Tyriel licked her lips as she stared at his erection, thick and hard, rising from a thatch of golden hair, a gleaming drop seeping from it. Her eyes blurred again, fae sight pushing in on her and Irian’s true form wavered in her vision. Her heart twisted in her chest, reminding her which man had come to her, which one had reached for her.
The pain nearly tore her in two.
“No,” Irian said roughly, kneeling on the bed between her thighs.
She shook her head mutely. It wasn’t a denial of touch—that she craved, and it hurt to the very core of her that she was so needy, she’d settle even for this.
But that Irian could see that pain…
“No,” he said again, but softer and magic pulsed from him, until it wasn’t fae sight causing her vision to blur and alter him. Enchantment wrapped around them both and when he touched her this time, she felt broader hands. When his hair fell over his shoulder to tangle with hers, it was longer, waving locks of black, similar to her own.
The heavy body mounting hers was broader and more scarred and when she dared looked into his eyes, it was the dark brown gaze of a Wildling man she saw.
“It is Irian who takes you,” he said as he grasped her hands and jerked them over her head, pinning her down. He wedged a muscled thigh between her legs, spreading her thighs wide to take him. Eyes locked on her face, he rocked against her wet heat.
“Tell me, wild love…who touches you?” he murmured as he lowered his head to take a reddened nipple into his mouth.
Straining against his grasp, a sob fell past her lips. He pushed her nipple against the roof of his mouth and suckled deep, rolling his eyes upward to stare at her. Hot and wicked, his tongue and teeth worked the nipple into one aching point of pleasure until she was whimpering and squirming from just the lightest touch of his tongue on her flesh.
She stared down into his eyes, then let her gaze roam over him as she took in minute details she’d never noticed when he was in his spectral form.
A hair-thin scar bisected his left eyebrow, and another sliced down his right shoulder…scars she had never noticed before.
“Who touches you?” he demanded as he kissed a blazing line of kisses between her breasts and locked his teeth around the other nipple drawing it tight and listening to her gasp.
“Irian…”
With a ragged groan, he tore his mouth from her breast and positioned himself at the wet, swollen entrance to her pussy, staring down into her eyes. “Years, I have waited. Years without end.” Then he said nothing else as he slowly forged his way into her body, his thick, hard length slicing through her as she stared helplessly, fascinated, into his eyes, arms stretched overhead, ragged gasps falling from her lips.
She was begging by the time he was buried inside her, pleading and rocking against him, whipping her head back and forth. His cock jerked within her sheath and she whimpered, the muscles in her pussy tightening around him hungrily as she rocked against him.
Slowing, Irian lowered his body down atop her.
If she’d been capable of thought, she might have wondered at the heaviness of him—it was only a glamour enchantment, wasn’t it? Truly, it was still Aryn’s body, under Irian’s control.
But everything felt different.
His weight, the feel of his body, the texture of his hair, even his taste and she was too tangled up in the spell of his lust and her own to think past anything but the glory of him filling her.
“Harder,” she begged, needing to chase away even the memory of the empty ache she’d lived with for so long.
Her mind spun out of control and she sobbed as his mouth covered hers, feeling his cock jerk within her sheath. His hand released her wrists, trailed down the length of her arms, over the side of her breast, her ribcage and waist as he shifted his weight. She felt the phantom brush of his fingers on her clit and she screamed into his mouth as he rode her harder, filling her with deep thrusts of his cock, a groan vibrating from his chest.
He shifted his angle, moving higher on her body so each time he slammed into her, he rubbed against that bed of nerves buried by the mouth of her womb. Tyriel’s pussy convulsed around him rhythmically and Irian growled against her mouth, rising up to his knees, grabbing her legs, spreading them wide, holding her open with one hand behind each knee as he stared down at her, watching as he pushed his thick, dark cock between the plump wet lips of her sex, his lids low and hooded over his dark eyes.
With short deep digs of his hips, he filled her, staring down into her eyes hungrily, greedily.
“Y’ cannot know how long I’ve waited,” he muttered. Her eyes locked with his, captivated, as he released one of her legs and trailed his hand down her body. “Days, months, years without end.”
Thumb and forefinger closed around one dark rose-red nipple and he plucked it, smiling as she arched with a weak scream.
“Such a pretty, pretty thing…wild, wild Wildling-elf. So tight, so wet, soft as silk, sweet…”
Tyriel’s head was spinning. Her heart pounded in her chest, heavy and hard, echoing the slow, pounding thrusts of his cock inside her vagina as he pushed into her. The tight wet clasp of her sex hugged his cock, clung to him as he pulled out and surged back inside. His hand slid further down her body and pinched her clit, then rotated over it in sure steady strokes until her pussy started to convulse around him.
He growled, bending low and wrapping his arms tightly around her, bracing her weight for his thrusts with a steely, corded embrace and banding her against his heavy length as he shuddered. Against her hair, he started to groan. “My name…who am I?”
But Tyriel barely heard him as she fisted her hands in the silky skeins of his raven-black hair, the climax inside her womb exploding outward and arching her up until she was breathless and blind from the pleasure, bucking against him, liquid pleasure sliding from her, coating his cock, the muscles in her pussy locking down rhythmically around his sex and stroking him into climax.
And in a low, broken moan, she whimpered, “Irian.”
Moments later, she sighed as he stroked her hair and soothed her into sleep. His name slid from her lips one final time as she slid into slumber. “Irian…”
The guilt in his gut faded away to a dull ache as he wrapped his arms around her and rested.
He didn’t really sleep, not even in this body. He hovered in a semiconscious state that charged his mind and magic, and allowed his soul to wander, his mind to remember. So much to remember, and so very little that was pleasant. When Irian dragged himself back to the present, he was aware of Tyriel’s firm little ass, snug against his cock, the sweet scent of her hair, those wild Jiupsu curls spilling all over his arms and chest, tickling his chin. His cock throbbed against her ass, a sweet ache, one he hadn’t had the luxury of feeling in years.
Ahhh…what was he to do? He could not allow the lass to leave. Such danger lurked for her. The blackness crowded at the very edges of Irian’s mind, his soul. Such a powerful thing she was…how could he force her into staying? If she wasn’t elvin, he could make her—not through physical force or violence. The idea sickened him. Had she been weaker willed, he could have intimidated her into bending to his will.
But not Tyriel.
And of course, if he tried to bar her from leaving, well, she could throw his bearer against a fucking wall. Elf-kind were strong, stronger than mortal men.