Sticks and Stone Page 7

  She lifted the branch out of her suitcase and whipped it back and forth in front of him. It whistled as it cut through the air.

  Dermot’s entire body trembled with eager fear. His cock hardened and jutted forward, making a tent in the front of his pants and pulling the fabric tight against his ass. A soft whine escaped his throat, like a dog whimpering for a promised treat.

  Eileen smiled and lifted one hand to encompass the guest room. “Here?”

  He shook his head. “My room. This way.”

  He led her down the interminably long hallway to the master bedroom. The Safari Suite, as he’d nicknamed it.

  The heavy wooden furniture was embellished with leopard-, cheetah-, and lion-skin prints. Mosquito netting draped the bed, matching the black and tan gauze panels curtaining the window.

  “It’s all faux,” he hastened to reassure her. “I wouldn’t let the designer use real animal skins.”

  “Harm no one.” Eileen bestowed a brilliant smile upon him, and slapped the branch against the bedspread with a sharp snap.

  Dermot jumped. The blood rushed to his cock, leaving him lightheaded, and the plaintive whine broke from his throat again.

  She stroked the branch across the shoulder of his suit coat, caressed his neck, then slid the branch inside his open jacked and down his chest. The tip flicked one of his nipples through the fine cotton of his shirt, wrenching a groan from him. Then the branch stroked lower still, and his stomach muscles clenched in trembling anticipation. She hesitated at his waistline, then dipped the branch and lightly tapped his cock.

  He surged forward, heat flaring in his groin, and groaned. “Oh, yes, please. Yes.”

  “Strip,” she ordered.

  Dermot yanked off his suit jacket and flung it against the wall. His trembling fingers seemed unable to grasp the tiny buttons on his shirt, so he simply pulled it over his head. There was a moment of resistance, then the offending buttons gave way. He yanked his hands free of the imprisoning cuffs and tossed the shirt after the jacket.

  His belt was next, followed by his pants. The brush of fabric against his cock as he wrestled with the button and zip was maddening, but he persevered, and soon freed his cock from the tangle of his briefs as well. His pants fell to his ankles. He stepped out of them, getting rid of his shoes at the same time, then balanced on first one foot then the other to remove his socks.

  Completely naked, he waited for Eileen to tell him what to do next.

  She’d been busy while he’d been disrobing, and had pulled all the covers off of the bed, leaving just the black and tan fitted sheet.

  She tossed a leopard-printed pillow into the center of the bed.

  “Lay down, and cradle your cock in that.”

  When he looked at her in confusion, she smiled. “I don’t want you coming too early. I want to find out just how much we can hurt you without doing any harm.”

  He shivered, his balls trying to pull up, even as his cock hardened still further and molten desire filled his veins.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  He crawled up on the bed and lay face down, his cock nestling into the soft embrace of the feather pillow.

  Eileen stroked his ass, her soft hand warm against his quivering flesh.

  “Your scratches have healed nicely. Good.”

  He thought again of the blood coursing down his legs from the dryad’s beating, and cold fear clutched his heart and balls. Then Eileen slapped his ass, and he felt only hot desire.

  The bed shifted as she climbed onto it and straddled his legs. The soft denim of her jeans caressed his thighs.

  Her fingers stroked the cleft in his ass. “The having is as easy as the wanting if you say the word.”

  “Yes!” he cried.

  Her palm slapped his ass, driving him into the pillow. It was a poor substitute for the wet embrace of her mouth or vagina. Using both hands, she covered his ass with stinging slaps.

  His hips rose and fell beneath her, matching her rhythm. His cock thrust in and out of the feather pillow with each swat.

  Dermot grunted at each blow, aching for more. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. Higher, harder, faster, stronger. Something. Something that would turn this sweet stinging pain into the full-throated bellowing agony of ecstasy.

  She paused then, and ran her hands over his tender skin. “Your ass is a lovely shade of pink. All warmed up.”

  A shudder rippled through him. She’d only been warming him up. Now the real hitting would start.

  The wych elm branch cracked against his ass. He bucked beneath her, startled by the sudden pain, but pinned to the bed by her weight across his legs.

  The branch cracked across the other side of his ass. His body twitched again, this time arching up his torso and thrusting his hips down.

  The pillow cradled his cock in softness, promising soothing relief from the sharp pain in his ass. Dermot groaned, and ground his hips into the pillow, caressing his hot cock. The branch fell again, thrusting him into the soft feathers.

  Soon he was bucking and humping with Eileen’s new rhythm, each slash of the branch driving his hard cock into the warm embrace of soft down. His world collapsed to the twin sensations of painful lashes against his ass and the sweet thrust of his cock into the waiting feathers. The tension between the pleasure and the pain built within him, shaking him with fevered chills.

  He groaned and gasped in delicious agony, balanced on the knife edge between buildup and release. His cock was huge, swollen as hard as it had been for the dryad, and every blow on his ass pumped more blood into it.

  The feathers scraped and scratched, clawing his cock as he thrust again and again, straining for the release that eluded him. Hoarse, harsh vocalizations ripped from his throat, grunts and whines and broken whimpers. His fingers tore at the sheet, searching, always searching for the secret that would send him over the edge. And still the whip rose and fell against his ass, marking the time in which his body writhed.

  The whip fell again, one last blow that was finally too much for his abused flesh to take. With a scream of agonized delight, he spasmed, hot come bursting in a geyser to rival Old Glory.

  Moaning in ecstasy, he rocked against the sodden pillow, wringing the last drops from his spent cock. He was still rocking gently when he fell into an exhausted sleep.

  * * * * *

  Dermot woke slowly, curled around Eileen and cuddled beneath his thick comforter. His leg covered hers, and one of his hands loosely cupped her breast. She was deliciously, delightfully naked.

  He snuggled closer, pressing as tightly against her back as he could, and nuzzled the side of her neck. As he shifted his leg, his ass throbbed dully, reminding him of the glorious whipping she’d given him.

  And afterward, she’d cleaned him up and reassembled the bed before climbing in beside him. What a woman.

  He tugged and teased her breast. Her responsive nipple hardened against his palm. Continuing to toy with her nipple, he scraped his teeth lightly along her neck, then followed with openmouthed kisses.

  Eileen sighed deeply in her sleep, and shifted slightly, turning her head to the side and angling her chest into his hand.

  He eased his other hand down between her legs, and delved between her folds. Her hips rocked slowly, taking his fingers into her a fraction of an inch at a time. His cock firmed, tucked in the cleft of her rocking ass, and Dermot purred with pleasure.

  “Dermot?” Her voice was thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispered. “Does it matter?”

  She wiggled her ass against him and giggled. “By the circle, you’re hard again? What does it take to deflate that thing?”

  Fair was fair. He wiggled his fingers, transforming her giggle into a breathy sigh of pleasure.

  “I hope we never find out,” he answered.

  “Mmmm.”

  They fell silent, enjoying the slow movement of his fingers slipping inside her and her ass rocking against his cock.


  “I need my hand back for a moment,” he murmured in her ear.

  “Must you?”

  “I promise you’ll be happy with the result.”

  She sighed. “Very well.”

  He chuckled at her obvious reluctance, giving her one last wiggle of his fingers before he pulled his hand free. Then he rolled to the side and reached for the drawer of his nightstand. His fingers fluttered among the cascade of condom packages within, finally nudging one to the front where he could grab it.

  He ripped the package open and rolled the lubricated condom over his jutting cock. Then he snuggled close to Eileen again, resting the head of his cock against the opening of her ass as his hand slid between her thighs. She eagerly opened her legs, welcoming his fingers into her wet and waiting warmth.

  He flexed his fingers, pulling a moan from her, and pressed lightly on her hips, rocking her backward. The very tip of his cock slid into her ass.

  “Oh! What are you…?”

  Softly, Dermot rocked her forward onto his hand, then backward onto his cock. The entire head slipped into her ass.

  She moaned again.

  He let out a shaky breath, and kissed her neck.

  “It’s up to you. Take me as slow and as deep as you want to go.”

  She clenched her ass muscles and he groaned. He held her, unmoving, and she slowly relaxed. Tentatively, she rocked forward, sighing as his fingers slid deeper into her. Rocking backward, his cock slid an equal depth into her ass.

  They sighed together.

  “Don’t stop kissing me,” she whispered.

  “Never.”

  With mouth and tongue, he swept gentle kisses over the pulse pounding in her neck. He kissed her shoulder and behind her ear. All the while, she rocked back and forth, until his folded hand was buried in her up to his wrist, and his cock was sheathed to the balls in her ass.

  “God, baby, you feel so good,” he murmured in her ear.

  She let out a broken sob. “Love me, Dermot. Please. Love me now.”

  He rolled her over so that she was impaled on his hand. Flexing his fingers, he stroked the walls of her vagina as he pulled his cock partially out and thrust deeply into her ass.

  She moaned. “Yes.”

  Twice more, he stroked her with his hand and cock. Thick lubricant coated his fingers and flowed down his arm, increasing with every stroke. His cock grew firmer with each thrust into her tight ass, until he was hard enough that he feared hurting her if he pulled out and tried to enter her again.

  Holding her tightly, Dermot rolled them over again, so he was on his back and she was lying on top of him. He gasped as their combined weight pressed his tender ass into the bed. His cock swelled in response, and Eileen shuddered and moaned, her ass muscles clenching around his rigid cock.

  He started rocking beneath her, rolling his hips up and down to find all of the tender spots she’d left on his ass. Every time he pressed against one, his cock jumped within her, and she moaned and writhed above him, rubbing herself against his hand buried deep within her.

  He licked and kissed her neck, shoulder, and back, uncaring what he tasted except that it was Eileen’s skin. His buried hand stroked and fondled, while his free hand roamed over her stomach, ribs, and breasts, sometimes caressing her and sometimes simply clutching her tightly as they rocked back and forth.

  His blood pounded in his ears, deafening him to the labored rasp of his breathing and Eileen’s sharp cries. No longer able to hear her response, he focused on the feel of her, flowing hot and wet around his hand, and clenching tight around his cock.

  She grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his skin, and forced his hand deeper still. His middle finger slipped through her narrow cervix.

  She went wild, bucking her hips as tremor after tremor rippled through her muscles. Deep muscles clenched the length of his cock just as she slammed backward, driving her weight onto the tender spot on his ass.

  He grabbed her and held on as he came, arching in an instinctive final thrust as he filled the condom with his seed, driving his hand deeper at the same time. She screamed something in Gaelic, then collapsed limply on top of him.

  His hand slid out of her in a wet flood, and his flaccid cock slipped free of her sticky ass. He pulled off the condom, trying to be careful, but his slick fingers couldn’t hold onto the lubricated surface and his hot come poured out onto his stomach, running down his hip to puddle on the sheet. Now that the euphoria of their lovemaking was fading, he couldn’t bear to lie on the sodden, sticky sheet, while the evidence of their passion dried in itchy patches on his skin.

  Dermot threw aside the covers and climbed out of bed. A glance at the bedside clock revealed it was nearly four o’clock. Too early to get up, but too late to change the sheets and remake the bed.

  Bending down, he lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled against his chest.

  “We’ll spend the rest of the night in your bed,” he told her, getting a sleepy mumble in response. “But first, we need a shower.”

  Chapter Seven

  Eileen drifted slowly to wakefulness, nestled in Dermot’s warm embrace. Listening to his slow and even breathing, she relished the peace and comfort of simply lying beside him.

  Soon, that was not enough. Turning onto her hip, she propped her head on her fist so that she could study him at her leisure.

  Even in sleep, his face held the strength and determination she admired. Lightly, she traced her fingertip over his arching brows, along his jawline, and across his dangerous lips, rendered temporarily safe by sleep. His lips parted slightly, releasing a tiny sigh.

  She slid her finger along the open seam of his lips, pressing lightly, until he pulled her finger into his mouth. He sucked gently, sparking a heat deep within her as her body remembered how he’d suckled and feasted upon her flesh in the back of the limousine.

  She smiled. Her first limousine ride, and she remembered nothing about it except the feel of Dermot’s hands and mouth as he’d brought her to one shuddering, shaking climax after another.

  She tugged her finger free, earning a soft protest from her sleeping lover. His head turned, trying to recapture his prize.

  “Hush, now. Be still,” she whispered, stroking his thick hair until he subsided.

  Her exploration continued. She glided her palm over the smooth planes of his back, down his spine, to his trim hips. As she caressed his ass, still slightly swollen from the beating she’d given him, he moaned softly in his sleep. His cock twitched to life.

  Eileen watched, entranced, as it slowly lengthened and straightened, like an inflating balloon. By the circle, the man was insatiable! She’d thought the number of times they’d made love in her cottage was a side effect of the dryad’s spell, but this voracious sexual hunger seemed to be his natural state.

  She heard his breathing shift. A moment later he opened his eyes.

  “Mmm. This is a nice way to wake up.”

  “I know.” She brushed his lips with a feather-light kiss.

  He moved closer, sandwiching his warm cock between their stomachs and pressing her breasts against his chest. His hand cupped her ass, holding her hips tight to his, while his mouth captured hers in another kiss.

  He groaned as he released her. “I would like nothing better than to make love to you all day. But we have to get ready for the Silver Moon meeting.”

  “What is it we’re to be discussing? My agent never gave me specifics.”

  “Oh, publicity plans, how to position you, what your talking points are, those sorts of things. Mostly it’s for the publicist to see what level of media coverage you can handle.”

  His hand drifted lazily up and down her hip. She pressed her body against his and hugged him tightly, needing the reassurance of his solidity. That was his world, the world of media coverage and publicists, of celebrities and limousines. She didn’t belong in that world. She belonged in her woods, writing her books and following the cycle of nature.


  “Do we have to go?” she whispered.

  “What is it? You’re shivering.” He held her close and rubbed her back. “Are you cold? Or scared?”

  “Why am I here, Dermot?”

  He hesitated, then answered slowly, “Are you wondering or am I supposed to guess?”

  “Tell me. Why did you send for me? What is it you see in me that made you go to so much trouble to bring me here?”

  He sighed deeply. “Well, you did save my life.”

  “Is it because you’re grateful, then?”

  “Of course not. I mean, yes, I’m grateful, but my gratitude is usually expressed in a check with a healthy number of zeroes. It’s something more with you.”

  “Great sex,” she muttered.

  “God, yes! It is.”

  She stiffened, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “We’re great together. I shouldn’t have to tell you that, not after last night. It’s a good thing this is the penthouse, or my neighbors would have called the cops, the way you were screaming. And what you did to me with that branch…” He groaned, a shudder rippling through him. “God, that was good.”

  Eileen swallowed against the lump in her throat, and blinked her burning eyes. That was it, then. She knew the secret of how he liked his sex. He wanted his ass whipped, so he wanted her. It had nothing to do with who she was as a person.

  Dermot continued, oblivious to the devastation his words had caused.

  “And, of course, you’re intelligent, beautiful, and highly successful. You have an adorable accent.”

  “I donna!” She clapped one hand over her mouth, but the treacherous brogue had already escaped.

  He just laughed. “See?”

  His mirth faded, and his voice softened, as if he was thinking out loud rather than speaking to her.

  “But I think, even with all that, I would have let you stay in Ireland if I hadn’t read your book.”

  She blinked. “You read one of my books? Which one?”

  “The latest. I wanted to understand the Irish witch who had beguiled me. The dryad nearly killed me, but before that, the sex with her was better than I’d thought possible. Throughout history, men have gone mad trying to recapture the embrace of a faerie lover, even though they knew it meant their deaths. Yet I barely thought about her. It was the night and morning afterward that I couldn’t get out of my head. You. I had to figure out why.”