“You’re perfect,” he murmurs as he peels off my shirt, then bends to press his lips to my shoulder.
He lies on top of me, his weight pinning me to the bed, then trails kisses to my breastband. With a soft bite, he lowers it with his lips, revealing the peak of my breasts, then he trails his tongue around my nipples as his fingers unlace the fabric. His touch is magic, fire, light, a caress that ignites a flame within me, lights my core, fills me with desire.
His lips keep trailing my body until he reaches the laces of my trousers, carefully undoing them with his mouth, while one of his ringed hands cups my breast and the other he caresses my thigh. With slow, careful movements, he removes my trousers.
When I’m finally bare before him, he takes a moment just to look at me, pinning me with his gaze. Those eyes, so dark and deep and mysterious are like a phantom touch, reaching inside me, heating me with a magical fire, making me overcome with desire, overcome with his powerful presence.
His hands slide up my thigh, palms warm, thumbs pressing gently just by my entrance, igniting a new spark at my core. Our eyes lock, and all I know is that I want him. More of him. All of him. I want to make up for all the wasted nights when we were apart, each of us consumed with excruciating desire, when I was trying so hard to bury my love that I was smothering my own heart. My heart—now beating and beating and beating, unrestrained, free.
I close my eyes and surrender to him, delighting in the sensation of his hand at the insides of my thighs, trembling when he settles his lips between them. The first kiss is feather-light and shocking. I gasp, surprised by the jolt of sensation. He lingers, mouth exploring, tasting, learning me. Patient and attentive, he’s listening to my body, feeling for the right touch, the right intensity, then shifting, each movement more intense.
My fingers tangle in his hair as the world narrows to the fiery point where his mouth and my body meet, until all that pressure erupts and pleasure radiates to my every nerve, creating a tingling sensation all over my skin.
I come apart with a whimper, feeling a circle of light around me, within me.
Marlak does not stop, carrying me through the aftershocks, gentling the sensations until I am spent and trembling and so completely his.
I reach for him, my fingers finding the hardness straining against his clothes. He groans as I caress him through the fabric.
“I need you,” I whisper, tugging at his clothing. “All of you.”
His eyes are dark with desire, holding mine as he removes his own shirt, his ringed finger moving button by button. I delight in the sight of his exposed chest, and when he covers my body with his, I melt in the feel of his skin against mine, his body so close.
And yet I push him back. His eyes widen, surprised.
“My turn, Marlak.” I’m still breathless, still dizzy, and yet I want to do this.
He raises an eyebrow in that way only he can do. “Oh, you want somemilk?”
“If you use that word again for this, I’m going to bite.”
His chuckle is light and amused. “You didn’t tell me you liked biting, or I would?—”
“I’m threatening you.”
At least he has the decency to pretend to be serious.
I leave the bed and kneel by it, then pull him to the edge, the way we were before, except that I’m naked now, tugging at his belt. For a moment, I’m back in our castle—the Amethyst Palace, where I’m crawling under a table, ready to love him.
“What?” He asks, a gentle finger under my chin.
“I was recalling the dream. Did you experience it clearly?”
“You mean the one where you were under the table and said the word I’m not supposed to say in this context?”
Heat rises to my face. “Yes.”
“Might I remind you, you’re the one who said it. I guess I remember enough, don’t I?”
I smile back at him, my tone now teasing. “Then you know what happens next.”
My fingers work at his belt with more determination now. The leather slides free, and I unfasten the button of his trousers, my heart pounding so loudly I’m certain he can hear it. I pull down his trousers, revealing the thin fabric of his undergarment beneath, the outline of him straining against it.
His eyes are dark, watching me with such hunger that makes my breath catch. Intense. Almost fearsome, if it wasn’t for the thread of sweetness permeating them. Still, quite intimidating. For a brief second, I hesitate. Can I even do this right? But then I hook my fingers into the waistband and pull down his undergarments.
I stare at his manhood, hard and ready and beautiful before me. Thrilling. A flutter of nervousness takes my stomach.
“I...” My voice falters as I struggle for words, my throat suddenly dry, realizing I don’t sound anything even remotely close to sexy. “Tell me if I do it wrong.”
