Kinked
Page 32
They were perfect.
She ran her hands along his broad, bare shoulders and along as much of his wide, tanned back as she could reach. Underneath her touch, his powerful muscles shifted below his skin, a mystery cloaked in silk. His body was so well made, she basked in the pleasure of stroking him. She scratched her fingers gently against the grain of his short beard and watched as a shudder rippled through him.
“Talking to you doesn’t suck,” she said in surprise.
He lifted his head to look up at her, a grin creasing his face. “No it doesn’t. How about that.” Capturing her wrist, he stood and pulled her to her feet as well. “Come on. There’s a tub the size of a small swimming pool in the other room, and I’ve become obsessed with the thought of getting clean.”
She looked down at herself. She had washed her face and hands with careful handfuls of water from the wineskin, but it had done little more than shift the grime around, and her jeans, along with what remained of her once white T-shirt, were bloodstained and filthy.
With great relief and a lack of ceremony, she stripped. “This outfit needs to be burned.”
He went tense. As his stillness caught her attention, she glanced at him. He was staring at her nude body, traveling from her high, small br**sts down the length of her narrow torso to her slim hips and long, lean legs. The private tuft of silken hair between her legs was very black against her pale skin. The reddened scars from the recent wolf attack still marked her, but they were rapidly fading.
While her arms and shoulders were in proportion with the rest of her body, they were cut with muscle. She had a natural aptitude for strength in her upper body, which she enhanced with regular workouts using a variety of weapons, constantly building aptitude and stamina. One of the most dangerous aspects of swordfights, or any fight, for that matter, was that they were so grueling.
While she didn’t believe that she was beautiful, she didn’t have a self-conscious bone in her body, and she liked herself. She had never once wished any of her physical attributes away, and had always believed that all of her flaws were ones that remained unseen. That was why it was a shock for her to encounter an awkward moment, like running into an invisible wall.
Yes, the attraction that coursed between them had been off the charts, but in that moment she couldn’t read his expression.
And she wanted him to like her.
His voice turned guttural as he said, “I’ve never seen you until now.”
She looked down at herself with a frown and brushed at one of her br**sts with the fingers of one hand. She said wryly, “If you’re a boob guy, I guess you’re out of luck.”
Sexual tension smoldered in the hot afternoon air. She could feel it pouring off him. “You’re a knockout,” he said. “Your br**sts are perfect-sized bites, and your legs could grace a runway. I feel like you’ve punched me all over again.”
He moved toward her, his muscled body tight yet fluid. He was broad across the chest and darker than she, his tanned body a warm brown. He had unbuttoned his jeans and the opening revealed the long, rippled line of his abdomen. The dark blond of his hair was like gold treasure glinting in shadows, and the blue in his eyes looked so much like home, unwanted and unexpected moisture dampened her eyes.
To counteract it, she turned toward mischief and pinched her own nipple, rolling it teasingly between her fingers.
He reached her and knocked her hand away. “Stop that. That’s my nipple.”
A grin broke across her face. “That’s one of the more ridiculous things you’ve ever said.” She plucked at both of her ni**les and winked at him.
He grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her back. “What can I say,” he said. “I’m ridiculously possessive.”
“And controlling,” she said. “And dominant.” And playful and sexy, and so damn bad her whole body wanted him. She was empty and aching, and had moistened so that she could feel her own dampness on her inner thighs. She whispered, “I can’t believe I haven’t taken you inside of me yet.”
“Oh, you had me inside of you,” he growled. “You had me in your mouth, and I will never forget it. That moment is going to give me wet dreams for decades.”
With her wrists held behind her back, her torso arched against him. It was the first time they had come together with so much skin against skin, and the sensation was intoxicating. His body was hot and slightly damp with sweat, and his Power sizzled as it wrapped around her.
And he was so dirty.
“I loved you all spread out on that table like a feast,” she said against his lips. “Expect more of that when I get my night. Expect that I’ll take a great deal of time over you, and you won’t necessarily climax when you want. You’ll climax when I want.”
He hissed, “Promise?”
“Promise.” Her mouth shaped the word slowly, to prolong the glide of her lips along his.
“You’re not wet enough,” he whispered.
It took a moment for what he said to sink into her hunger-hazed brain. “I’m pretty wet,” she managed to articulate.
He lifted his head, and there it was again, the addictive combination of passion and laughter flaring in his face. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to know that, sunshine,” he purred. He let go of one of her wrists to trail his fingers down the long, curved line of her spine. “But I was actually referring to the pool-sized tub in the other room. I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine.”
The thought of sliding against his hard, naked body in the water made her hunger spike, thrumming through her body with agonizing strength. “You offer the best bargains.”
He let her go with evident reluctance, and she walked ahead of him into the luxurious bathroom. Soaps, along with jars of salts and lotions, lined the edges of the tub, and stacks of drying cloths filled a decoratively carved oak cabinet against one wall. An ornate screen hid a pull-string lavatory in one corner, and a full-length polished silver mirror stood in a metal stand in one corner. A marble counter with a washbasin and another, smaller silver mirror was set against another wall, along with a long bench with small bottles of oils and fragrances at one end, no doubt used for massages. The Elven lord had liked his luxuries.
She knelt to examine the levers for the massive tub and discovered that it could be filled with either salt or fresh water. She chose fresh and opened the valve wide so that water gushed in. There was some kind of heating system, probably a sun-heated tank, and the water was hot enough for a comfortable soak.
Movement glided at the edge of her vision. As she turned to look, a nude Quentin strode into the room. He was half-erect, that beautiful penis of his in a thick full arc above his tight, drawn-up sac.
His sleek, catlike grace along with those broad shoulders, muscled chest and long bones were a killer mixture. She remembered all too well what he looked like nude, yet the impact struck her all over again. He gave her a keen, searching glance as she knelt at the side of the tub. Then he walked down the steps. The water had gushed in so fast it was already at his waist. As he came close, his hand snaked out. He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into the water.
She started laughing even as she fell, rolling so that she hit the water shoulder first. She caught a glimpse of his lean face, creased in a smile, and then the water closed over her head. After the heat and getting so dirty, submerging felt so incredibly good, she didn’t rise up right away. Instead she stretched her whole body and turned languorously, wallowing in the sense of weightlessness.
Hard hands grasped her shoulders and lifted her. Water rushed away from her face and as she blinked to clear her eyes, she discovered Quentin looking down at her, his face tight and flushed with intent. His expression was so raw, so naked, she stared, and her heart began a slow, heavy pounding. He exhilarated and terrified her.
For a moment she considered pulling away and leaving. As she’d said, they had a choice now about what happened to them, about whether or not they moved forward to see what joining together as possible mates might bring to them.
But she had never backed away from anything just because it frightened her, and the totality of who he was drew her like a siren’s song. He had an extraordinary capacity for both violence and tenderness, and a sensuality so keen it sliced deep into her center.
It couldn’t have been balanced of her to tell him that she would live for him, even if she couldn’t see how right now. She noted the thought as it passed through her mind, and she gave a mental shrug. Balanced was not who she was. She threw everything she had at life, and this was no exception.
She stood and put her arms around his neck, and he clenched her tightly against him. As they came together, they fit, skin to skin and soul to soul.
Then he loosened his hold to reach for a jar by the side of the tub. Pouring a fragrant liquid into his palm, he rubbed his hands together and began to work the soap through her hair. When his fingers rubbed at her scalp, the sensation ran all through her body. Still tired, stressed and half-healed, she felt as if he had unzipped her. The muscles of her inner thighs started to shake, and she had to force herself to stay upright.
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to take much of this,” she said unsteadily. Somewhere deep inside, something prideful glared at her. She ignored it, concentrating all of her attention on the exquisite sensation of his large hands moving along her skin.
“That’s not true,” he murmured. “You can take as much as I can give. You can take anything I dish out. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and you can take this too.”
He coaxed her forward until she rested her head on his shoulder. Then he washed her, his callused hands gentle as he stroked her aching back and shoulders, right at the place where, in her harpy form, her wings joined her body. She went boneless, floating against him as she trusted him to hold her up, and he did.
“It’s going to be all right,” she whispered. Somehow she would make sure of it.
“I trust you too.” He kissed her temple. “If you tell me it’s going to be all right, then it will be.”
He wasn’t any more balanced than she was, because no Wyr in their right mind would mate with someone who was in danger of suicidal behavior or getting themselves killed. Yet here he was, without a single hesitation.
She lifted her head and framed his face in her hands as she told him, “You’re crazy.”
He shook his head slightly. “No,” he told her deeply, conviction in his steady gaze. “I’m just turning sane. Or maybe I’m coming fully into myself, and that feels like it has been a long time in coming.”
“Duck down,” she said, growing as hungry to touch him as he was touching her.
He obliged her by submerging in the water, then straightening again. The strong bones of his face stood out with his wet hair lying sleek against his head. She took some of the fragrant soap in her hands and began to wash him. Every line of his hard body felt like a revelation, and the intensity of his reaction was blinding.
His body shuddered, and he sucked in air as if he were running hard, running desperately with all of his might to reach some essential destination. Soapsuds slid down his neck and chest, and her fingers followed them, lingering over the bulge and hollow created by his muscles. There was a little oil in the liquid, and it made his skin even more silken. She felt like she was painting him with an invisible message.
Run here. Find me. Love me.
Stay.
He responded as if he had read every word, pushing her forward and coming with her on a wave. As the water closed over their heads, he hugged her against his body as his hardened lips found hers. They turned, floating together as they kissed and kissed, piercing each other ravenously with their tongues, because while they would fight with all their strength for tomorrow, tomorrow might not be there, and now was all they had.
And it felt like flying. It felt like home.
It felt like everything she might have confessed to herself that she wanted, on dark nights when there was no one else around to hear.
She murmured wordlessly, and the water swallowed the sound as she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on to him with all of her strength. Gripping her just as tightly, he rolled to his feet and stood.
Water cascaded off of them as he strode up the steps, carrying her. When she loosened her legs and made as if to stand on her own, he yanked her back up. “Don’t you dare let go of me,” he muttered. Without the water to buffer them, he felt as if he was burning up, and the full, hard length of his c**k pressed against the underside of her ass.
Complying, she tightened her legs and embraced the contradiction that lived inside of her. While she would almost never want a man to carry her, a primitive part in her reveled in the fact that he was so strong that he could, effortlessly.
He strode for the massive bed, never once looking away from her face. How strange, that this man would look at her with such need and desire when once all he could do was look at her with hate. He felt and did everything so passionately, she knew that he would make more mistakes down the road. They both would.
But just like his dark blond hair, he was gold treasure in shadows. He was worth every bit of the effort it would take for her to learn how to forgive him, worth every bit and more.
They reached the bed and he fell on top of her, his big, powerful body arcing over her in need. He ran his shaking mouth down her throat to her br**sts, first sucking hard at one then the other quickly, as if he was so ravenous he couldn’t wait and had to have them both at once.
The brilliant afternoon sun fell through the windows across her face, blinding her with light. She squinted, gasping, as she felt pierced everywhere, in her eyes, in her body that stabbed her with emptiness, and in her emotions, as every barrier she had constructed against this man fell away.
She ran her hands along his broad, bare shoulders and along as much of his wide, tanned back as she could reach. Underneath her touch, his powerful muscles shifted below his skin, a mystery cloaked in silk. His body was so well made, she basked in the pleasure of stroking him. She scratched her fingers gently against the grain of his short beard and watched as a shudder rippled through him.
“Talking to you doesn’t suck,” she said in surprise.
He lifted his head to look up at her, a grin creasing his face. “No it doesn’t. How about that.” Capturing her wrist, he stood and pulled her to her feet as well. “Come on. There’s a tub the size of a small swimming pool in the other room, and I’ve become obsessed with the thought of getting clean.”
She looked down at herself. She had washed her face and hands with careful handfuls of water from the wineskin, but it had done little more than shift the grime around, and her jeans, along with what remained of her once white T-shirt, were bloodstained and filthy.
With great relief and a lack of ceremony, she stripped. “This outfit needs to be burned.”
He went tense. As his stillness caught her attention, she glanced at him. He was staring at her nude body, traveling from her high, small br**sts down the length of her narrow torso to her slim hips and long, lean legs. The private tuft of silken hair between her legs was very black against her pale skin. The reddened scars from the recent wolf attack still marked her, but they were rapidly fading.
While her arms and shoulders were in proportion with the rest of her body, they were cut with muscle. She had a natural aptitude for strength in her upper body, which she enhanced with regular workouts using a variety of weapons, constantly building aptitude and stamina. One of the most dangerous aspects of swordfights, or any fight, for that matter, was that they were so grueling.
While she didn’t believe that she was beautiful, she didn’t have a self-conscious bone in her body, and she liked herself. She had never once wished any of her physical attributes away, and had always believed that all of her flaws were ones that remained unseen. That was why it was a shock for her to encounter an awkward moment, like running into an invisible wall.
Yes, the attraction that coursed between them had been off the charts, but in that moment she couldn’t read his expression.
And she wanted him to like her.
His voice turned guttural as he said, “I’ve never seen you until now.”
She looked down at herself with a frown and brushed at one of her br**sts with the fingers of one hand. She said wryly, “If you’re a boob guy, I guess you’re out of luck.”
Sexual tension smoldered in the hot afternoon air. She could feel it pouring off him. “You’re a knockout,” he said. “Your br**sts are perfect-sized bites, and your legs could grace a runway. I feel like you’ve punched me all over again.”
He moved toward her, his muscled body tight yet fluid. He was broad across the chest and darker than she, his tanned body a warm brown. He had unbuttoned his jeans and the opening revealed the long, rippled line of his abdomen. The dark blond of his hair was like gold treasure glinting in shadows, and the blue in his eyes looked so much like home, unwanted and unexpected moisture dampened her eyes.
To counteract it, she turned toward mischief and pinched her own nipple, rolling it teasingly between her fingers.
He reached her and knocked her hand away. “Stop that. That’s my nipple.”
A grin broke across her face. “That’s one of the more ridiculous things you’ve ever said.” She plucked at both of her ni**les and winked at him.
He grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her back. “What can I say,” he said. “I’m ridiculously possessive.”
“And controlling,” she said. “And dominant.” And playful and sexy, and so damn bad her whole body wanted him. She was empty and aching, and had moistened so that she could feel her own dampness on her inner thighs. She whispered, “I can’t believe I haven’t taken you inside of me yet.”
“Oh, you had me inside of you,” he growled. “You had me in your mouth, and I will never forget it. That moment is going to give me wet dreams for decades.”
With her wrists held behind her back, her torso arched against him. It was the first time they had come together with so much skin against skin, and the sensation was intoxicating. His body was hot and slightly damp with sweat, and his Power sizzled as it wrapped around her.
And he was so dirty.
“I loved you all spread out on that table like a feast,” she said against his lips. “Expect more of that when I get my night. Expect that I’ll take a great deal of time over you, and you won’t necessarily climax when you want. You’ll climax when I want.”
He hissed, “Promise?”
“Promise.” Her mouth shaped the word slowly, to prolong the glide of her lips along his.
“You’re not wet enough,” he whispered.
It took a moment for what he said to sink into her hunger-hazed brain. “I’m pretty wet,” she managed to articulate.
He lifted his head, and there it was again, the addictive combination of passion and laughter flaring in his face. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to know that, sunshine,” he purred. He let go of one of her wrists to trail his fingers down the long, curved line of her spine. “But I was actually referring to the pool-sized tub in the other room. I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine.”
The thought of sliding against his hard, naked body in the water made her hunger spike, thrumming through her body with agonizing strength. “You offer the best bargains.”
He let her go with evident reluctance, and she walked ahead of him into the luxurious bathroom. Soaps, along with jars of salts and lotions, lined the edges of the tub, and stacks of drying cloths filled a decoratively carved oak cabinet against one wall. An ornate screen hid a pull-string lavatory in one corner, and a full-length polished silver mirror stood in a metal stand in one corner. A marble counter with a washbasin and another, smaller silver mirror was set against another wall, along with a long bench with small bottles of oils and fragrances at one end, no doubt used for massages. The Elven lord had liked his luxuries.
She knelt to examine the levers for the massive tub and discovered that it could be filled with either salt or fresh water. She chose fresh and opened the valve wide so that water gushed in. There was some kind of heating system, probably a sun-heated tank, and the water was hot enough for a comfortable soak.
Movement glided at the edge of her vision. As she turned to look, a nude Quentin strode into the room. He was half-erect, that beautiful penis of his in a thick full arc above his tight, drawn-up sac.
His sleek, catlike grace along with those broad shoulders, muscled chest and long bones were a killer mixture. She remembered all too well what he looked like nude, yet the impact struck her all over again. He gave her a keen, searching glance as she knelt at the side of the tub. Then he walked down the steps. The water had gushed in so fast it was already at his waist. As he came close, his hand snaked out. He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into the water.
She started laughing even as she fell, rolling so that she hit the water shoulder first. She caught a glimpse of his lean face, creased in a smile, and then the water closed over her head. After the heat and getting so dirty, submerging felt so incredibly good, she didn’t rise up right away. Instead she stretched her whole body and turned languorously, wallowing in the sense of weightlessness.
Hard hands grasped her shoulders and lifted her. Water rushed away from her face and as she blinked to clear her eyes, she discovered Quentin looking down at her, his face tight and flushed with intent. His expression was so raw, so naked, she stared, and her heart began a slow, heavy pounding. He exhilarated and terrified her.
For a moment she considered pulling away and leaving. As she’d said, they had a choice now about what happened to them, about whether or not they moved forward to see what joining together as possible mates might bring to them.
But she had never backed away from anything just because it frightened her, and the totality of who he was drew her like a siren’s song. He had an extraordinary capacity for both violence and tenderness, and a sensuality so keen it sliced deep into her center.
It couldn’t have been balanced of her to tell him that she would live for him, even if she couldn’t see how right now. She noted the thought as it passed through her mind, and she gave a mental shrug. Balanced was not who she was. She threw everything she had at life, and this was no exception.
She stood and put her arms around his neck, and he clenched her tightly against him. As they came together, they fit, skin to skin and soul to soul.
Then he loosened his hold to reach for a jar by the side of the tub. Pouring a fragrant liquid into his palm, he rubbed his hands together and began to work the soap through her hair. When his fingers rubbed at her scalp, the sensation ran all through her body. Still tired, stressed and half-healed, she felt as if he had unzipped her. The muscles of her inner thighs started to shake, and she had to force herself to stay upright.
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to take much of this,” she said unsteadily. Somewhere deep inside, something prideful glared at her. She ignored it, concentrating all of her attention on the exquisite sensation of his large hands moving along her skin.
“That’s not true,” he murmured. “You can take as much as I can give. You can take anything I dish out. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and you can take this too.”
He coaxed her forward until she rested her head on his shoulder. Then he washed her, his callused hands gentle as he stroked her aching back and shoulders, right at the place where, in her harpy form, her wings joined her body. She went boneless, floating against him as she trusted him to hold her up, and he did.
“It’s going to be all right,” she whispered. Somehow she would make sure of it.
“I trust you too.” He kissed her temple. “If you tell me it’s going to be all right, then it will be.”
He wasn’t any more balanced than she was, because no Wyr in their right mind would mate with someone who was in danger of suicidal behavior or getting themselves killed. Yet here he was, without a single hesitation.
She lifted her head and framed his face in her hands as she told him, “You’re crazy.”
He shook his head slightly. “No,” he told her deeply, conviction in his steady gaze. “I’m just turning sane. Or maybe I’m coming fully into myself, and that feels like it has been a long time in coming.”
“Duck down,” she said, growing as hungry to touch him as he was touching her.
He obliged her by submerging in the water, then straightening again. The strong bones of his face stood out with his wet hair lying sleek against his head. She took some of the fragrant soap in her hands and began to wash him. Every line of his hard body felt like a revelation, and the intensity of his reaction was blinding.
His body shuddered, and he sucked in air as if he were running hard, running desperately with all of his might to reach some essential destination. Soapsuds slid down his neck and chest, and her fingers followed them, lingering over the bulge and hollow created by his muscles. There was a little oil in the liquid, and it made his skin even more silken. She felt like she was painting him with an invisible message.
Run here. Find me. Love me.
Stay.
He responded as if he had read every word, pushing her forward and coming with her on a wave. As the water closed over their heads, he hugged her against his body as his hardened lips found hers. They turned, floating together as they kissed and kissed, piercing each other ravenously with their tongues, because while they would fight with all their strength for tomorrow, tomorrow might not be there, and now was all they had.
And it felt like flying. It felt like home.
It felt like everything she might have confessed to herself that she wanted, on dark nights when there was no one else around to hear.
She murmured wordlessly, and the water swallowed the sound as she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on to him with all of her strength. Gripping her just as tightly, he rolled to his feet and stood.
Water cascaded off of them as he strode up the steps, carrying her. When she loosened her legs and made as if to stand on her own, he yanked her back up. “Don’t you dare let go of me,” he muttered. Without the water to buffer them, he felt as if he was burning up, and the full, hard length of his c**k pressed against the underside of her ass.
Complying, she tightened her legs and embraced the contradiction that lived inside of her. While she would almost never want a man to carry her, a primitive part in her reveled in the fact that he was so strong that he could, effortlessly.
He strode for the massive bed, never once looking away from her face. How strange, that this man would look at her with such need and desire when once all he could do was look at her with hate. He felt and did everything so passionately, she knew that he would make more mistakes down the road. They both would.
But just like his dark blond hair, he was gold treasure in shadows. He was worth every bit of the effort it would take for her to learn how to forgive him, worth every bit and more.
They reached the bed and he fell on top of her, his big, powerful body arcing over her in need. He ran his shaking mouth down her throat to her br**sts, first sucking hard at one then the other quickly, as if he was so ravenous he couldn’t wait and had to have them both at once.
The brilliant afternoon sun fell through the windows across her face, blinding her with light. She squinted, gasping, as she felt pierced everywhere, in her eyes, in her body that stabbed her with emptiness, and in her emotions, as every barrier she had constructed against this man fell away.
