"The Summoning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morgen Shelby)

He’d been so young, yet his control surprised her. She’d trusted him once, so long ago. She knew other ways to prevent conception. After that first time he’d trusted her enough to let her do as she would with him. She’d led him to her bed, not unlike this one, a raised platform covered with fine woven linen and soft cushioned pillows.

Had she really thought him too young? She had been wrong. It was a man’s body that lay beneath her, fresh with youth, rippling everywhere with strength and power than had not yet learned the bitterness of defeat.

The Warrior’s body was not so different.

In fact, he was quite gorgeous. A superb specimen of manhood. Time had added a few lines around those emerald green eyes, had dusted his black hair with streaks of silver, like a shooting star blazing across the night sky. He had the physique of a Warrior who had fought his way to where he was. If she was still here in the morning, she would ask him to teach her more of this world. She would make him tell her the story of the long scar that crossed his chest, and the fine line along the edge of his jawbone.

For now, she touched, memorizing the shape of him once again, the texture of his skin just where his breastbone hollowed above his heart, learning once again how he loved to taste her ears, her breasts, her eyelids, her lips.

He watched as she pulled back, lowered her mouth to take his length between her lips, moving slowly, loving the feel of his body, so strong, so powerful, so finely attuned to hers. He shifted beneath her until they lay side by side, his mouth hovering inches from the apex of her thighs. Yes. Yes! She wanted—she needed—

For a moment her mouth went still on his cock as his breath warmed her already burning fires. His hands took their time, curling down from her knees to stroke the inside of her thighs. She opened to him instantly, already wet with desire. His clever fingers found their way to her thick patch of hair, stroking as they parted her flesh for the invasion of his tongue.

“So beautiful.”

Once again she felt beautiful. She ran her tongue over the tip of his cock, just below the head, feathering over the sensitive edge. “So are you.”

He jumped at as she blew her breath over his wet skin, his hips thrusting toward the promise of her kiss. Slow gave way to impassioned as his tongue lapped at her with sudden wantonness, teasing her clit, rimming her opening, his tongue sliding deep into her hot, needy cunt.

She swallowed him fully, taking his length deep into her throat, her lips teasing his balls as she sucked him like a sweet prize from the pastry chef. Her hands busied themselves with rhythmically squeezing his ass, kneading him like a large cat. Then she forgot altogether what she was doing as he took her clit between his lips, sucking as he ran his tongue over her, his fingers now sliding deep inside her, until she could feel them stretching her as no man ever had.

At least in this lifetime.

Damn. She didn’t even know for sure whose lifetime this was.

She hadn’t time to puzzle over that as the first orgasm tore through her, leaving her weak and helpless but far from sated in its wake. Reminded by his sudden thrusts in her mouth as she came, her muscles clenching around his probing fingers, she set to work on his cock again.

Damn he was big. There was no way she could suck his cock and his balls at the same time. She freed her hand from under his hip and used it to stroke his balls as she sucked his cock, stopping only when she needed to let a groan escape as he sank his tongue back deep into her shuddering muscles.

As if observing herself from a distance, Marylin watched the two of them there on the bed, a circle of entwined limbs laid out like a sacrifice on Bast’s altar. If this was sex, she had come to Roanen’s bed a virgin. A forty-five-year-old virgin. Certainly—damn, she found she couldn’t remember her almost ex-husband’s name! Marylin’s husband. She could picture his penis, though. She suppressed a giggle as she fit the pieces together. Don. Dinghy Dong she’d named him. Though she’d never had the guts to call him that to his face. Well, Don had never made her feel like this.

As if he sensed her momentary absence, Roanen nipping at her clit, sucked her back to the present. She exploded instantly, screaming as the orgasm shook her. Lights flashed before the eyes. Lights? They were not merely lights. Stars painted the night sky as she fought for breath. Whole constellations formed before her eyes. She fought for consciousness as the spasms shook her to her very soul.

He took control then, while she melted beneath him, too limp to protest. With a flash of insight, she knew he’d always been in control. From the grief he’d allowed her to see when she first awoke to the power he’d given her and the time he’d allowed her to remember, he’d always been in control.

He rolled her now face down in her pillows. Stroking her body with long, slow sweeps of his hands, he caressed places she’d never thought to find erogenous, like the backs of her elbows and the base of her skull. “Tell me what ye want from me, my love.”

He’d manipulated her, reawakened her, and done it all slowly and gently until she didn’t know what was real anymore. What was more important was that she knew what he was doing, and she didn’t care. She just wanted him to love her. Her and only her. “I want you. I would live the oath I swore before Bast once again. Whoever, wherever we are, I want you, Roanen.”

“The goddess goes by another name now, my love,” he warned her, though she knew not why. “Seven gods and goddesses there are, in the shape of a star. Earth takes the center, her children around her. We follow the Way of The Wolf, and are known by her name. We are Clan Wolf.”

“Her name matters not. My name matters not. I love you. I have always loved you. For now and until the end of time.”

“There is much in this name,” he assured her. “I would teach ye the ways of my people. Our gods mean much to us. We honor the Wolf in all that we do.”

What was he trying to tell her? She searched her mind for some knowledge of wolves. For some resource of her mind she garnered the knowledge that wolves fought as a pack, an efficient killing machine, and they mated for life.

Any other thought she might have had got lost under his touch. He knelt between her thighs, raising her hips toward that scalding rod she’d sucked down her throat. Dear God. She might love him, but she wasn’t insane. If he tried to put that…