Page 61 of The Scald Crow
“I’m going to make you come.” His rumbling voice demanded obedience. He dragged my nipple into his mouth and suckled the arrowed peak. He dropped one hand, containing me with the other, working his thick fingers into my aching flesh, stroking the outer cleft, rousing my need.
I threw my head back against the wall, my breath rasping, my sex quaking.
He didn’t stop. He angled his mouth over mine and suckled my tongue, taking my breath away.
The walls of my pussy fluttered. That. That was what I wanted. When I thought he would release me, he tightened his grip in full control of my pleasure. I arched and bowed, the heat ratcheting higher. In his eyes, I saw a man obsessed. Predatory. Hungry.
His breath raged with mine.
“Come for me,mo ghrá.” He entered my sex with one long finger, sliding between the slip of lace and the corded thong, cupping my pussy in his curved palm as he had before. He rocked and squeezed and made my body thrum.
I was unaware of when he released my arms. They were dead weights clenched around his neck. I bucked into him and ground into that single digit. He made me work for it.
When he suckled my bottom lip, I shattered against him, and a fury of heated embers burst through the sky.
“How did you do that?” My voice was unrecognizable.
This man enjoyed wreaking havoc.
“The next time, I will taste your sweet nectar.” He traced my cheekbone with his lips.
“You made me come just like that.” I swept my tongue over my dry lips, thirsting for more of him.
“The next time, you will part your legs for me. Your sweetness will be mine.” He kneaded my wet pussy. “Your nectar will flow over my lips, over and over again.”
“What’s wrong with now?” My breath hitched, surprising even me.
His hands circled my breasts, his fingers pinning the arrowed nubs, and then he kissed me again, exploring deeply, flicking the roof of my mouth, his hunger insatiable.
“You will take pleasure from no other.” He murmured into my ear, leaning into me, planting me against the rough wall.
“What?” I let my arms hang loose at my sides and took comfort in the solid wall holding my weight. Warmth brushed my skin, fire racing from one pleasure point to another.
“I will not take you that way nor lose you to another.” He splayed his big hands on my rib cage, his thumbs sweeping over my breasts. He grazed each nub with his warm tongue.
“Hmm.” I ached for him.
“Call me old-fashioned, Calla Sweet, but I intend to have you forever.” He scraped each nub repeatedly, suckling the arrowed peaks until my knees buckled.
“Forever?” Forever flowed through my mind. What he wanted thrilled yet terrified me: a promise, a commitment. Yesterday, I would have jumped at the chance to touch a man to experience such pleasure. But my entire world had changed. How could I promise forever when I didn’t know what I was? When I didn’t know him?
“You will know your heart when the spirits rise. Under the full moon, with the sea lapping the shore, you will give yourself to me, and I to you, this coming Bealtaine Eve.” He rolled the peaked tips of my breasts between his fingers, drowning me in desire. “Now,mo ghrá, let’s put you back together.”
He left me undone.
8
Colm
“Lord Jaysus, laddie. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” Eamon sat at a wide oak desk, resting one withered hand on his shillelagh while the other lay on a thick manilla folder.
Blue light illuminated the perimeter of a circular room almost twenty feet in diameter. Within the domed walls of that medieval dovecote, a row of monitors hummed, with one constantly in motion, tracking lines of information over the screen. The fiber optic cable entering the building transmits data at the speed of light. Beneath the false floor, a six-foot-high storage space housed classified files.
The domed structure stood alone in the landscape, far enough away from avian, animal, and human predators. The castellated roof, topped with a cupola, where rock doves entered at leisure, nesting in various ridges and alcoves. The interior resembled an ocean cave. The soft croon and constant feather ruffling added another dimension to the meaning of clandestine operations.
Who would have thought the nation’s security would befall a man issuing orders from a pigeon coop? The smell of bird droppings was something I would never get used to.
A red border collie lifted its head, slapping its tail on the stone floor and watching the older man’s every move as he rose from the desk and shuffled from one nesting box to another, whispering soft words, the pigeons cooing in response. He returned with a basket brimming with speckled eggs. “For your mam, laddie.”
