It was an offering he could not resist. Breathing in the now familiar musky scent of her skin, he bent to lick one nipple. Slowly he circled it, and when she moaned aloud he moved to the other, tenderly swiping its knotted peak with his tongue. When her hips lifted toward him, he shifted. Wrapping his hands under her knees, he opened her legs and climbed between them.
The soft earth beneath his knees barely registered. The only thing he was aware of was her. He was finally there again, finally in that heavenly place. He kissed the soft curve of her belly, then moved lower, smiling to himself when she stroked his head and gasped.
He breathed over the mound of her puss, blowing on the feathery hair guarding her there. She moved restlessly, her body swelling up from the ground as her back arched. The scent of her intoxicated him, and for a moment he closed his eyes and just breathed her in, marveling at the way her fragrance seemed to dance among that of the foliage and the earth. With both hands he held her open, his fingers at the top of her thighs, his thumbs parting the plump, silky folds of her puss. Cursing the fact that it was too dark to see her well, he dipped his head and explored her with his tongue instead.
“Gregor! Oh, Gregor.” Again her hands stroked over his head.
The pleasurable sighs she gave swamped his senses. His cock was hard to the point of pain, his ballocks high and tight, his spine throbbing. Not yet, he told himself. He had dreamed of this very thing the night before—dreamed of lifting her with his hands around her rump, and holding her open so that he could drink from her—and he would make it happen if it killed him.
With his tongue pressed against her hot folds, he ran it the length of her slit to her entrance, where her melting flow doused his tongue in nectar. He pushed inside, lapping at her. Her fingers clutched at his hair distractedly, her feet lifting from the ground. Without disengaging, Gregor shifted position. Draping her legs over his shoulders, he pushed his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her to gain better access, moving his tongue in and out of that glorious place, devouring her juices until she seemed close to her peak. Then he ran his tongue higher, to her swollen bud, circling it before stroking back and forth.
It was then that Gregor noticed he could see more clearly, for her body gleamed oddly. It looked almost unnatural, glowing like an insect he had once seen in the tropics, a thing they called a firefly. This had to be some trick of the moonlight, or its reflection on a nearby patch of water. Whatever the cause, it meant that he could see the ecstasy in her face. That she was pleasured by this was in no doubt, and the knowledge that he had made her so burned in his chest, his sense of pride and his need for her doubling.
Again he ran his tongue over her bud. Her body lurched. She cried out in her release and he lifted his head. Grappling for his breeches, he set his cock free and then moved between her thighs, ready to mount her.
As he did, the sight before him forced him to a halt.
Jerking back, he stared down at her, for he could not believe what he saw.
Her entire body was glowing, and when her head rolled and her eyes opened to the sky, he saw purple light flash in her eyes, just as he had seen at the Drover’s Inn when she had ridden the horse without falling, despite her odd fear of the beasts. Gregor was horrified and yet compelled by the change he witnessed in her.
Was this her real nature? If so, all that had been said about her was true. He clasped her chin and turned her head from side to side, examining her.
Recognition flashed in her eyes when she met his gaze, and she quickly turned her face away. Her eyelids lowered and she let out a strange, mewling sound, one filled with regret. She had not wanted him to know.
Gritting his teeth, he silently cursed himself for his denial of evidence that had presented itself from the moment they’d met. Then he felt her pulling away from him, and knew he had to act on it. With his hand on her jaw, he forced her to face him. “Look at me, Jessie.”
She shook her head.
“It is true what they said, isn’t it? You practice witchcraft.”
Her eyes flashed open. “I’ve done nothing bad, I promise you, Gregor. I know only a few spells and I have never hurt anyone.”
She grasped him tightly, as if afraid he would turn away from her forever.
Yet it was he who should be afraid, and he knew it. He’d dismissed it as nonsense and trickery, and now he had to face the consequences. Gregor Ramsay recognized that for the first time in many years he felt fear, and yet the thing he feared was also the thing he desired above all else.
“Please, Gregor. Please don’t cast me aside.”
The eerie sound of an owl’s call traveled close by on the night air. “I should. I should be done with this now.” A chill ran the length of his spine.
She whimpered, and the light that had built around her began to fade. Her head rolled again, her body lifting to meet his.
His thoughts were in chaos, and yet so much that had happened began to make sense. He should not have dismissed it so readily. He should have listened to what they said, but he’d been swayed by the look of her. And now, after all that had passed between them, he could no longer deny that he’d turned a blind eye and a deaf ear because lust had taken him.
As soon as he’d seen her, he’d wanted her. That was the truth of it. Rational thought evaded him as images from their time together flashed through his mind. That very day he’d wondered about it, yet still he came here wanting her, wanting Jessie Taskill.
“Have you used your craft on me?” he demanded.
“No, never.” The conviction in her tone was reassurance enough, but she rushed on, vehement in her defense. “I have used it to aid your cause, yes, up at the house, but not to hurt or lead you. I could never do that.” She paused, and he felt her holding back. “I am grateful for all you have done for me. You saved me from the bailie. I want to help you in your quest here. I would never harm you.”
She clasped the collar of his frock coat and drew him closer to her. “Gregor, please, I need you. When we couple it makes me stronger. It helps me in my task.”
The feel of her hands roving his back captured him. She was so lush and inviting beneath him, her hips lifting to his. The invitation was so strong and his cock was harder still inside a heartbeat, responding to her desire. His hips began to move again, the need to invade her sweet, succulent territory pressing, no matter the consequence.
Gregor felt the world spinning away, as if everything he had known and experienced was nothing in comparison to this moment where he found himself yearning to push inside this woman, this woman who was both a whore and a witch—a condemned witch. As the thought occurred to him and he recalled the baying crowd in the inn in Dundee, an urgent sense of defiance knifed through him.
I will not let it happen.