Two dragons have left the western end of the Island of Eliok,Wreylith said.
Syla didn’t answer. She was too busy relishing the feel of Vorik’s warm calloused hand trailing up her thigh and the delicious taste of his lips against hers, teasing, stroking, nibbling. Eyes of the moon, that was arousing.
He lifted his arms over her head long enough to pick up the key to his shackles. With scarcely a pause in their kissing, he unlocked himself. Maybe she should have second-guessed her decision to give him the key, but she didn’t. She wanted him to be unrestrained, fully capable of using his hands to touch her.
“I was waiting for you to break those,” she murmured.
“You kept the key and even pushed it toward me. I assumed you wanted me to use it, not rudely destroy another set of shackles.”
“Seeing you rudely destroy the first was kind of…”
“Hot?” Vorik smirked and flexed his muscles.
“A little.”
“I can break something else for you later, if you wish.” Wrists free, he lifted his hands to either side of her face, tracing her jaw as he lowered his mouth to kiss her again.
Yes, that was wonderful, and she leaned forward, enjoying his touch, his taste, and not saying anything else to Wreylith. Even if Sylahadn’twanted to spend this time with Vorik, what could she have done about the comings and goings of enemy dragons? Fly over and try to scout with Wreylith? That hadn’t gone well the last time. Besides, her people were collecting refugees from Hazel Harbor. They would need time before the fleet could go anywhere else, and she didn’t even know where she would go. If she left with the weapons platform, the dragons would return. And until she knew where the shielder components were, she couldn’t venture off to collect them.
“We have to be quiet,” she whispered even as stimulating sensations swept through her body. Already, she wanted to groan her pleasure. “I’m interrogating you.”
Vorik’s eyes gleamed with humor as he stroked her. “I understand.”
Syla slid her hands down his chest to the hem of his shirt, pushing it up so she could run her fingers over his muscled abdomen. He obliged her by pausing his ministrations long enough to tug the garment over his head and toss it onto the desk. She reveled in his taut contours as she traced her fingers over them, nails brushing him, raising gooseflesh on his skin as he shifted into her touch.
The lamplight and shadows created hills and valleys out of his musculature, and the urge to explore that terrain with her tongue swept over her. Anticipation and heat coiled within her, and, lips leaving his, she brought her mouth lower. Tongue venturing out, she tasted the curve of his pectoral, aroused by exploring his lithe athletic form.
She remembered him fighting on the deck, striking with lightning-fast power as he deflected Lesva’s attacks while keeping the captain from reaching Syla. Everyone aboard would have happily shot him, but he’d been fearless, defying his people’s wishes on her behalf.
And now he was here with her, breathing in her scent and stroking her as she explored his body. He leaned into her tastes, her touches, as if he wanted nothing more than to be with her.
Maybe she should have been plotting and scheming and trying to wheedle information out of him, but she hated the idea of betraying him. She wanted to support him and to appreciate him, not to trick him into revealing anything he held dear. It was the wrong choice for her people and her kingdom, but she couldn’t do anything else. Not with Vorik. He deserved to be more than a prisoner, to be honored as the loyal warrior he was and that she longed to be with.
“Syla,” Vorik whispered hoarsely as her tongue trailed lower, and she reached for his belt.
She dropped to her knees, and he kneaded her shoulders, her neck, and her scalp, his deft fingers lighting her nerves on fire, awakening pleasure in her whole body. Pleasure and anticipation.
As she unfastened his belt and lowered his trousers, she looked up at his face and caught lust burning in his eyes. When she brought her lips to his hard cock, his head lolled back, taut abdomen flexing. She ran one hand over the ridges of his muscles, nails scraping to arousehispleasure, then curled the other around his shaft to hold him as she kissed along its length.
“Syla,” Vorik said again, a groan of desire this time.
“Quiet,” she murmured even as she teased him with her lips and grew more aroused herself.
Hearing her name spoken with such feeling and need excited her, and she slid her mouth around his shaft, tongue strokingand teeth grazing ever so lightly as she took him in and out. He stiffened, almost thrusting into her, but he made himself stand still, desire and tension radiating from him. Holding and touching him aroused her, as did his taste, his heady scent. Feeling her own need building, she quickened her pace.
Vorik looked down at her again, drinking her in as she worked him, and he kept rubbing her scalp, the hot tingles driving down to her core, intensifying her desire even as she focused on pleasing him. Just being near him always made her long for him, and being able to stroke him and taste him… it made her hot and wet with desire of her own. She envisioned him lifting her and striding to the bed, pinning her down and plunging deeply into her to satisfy her. She almost begged him to do exactly that.
But he liked this. His body quivered as his need built, and his breathing quickened as his hands lowered to grip her shoulders. She smiled around his cock, satisfied that she could affect him so.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he said at one point, his words almost pants.
Mouth full, she mumbled an agreement but didn’t stop. Later, they could amend her clothing situation, but now…
He couldn’t hold still any longer, and he rocked into her ministrations, words turning into eager grunts and groans that he kept soft but couldn’t quite stifle. She gripped his ass with both hands, taking him as deeply as she could, and he touched her face in warning, shifting away from her mouth before exploding with a gasp of pure ecstasy. Sweat glistened on his magnificent body as she gazed at him, enraptured and hungry with her own need.
“Incredible,” he panted, his eyes locking on her again, full of satisfaction and almost awe. As if she’d accomplished a great achievement. “You’re incredible,” he whispered again.
“People may doubt the efficacy of my candles if they heard your grunts,” she said, glad he’d been satisfied, never wanting to disappoint him.
