“Don’t drink that.” Our eyes meet as I glare at him. “It’s just … you’re going to want to be sober for this.” A sweet and almost shy look is in his eyes.
His palm pushes against the small of my back and when we enter, I realize it isn’t a room for planning war at all.
It’s far too floral for war. Big vases of red roses are placed in the corners. Two lanterns cast white blankets into soft golden shades and shadows.
The whole room feels simple and sensual.
“What is this?”
A heavy ruffling sound signals the tent is closed. The moment I hear it, his mouth skims against mine. Slow kisses press to my lips over and over until I relent and push my hands up his chest as his palms grip my hips.
Daxdyn is incredibly good at making me forget my anger. He’s good at this. He’s good at romance in the most unromantic of settings.
Slowly, he parts my lips and the anger in me is washed away the second his tongue slips against mine. He pulls back for only a second, his warm palms pushing against my ribs, sending shivers across my skin as he tugs the white shirt from over my head.
“This is what you wanted,” he whispers as his fingers tease my nipples. With leisurely strokes, he flicks his tongue against mine, deepening the kiss as he walks me backward.
What I wanted?
I don’t voice my confusion as he unbuttons my jeans. His lips press to my throat and then my clavicle. With care he removes the necklace and pushes it into his pocket. He sends a warm, sweeping flick of his tongue across my nipple. He begins to kneel, lowering himself to kiss down my ribs and below my navel before his palms finally push down my pants.
My fingers lock onto his shaggy, dark hair as his warm breath kisses my hipbone. His hands skim down my thighs and I step out of the jeans. Unsteadily, my feet tangle with the clothes but he holds me firmly in place.
The tightness in my chest is going to crack if he doesn’t put his lips on me again.
He stands and I nearly whimper when I realize he wasn’t making himself comfortable on his knees.
I’m naked before him and he’s completely clothed. He takes my hand in his, the gentle way he pulls me closer to the bed of blankets feels sweet. All of this is sweet.
This man loves me? It’s still astounding to me. This amazing man actually loves me.
Did he set this room up just for me?
I almost speak, I almost ask the question, but then he pulls at the back of his shirt. The dim lighting reveals his cut body, the hard muscle tone veering down into tight jeans. My fingers tic at my side, wanting to trace the lines of his body. I don’t move an inch as he slowly works the button of his jeans.
My thighs brush together when I realize he’s stripping for me.
Hooded eyes meet mine as he unhurriedly pushes his jeans to the ground. His pants meet the grass. I watch with intense interest as he pushes his boxers down the bulging length concealed beneath them.
The smooth head of his dick frees itself, but I follow his movements as he kicks off the last of his clothes.
“Come here,” he says on a rasping breath. His Adam’s apple bobs, his every emotion is laid out before me.
Just as it always is.
With a single step, I’m leaning into his hard frame. My palms push up the smooth lines of his abdomen. My heart pounds as the muscle tenses beneath my touch.
His attention checks the tent opening behind me, straying away from me for only a second before his warm hands are pushing up my hips.
“Tell me what you want.” He lowers himself to the pallet of blankets, pulling me down with him. The lanterns kiss his skin with an eternal golden glow, making him appear even more heaven-sent than normal.
My thighs straddle his hips. The length of his dick skims against my sex and I try hard not to just shove myself on him. Steady hands lightly trail up my ribs as he waits attentively for my reply.
Soft blankets meet my palms as I lean over him, caging him in beneath me.
“You,” I whisper, my lips brushing against his.
“Is that all?”
