Magic Games
Page 50
He kissed her lips, her jaw, her neck. “I’ve been ready since you first strolled into my life, that badass mercenary with a big sword and even bigger mouth,” he whispered into her ear. His magic crashed into hers, flooding her body.
“What are you doing to me?” she gasped, the heat between her legs growing.
The corner of his mouth drew upward, his smirk cocky and even a bit mischievous. Her head spun, dizzy from the rush of his magic. His magic’s touch was feather-soft but daring. It teased every dip and curve of her body, leaving her squirming for more.
“Touch me,” she pleaded, her breath stuttered.
“No.”
“No?”
His smirk grew more devilish. “I’m having way too much fun,” he said and poured more magic across her body.
“Fine,” she growled, picking up the broken pieces of her self-reserve. “But two can play at that game.”
She uncurled her magic toward him. She started at his neck—teasing the skin in soft, light ripples—then his shoulders. As she slid her magic lower, kissing the ridges of his sculpted chest, she went deeper. She saturated him inch by delicious inch. His muscles grew taut under her caress. His magic flared up, engulfing her. His scent, potent and thick with masculine spice, burned against her like hot ice.
“Sera,” he growled, nipping her lip.
He tugged roughly at her skirt, pulling it and her panties off. His hands had forgotten his earlier refusal to touch her. One slid around her butt, gripping her hard. The other slipped between her legs, his fingertip tracing her curves. Fire flooded her, hot and liquid. It collided with her magic, rocking her whole body. She rubbed her body against his, moaning in frustration when the brush of denim against her thighs reminded her that he was still dressed from the waist down.
“Too many clothes,” she muttered, fighting with his belt.
Finally, she got it loose. She hooked her fingers under his clothes, lowering into her knees to slide them down his legs. As she rose, she kissed her way up, in slow, languid strokes. He groaned, deep and primal, like an ancient predator. Like a dragon. His hands reached down to catch her, pulling her roughly into his arms. He carried her off toward the bedroom, his kisses impatient, his hands bold. They reached the bed, and he lowered her onto it with surprising gentleness considering the fervor of his caresses.
“Are you sure?” he asked. He was kneeling on the mattress beside her, looking down upon her, but he hadn’t climbed onto her yet. From the strained look on his face, it was taking every shred of willpower not to do so.
“What would you do if I said no?” she teased, tracing her finger down his rigid stomach.
“Curse you as an evil temptress,” he growled, his eyes rolling back as he suppressed a groan. He caught her hand before it could venture lower, then looked at her, his eyes serious, if not throbbing with desire. “Then go take a cold shower. With lots of ice. Maybe summon a blizzard while I’m at it.”
“Well, we couldn’t have that. Frostbite is nasty business, even for a dragon. You could lose a toenail—uh, talon.”
Then, smiling, she gave his arm a tug, pulling him onto her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Tunnel Vision Defense
WHETHER FROM KAI’S healing massage or the other sort of massage that came afterward, Sera woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. She felt more refreshed, in fact, than she had since that pinecone-scented mage had showed up on her doorstep nearly a month ago to inform her that she’d been entered into the Magic Games—and, oh, by the way, participation was not voluntary.
She rolled over on the bed. Kai wasn’t there, but he hadn’t been gone long. His pillow was still thick with his scent. Sera grabbed it, pressing it to her nose and inhaling deeply. Her toes might have curled a little.
Diffused sunlight shone through the billowy curtains, a gentle breeze rippling across the soft fabric. It was still early—she glanced at the clock—just not early enough. All she wanted was to nestle into the soft sheets and sleep, but soon she’d have to wake up. She had to get to the Magic Games. In less than two hours, she’d be facing down her next opponents. She only hoped it wasn’t vampires again. She was sick and tired of vampires.
Extending her yawn into a stretch, Sera rolled up. She could feel Kai in the next room. His magic was taut and alert, like it usually was. Except for last night. She teetered between a smile and a blush. She’d made Kai lose control, made his magic do things she’d never felt before, made him utter noises that she would give anything to hear again.
Despite his confident—ok, arrogant—demeanor, he’d turned out to be a caring lover, as attentive to her needs as he was concerned about his own. In fact, nothing seemed to arouse him more than her own pleasure. And he’d experimented with that—thoroughly. By the time they finally went to sleep, he’d pushed every button in her body, including ones she hadn’t even known existed.
“Calm down,” she whispered to herself, trying to push down the heat pulsing through her body as she remembered what he’d done to her. His hands. His lips. His tongue.
She pivoted away from the door, beelining for the bathroom. And the shower. This was no time for her raging libido.
A few minutes later, she was clean, dressed in a fluffy bathrobe, and thinking only chaste thoughts. Ok, scratch that last one. But she was trying to think only chaste thoughts. When she got to the fighting pit, the battle would smack the remaining giddiness out of her. Hopefully not literally.
“What are you doing to me?” she gasped, the heat between her legs growing.
The corner of his mouth drew upward, his smirk cocky and even a bit mischievous. Her head spun, dizzy from the rush of his magic. His magic’s touch was feather-soft but daring. It teased every dip and curve of her body, leaving her squirming for more.
“Touch me,” she pleaded, her breath stuttered.
“No.”
“No?”
His smirk grew more devilish. “I’m having way too much fun,” he said and poured more magic across her body.
“Fine,” she growled, picking up the broken pieces of her self-reserve. “But two can play at that game.”
She uncurled her magic toward him. She started at his neck—teasing the skin in soft, light ripples—then his shoulders. As she slid her magic lower, kissing the ridges of his sculpted chest, she went deeper. She saturated him inch by delicious inch. His muscles grew taut under her caress. His magic flared up, engulfing her. His scent, potent and thick with masculine spice, burned against her like hot ice.
“Sera,” he growled, nipping her lip.
He tugged roughly at her skirt, pulling it and her panties off. His hands had forgotten his earlier refusal to touch her. One slid around her butt, gripping her hard. The other slipped between her legs, his fingertip tracing her curves. Fire flooded her, hot and liquid. It collided with her magic, rocking her whole body. She rubbed her body against his, moaning in frustration when the brush of denim against her thighs reminded her that he was still dressed from the waist down.
“Too many clothes,” she muttered, fighting with his belt.
Finally, she got it loose. She hooked her fingers under his clothes, lowering into her knees to slide them down his legs. As she rose, she kissed her way up, in slow, languid strokes. He groaned, deep and primal, like an ancient predator. Like a dragon. His hands reached down to catch her, pulling her roughly into his arms. He carried her off toward the bedroom, his kisses impatient, his hands bold. They reached the bed, and he lowered her onto it with surprising gentleness considering the fervor of his caresses.
“Are you sure?” he asked. He was kneeling on the mattress beside her, looking down upon her, but he hadn’t climbed onto her yet. From the strained look on his face, it was taking every shred of willpower not to do so.
“What would you do if I said no?” she teased, tracing her finger down his rigid stomach.
“Curse you as an evil temptress,” he growled, his eyes rolling back as he suppressed a groan. He caught her hand before it could venture lower, then looked at her, his eyes serious, if not throbbing with desire. “Then go take a cold shower. With lots of ice. Maybe summon a blizzard while I’m at it.”
“Well, we couldn’t have that. Frostbite is nasty business, even for a dragon. You could lose a toenail—uh, talon.”
Then, smiling, she gave his arm a tug, pulling him onto her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Tunnel Vision Defense
WHETHER FROM KAI’S healing massage or the other sort of massage that came afterward, Sera woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. She felt more refreshed, in fact, than she had since that pinecone-scented mage had showed up on her doorstep nearly a month ago to inform her that she’d been entered into the Magic Games—and, oh, by the way, participation was not voluntary.
She rolled over on the bed. Kai wasn’t there, but he hadn’t been gone long. His pillow was still thick with his scent. Sera grabbed it, pressing it to her nose and inhaling deeply. Her toes might have curled a little.
Diffused sunlight shone through the billowy curtains, a gentle breeze rippling across the soft fabric. It was still early—she glanced at the clock—just not early enough. All she wanted was to nestle into the soft sheets and sleep, but soon she’d have to wake up. She had to get to the Magic Games. In less than two hours, she’d be facing down her next opponents. She only hoped it wasn’t vampires again. She was sick and tired of vampires.
Extending her yawn into a stretch, Sera rolled up. She could feel Kai in the next room. His magic was taut and alert, like it usually was. Except for last night. She teetered between a smile and a blush. She’d made Kai lose control, made his magic do things she’d never felt before, made him utter noises that she would give anything to hear again.
Despite his confident—ok, arrogant—demeanor, he’d turned out to be a caring lover, as attentive to her needs as he was concerned about his own. In fact, nothing seemed to arouse him more than her own pleasure. And he’d experimented with that—thoroughly. By the time they finally went to sleep, he’d pushed every button in her body, including ones she hadn’t even known existed.
“Calm down,” she whispered to herself, trying to push down the heat pulsing through her body as she remembered what he’d done to her. His hands. His lips. His tongue.
She pivoted away from the door, beelining for the bathroom. And the shower. This was no time for her raging libido.
A few minutes later, she was clean, dressed in a fluffy bathrobe, and thinking only chaste thoughts. Ok, scratch that last one. But she was trying to think only chaste thoughts. When she got to the fighting pit, the battle would smack the remaining giddiness out of her. Hopefully not literally.
