"Targesh—"
He lifted his head. His eyes were nearly black now, his breath coming harsh, and when he spoke his voice was gravel.
"More?"
She nodded. She couldn't have formed a word if her life depended on it.
He pulled the dress the rest of the way off. Her smallclothes followed. She was naked on his bed, thighs parted, the soft curls between them damp and dark with arousal.
Then he dropped to his knees.
The Warchief of the Mountain Clan was on his knees between her thighs. Her mind went white. She tried to sit up, to say something, but his hands closed around her hips and pulled her to the edge of the bed, spreading her wide.
His mouth was on her inner thigh. He kissed up the soft flesh, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. She could feel his breath against her center, and her fingers were digging into the furs, her thighs shaking, the ache between her legs so sharp she could taste it at the back of her throat.
His thumbs spread her open, and the first stroke of his tongue tore a cry from her throat.
The wet heat of his mouth obliterated every word she had ever read on the subject. The impossible intimacy, the way his tongue licked into her like she was something to be savored. Long, slow strokes that parted her folds and curled against her entrance. Tusks pressing cool and smooth against the soft inner skin of her thighs. She grabbed fistfuls of fur, her knuckles aching, the tendons in her forearms standing taut.
He growled against her, and the sound traveled straight through her clit. Her hips bucked against his grip; he held her down effortlessly, one massive forearm across her hips, the other sliding up to palm her breast, thumb rolling her nipple in time with his tongue.
The pressure built, coiling low in her belly, tightening with every pass of his tongue, every rumbling vibration. She was panting, whimpering, her head thrown back and her mouthopen and the sounds coming out of her had no words in them at all.
His lips closed around the swollen bud at the apex of her sex and sucked.
She shattered, her back arching, her thighs clamping around his head, his name cracking apart on her tongue. He drank her down with low, satisfied rumbles, gentling his touch but never stopping until the spasms turned to helpless flutters and she collapsed boneless against the furs.
She was still shaking when he rose over her. His mouth was wet. His eyes were savage. The laces of his trousers were straining, and she could see the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric, and she wanted—
A knock at the outer door.
Targesh went still.
Verity's arms flew across her chest. Her thighs pressed together, knees twisting, her whole body contracting into the smallest possible shape, the old reflexes surging up through the haze of pleasure like cold water.
His hand closed around her wrists.
He pulled her arms away from her chest, pinned them against the furs above her head, and held them there. His grip was iron. His eyes never left her face.
The knock came again. Harder.
"Warchief." Kethrak's voice, muffled through oak and iron. "The River Clan delegation. There's been an incident at the trading post."
Targesh lowered his head and dragged his mouth along her collarbone, his tusks tracing cool lines across her flushed skin.
"What kind of incident?"
His tongue found the hollow of her throat. Verity bit down on her lip to keep from making a sound.
"Accusations of short weight on the iron shipment. Tormund is threatening to void the contract. Grukash is holding him off, but—"
"But Tormund wants to speak to me directly." Targesh's teeth grazed her pulse point. She shivered, her fingers curling uselessly above her head. "Of course he does."
His mouth moved lower. The curve of her breast. The soft swell of flesh that spilled over his grip when he released one wrist to cup her. His thumb traced her nipple, and she arched into the touch before she could stop herself.
"Warchief?"
"I heard you." He pressed his lips to the underside of her breast, then lower, following the soft line of her belly. His tusk dragged across the sensitive skin below her navel, and her hips lifted off the furs. "Tell Grukash I will be there shortly. Have Tormund brought to the council chamber. Wine. The good cask."
