she been wearing any. His rapt attention made her feel like nothing less than a goddess. One would think that a guy living in modern times, when there's no shortage of nudity to view, would be indifferent, even bored. But looking at Litha in the moonlight, her secrets bared to his view, she might as well have been the first unclothed woman he'd ever seen.

The eroticism of being so graphically and intensely admired by the man she loved heightened the excitement of every nerve ending and cell fiber to the point of needing touch like breath. Not to mention that her clitoris had bloomed into a deliciously demanding swell.

Litha returned to the nest her would-be lover had made on the ground, took the hem of Storm's shirt from him, lifted it away and flung it aside. The sight of his bared upper body was as exciting to her as hers was to him. Knowing that she was going to be in his arms momentarily, skin on skin, made her breath come even faster. She urged him to his knees and reached for the waistband of his jeans.

When the backs of her fingers smoothed across his stomach, he jerked out of inaction, quickly getting himself out of his own pants. Unable to wait for another second, Litha threw her arms around Storm's neck and arched into him. The velvet smooth sensation of bodies meeting made Storm groan out loud. It was a sound that Litha cut short by a decidedly needy kiss and a throaty moan of her own, inviting and imploring at the same time.

Storm explored every inch of her that could be reached with his hands without relinquishing the kiss. As he eased her down he cupped one breast and took its nipple under advisement, first visually and then with his tongue, relishing the way it grew harder and more demanding under his agonizingly slow ministration. When he slid his hand down her body toward her core, Litha first tensed in anticipation then jerked her pelvis toward him pleading for touch. His fingers eased up her inner thigh until he made contact with the heat between her folds, so wet and ready for him. She started to cry out, but he quickly put a large hand over her mouth.

"Litha," he said quietly and breathlessly into her ear, causing a shiver to travel the length of her spine while her nipples drew up even tighter. "Sound travels on the river at night. We have to try to be quiet unless we want to put on a show."

She nodded.

"Are you ready for me?"

She shook her head.

"Do you want me to take my hand away from your mouth?"

She said something into his hand that he couldn’t understand. He lifted his palm from her lips.

“You're welcome to smother my screams, but only if you're wearing a condom.”

He grabbed his discarded jeans, reached into a front pocket and produced several.

“Right here.”
She chuckled and whispered: “That’s a lot of condoms. Are you bragging?”

“Let’s find out.”

The way she fitted him for protection was as much a turn on as everything else she did. He nestled into the cradle of her thighs and settled there, feeling like a perfect fit, as if the moment had been preordained at the conception of creation. She pulled her knees up and caressed him by rubbing her smooth calf against his back, urging him on. When he entered her, she cried out a pleasure that was complete and completely unexpected since she had never been particularly vocal, but, thanks to Storm's warm and capable hand, only the two of them knew it. In a strange way the necessity of secrecy added a heightened excitement to their lovemaking and punctuated the intimacy that only they two shared.

Litha's glowing skin was evidence that she was hot as a pressure cooker, on the verge of coming right away which was a merciful blessing for Storm. He wanted it to be good for her, but couldn't have held out long. His arousal had been desperate even before the tip of her tongue had peeked out to touch the center of his palm where he held it against her mouth, but that tiny touch of moisture threatened to send him spiraling out of control.

He reached between them with his free hand and slid the tip of a finger between her folds to gently tease the swollen bud. Her response was instant and fervent. When her walls began to grip and milk his cock he tightened his hand just a little so that her screams didn't go farther than the little world of their pallet on the ground. When he realized he was going to lose his own battle with a need to shout, he shoved his forearm so far into his mouth that he left teeth marks.

After a few seconds he realized he had forgotten how big he was and let his full weight rest on the curvy body supporting him. Thinking he might be crushing her, he pulled up quickly saying, "Sorry. Carried away," in a husky voice.

"No, that would be me who was carried away." She gave him a languid smile as her hand drifted down his spine in slow, satisfied, affectionate strokes. "S'okay. Felt good."

He brushed a kiss over her cheek and found wetness. He pulled back so he could see her, "Are you crying? I did hurt you, didn't I?"

She shook her head back and forth adamantly. "No." She said no, but her eyes were glistening. "Happy tears."

He relaxed just a little and put his elbows on either side of her so he could push tears away with the pads of both thumbs. "Seems oxymoronic to me."

She laughed quietly. "You're too smart for your own good, you know that?"

"That's what they used to say when... I was a kid."

Even in the darkness he could see that she was looking at him with something in her eyes that could be mistaken for adoration if he let his imagination run away with him; that look he'd seen at dinner in Siena. He ducked his head and brushed his cheek against hers.

Later, on her knees, sitting back on her heels and not the least inhibited about her nudity, Litha said, "Remember when you said you wanted someone entertaining?"

He laughed softly. "Unfortunately I do. What an idiotic thing to say."

"Look at me for a minute and don't look away."

"Why?"

"I don't think you believed me when I said I could be entertaining. I'm going to prove it."

It had been a long time since a woman had tried to tell Storm what to do. Undoubtedly this was the first time he had ever been both pleased and amused to obey. After a minute passed he smiled and reached for her.

"Well, it's not that looking at you without clothes on isn't entertaining. Because certainly it is, but strictly speaking, I meant something more along the lines of..."

She put her fingers to his lips to shush him and smiled.

"Okay. Turn around now."

He turned his head and his mouth dropped open of its own accord. Thousands upon thousands of fireflies hovered over the river and danced in the trees on the other side. They swooped, darted, and flitted. It was a spectacle that was magical beyond imagination. Storm laughed out loud, a sound so joyful and so rare it startled him, almost making him jump like a puppy with a grown dog's bark.

In that moment, he realized he'd never felt that before - that special happiness that transcends life on earth, taking you to a place in spirit called rapture.

When he turned to look at Litha, there were fireflies encircling her, lighting her face.
So that's what love looks like.
When he thought about the fact that he might have missed this, might have missed out on loving Litha...

He laughed again as he reached for her and pulled her into a thank you and thank-the-gods-for-you kiss. Her naked body went soft and invitingly pliant as she made a sound that could only be called a murmur of happiness. When he pulled back and looked around, the fireflies were gone as if they'd never been there.

He smiled down at her. "Without a doubt you are the most entertaining woman who has ever lived. If you had just said so in the first place, we could have saved ourselves a lot of aggravation," he teased.

As they drank wine and nibbled from the cheese sampler he'd bought, Storm relaxed into the simple pleasure of being with a woman. He'd spent so much of his life in the company of men, doing things that were unsuitable for their delightfully softer female counterparts.

Lying on his back with Litha snuggled into his side, her head on his chest, he told her that he'd been thinking it was time for something different; that maybe all the changes around him meant moving on would be the best thing. Litha listened quietly, encouraging him to feel comfortable enough with her to say whatever was on his mind. She only hoped that whatever change he was envisioning had a place for her in it.

"Do you ever want to tell me what happened when you disappeared through that wall?'

She tensed. "Yes. But not tonight."

She knew she should have told him about her demon blood, but she had to know what it was like to be with him, even if it was only once. If it was wrong for her to withhold that little bit of information about herself, then she'd rather live with a little guilt than a lifetime of wondering.

Litha tiptoed back into the bunkroom. She saw that Elora's bunk, directly underneath hers, was empty. Katrina was AWOL as well. She pulled the sheet up to her waist. She was glad she didn't have a bunk mate, because she smelled like sex; sex mixed with Storm's muskiness. It was powerful and raw and she wanted to permanently imprint the scent on her memory so that she could make it last forever. She closed her eyes and smiled in the darkness.

Elora woke with a start. It took a second to remember where she was. She'd slept in too many different beds in too many different rooms lately. She shook her mate and called to him in a forceful, breathy whisper.

"Ram! Ram!"

He opened his eyes, raised his head and glanced around to see what might have disturbed his wife, but found nothing threatening in the darkness or the silence.

She grabbed his hand and pulled it over to cover her flat tummy. "I felt the baby move."

He came fully awake then, turning toward her and pressing his hand gently, but more firmly. They lay still, waiting, looking at each other in the dim light, and sure enough, after a few seconds her stomach seemed to move of its own accord under his palm. Ram's face split into a grin so big it was contagious and Elora found herself grinning back at him with only the moonlight as their witness.

Without moving his hand away, he snuggled closer.

"What's his name?"

"Aelshelm Storm Laiken-Hawking. We'll call him Helm."

Ram mouthed it in the darkness like he was trying it on. Then he whispered, "Helm! Stop eatin' out of the dog bowl right now or we'll be in big trouble with your mum!"

Elora found out how hard it can be to laugh without making a sound. Ram began a series of possible scenarios that all began with Helm exclamation mark. At length Elora realized he could go on like this forever, probably recounting incidents from his own history. It could have been her imagination, but it seemed to her that every time Ram whispered, "Helm!" the baby jumped.