I pull back, my hands finding the laces of her dress. "May I?"
"Yes," she breathes.
I unlace her slowly, my fingers brushing her skin, savoring the warmth. The linen falls away, pooling at her feet like a cloud. She stands before me, naked and perfect, her skin glowing in the starlight.
I drop to my knees.
I do not worship gods anymore. I worship this.
I press my face against her stomach, inhaling the scent of her—salt and skin and that deep, quiet magic that hums in her blood. My hands span her waist, then slide down to cup her hips.
"Beautiful," I groan. "So beautiful."
She tangles her fingers in my hair, her touch grounding me. "Imas... please."
I look up at her. Her eyes are dark, heavy-lidded with desire.
"Tell me what you want," I say.
"I want to taste you," she whispers.
I stand and strip off my tunic and breeches, leaving them in a pile on the floor. I am hard, achingly so, my desire a heavy, pulsing weight.
We move to the bed. It is simple, covered in clean linen that smells of sunlight.
She climbs onto the bed. She crawls over me, but she does not face me. She turns, positioning herself so she is facing my feet, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of my head.
She lowers herself.
It is such a view to behold. I am looking up at the curve of her spine, the soft swell of her buttocks, and the glistening, inviting heat of her sex hovering just above my mouth.
She leans forward, reaching for my cock. I cannot see her face, but I feel her small hand wrap around my shaft. I gasp.
Then, I hear her sharp intake of breath.
"You are... immense," she murmurs, her voice trembling.
"I am yours," I choke out. "All of it."
She lowers herself. She takes me into her mouth.
The sensation is blinding. It is wet and hot and incredibly, devastatingly intimate. I arch my back, a groan tearing from my throat. Her tongue swirls around the head, her lips descending, trying to take more of me than is physically possible.
"Leora," I gasp, my hands gripping her hips. "Gods... Leora."
She hums against me, the vibration traveling straight to my very being. She works me, her rhythm slow and maddening. I am unraveling. The pleasure is sharp, a sweet agony that builds at the base of my spine.
I cannot just take. I need to give.
I reach up, my hands finding her center. She is slick, wet with her own need. I slide two fingers inside her, and she gasps, her mouth tightening around me.
"Open for me," I command softly.
I guide her hips, shifting her until she is poised above my face. I look up at her, at the flushed, open vulnerability of her sex.
I taste her.
She tastes of life. She tastes of the ocean.
