“So your cockdidfind a way inside while we . . . recovered,” she hedged, her voice a breathless whisper. Faylinn’s pupils dilated as her lust twined with my own, causing the connection between us to pulsate and dance.
“I . . . wouldn’t call it that,” I hedged, mesmerized by the rapid pulse visibly thumping in her neck.
“Then, what would you call it?” Faylinn’s full lips parted, her tongue darting out as the breath caught in my chest.
“Cuddling,” I mumbled, drawn completely to her. My hands fell from my hair as I moved inexplicably like a puppet on a string. I was the doll, she my master, and I would dance to her tune every minute for the rest of my life.
I slid across the leather of the couch, turning as I moved until her knees were pressed against my own. Opening my thighs, I pulled closer until our mouths were a hair apart, our exhales mingling in the lax space until her breath became mine.
Sharing this space with Faylinn, her body pressed against mine, warmbeneath my hands as I placed them on her thighs, felt right. Like my soul was never actually whole until its rendered pieces finally returned.
Does she feel the same?
I leaned impossibly closer, my lips delicately brushing hers as I hesitated for a moment to allow Faylinn to pull away. Her breath hitched as our lips connected again, a brief touch, but one that was full of meaning and emotion. A groan built deep within my chest as my fingers flexed against her thighs, wanting to grab and pull and take; to utterlyconsumeher until nothing of our individualities remained, and we were one.
An impatient banging knock sounded against the door just as my lips connected with hers.
With a gasp, Faylinn scrambled away, falling off the couch to land heavily on the floor with a loudthump. I stumbled forward, my hands seeking purchase on her body that no longer sat pressed against my own.
Cotton screeched loudly as he sought shelter beneath the couch, away from our flailing limbs.
“Faylinn? General? Are you . . . decent?” a male’s voice rang through the thick wood of my door, and I growled at the idea of another thinking of Faylinn’s body in any way that was considered indecent.
Mine.
Faylinn scrambled up from the floor, tripping over her feet in her haste. I reached out a hand, balancing precariously on the other while I helped her.
“Faylinn? General?” The knock and voice sounded again.
“In a minute!” I called, frustration casting a harshness to my words.
“Oh, yes, of course. Uhm, sorry,” the voice called, growing fainter as they retreated a few steps from the door.
Faylinn finally righted herself completely, her shaking fingers working to deftly straighten her tunic and pants. At some point in the disaster of the last few minutes, the linen towel fell from her hair, exposing unruly curls that were still slightly damp, the lack of product causing the normally well-kept coils to frizz.
I winced at my forgetfulness, pushing to a stand from the couch and grabbing a small tub from the empty tray.
“Here,” I said quietly, holding the jar between us. Faylinn frowned slightly, her eyes darting from the pot to me and back again. I thrust it slightly toward her. “It’s not going to bite, Faylinn.”
“What is it?” she asked, long fingers delicately brushing my palm as she reached for the container. I shivered at the contact but tried to smother the reaction my body had to hers.
“Coconut oil,” I said with a shrug. “One of the servants in the kitchen said that, in a pinch, this works for her curls. They’re not as tightly coiled as yours, butI figured that something was better than nothing. I apologize for not having the right creams and elixirs for your hair here.”
Faylinn blinked owlishly at me, her hand clutching the jar frozen in midair. I grabbed the back of my neck, a faint blush coating my cheeks from embarrassment for the second time today.
“Thank you,” she finally murmured, shaking herself from the stupor. Faylinn deftly twisted the top from the jar, dipping her fingers in the oil and massaging it between her palms before quickly skating her hands through her tresses, meticulously coating each curl.
I was enraptured with her movements, committing the process to memory so that one day, if she chose me and this Bond, I could repeat the action for her.
More than anything else, my blood and soul ached to care for her, to protect her, to love her.
Wiping her palms on her pants, Faylinn crossed to the door, but I intercepted her with a strong hand on her shoulder.
“Let me. You don’t know who is outside that door, what they intend, or what happened after the battle ended.” I gently pulled her behind my body. “At most, I have the ability to protect you with my magic.”
“Rohak,” Faylinn’s voice was faint and pained as I reached for the door, throwing it wide in hopes of catching our visitor unaware.
Squeals and gasps, sighs of relief and whoops of excitement met me as I stood stunned in the doorway. There, clogging the hallway completely, looked to be at least half of the Mage Academy. A few young cadets jostled the legs of the older men and women in an attempt to secure a better viewing angle while I could see the distinct glint of Gene and Art’s glasses as they peered over countless shoulders from the back of the crowd.
