Page 79 of The Scald Crow

“Calla, this is James.” I introduced our stable hand, a young boy from a neighboring parish. I pinned my lips into a tight line, inspecting the boy’s bruised forehead—a conversation for later.

“Good day, miss.” James nodded, moving like smoke between the two horses, slipping halters over their heads.

Jack didn’t seem to mind.

“This is a beautiful property. Did you grow up here?” She gazed beyond the house toward the sea and then back toward me.

“It’s called Clonmara, meaning meadow by the sea. That building there is the tack room.” I gestured toward an old Irish clachan, a settlement of cottages in sight of the sea. The ancient stone buildings now served a different purpose.

“This is amazing.” She brushed her hand over the tumbled stones. “When were these built?”

“Hundreds of years ago. Let’s get you a helmet.” I took her hand, leading her into the smaller stone building. “You’re not afraid of spiders, are you?” I positioned my hand against the small of her back, noting her lower ribs, too pronounced through the canvas shirt.

“No, I’m not afraid of spiders.” The gunmetal flecks in her eyes deepened to a molten shade.

“Calla?” I left my hand stationed on the rise of her butt, unwilling to let her go.

“I need you to kiss me, Colm.” She turned, removing any distance between us, curling her fingers into my shirt as she had once before. She lifted her face, presenting her moist lips—more than a man could resist.

“Right now?” I stared into her eyes—star-struck. Would I ever get used to that feeling of helplessness? I pushed aside the absurd thought and buried my other hand into those snaking tendrils, cupping the nape of her neck.

“Yes. Right now.” She slipped the tip of her tongue into my mouth, flicking the roof, tracing my tongue with hers.

When she arched her wee pussy into my swelling erection, I lost my mind. I swept my tongue between the sweet cleft of her lips, savoring her tender softness. Her scent overpowered my senses, nightshade, and black orchids. And something else—honey. My mind numbed, and my cock hardened instantly.

“I want you, O’Donnell. You’ve teased me enough.” She shoved her foot between mine and kicked my legs apart, demanding a wider stance. And then shoved me downward, settling my butt onto one of the many saddle racks jutting from the tack room wall.

“This is a first. Do you do this often?” I planted my feet on the slab floor, anticipating the ride of my life.

She shimmied aboard, straddling my lap. Her intentions—crystal clear.

“There’s a first time for everything, lover boy.” The most adorable sigh escaped her lips.

A voice whispered, telling me to take what’s mine. I argued that only a fool would ravage such a sweet delight.

“Where did you get this shirt?” I ripped the placket open, revealing a lacy pink bra. Another flick unsnapped the front closure. Two circular globes surrounding rosy pink nubs spilled into my waiting palms. I swept my thumbs over the pebbled areola—my mouth watering for a taste.

“Do you like it?” She placed her hands over mine and squeezed the peaked darts. In a dream, that moment came back to me. We did that.

“You’d look beautiful in anything.” I dragged my mouth along her nape, tasting her.

She rolled my hands over her breasts, her eyes closed, her lips half-parted.

From the courtyard, the horses whinnied. Wee James spoke to them in low tones.

“What did I tell you about your next orgasm?” I pinched her chin and closed my mouth over hers—Calla’s need—my only priority. I intended to fulfill every one of them.

“You did this to me.” She rocked against me, rubbing her clit over my hardened width.

The price I would pay to claim her here and now.

“Two more days, Calla. Bealtaine.” I slid my fingers beneath her waistband—the words I needed to say stuck in my throat.

“You want to hash this out right now?” Her sweet breath made my ears roar.

“Soon enough, I promise you.” I sat deeper, friction building heat.

“Looky here, O’Donnell. Yeah. Oh, yeah. I’m gonna come.” She bucked into me, grazing my cock with maddening thrusts.

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