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“I may be your husband, Klara Dirak’zar, but I am also your Karath. Your king. Or have you forgotten that?” I asked softly, watching her.
Her tongue darted out. Slowly, she toed off her boots and her riding trews dropped. She stepped out of the material, and then her hands went to the dress she’d worn to our bed the night before, pulling the delicate fabric over her head until she was naked before me.
Naked, save for the riding cuff she’d stolen. It stood out against her skin, and the sight of it only made me more crazed. My gaze snapped to hers. Her hands were shaking when she brought her fingers up to her lips to rub at the reddened flesh. Her nipples were pebbled tight, her shoulders raising and lowering, the curves of her hips and breasts tantalizing.
“And what would my king ask of me?”
I nearly groaned at the sultry words. My anger was steadily being replaced by lust, but I would play. I would play with her. I would play along. Because she’d still have to deal with my ire when we were done, but at least we could work out some frustration with each other beforehand.
“Get on your knees,” I ordered her.
I heard her thick swallow, but she did as I asked, lowering herself to the soft forest floor. We’d never done this act before, but I had fantasized about it, imagining how her mouth would feel on me, the heated lash of her tongue.
She thought to distract me? To fuck away my ire?
It mightwork, I admitted as I stepped forward, tugging firmly at the waist of my trews. Klara pushed them down when I reached her, my cock springing forward.
I hissed when she wrapped her hand around me, bucking into her grip.
I saw her hesitation. She’d never done this before, but her enthusiasm and curiosity was evident. Her eyes flickered to the line of the forest, but then I saw the heated burn in her eyes. She liked this. The idea of getting caught aroused her, and my cock jumped with the realization, drawing her gaze.
She didn’t wait for me to give her another order, however.
She licked, almost demurely, at the tip of my cock, which made me surge in her tight fist. I blew out a shuddering breath, thinking of the hell she’d just put me through…and the sweet, sweet hell she would put me through in the next few moments.
“Suck me, wife,” I growled, my patience snapping, especially when she teased her thumb over what I knew she called my dakke, the sensitive bump above the root of my shaft. She pressed into it, and a rough groan spilled from me. My hand went to fist in her hair. “Enough teasing. I’m tempted to come on your tongue, to find my relief and not allow you yours. Maybe that will be how I punish you.”
Her head lowered, and the heat of her mouth made my eyes nearly roll to the back of my head. My eyelids closed, neck craning.
“Oh, fuck, aralye,” I breathed. I licked my bottom lip, and then I sucked in a sharp breath when I felt her cheeks hollow around me, the pulling sensation nearly making my knees tremble. Her mouth was stuffed full of me—so much so that I felt the searing brand of her tongue on the underside of my cock with nowhere to go. It moved and quivered under my length, and I gasped, my hand tightening in her hair as I shuffled closer.
I cursed again when she retreated, dragging her lips over the sensitive tip, the hot lap of her tongue finding the trickle of pre-come at the seam.
“Where did you learn this?” I asked, my nostrils flaring, chest heaving.
Her eyes flashed up to me knowingly. “Books, Karath,” she teased.
Books.
I nearly groaned. Books could only take her so far. This was instinct, and on Muron, she was made for it. Made for me.
I grunted when she stole my breath again, taking me deep, seemingly trying to learn how far she could fit me between her lips. Her thumb pressed to my dakke—teasing and stroking, emulating the hot lash of her tongue.
I’d meant for this act to balance our power over the other. She’d taken from me, and I would take from her. Selfishly, I’d ached for her to pleasure me, to give while I received. I wanted to be the one in control of this moment.
Only…I had the maddening feeling that it might be just the opposite. Especially when I saw her other hand move between her thighs, when I heard the wet slick of her arousal and her soft, desperate moan rumble down the length of my cock.
And I didn’t mind it one bit.
I’d thought the desire I’d felt for her in Lishara’s temple would be the worst I’d ever felt. That clawing, desperate need had been unimaginable. I’d thought that the severity of it—the overwhelming, pressing need to claim her as my own, to sink my body into hers until I lost myself completely—had been heartstone-magic induced.
But I’d only felt it rise, even stronger than before. This desire was all our own. Lishara had no part in this. It was only us, deep in this mountain forest.
I felt my sac tighten, and I rumbled out a rough groan. Selfishly, I continued to pump between her lips, catching her surprised sound. Once, twice I thrust into her before I pulled out suddenly, hearing her ragged breaths.
I joined her down on the forest floor, pushing her back as she spread her legs for me. I needed her right now. I wanted to feel the tight sheath of her sex around me. Only then could I feel grounded again, fucking sane again.
Her cry filled the air when I surged into her. She was so wet, so hot, she fluttered and squeezed around my cock. I leaned down, biting and nibbling before sucking on one nipple hard. My hands found hers, taking them in my own, intertwining our fingers and bringing them over her head. She felt exposed and vulnerable this way—like I could do whatever I wanted to her—lighting my blood on fire.
“Sarkin,” she gasped out. Raising my head, I met her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes glassy with her pleasure and need. She was tightening on me.
“Mmm, getting even wetter for me, my Sorrina,” I purred, surging my hips into her harder, going as deep as I could until she felt my dakke pressed to her clit. She cried out, her back arching, her fingers squeezing my own.
It had been too long since we’d last made love. We hadn’t since we’d left the mountain village. Mere days of going without felt like months with her.
“Kiss me,” she pleaded. “Make me come.”
I lowered my head, giving her her kiss. She sighed contentedly into my mouth, which she knew drove me wild. Her taste was sublime, her tongue soft. The longer we kissed…the more gentle it became. The pace of my hips slowed, instead focusing on deep strokes that stole both of our breath, every retreat making me shiver.
Our fucking suddenly became less about power, about fear, about the high of adrenaline and the sharp vulnerability I’d felt watching her jump off that ledge without me close to be able to protect her. It became less about punishment and more about…reco
These last few days, I’d missed her. I’d missed this. There was an unexpected eroticism in that co
When we both orgasmed, it was a breathless wave of steady pleasure—deeply, deeply satisfying. With it was a release of all the events that had happened during the illa’rosh. It allowed us to piece ourselves back together, reinforcing the rips and tears.
When it was over, I collapsed onto her, making sure to keep half my weight pressed to the ground. I buried my head into her neck, feeling her shudder and her sex pulse around my cock, drawing out the last of my orgasm. Our hearts were rapid with no sign of slowing. Her hands dislodged from my grip and came to the back of my head. Her fingers raked through my hair, and she cupped her palm over the back of my skull, holding me to her as if afraid I’d pull away.
It did work, I thought. All the anger had left my body with my release. I felt boneless, the panic of the morning making me tired.
My rider cuff, still on her wrist, brushed the back of my head. Against her neck, I murmured, “You’ve fucked the fight out of me, my love.”
Her hand in my hair stilled.
“So,” I murmured, groaning as I pulled away, propping my hands on either side of her head so I could look down at her, “I want you to tell me what you were thinking. I’m listening now.”