A Little Night Muse(27)

                His mouth circled a hot, damp path around her nipple, making                     her moan with eagerness as the circle tightened, teased, and backed away.

                She’d had her share of court affairs, but finding pleasure                     through the obscuring lies of glamour was a trick. Josh’s big hand wandered                     places of her body secret from her phae lovers, a                     surprise even to her: the curve of her lower rib, the back of her knee as he                     drew her leg up, the fine bones of her ankle.

                When he ran his hand along the inside of her thigh, she                     realized he had dipped his fingers into the salve. The fragrance ringed her, and                     he slipped one finger inside her at the same time as he finally closed his lips                     over her nipple.

                She bucked against him, a wordless demand, and he obliged with                     a second torturously slow finger. The flat of his tongue laved her breast in a                     long, winding caress that echoed the lingering screw of his hand.

                His thumb—slick with salve, just a little work roughened—found                     the exposed center of her yearning flesh. He circled once, twice, ah, the                     magical three times, and she came apart in a shower of flower petals.

                At least it felt like that, like some rogue wind kept blowing                     her in every direction, higher and higher. She came again and cried out his                     name, careless of the consequences that came with naming.

                When she caught her breath, she had to glance at herself to                     make sure she was intact and that her glamour hadn’t slipped. But the satiny,                     drifting feeling lingered as she stared into the arrogance of his grin.

                “God, you are so hot,” he murmured. “So damn ready.”

                She held her arms open to him. “Let me show you how ready.”

                He surged up over her, his hair mussed from her hands, his lips                     reddened. Flushed and flawed. The scar gleaming across his eye reminded her that                     all her courtier lovers had been perfect. At least their glamour had always been                     perfect. She had never revealed her weaknesses either.

                But Josh had no such reservations. With his arms braced on                     either side of her, he was poised exposed, his chest wide open and vulnerable.                     Like the thrust of his engorged flesh, he had no fear, and she wanted that bold                     conviction. She centered herself under him, canting her hips to meet his.