The Faery Queen's Captive

Published by: eXtasy Books

ISBN :978-1-55410-819-0

Page :58

Word Count :14500

Publication Date :2010-08-18

Series : #

Heat Level :

Available Formats : The Faery Queen's Captive (pdf) , The Faery Queen's Captive (prc) , The Faery Queen's Captive (epub) , The Faery Queen's Captive (mobi)

Category : Erotic Romance , Fantasy Romance , Paranormal Romance , Romance

Product Code: 978-1-55410-819-0

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Recently-divorced Texas rancher Clay McGrady is in Ireland on business. During a sight-seeing venture, he wanders into a quiet forest. Spellbound, he's reminded of the fairy tales of his childhood, and finds himself yearning for a woman who will love him tender and fulfill his fantasies. How could he know that Aine, Queen of the Faeries, has read his heart…. One of Aine's most powerful gifts is a talent for mind reading. When she hears Clay's plea, it's clear he's lonely and in serious need of gratification. On the night he returns home, she appears to him, and takes him to physical heights he's never been. When morning dawns, he's spent, heartbroken, and confused: Was the dark-eyed, tantalizing beauty a dream? Drawn to his prowess, Aine returns night after night to Clay's bed and, as the weeks pass, her keen insights warn her that he plans to escape. Sadly, there's but one way for her captive to regain his freedom…. While investigating Clay's mysterious death, handsome Detective Jake Rickard is also lured into Aine's trap. Will he become yet another victim of her overzealous lovemaking, or will Rickard's clever plot force Aine to return to The Otherworld, alone?

Quiet rain, pecking at the windowpanes, roused Clay from a deep, exhausted slumber. He'd never been a deep sleeper, which made these nights with Aine pleasurable in that way, too.

Stretching carefully, to keep from waking her, he stifled a yawn. Punching the downy pillow under his neck, he rolled onto his side, listening as soft breaths puffed from her full lips.

She must have sensed him staring at her, for Aine stirred beside him, a whispered sigh warm against his cheek as she snuggled closer. Her full, firm breast pressed against his chest. Its nipple, still taut from their earlier lovemaking, reminded him of a pencil eraser, turning his grin to a satisfied smile--no way he would erase these last weeks from his memory!

Like most nights, Aine had appeared out of nowhere in the darkest hours after midnight, gauzy dress billowing in the breeze of the open French doors. He'd stopped questioning where she might have come from and focused, instead, on the purely euphoric fact that she was here. The picture of her standing there, voluptuous body silhouetted by silvery moonlight, shimmering hair cascading down her back like an ebony waterfall, seemed etched on the insides of his eyelids. And speaking of eyes…hers were enormous and smoldering dark. Each time she appeared, Aine first shackled him with that look. Then her right brow arched temptingly, and lifting her chin, she beckoned him nearer…

She never needed to invite him twice--to obey was to plumb the depths of sexual gratification…time and time and time again…

Tonight was no exception.

They did it standing up first, with her sandwiched between him and the thick honey-pine wall he'd hung that very morning. The scent of new wood mingled with Aine's sexy secretions, curling into his nostrils like an invisible narcotic. He'd tried not to batter at her too harshly, to protect her porcelain skin from chafing as it pressed against the hardwood. He'd gripped the underside of each well-muscled thigh, lifting her higher, then lower, helping her ride his torso. She'd linked her ankles behind him and locked on tight, until the wall behind her seemed as supple and pliable as the thick black rubber liner of his Koi pond. And Aine, like one of those enormous golden fish, leaped and dove, driving his meat deeper and deeper into her as she dug dainty heels into his ass cheeks.

"Don't be gentle," she'd growled, nibbling his earlobe. "I'm not fragile…"

Having learned the truth of that statement during prior sexcapades, Clay let her have it, hoping, even as he pounded away like a flesh-and-bone battering ram, that she wouldn't step away from the wall with knothole-shaped imprints on her deliciously rounded rump.

It went on and on that way for almost an hour before Aine rested her chin in the crook of his neck, panting like the winning Greyhound on its last lap around the racetrack. Waves of orgasmic ecstasy pulsed through her, and he felt every shudder, every tremor. Slowly, her legs loosed their grip on his torso and she stood, clinging tightly to him as thick juice sluiced from her slit. Captivated, he watched the creamy white stuff make the slow trek down one ballerina-like leg.

With no warning, she pranced away from him, hunkered down onto her hands and knees, and slowly crawled across the blood-red Persian rug, wagging that fabulous fanny as she went. He'd fallen asleep the night before, watching a TV documentary about white tigers. Aine's movements reminded him of the glorious, graceful animal. She glanced over one shoulder and, when their gazes locked, sent a silent, secret message on the invisible thread that connected them in mind and loin-- I am the wild-eyed, hungry huntress, she seemed to say, and I'm not at all pleased about having walked right by my prey.

One, slow stroke of her tongue across that pouty ruby red lower lip made him forget that he was that prey. Clay's cock sprang up again, throbbing harder than it had when he gave it to her against the wall. In two long strides and one short second, he was behind her, on his knees, mounting her from behind. He did it almost without thinking, like an instinct-driven beast. It amazed at how quickly and easily he slid into her. In, and out, in, and out again, first slow and easy, then harder and faster, until he could hear the wet, juicy ooze from his first orgasm bubbling from her cunt.

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The Faery Queen's Captive

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