Lornia said, “I understand. I do. I’m sorry.”
She did understand. How painful it must have been to never quite be the son that his father loved the most.
Drake sighed. “I think what I want the most is just to be remembered.”
That was ambition in its purest form, and he had no idea of that fact. She knew it because she had lived long enough to know that. He either had never considered it or his mind could not grasp it and that he had such a huge ambition meant that he was a man who would do anything to be remembered, to have his name written large in history—and such a man was a ruthless man. A man willing to use power to his advantage and in a way that would almost guarantee that harm was done.
He moved. It was a slight shift of his body, a negligible thing that somehow brought his chest into contact with hers for a split second. That small second was the turning point, and she knew it. There were only two options. Move away or move closer.
She knew she should choose the former.
Instead, she did the latter.
Their bodies collided. Drake’s eyes widened, then darkened as the desire that lay between them lashed in like a lightning strike, felling all of her defenses and common sense and leaving only that urgent need still there and alive in her thoughts and body.
Drake’s skin was heated and smooth, silk and satin over lean muscle that flexed and still held the tensile strength of steel. Lornia’s breath caught. That dream she’d had of him came rushing back. Her body strained forward, and their skin met. Her nipples pressed against his chest, and her fingers clutched at his strong shoulders as her legs went weak. It had been so long since she had known this kind of touch and she craved it so much, and there was something so familiar and so right about his body: the shape of it, the weight and size of it.
Of course it was familiar. She had known him in some way she could not explain. That dream had brought him to her, and as her hand dropped to his trousers, she felt the thick and long outline of his member. It was chubby and already stiff and as she ran her fingers along the length of it and his flesh went even more rigid: a fact that made her breath go fast and sharp as his tongue slid into her mouth and met hers.
Her breath hissed in and out of her mouth as his mouth turned demanding and fierce. His hands pulled her closer yet, his hands dropping to her ass and cupping it, tilting her pelvis so that her lower body pressed against his hard rod.
That rod that she wanted inside of her so badly.
His hands divested her of her clothing, and Lornia’s hands worked equally fast to remove his garments. They fell to the bed, and his mouth trailed across her flesh, consuming her nipples and then moving lower. His tongue found her, clit that pulsing ridge of flesh that nestled right at the top of her hood. Her fingers clutched at his hair and her hips arched and her ass shook as she bucked wildly, her cries locking behind her clamped-together lips.
His mouth teased her close to the edge of an orgasm, and she whispered, “No, not yet. Please. I want you inside of me.”
He came up, one hand moving across his mouth. His other hand guided his thick and long staff to her center. Her juices coated that member of his, and then he was inside her. Her inner walls spread and took him in and her moan broke over her lips and then was lost in the corners of his mouth as he kissed her again, that time so passionately that she lost all her breath.
Her body reacted and oils, slick and hot, spilled from her core and coated his dick. It slid inside and then out of her body as her walls began to spasm and more juices spurted from her body.
His low growl rang through the aftershocks that took over her body, and her legs went around his waist as he went first rigid, and then loose, his body curling up and over hers as his dick twitched and pulsed inside her tunnel.
They lay tangled together, not moving or speaking for a long time. Finally, he rolled away from her and reached for her, but she sat up, her hair spilling over her shoulders.
She said, “I know you believe I carried the weapon out of Tralam. I did. But what you may not know is how.”
He said, “We assumed it was something we could not look at, given what you had said to us.”
She began to weep. She could not help it. Everything she felt was too big and too frightening. She was too inexperienced in the nuances now to speak any way but plainly.
“I did not carry it out, and you are looking at the weapon right now. I am the weapon. It is me. I am the weapon that Tralam protected.”
