Annie Shea is not your usual Irish woman. She's the Leannan Sidhe, an ancient member of the Faery Folk. She's known for enthralling men and rewarding them with fame and riches. If they play her false, they die or go mad. It's been the same for centuries until she meets Aidan Doherty, a handsome and sexy singer in a pub who is a bricklayer by day. He has an amazing voice and when she takes him home, their physical attraction becomes wild sex. The next morning, he's loathe to go and she wants him to stay. Annie sets him up for fame but before it happens, he falls from a scaffolding at the job site. Warned by the queen of all fairies, Annie prevents his death but it's time to tell the truth—if he believes it or not. Will they love forever or end it?
She’d lived many places, large and small, fancy and plain. “We’re here,” she told him, although it was obvious.
“Aye, I can see that well enough,” Aidan replied. He had a quick wit and she suspected a sarcastic tongue. She liked that. “Shall we go inside or visit the sheep beyond?”
“Inside, to be sure,” Annie told him. “‘Tis unlocked.” Once he’d stepped out from her car, she kissed him hard. His arms snaked around her and pulled her tight, close enough she could feel his stiff erection. “I hope ye know ye’ll spend the night here, my lad.”
“I’m counting on it,” he said. Before she found words for a response, he put his hands on her and lifted her, then carried her into the cottage. He turned the doorknob and kicked it open, then entered. “Which direction is the bed, woman? We’ve immediate need of it.”
What a man this was! How bold and magnificent. She hadn’t known his like in so very long, centuries at the very least, and maybe never. “That we do, a chara. It’s to the right.”
Aidan silenced her with his mouth, his gob fastened onto hers like a lock. Sweet Morrigan, his lips blazed. By any reckoning, her mouth should be burned to ash. Delicious chills rocketed through her body, every nerve ending singing with high passion and body aching with need. Her arms clutched tight around his neck as he acted the wildman and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and without pausing, he stripped away the emerald-green peasant-style dress she wore. The tiny satin buttons down the front popped as he pulled the garment free, revealing her full breasts tipped with carnation-pink nipples. His fingers tore the satin scrap that passed for panties, leaving her pussy bare.
“Ye’re as lovely as I thought ye’d be,” he said and brought his mouth down to lave her nipples, one at a time. The moist sensation perked them into tight buds, sensitive and tender. As he used his talented tongue, his hands roamed across her skin, caressing, touching, and stroking. Annie wanted to purr like a satisfied cat and when he took one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling like a babe, she ached to shriek like one. He teased the tender point with his teeth and then worked his way lower. He used his tongue with the skill of a swordsman of old and his teeth to every advantage.
Most men, if they left a love tattoo at all, marked her throat or maybe the top of a breast, but not this one. Aidan nipped and nibbled from her breasts to her belly. Such teasing torment lit her passion and she used her nails to score his back, digging hard, craving more. He moaned his pleasure which inspired her further. Annie’s long, slender fingers pinched his nipples hard, then dropped lower to fondle his erect cock.
“Oh, woman,” he growled, voice husky. “Woman.”
His talented tongue licked a path down to her cleft while his breath blew hot against her skin. Distracted by desire, her hands slowed then stopped when he darted his tongue into her pussy. Aidan tantalized with every stroke of his tongue until her desire expanded. Her pussy radiated heat like an electric fire and twitched with increasing need.
Annie had pride in the fact she conquered her lovers, that she delivered that delicious combination of heat and sweat and sex but Aidan gave as good, nay better, than what she brought to this bed.
