Saleria shivered as much from the blissful expression on his face as from the deft stimulation of her body by his manhood. Her fingers released the bedcovers. Shifting them to her breasts, she cupped the curves, enjoying the way their flesh rubbed together. But when he didn’t move on, she raised her brows. “Um . . . you do know that’s supposed to slip inside me like a dagger in a sheath, right?”
Aradin grinned and lowered his gaze. “Yes, I do know,” he teased back. “I even know which ‘sheath’ to use. But I’d rather liken it to exploring and enjoying the garden outside a fine house. I’ll knock on the door and enter your home when I’m good and ready.”
His analogy made her laugh at the absurdity of it—though he was a Hortimancer—and that was when the tip of him slipped into her “doorway” and prodded on his next slow stroke. Breath catching, she strained for more contact, but the Darkhanan merely grinned and teased her. She tried reaching for him with her hands, but he was out of range; next, she tried curling her legs, but couldn’t tug him more than an inch closer.
Her stern look was accompanied by a flexing of her calves, not quite thumping him in the back. “Get inside, Aradin, before I decide you aren’t allowed in!”
“Yes, milady,” he complied, grinning. He pressed in deeper than the mere inch he had teased. “But it’s such a lovely garden outside. I shall have to remember to explore it in more detail, later.”
He felt so good, pressing inside, slowly filling her, that she could only manage a distracted mutter. “You do that. Later . . .”
She felt so good, enveloping his straining flesh, Aradin wanted to make a quip about what a lovely “home” she had, but it was difficult to think when he could feel each of his heartbeats pulsing against her slick, hot walls. So all he replied as he leaned in, as he pressed in, was a soft-murmured, “Yes, later . . .”
Guiding her legs around his hips, he braced first one arm, then the other, on the soft-stuffed bed. A few more inches allowed their mouths to meet, her lips parting beneath his. Her fingers stroked through his hair, holding his head close before sliding down to cup his shoulders. Resting there for a moment, fully embedded in her body, groin to groin, Aradin wanted to tell her that he loved her. Darkhanan wisdom, however, advocated that such things be considered outside the heat of passion and desire as well as within the moment, that they be examined, and spoken only when one was in a calm frame of mind. Only then would it be considered true.
He thought it might be, but filled his lips with the taste of her chin, her throat, of the sweat beginning to sheen even her collarbone. Filled his senses with the smell of her, of faint hints of soap, flowers, feminine musk, and sweat. Filled his mind with the softness of her breasts, the heat of her sheath, and the flex of her muscles as she wrapped her arms around him and brought his mouth back to her own.
Saleria enjoyed that, particularly combined with the slow, deep thrusts of his body into hers. She enjoyed it enough that she stroked her fingers through his soft locks, then tugged on the fine strands, wanting more. That made him grunt and hold still. She tugged again and whispered, “Faster. Please.”
He was trying to go slowly for her sake. Trying to keep ahold of his passion for her. But when she tugged again, tipping his head to the side and nipping at the muscles of his throat, Aradin complied. The first few thrusts he gave her were deeper, stronger, but not faster. Not in this position. Pausing a moment, he pushed upright, caught and lifted her legs up to his shoulders again, then bucked into her, hot and fast. Her startled cry made him pause, but the whimpering moan that followed let him know it was alright. It also warned him she might get loud.
“Silunudormo,” he muttered, and kissed her left foot. She shivered, so he licked her instep, holding himself still. That made her twitch, so he did more of it, until she was squirming and breathing hard, and then he flexed his hips, thrusting into her with rapid strokes.
Unwound by the dual attack, Saleria cried out. Hands once again digging into the bedding, clutching at the blankets, she tried to hold on while his hips slapped into hers in a strange sort of sexual applause. An odd urge to giggle rose at that stray thought, but was then whisked away under the lightning strokes of pleasure connecting her groin to the toes he suckled. Her climax began with her right foot, and ended somewhere well after he grabbed the left and laved it with his tongue, too.
His began somewhere in the midst of hers. Glad he had cast a soundproofing charm on the room, Aradin let himself go, pounding hard, pouring into her in waves of release. He almost lost his footing as he sagged, but found the strength to stand and brace himself against the edge of the bed. With her lying before him, body flushed with passion, all he wanted to do was collapse next to her. But that would leave them with their legs off the bed. And if he moved her right away, well, there was the bane of all post-bliss lovers to deal with . . . not to mention his favorite dessert.