Finally, finally, his shirt came loose, and I slid it back off his shoulders. My fingertips and gaze caressed his chest, lingering on the Skinscript above his heart. The jagged and coarse scars that latticed across his chest. I broke away from his mouth, painting kisses down his neck and torso. Tasting him with my tongue. Irresistible.
He groaned, head falling back. At some point, he’d freed me of my shirt and pants, and his hands had begun a slow journey of my body. One calloused thumb circled my breast while the other hand drifted lower.
Reaching down, I tugged his pants off. Anticipation and desire flared. He wasn’t wearing any underwear.
I slid one hand down his considerable hardened length, grinning as he moaned. Wrapping my hand tight, I squeezed him, pleased when he groaned again.
He hooked his thumbs into the side of my panties, tearing them off me. I moved my hand up and down his length, experimenting. He hardened beneath my touch.
Before I could continue, he reached down and began to press firm circles over my hypersensitive clitorus with his thumb. I bucked against his hand, straining and moaning atthe ravaging pleasure that shot to my core. Leaning down, he fastened his lips around my nipple, sucking.
Lust and heat bathed me.
I shuddered, overwhelmed by sensation. “Please, please…”
Frenzied for anything to hang onto, my hands fisted on his shoulders, squeezing into his flesh.
“Shh,” he flicked his tongue over my nipple, blowing on the wet heat he’d planted there. His thumb was pressing in deeper, tighter circles. His index finger moved further down, slipping into me.
I spasmed, pleasure sweetening as I tightened around his ministrations. Rocking against his hand, I tried to focus, sweat beading down my forehead. My heartbeat was galloping, toes curling as I fought to hang on. To him. To restraint. He held me on the cusp, pleasure sweet and warm tightening in me. Deft fingers played me like an instrument. “I can’t–”
Bliss swept over me in a euphoric rush as I fractured against him. I lost myself to feeling, the world turning fuzzy and wonderful.
Zevrial smiled at me, gently removing his hand. “Stunning,” he said. Shifting, he positioned himself above me, pressing another kiss to my lips.
He drove into me, so hot and full I thought I’d burst. It was so sudden I cried out. Pulling back, we picked up a rhythm against each other. Slow at first, but soon the tempo accelerated. He slammed into me, fit me so perfectly I knew I wouldn’t last. Moaning, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer. Tighter.
He groaned, sucking on the pulse pounding in my neck.
“More,” I demanded, pushing my hips up toward his as he thrust. The pace was punishing, every pound of his body against mine hitting just the right spot.
Pleasure wound around me, rising higher and higher. Need burned blinding bright. I dug my nails into his back, incoherent with the feeling of an impending orgasm cresting.
For precious seconds, I was floating and falling at once. Relaxation spread through every fiber of me. Nothing mattered but this moment, this feeling here with him. Trembling, I fell as he shuddered above me, reaching his own release. He angled himself down sideways as he collapsed, sliding out of me.
I lay there, dazed and drifting, staring at his handsome features.
Maybe our mutual Skinscript was good for something after all.
“I don’t care what this is,” Zevrial caressed the glyph on my chest above my heart, as if reading my thoughts. His smooth voice was roughened from sex, it sounded darker. Like bitter chocolate and midnight dreams. I liked it. “I’m glad for it.”
I gave him a lazy, satisfied smile. “Because it lets you feel what I feel when I orgasm?”
“Because you’d still be trying to run away if it hadn’t bound us together.”
I punched his arm. He grinned. “Because it tells me you feel the same about me as I do about you.”
“That’s cheating,” I grumbled. “You can’t be all sexy and perfect, and then romantic to get me to admit to feeling something for you first.”
His smile was roguish. “You don’t have to. Because I already know.” He traced the glyph on my chest. I swatted at his hand as he laughed.
“You’re mistaking afterglow for more,” I teased. But I had felt it too, the enticing warmth of something more mixed in with the passion. And it hadn’t just originated from me.
We laid together, tracing invisible soothing patterns on one another’s skin. I skimmed my fingertips over a particularly vicious looking scar on his abdomen.
His smile faded. “Were you ever going to tell me you were betrothed?”
Just like that, the afterglow dimmed. “That’s what you want to talk about right now?”
