reddened nipples never receded, remaining hard and distended. Her clit stayed engorged and throbbing. She restlessly scissored her legs, craving friction to heat her core.
He’d carried her to the bed, water streaming from their bodies, and laid her in the center before coming over her. Just as she’d envisioned, she’d watched him over his shoulder in the mirror as each movement of his shoulders and back animated the dragon tattooed on his back, making the wings rise up and down and the tail undulate with every flex of his buttocks. He’d fucked her again on the bed, without preliminaries, thrusting straight, powering so hard her lungs expelled air in harsh gasps.
Feeling languid, boneless, and drifting toward sleep, she moaned when his large hands parted her again, and she gazed down between their bodies, watching as he smoothed over her skin, his burnished hand caressing pale, pink curves.
For the first time, she noted the ring he wore on one hand. A raised crest with a six-sided star, a large bloodred cabochon at the center and small multicolored jewels studding each point of the star—all sitting atop a crudely made setting that looked forged from brass and iron. Light reflected off the center of the cabochon, and the smooth stone seemed to glow for a moment until he moved his hand again and the illusion faded.
She quickly lost interest in the ring when his hand slid down her belly and cupped her pussy. Two fingers eased inside her, and she sucked in a breath that hissed through clenched teeth.
“Have I hurt you?” he asked, his raised brows showing no particular concern, only curiosity.
“No, but your fingers feel cold inside me.”
“That’s because your woman’s channel is hot.” Long, thick fingers swirled inside her. “And wet. I find I’m very, very thirsty.”
She shivered at the intimacy that had grown quickly between them, emphasized by their soft whispers and reinforced by the steady sundering of her inhibitions. Even the gauzy fabric he’d drawn down around the bed deepened the feeling that they were the only beings who existed on this plane.
Her breath caught at the dark promise in his eyes as he slid down the bed and settled his torso between her thighs. When his head dipped toward her sex, a thin, ragged moan slipped between her lips.
His gaze met hers again. Black pupils dilated until only thin streaks of gold framed them, and then his tongue flicked out, longer than she’d expected and indented at the tip. The flicker touched her clitoris, stroking it, and her back arched instantly. Another flick and he stroked between her folds, prodding her entrance to lap at the cream sliding down to greet his wicked demon’s tongue.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize the creature lying there with her thighs splayed. Her hair was matted, her eyes overlarge, her mouth red and stretching as she moaned.
His head, circling between her legs, was dark; his thick hair slicked back. Powerful shoulders, bracketed by her thighs, tensed and eased as he plied her with sinuous rasps of his long, slick tongue.
Her body followed his movements, her hips lifting and falling, letting him coax her into full arousal again. When had she surrendered everything to him? When had her plot to seduce him completely devolved until she was the one enraptured? Trapped by her own sensual nature and his natural domination, she’d folded easily. Too easily.
She dug her fingers into his scalp and pulled his hair, trying to pry him from her cunt. However, his tongue thrust more insistently inside her, reaching deeper, sliding, fluttering until it found the bundle of nerves a third of the way up, the rounded knot of her inner pleasure center.
Her body vibrated, quivering hard at his internal caresses. He touched nothing else, concentrating his efforts there until her moans grew thin and broken.
When her release spiraled out of control, her thighs clamped his shoulders hard, and she
He’d carried her to the bed, water streaming from their bodies, and laid her in the center before coming over her. Just as she’d envisioned, she’d watched him over his shoulder in the mirror as each movement of his shoulders and back animated the dragon tattooed on his back, making the wings rise up and down and the tail undulate with every flex of his buttocks. He’d fucked her again on the bed, without preliminaries, thrusting straight, powering so hard her lungs expelled air in harsh gasps.
Feeling languid, boneless, and drifting toward sleep, she moaned when his large hands parted her again, and she gazed down between their bodies, watching as he smoothed over her skin, his burnished hand caressing pale, pink curves.
For the first time, she noted the ring he wore on one hand. A raised crest with a six-sided star, a large bloodred cabochon at the center and small multicolored jewels studding each point of the star—all sitting atop a crudely made setting that looked forged from brass and iron. Light reflected off the center of the cabochon, and the smooth stone seemed to glow for a moment until he moved his hand again and the illusion faded.
She quickly lost interest in the ring when his hand slid down her belly and cupped her pussy. Two fingers eased inside her, and she sucked in a breath that hissed through clenched teeth.
“Have I hurt you?” he asked, his raised brows showing no particular concern, only curiosity.
“No, but your fingers feel cold inside me.”
“That’s because your woman’s channel is hot.” Long, thick fingers swirled inside her. “And wet. I find I’m very, very thirsty.”
She shivered at the intimacy that had grown quickly between them, emphasized by their soft whispers and reinforced by the steady sundering of her inhibitions. Even the gauzy fabric he’d drawn down around the bed deepened the feeling that they were the only beings who existed on this plane.
Her breath caught at the dark promise in his eyes as he slid down the bed and settled his torso between her thighs. When his head dipped toward her sex, a thin, ragged moan slipped between her lips.
His gaze met hers again. Black pupils dilated until only thin streaks of gold framed them, and then his tongue flicked out, longer than she’d expected and indented at the tip. The flicker touched her clitoris, stroking it, and her back arched instantly. Another flick and he stroked between her folds, prodding her entrance to lap at the cream sliding down to greet his wicked demon’s tongue.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize the creature lying there with her thighs splayed. Her hair was matted, her eyes overlarge, her mouth red and stretching as she moaned.
His head, circling between her legs, was dark; his thick hair slicked back. Powerful shoulders, bracketed by her thighs, tensed and eased as he plied her with sinuous rasps of his long, slick tongue.
Her body followed his movements, her hips lifting and falling, letting him coax her into full arousal again. When had she surrendered everything to him? When had her plot to seduce him completely devolved until she was the one enraptured? Trapped by her own sensual nature and his natural domination, she’d folded easily. Too easily.
She dug her fingers into his scalp and pulled his hair, trying to pry him from her cunt. However, his tongue thrust more insistently inside her, reaching deeper, sliding, fluttering until it found the bundle of nerves a third of the way up, the rounded knot of her inner pleasure center.
Her body vibrated, quivering hard at his internal caresses. He touched nothing else, concentrating his efforts there until her moans grew thin and broken.
When her release spiraled out of control, her thighs clamped his shoulders hard, and she
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