“What—” Before she could finish the thought, the smoke tightened, pinning her hands on either side of her head. A shiver rolled through her at the feel of the smoke—hot and prickly, yet not to the point of discomfort.
Rey sat back, both hands now freed. The man was beyond pleased with himself. “Better.”
“Unfair,” complained Silla, writhing against her smoky binds. “You know I cannot use my own galdur!”
But Rey was unfazed. He reached for her lébrynja jacket andunfastened it with excruciating slowness before pulling it free around her restraints. Rey repeated the move with her undertunic, her boots, her breeches. When at last Silla was bare, Rey’s gaze raked over her form.
“Do you enjoy it,” he rasped, a large, warm hand sliding up her rib cage, “when I tease you?”
“No!”
But he only chuckled. “Liar.”
“Yourliar,” she breathed.
“My liar,” Rey agreed, and then his mouth was back on hers.
This kiss was slow and deep, so decadent it made Silla’s head spin. Callused fingertips scraped along the curve of her hip, the flat of her stomach, then lower. As they slid through her center, Silla knew he would find her ready. Gods, she’d been craving this for hours now; she was half wild with need.
He dipped two fingers in, working rhythmically until she writhed beneath him. Her muscles flexed as she tried to urge him faster, harder, but Rey’s smoke held her firm. With slow, languorous movements, he stoked her need higher, deeper, until she was desperate to reach that pinnacle and break apart.
But Rey drew back. Withdrew his fingers. And as he slid down her body, Silla had a moment of apprehension.
“Rey, I was just sparring,” she protested.
“I know,” whispered Rey, throwing her leg over his shoulder.
“But Isweated.” She whispered the last word in warning.
“Iknow.” Rey’s eyes were fever-bright as he looked up at her. “Please,” he rasped, reaching down to adjust himself. Was he…aroused by this?
“Oh, very well—I—oh!” Silla gasped as his tongue slid through her, and all her inhibitions burned to ash. There was only feeling. Only the scrape of his beard and his coarse curls against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Only the thrust of his fingers, the delicate touch of his tongue. Her feet pushed down against his back, trying to urge him closer, trying to get the pressure just right…
“More,” she begged, tugging against her binds to no avail. The realization that she was at his mercy—that she gladly relinquished complete trust and control to him—only made her pleasure coil tighter.
“Patience,” he rasped, yet his voice betrayed a hint of his own impatience. And as Rey reached down to adjust himself once more, Silla knew she was not alone in her frustration.
Rey pulled the tenderest part of her into his mouth with a gentle suck, and Silla bowed off the bed with a cry.
“Yes!” she urged him on, her heels digging into the thick muscles of his back. “Please!”
And finally, the man obliged. A curl of his fingers. A twist of his tongue. Another gentle suck, and it was enough. The tension inside her broke free, her pleasure a living thing thrashing ferociously through her. On it went, Rey’s merciless fingers never letting up. Silla spasmed and clenched until it had run its course. Then she lay panting, clutching her hands to her forehead as she stared up at Rey.
His brows were drawn. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Free yourself—”
Silla blinked, then stared at her freed wrists. “I don’t know. Did you not free them?”
He shook his head slowly. But Silla was quickly distracted by the sight of his unfulfilled desire.
“Need—” she whispered, freed hands reaching for him.
Every muscle in Rey’s body seemed rigid as he took himself in hand and pumped. And not for the first time, she thought he looked much like a malevolent god. Slowly, Rey pushed into her. Silla clasped his arms as her body gradually accepted him. The room was quiet save for the sounds of their mingling breaths as Rey worked himself in with deliberate, insistent thrusts. As he reached the deepest part of her, Silla’s body clenched around him, and they stared at each other.
But neither could bear to exist in such a state for long, and whenSilla, ever impatient, wriggled against him, Rey began to move. As he found a rhythm, her pleasure quickly spiraled anew, tightening with each increasingly erratic thrust of his hips.
