The second of Erin O’Quinn’s Dawn of Ireland trilogy is about to burst into flame . . .
Called The Wakening Fire, this novel takes us from the marriage bed of Caylith and Liam to the deathbed of a woman with a momentous secret . . . then beyond, to the famous Paschal Fires lit by Father Patrick within sight of the high king’s own Beltane ritual fires.
The romance between impetuous Caylith and her wild clansman husband has just gotten more tantalizing, as both of them begin to explore the heady world of marital sex. Liam begins to teach her what he likes in bed; and Caylith, quick to learn, casts aside some of her natural modesty to enjoy her new husband.
He raised up a bit and tugged at his breeches, and I helped him, moving them down slowly over his butt. He impatiently kicked them off and knelt over me again. Then, rising and squatting, he moved so that his groin and sac dangled over me, almost at my head. “Suck me,” he said roughly. I was both shocked and aroused, for he had never spoken so directly before. I raised my head and caught his groin in my mouth, stroking his velvet-skinned testicles. He thrust himself again and again. “Suck me,” he moaned, and I knew the beer was speaking.
I thought we would end our lovemaking that way, but he suddenly stopped and gathered me into his arms and stood up. He set me not on the bed, but on the bench, and then he straddled me, pushing himself into me, moving up and down with his strong legs. “Yes,” I breathed, for the rhythm was just right, and he was hot inside me.
“Say it,” Liam said, moving up and down.
“No.” He leaned until his mouth was in my ear, and he stopped moving. “Say it.” I was angry at him again for stopping, and I tried to thrust myself against him, but he was sitting on me and I could not move. His tongue in my ear, he breathed, “Say it, Cat.”
I whispered the crude, forbidden words in his ear, and he seemed to explode, moaning and moving, and I knew then that he was as aroused by my own words as I was by his.
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