Free Sticks and Stone by Jennifer Dunne Page A

the light touch. Still joined together, he turned them away from the
shelving unit, until he had Eileen’s back pressed against the wall.
    He ground his hips against hers, digging his cock harder
and harder into the cleft between her legs. She whimpered, needing to feel him
inside of her instead of this torturous tease through his slacks and her jeans.
    Breaking their kiss, she labored for breath, then asked, “Why are we still dressed?”
    Before he could answer, the door bell rang; two deep, sonorous tones.
    “Because we’re waiting for your
luggage.”
    Eileen reached underneath his suit coat and ran her nails
down the back of his shirt. He arched into her stroke with a groan.
    “You don’t need your luggage just yet,” he said
hoarsely.
    “Oh, but I do.” She scraped her nails down his shirt
again, eliciting a throaty groan. “There’s something in there for you.”
    He pulled up the hem of her sweater, exposing her
stomach, and reached for the snap on her jeans. “It can wait.”
    “It’s a branch from the dryad’s wych elm.”
    He stilled immediately, his cock no longer pressing
insistently against her. “The dryad?”
    “Certified dryad free. It’s just a tree
branch. A very long, supple, springy tree branch.” She
slapped his ass for emphasis.
    Dermot trembled against her. “Would you…?”
    She gazed into his eager face and smiled. “You made me
incredibly happy on our way over here. Now it’s my turn to make you happy.”
    Eyes shining, he swallowed twice before he was able to
speak. “Let’s get that suitcase now.”

Chapter
Six
     
    Dermot smoothed his hand over his hair out of habit as
he hurried to the door. Eileen’s suitcase was waiting in the hall, his driver
having delivered it and then departed.
    He grabbed the handle and swung it inside. After closing
and locking the door, he carried the suitcase to the guest room and tossed it
onto the navy and gold bedspread.
    Eileen followed him in a moment later, pausing in the
doorway to glance around the room. “You paid someone to decorate your
apartment, didn’t you?”
    Dermot appraised the gender-neutral guest room. The bed,
chair, and pillows were covered in navy and gold brocade trimmed with gold
braid. The headboard, nightstand, and dresser were made of pecan with gold
accents. Navy gauze panels tied back with gold tassels draped over a decorative
pecan rod, unifying the theme. The look was completed with three still- lifes bordered by wide navy mattes in slim gold frames. It
looked elegant, without being ostentatious.
    “She did a good job.”
    Eileen smiled. “It’s pretty enough, true. But it’s not
you.”
    “This is the guest room.” Dermot grinned, anticipating
her reaction to the designer’s safari look in his room. “Wait until you see the
master bedroom.”
    Eileen unzipped her suitcase, flipped it open, and
tossed aside a sweater to reveal a slender gray branch, about two feet in
length, tapering from an inch in width at the foot of the branch to the tiny
twigs at its tip.
    Dermot swallowed, unable to tear his gaze from the
innocuous branch. He remembered the feel of the dryad’s hands whipping his ass,
the glorious pain that transported him to the faerie realm of indescribable
beauty. The ecstasy that had nearly killed him.
    He reached for the branch, and saw that his hand was
shaking. Quickly, he clasped his hands behind his back before Eileen could spot
his tremors and have second thoughts.
    She lifted the branch out of her suitcase and whipped it
back and forth in front of him. It whistled as it cut through the air.
    Dermot’s entire body trembled with eager fear. His cock
hardened and jutted forward, making a tent in the front of his pants and
pulling the fabric tight against his ass. A soft whine escaped his throat, like
a dog whimpering for a promised treat.
    Eileen smiled and lifted one hand to encompass the guest
room. “Here?”
    He shook his head. “My room. This way.”
    He led her down the