Velvet Haven

abdomen as his fingers set about stroking her calves, working their magic up past her knees to the inner facings of her thighs.
    Mairi was panting with lust. She twisted beneath him, but he stopped her with his heavy thigh on hers. “Be still.”
    Bran’s tongue crept out and raked along her flesh. He felt in his own body the stabbing pleasure that snaked through hers. They were connected in a way Bran had never known. His sigils, already glowing, were now a pure white, instead of gold and pewter. Something was happening. The exchange was different, more powerful. Exciting.
    He returned to her quim, stroking it with his tongue, covering every inch of her. “Watch me between your thighs,” he demanded. “I want you to know who is giving you this pleasure.”
    Mairi studied Bran’s dark head moving languorously between her legs. Reverently she raked her fingers through his hair, watching as he slowly made love to her with his lips and tongue, listening to his sighs of pleasure as he brought her closer and closer to orgasm.
    Mairi drew her knees up, holding her thighs to Bran’s head. He took his time, savoring her; bringing her up, then slowly down, each time building her up higher and higher until she was nearly there, nearly able to grasp the orgasm, only to have it snatched away.
    “Oh, God, Bran, please ,” she cried, reaching for him, but he pulled away and sat up, away from her reach.
    He looked down at her, and wings suddenly appeared, black and shining, from between his shoulder blades. She gasped in surprise, but they were beautiful, magnificent. They wrapped around her, cocooning her as he grasped her wrists and brought them above her head. She gave a little moan of pleasure, at the strength in his hold, and the erotic play of feathers at her back.
    “Have you ever been tied up, Mairi?”
    She shook her head, her hips meeting the thrust of his, the folds of her sex opening, rubbing against his cock. A black feather gently brushed the swell of her breast and she moaned, liking the sensation and the tingling.
    “Will you let me?”
    Trust. It would take so much to allow this. But this was Bran. And inside the span of his wings, she felt safe and secure. “Yes,” she breathed.
    A feather fell from his wing and stretched into a band of black silk, then wrapped itself around her wrists and tied them to the headboard.
    She gasped as it pulled tighter, making her arch till her breasts were at the level of Bran’s mouth.
    “Very nice,” he whispered, touching his tongue to her nipples. His gaze flickered to the feathers that brushed against her hair. They came free and trailed down her body until they pulled at her ankles, spreading her legs as Bran straddled her hips. The feathers became lengths of black silk that tied her to each post on the footboard.
    “Your magic comes in rather handy,” she panted, trying to lighten the mood.
    With his hand, he spread her sex and touched her. Around her all she could see was the black of his wings. Before her was Bran, looking feral and beautiful.
    “You’re very wet, Mairi, and that’s not by magic.”
    “No, you’re right.”
    He rolled her nipple, pinched it, letting it sting, before soothing it with his touch. His sigils glowed where he touched her, and she watched, mesmerized as they moved, absorbing the pleasure she felt.
    “You are very powerful, Mairi. Already I can feel you creeping into my blood. Your energy makes me strong.”
    “I’m glad,” she murmured, wetting her lips. His thigh rode up, pressing against her sex, and she moaned.
    “I like you spread like this,” he whispered darkly in her ear. “You’re dripping wet, Mairi. And it’s just for me.”
    Nodding, she moaned, closed her eyes, and felt the vibration of his body as his chest brushed against hers. She was aching for it, the feel of him, pierced and hard entering her.
    She arched more, trying to get his thigh in the right spot, but he moved back and reached for her hips. Lifting her, he thrust into her, firm, hard, and she cried out, feeling the hum in him course through her entire body.
    He moaned as well, and thrust again, slow. Intent. She opened her eyes, saw him watching his invasion of her, and grew wetter. He touched her clitoris, flicking it just the way she liked.
    “Faster,” she begged, twisting in her bonds. The tips of the feathers that lay near the curve of her breasts whispered softly against her nipple. “Bran,” she cried, needing the orgasm that was