Shameless Selfie Sunday on the Fells
You might have noticed I spend a lot of time in the Lake District — every chance I get, in fact. And while you’re reading this, I’m on my way back from another exciting walking holiday in Lakeland. Since the new Lakeland Witches Box set just went up for preorder, I thought a Lakeland selfie might be just the ticket. Tara Stone, the leader of the Elemental Coven, always walks the fells when she needs to think. Honestly, I can’t imagine a more glorious place to clear your head. Based on this Shameless Selfie from the Lansdale Pikes, wouldn’t you agree?
BUT sometimes Tara gets more than she expects from her Lakeland walks. WAY more. Enjoy this little totally shameless excerpt from the third book in the Lakeland Series, Elemental Fire.
Elemental Fire Blurb:
Obsessed with revenge, KENNET LUCIAN makes a deal with a demon, a deal he comes to regret when he meets TARA STONE, head of the Elemental Coven, and a powerful witch with a desire for revenge at least as great as his. Even though the attraction between the two is magnetic and the lust combustive, Kennet must betray her to accomplish his goal, which is ultimately her goal as well; to put a final end to the demon, Deacon’s, reign of terror. But can Tara trust the man who has wormed his way into her heart and the heart of the Elemental Coven? Can she trust LUCIA, the demon with whom Kennet is allied, a demon with her own agenda. The path to Deacon’s destruction is far from clear, and the price that must be paid to be free of him forever may be too high, even for Tara Stone.
Excerpt: Encounter on the Fells:
She picked up the pace as she began her ascent, feeling the sweat break under her arms and low on her back. Then she picked up the pace again. Exhaustion was what she wanted, what she needed. She concentrated on her footing, navigating the loose rock of the ascent around Netting Haws, and that was a good thing. Right now, she’d do anything to keep her mind off Anderson’s loss and off the dream she couldn’t get rid of, even with Deacon in captivity.
By the time she reached the ridge between Maiden Moor and High Spy and followed it on to High Spy, she was hungry. She found a place on the moss just below the summit looking out over the broad, hulking shoulders of Dale Head and Hindscarth, separated from her by the deep abyss where Newlands Beck drained into the Newlands Valley far below. There she settled down, ate Fiori’s cookies, drank some water and lay back to look at the night sky. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep.
This time the dream was warm and sexy, and she found herself in a deep cave. She felt safe and comfortable. No one could touch her here. This was her domain. Caves were always her safe place, and they so often elicited a Pavlovian effect on her body. Caves were the place of powerful dream magic. Caves were the place where she always felt sexy by association. And even now, even in the Dream World, she felt deeply aroused, more so than she had since Anderson had been lost to her.
She undid her blouse and slid her hand inside to caress her breasts. It felt like for ever since she’d had a good fuck, and Goddess, she ached for her loss. As one hand tugged at her burgeoning nipples, the other worried open the fly of her walking trousers and slid down onto her mons. She’d left Elemental Cottage in a hurry, so there was no underwear to contend with. She stroked her soft curls for a few minutes, teasing, anticipating, her hips shifting and undulating against the ground. Then, when she could take it no longer, she slid two fingers deep into the gape of her pussy, wriggling and manoeuvring to where she was hottest and wettest. Just one stroke of her clit and she came in shudders and jerks. She hadn’t realised she’d been that desperate for relief. But she had been distracted lately.
It was then she noticed the exquisite woman with long golden hair sitting so close that her knees practically touched Tara’s ribs. It came as no surprise to her, though surely it should have, but then this was a dream, wasn’t it? The woman’s robe pooled around her and ebbed and flowed like fire.
‘You feel better now, do you not, my darling Tara?’ she asked. Her voice made Tara feel like she was melting into warm, delicious nothingness and seeping into the cave floor.
Tara nodded and moaned softly, for some reason unable to speak, for some reason just wanting to remain in the presence of this woman, whoever she was. It brushed her consciousness fleetingly that maybe she should be concerned about the strange woman in her dreams, but the thought passed quickly, and she lay quietly next to her.
‘Good,’ the woman said, stroking Tara’s hair away from her forehead. ‘I need you to feel better. All of us need you to feel better. We have work to do, and we cannot do it when you are mourning your losses.’ She nodded. ‘Yes, of course I know about your Anderson. And I know that you do not fuck the living. Such a foolish girl you are to deny yourself the very pleasure you so willingly offer the dead. Elemental Cottage is not a nunnery, my darling.’
She leaned down low and kissed Tara on the mouth. Her breath smelled like the fells in high summer. Then she tisk- tisked and gently stroked Tara’s pubic curls. ‘You need more than you can manage with your hand, my sweet girl, no matter how gifted you are in the arts of pleasure. You practise sex magic, surely you know this?’ She brushed slender fingers up Tara’s belly and over the mounds of her breasts. Tara arched up into her heated caresses. ‘Shall I bring you just what you need to make you feel better? Would you like that, my dear?’
Tara could only whimper and nod.
Once again she brushed Tara’s lips with hers, adding the slightest flick of her tongue, and for an instant the kiss felt predatory, devouring. Or had Tara only imagined it? ‘Do not worry, my love,’ the woman said as she pulled away. ‘I shall send you just what you need. Wait here, and rest a little.’ Then she disappeared leaving Tara to writhe and moan on the floor of the cave.
From far away someone shook her arm, someone called to her in distressed tones, trying to bring her back to the Waking World. But she didn’t want to go back. It was safe and warm and happy here. There was nothing but sadness in the Waking World. She just wanted to sleep here in the cave and wait for whoever the beautiful woman would bring to her.
But the shaking and jostling continued. She slapped the hand away, but it kept coming back to shake her. She was just ready to tell whoever it was to bugger off, when she opened her eyes and looked up to see the outline of a man leaning over her. Even in the darkness, the energy emanating from him was magnetic. Everything inside her tightened with anticipation, and Goddess, she wanted him. Surely she was still dreaming.
‘Are you all right?’ His voice vibrated through her chest and his touch felt electric, full of magic. ‘I thought you were dead, then I heard you moaning. I guess you were dreaming. I was worried and then …’
They both realised at the same time that her shirt was open and so were her trousers, and one hand still rested on her mons. She could feel the man’s gaze taking in the situation, and he twigged. ‘Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. I thought you were –’
‘I was! Dreaming, I mean.’ She quickly jerked her hand out of her trousers and tugged her open blouse across her bare breasts. ‘I was dreaming, and she said she’d send someone and …’ She blinked hard and looked around at the night sky. She couldn’t have been asleep long, but everything felt unreal, different. Was she still dreaming? Dreams could be so powerful at times, so confusing. She reached up to touch his face and felt a surge of magic – some new, some old. Some very old. Had she enfleshed a ghost because of her horny dream? When she walked at night, ghosts did sometimes follow her onto the fells in hopes that she would enflesh them and allow them to experience for a little while the pleasures afforded the living. And any other time she would happily oblige. But when she walked at night, she always sent them away. This was her place, her alone time. No one was welcome to disturb her here, and most ghosts knew that. Had she been that out of it? Was she that desperate for a fuck that her unconscious had broken her own rules?’
The man sat back on his haunches and looked down at her. In the darkness she could only make out his silhouette dominated by broad shoulders, but it was enough to make her own arousal spike. Certainly if she had enfleshed him, she couldn’t leave him in the state he was now, no doubt, in because of her.
He gave a little gasp of surprise when she off-balanced him, pulled him down to her and kissed him. ‘You shouldn’t have come here,’ she managed before she drew him into another kiss.
‘I might say the same about you,’ he replied.
Cheeky ghost, she thought, but she kissed him again. This time he returned the favour. And the power surge she felt went clear from her mouth down to the base of her spine and back again. His eyes fluttered, he gasped against her mouth, clearly feeling what she felt, and there was no disguising the press of his heavy erection against the fly of his walking trousers.
‘What the hell was that?’ She gasped, not entirely sure she wasn’t going to come just from their last kiss.
He pulled back from her with a start, one hand against his lips and the other resting low on his belly. ‘If you do that again, I can’t guarantee what will … If you do that again.’
For a tightly stretched second, they froze in each other’s gaze. Then she forced words up through her throat, struggling to breathe through her arousal. ‘I can’t … I need …’
‘Me too,’ he whispered. She couldn’t see the colour of his eyes in the darkness, but his gaze was baking hot against her.
Focus. Damn it, she needed to be able to focus, to think. She forced a deep breath and then they were both speaking at the same time.
‘I’m sorry … I didn’t … I wouldn’t …’
‘I don’t know what just happened,’ he gasped.
‘Me neither,’ she managed.
Then they were on each other. He yanked the clasp from her hair and clawed it free from the ponytail. She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt and pulled him on top of her, down between her open legs, lifting her hips, wrapping her ankles around his waist and thrusting up to meet him. The sounds coming from his throat were deep-chested, wild, and she wasn’t sure where his grunts and growls left off and hers began as he thrust and ground against her, shoving her arse into the soft moss with his efforts.
‘I need to get to you,’ he gasped, pulling away from her, tugging and fumbling at her trousers until they were down over her hips.
She toed one of her boots off and kicked it aside, and he lifted her leg free of the trousers while she pulled open his fly and slid her hand into his boxers until she could wrap her fingers around his heavy cock.
He gasped and pushed them away. ‘Don’t do that. I’ll come in your hand and I don’t want to come there.’ He trapped both her wrists above her head with a large hand while he nuzzled his way into her shirt and battled with his trousers until his butt was bare. Then he released her hands and kissed his way down her belly, shoving her legs further apart as he went, lowering his face, biting the inside of her left thigh just below the swell of her pussy. She yelped and drenched herself. He fingered her open and ran his tongue up from her perineum all the way to her clit and bit again. And she came, bellowing her orgasm into the cool night air.
‘I want you in me, I want you in me,’ she gasped, even before she could breathe again, even before the waves inside her had dissipated.
He positioned himself and pushed into her deep and hard and they both growled like angry wolves. She grabbed his
arse cheeks in an effort to pull him still deeper into her. He dug into the moss with his feet, shoved up onto his knees and lifted her until her shoulders rested in the moss and her hips were in the air, knees pressing upward against her breasts. Then he rolled with her and pulled her on top of him. With one trembling hand he shoved her blouse off her shoulders and her breasts bounced freely into his cupping fingers. With the other hand he expertly found her clit and, resting the flat of his palm on her mound, he stroked and rubbed with the pad of his thumb.
One wave of orgasm collapsed in on the next, like the waves breaking against the cliffs at St Bee’s Head. Then both of his hands settled to her hips and he thrust up, nearly bucking her off in his efforts to penetrate still deeper. His grip on her hips was bruising, and she slammed against him harder and harder with each thrust, emotions surged – emotions that she didn’t want to feel, emotions that she did want to feel, emotions that she had wanted to feel from the time she was a little girl. And somewhere in the midst of their thrusting and pushing, she realised that not all of the emotions were hers. But she couldn’t think, she couldn’t concentrate on anything but the in and out, push and shove, like a mantra, like a spell being woven in rhythm, in repetition, in sync. And then they both came, screaming and raging and rolling in the moss until he was once again on top of her, his weight feeling like the weight of the world, and yet at the same time feeling like a blanket protecting her from the depths of her own pain. How could this be? How could she ever experience anything like this with some strange horny ghost on the fells?
She found herself with a million questions, and yet by the time she caught her breath, she was fast asleep. To her total surprise, he had crossed the dream threshold and they were chasing the dream together.