Page 129 of Four Promises to Love

“I want to feel you, Owen. Just you,” she breathed.

His erection pulsed. It wasn’t possible, but he got harder.

“What about the risk?” he managed.

“I love you. I trust you.” The sweet simplicity of her declaration flooded him with joy. “Do you feel the same way about me?”

“Unquestionably.”

“Are we getting married?”

“As soon as I can make the arrangements.”

“Then, as you said, that’s settled. Now stop stalling and make love to me.”

Even in the dimness, he saw her vibrant smile.

“Always giving orders, aren’t you? Then take me, Finn. I’m yours.”

Gripping her hip in one hand, he positioned his cock with the other. He notched his tip to her plush hole, grunting as she slid onto his shaft. He quivered as she enveloped him, inch by inch, with her snug heat.

“You feel so big this way,” she gasped.

“You can take me. All the way now, there’s my girl.”

She did take him, with an alacrity that stole his breath. At first, he tried to hold still to give her time to adjust, but he soon realized she didn’t need it. She wiggled and shifted and moaned as she joined her body with his. Her passage flowered around him, soft and silky and hot. She began to experiment, moving her hips in ways that made his eyes roll in bliss.

“Oh, Owen,” she sighed. “This feels so fine.”

Given that she was impaling herself on his rod, her lower lips kissing the base of his shaft, he shared her enthusiasm. In fact, he was going to blow like a cannon, and he didn’t want to go off without her. Placing his palm on her supple spine, he angled her forward.

“You might like it even better like this.”

“Why is that—ohh.”

Her question melted into a moan as she discovered the benefit of this new angle. Panting, she braced her hands on his chest, and he welcomed the bite of her fingernails as she screwed herself onto his rod. He thrust his hips as she rode him, playing with her bouncing breasts and sucking her nipples. Their mating became frenzied, ferocious, a wild race to completion.

“I love you.”

The words erupted from them simultaneously as ecstasy hit.

Afterward, she fell asleep, draped over him like a downy coverlet.

My Finn. Mine at last. Mine forever.

Smiling, he followed her into slumber.

Thirty-Eight

Three nights later, Finn took Tansy aside. They were in the drawing room of the Pearce manor. Like the rest of the house, the room showed the prior occupants’ fascination with ancient Greece. There were marble statues of gods and goddesses, urns of all sizes, and even a lyre or two. One of the side tables resembled a temple altar, and Finn cringed.

At the moment, the last thing she wanted to think about was bloody sacrifices.

“Are you certain Carver will show?” Tansy asked.

“He’ll show,” Finn said. “When he does, remember to play your part.”

“I am just a sweet, helpless girl.” Tansy twirled like a ballerina, then dropped into a crouch, eyes narrowed, daggers gripped in each small hand. “Until I’m not.”