Then she felt it.
The glide of a hot tongue as it delved into her center. Swirling and tasting. Licking and laving. Devouring her whole.
Caelian’s eyes flew open as her body convulsed, but a strong hand flattened against her stomach, holding her in place.
“Let me taste the nectar of a goddess, dear wife.” Kjeld’s rumbling voice reverberated through her womb, and elation crashed into her, drowned her as her slit soaked his face.
He was buried between her legs, his mouth fused to her, his scruff tickling her thighs, teasing her further. She’d never been more grateful to fall asleep naked. Perhaps she would start sleeping without a nightgown from now on.
“Blessed stars,” Caelian cried, her head tipping back. “Please don’t stop.”
“I have no intention of it, my lady.”
His tongue was decidedly wicked, the way it flicked and curled, leaving her senseless. He was masterful. Digging her nails into the bed of earth for purchase, Caelian thrashed, her eyes rolling to where the seeping wash of twilight was overtaking the sky. Above her, stars blinked in and out of focus, winking through the willow’s swaying branches, watching as she came undone.
When Kjeld ceased his delightful ministrations, he pushed off the ground, and she thought perhaps they were finished. Instead, he settled against the base of the willow, his eyes fixated on her. He was still shirtless, which she appreciated because it afforded her to opportunity to admire his expertly carved body. His golden skin gleamed and he stretched his arms overhead, his immense muscles flexing, drawing her gaze. Then he relaxed, hooking one finger in her direction as he reached for the seamof his pants, where a very distinctive bulge was straining against the fabric.
Caelian swallowed.
She knew what it was like to have him inside her, knew how wonderfully full she felt, but sweet stars, he wassobig.
“Come here, Starweaver.” Kjeld’s voice was gravelly and magnetic, a tempting lure beckoning her into a world of illicit promises and midnight caresses.
Caelian sat up, the warm breeze enveloping her skin. She was comfortable in her nudity, especially around Kjeld because he’d witnessed her at her best and her worst, and that bit of knowledge offered her an edge of bravery. Planting her hands and knees on the downy patch of grass, she crawled toward him, then straddled his lap. Stormy desire clouded his eyes, darkening the pools of blue to near black. Tendrils of sinewy nightfall crept over them while glimmering fireflies danced in the pitch, winking in and out of existence.
Pulling the ribbons from her hair, she let the loose locks tumble around her bare shoulders, shaking out the tangles. Then she summoned the rest of her courage and scraped her nails against his solid abdomen. She trailed every ridge and dip, all the way to the light dusting of hair near his navel, then lower still. Her fingers were nimble, making quick work of the buttons and snug cotton that constrained his thick shaft. When she flicked open the last one, she couldn’t help but stare.
He was glorious.
And she had no idea how he’d managed to fit something of that size inside her.
Tentatively, she reached for him, the smooth flesh of his erection like a rod of velvet in her grasp.
The corner of her mouth twitched. Such imagery, perhaps she’d read it in a book somewhere.
“Do you find me amusing?” he asked, lifting his hips so her hand moved up and down his length.
“Not at all.” Caelian looked at him from beneath her lashes while she touched him. She fisted him first and he grunted. She repeated the motion with a hard squeeze and a tic of slipping control feathered along his jaw. “Do you like it when I do that?”
“There is very little I don’t like when it comes to you touching me.” Kjeld cupped her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples, his hands barely large enough to contain her ample bosom. “However, I would like it even more if you intend to do something about it.”
She leaned forward, rubbing her core against his length. “I would very much like to?—”
The whispers circulating through her mind compounded, the pleading of the many quietly begging to be heard.
“I hate how insecure I am, I wish I had more confidence.”
“Why must this illness persist? I wish I knew how to brew a healing potion.”
“I wish Sylvan would notice me, but he doesn’t even know I exist.”
“I wish the River Thalorien would forget me.”
“Caelian?” Concern laced Kjeld’s tone and he caught her by the chin. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She winced, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I just need a moment.”
“Are you hurt?”
