“You’re not the boss of me.” I reach for his fly again, and his luck plows into me like a hot fizzy wave. It fills me from within, pressing against my inner walls. I gasp and fall back on my elbows, arching into the hot purr.
“That’s better,” he says. His hands land on my knees, stroke down to grip my inner thighs tight enough that it’s just on the edge of pain, and he spreads my legs, baring me to him. I’m so exposed in every way. Completely naked, my body thrumming under the influence of his power. He’s kneeling between my thighs, fully clothed and watching me hungrily. What must I look like? Mouth swollen from his rough kisses, nipples hard, core slick with need.
“Gods, I’ve waited a long time for this.” His voice is lower, gritty. Luck pounds into me again. I arch and spread my knees wider. I’m beyond words.
“Mmm. Good girl.” He presses a kiss at the apex of my thighs. I moan, tension coiling deep within me. His hands find my hips and he pulls back, blowing cool air over my clit. I’ve only just processed the sensation when he flattens his tongue and licks up my slit from back to front. I almost buck off the mat. I feel his dark laugh rumble against me as his tongue toys with my most sensitive flesh and the rush of his luck fills me from the inside again.
This is what it’s like with a leprechaun. When he gets lucky, he gets lucky. He knows exactly where to touch me. Exactly what I need. His tongue is fluttering in just the right spot as his fingers follow the vibration of his luck to massage inside me.
I lose all control. I arch and cry out as an orgasm rips through me. It’s intense, all-consuming, but he doesn’t let up. He sucks me into his hot mouth as his fingers work deep inside, thrusting in just the right place.
“Seven, it’s too much,” I say breathlessly.
“Again,” he commands, and that hot purr fills me once more.
I haven’t even come down completely from my first orgasm when the second one plows into me, more intense than the first. I turn boneless, riding out the aftershocks flat on my back. “Seven!”
This time, he stretches out beside me, a decidedly male and self-satisfied grin on his face, and watches me recover. His hand is splayed across my belly, warm, firm fingers bridging from hip to ribs.
“I’ve waited a long time to do that,” he says. “I wanted it to be memorable.”
Memorable? More like life altering. I shudder in his arms as an aftershock of pleasure rocks through me. I stare at him through my lashes, tipping up the corner of my mouth. “Goal achieved. But the game isn’t over.” I reach for his fly and hear his breath hiss between his teeth.
Things are just getting interesting when a feral growl splits the night. Seven grabs my wrist and tips his ear toward the tent flap. He frowns and leaps to his feet, zipping and buttoning his pants again. “Stay here. This won’t take long.”
Bullshit. I’m not letting him face whatever unseelie might be out there alone.
He slips out the tent and into the night. I dress, pull on my boots and grab my bow and quiver, following him into the darkness. Light on my feet, I move silently toward the edge of the plateau. I can’t see Seven, but I’m so hopped up on his luck, I can sense him. My eyes adjust to the dark and I meld into the woods.
Almost immediately, I spot the beast facing off against Seven. It’s cerulean blue with lime green spots that might be beautiful if the creature wasn’t obviously deadly. With a mouth lined with three rows of teeth and six sets of nostrils that run from the upper lip to its ridged brow, I’m sure its bite is every bit as deadly as its roar.
Seven stands in its line of sight, about a hundred feet from it, sweat blooming on his brow. His eyes flare that brilliant emerald green. I can feel the brush of his luck but can’t see what he’s trying to do. The night sky is clear. None of the trees look as if they might fall. The ground doesn’t quake. He might be trying to stop the beast’s heart, but if he is, it isn’t working.
The beast prowls slowly toward Seven. I raise my bow and nock an arrow. A bird lands on a heavy branch that stretches far up and across the pathway between the beast and Seven. Another bird lands and then another and another. The creature prowls forward. Luck surges off Seven, and the fattest raccoon-like creature I’ve ever seen bounds out on the same branch.
Crack.The branch drops, smashing onto the beast’s head. The birds scatter and the raccoon creature leaps to the tree with a shriek. It’s a huge branch and a long drop. The beast’s chin slams into the ground and blood dribbles from its nostrils. Seven dusts off his hands and turns back toward camp.
Shit, he’s a sweaty mess. He looks… empty. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he’s limping a little. His appearance doesn’t make sense. That tree branch couldn’t have drained a leprechaun’s luck. Then it dawns on me that he’s drained because ofme, because of what we did. He was thrumming my body with luck only minutes ago, and damn, he must have pulled out all the stops.
He hasn’t seen me yet. I’ve used my luck to camouflage myself. I’m dark as night and the texture of tree bark. Still, if he had any luck left at all, he’d have noticed me. He must be bone dry.
The branch moves. I look back at the beast and it’s rising, shaking its head and snorting angrily. Seven’s eyes widen when he sees it. He pulls something from his pocket that flashes gold in the moonlight.
The beast pounces.
My arrow flies, and I focus all my luck on making my aim true. The living arrow enters the creature’s ear and slices through the thickest part of its head. Its body seizes in the air, but Seven has to throw himself out of the way to avoid its claws as it crumples to the earth, dead. Now Seven’s eyes find me, and I drop my illusion.
“Thanks,” he says.
“Don’t mention it.” I wink. “But I might. I might mention it a lot to as many people as possible. I think the story of how Sophie the pixie saved the ass of Seven the leprechaun would make a great bar ballad.” I sling a slow cheeky smile in his direction.
“Sophia Larkspur, was that a joke? Gods, she still has a sense of humor.” He swaggers toward me, his confidence outweighing the luck he has left in his arsenal.
“No,” I say flatly. “I’m not being funny. I plan to tell everyone who will listen that I saved your life with my badass archery skills.”
His eyes narrow. “Will you also tell them what we were doing that caused me to almost drain myself dry?” His gaze rakes lasciviously down my body, and I quell the desire to squirm.
“Eating by the fire?”
