Mists of Velvet

sculpted. His arms were bulky with muscles, and on his left arm was a band of tattoos. He looked broad, primal—a warrior; an alpha.
    There was a thin, black trail of hair that led from his belly, only to disappear beneath the waist of his pants. Her fingers itched to run through the silky-looking hair. Her nose twitched with the desire to scent him, to taste his skin with her tongue.
    It was the animal in her that wanted it. The animal that made her newly maturing body heat and stretch with unbearable longing. Lying back against the cool rock, she stretched out until her arms were above her head, and the humidity that dampened the leaves of the tree moistened her gown. The wetness beaded her nipples, arousing her. She wondered what it would be like to feel the heat of his mouth around her nipple. What would it be like to feel him sucking, nipping, pulling her in deep?
    On a sigh, she let herself drift away, opening her senses, and willing her dream lover to come to her. In spite of the dangers of falling asleep, Bronwnn could not resist the lure of being visited by him once again. She needed it; needed to feel him. She wanted to be desired; to be possessed—and soon she would be. Cailleach wanted her to mate with the wraith, who was surely her dream lover.
    He came to her almost immediately. She felt him behind her, his hot, hard body pressing against her back. His arms felt like iron bands around her ribs, and his breath was sultry and erotic as it whispered against the shell of her ear.
    Wordlessly, his large hands rose from her ribs to cup her breasts. She panted, pressing her bottom restlessly against him. She felt him, hard and searching against her thin gown.
    Her breath squeezed in her chest as she felt the tip of his tongue tickle her ear. His fingers had sought out her nipples and were now rolling and gently pinching them. His breathing was faster, and he pressed his hardness against her bottom.
    Unable to resist, Bronwnn cupped her breasts and kneaded them, pretending what she saw in her mind was really happening. Between her thighs she was slick, ready.
    None of the other goddesses who were reaching their maturity seemed to be this sexually needy. She had heard none of them speaking of dreams or lovers. She doubted that any of her pious sisters touched themselves as she did. But the feeling of it, this primitive, overwhelming need, was unable to be denied.
    Slipping her free hand beneath her gown, Bronwnn ran her fingertips up her leg. She was going to touch herself and pretend it was his long, strong fingers as she did so. The image of him came to her swiftly; so, too, did the scent of something new, something dark and earthy she had never smelled before. The scent aroused her, and her lover came to her in a way that showed his hunger. He was frenzied, aggressive, and when his hand ran through her unbound hair, he fisted the long strands and pinned her to the ground, his mouth capturing hers in a hard, drugging kiss. She moaned and clutched at his shoulders. He gripped her hair tighter, as if holding her still so she couldn’t push him away, but what he didn’t seem to sense was that she wanted him closer, his kiss deeper.
    His tongue forced its way between her lips as he caught her breast in his palm and squeezed. He was breathing hard against her, his body taut with tension as his mouth descended lower, along her jaw, her collarbone, only to capture her nipple between his teeth. With his mouth and tongue, he played with her while his hand toyed with her other breast, pulling and tugging at her nipple as she writhed beneath him. Against her hip, he rubbed the length of himself against her. She felt the heat, the hardness—the sticky wetness that coated her skin.
    His aggressiveness made her bolder, and she clutched at him, arching, giving him her breasts, and begging him silently for more. Her own panting breaths echoed through the forest, and the scent of aroused male filled her nostrils, awakening the animal inside her.
    Her own fingers parted her sex, spreading the wetness, circling the nubbin of nerves that ached. She needed more—him inside her, filling her. She couldn’t wait, so she pleasured herself. With a low growl, he suckled her hard and moved his hand down her body until his fingers curled with hers. He growled again as he showed her what he wanted, her fingers plunging inside her. He controlled her rhythm, how fast and hard he wanted her to touch herself—which was fast, forceful,