The Dream Crafter(16)

The tattoos swirled over his ass and hips before moving downward over his thighs and calves. While the majority of his skin was covered, to her eyes it wasn’t overdone. The balance between ink and skin was perfect.

She pressed close, wanting to sear the feel of his skin on hers while she breathed in the clean, salty tang of him. He was still beneath her fingers, his body rigid in waiting for her. “You are beautiful,” she whispered, forehead resting against his back and her lips so close to his skin that the puff of air released with her words ricocheted off his body and landed on her nose.

His voice was strangled, but low, even, still controlled. “While I have no objection to your plan involving the tattoos, do you think we could postpone that? Because I’m having a hell of a time not grabbing you up and stripping you naked.”

She smiled, and delight filled her at the shiver that shook his spine over the sensation of her lips on him. “I’m not as pretty as you are.”

“I guarantee you’re more so. And if you let me turn, I’ll prove it.”

“Far be it from me to not let you prove it.”

Merc turned, similar to their first meeting, but this time she kept her hands on his back and waist, letting the slow movement of his body lead her over the indents and hard ridges and learn him by touch. He was stunning, a statue by the masters come to life, lean lines and palpable power.

Now he faced her. Amana’s gaze wandered over him with shameless appreciation. Beautiful didn’t begin to cover it. He was as stunning as she had ever seen, as close to perfect in her eyes as possible. Pressing her hands flat over his pectorals, she took a more active role in discovering the firm flesh, stroking over his chest, up to his shoulders and down the corded muscle of his arms, only to reverse course. Move to the shoulders and the chest, but now she didn’t stop there. Now she went lower, the muscles of his stomach bunching under her fingertips while she traveled still lower, stroking her thumbs over the V of his lower stomach muscles which led to the pubic hair. Her hands stopped, but her eyes kept moving, taking in the thick cock which jutted upward, tempting her to use her hands once again.

“Is it my turn yet?” Merc’s words were rough and raw, and swallowing the minimal moisture in her mouth, she nodded her answer.

His warm, calloused hands settled on her shoulders, twisting in the thin straps of her camisole shirt before he slid them over her arms. The stretchy fabric slipped with ease from her body, and as the fabric fell beneath her breasts, exposing her now bare chest, he stopped all movement, his hands stilling as he took her in.

After a momentary hesitation, he reached out to feel her. Rough skin moved in gentle patterns over her body as he took the same route she had only moments before. He started at her wrist and went upward, the scrape of one fingernail against her inner elbow provoking an instinctive shudder through her. Those nimble fingers worked ever upwards, a scorching path that sent goosebumps prickling over every space he left.

His hand encircled her neck, his thumb stroking over the pulse point at the base of her throat, a pulse that was jumping in erratic rhythm as she stood here before him, bared and waiting for the continuation of this exploration.

Now his hand journeyed downward, knuckles dragging over the skin between neck and upper chest. At the upper slope of her breast he hesitated for a moment before continuing, using all four fingers to brush over the skin of her breast, circling the mound with several strokes before he pressed forward, molding it into his palm. He cupped her, both their breathing speeding up as the exploration went from tentative to more certain, more forceful. He didn’t take his eyes from hers, not even as he lowered his head and brought her breast to his mouth, taking control of her body in this new way.

His tongue was warm with the right amount of rough as it circled her nipple, and the easy bite of teeth had her bringing her hands to his head, fingers threading through his hair to keep him close, to keep that amazing mouth on her.

He acceded, bringing her in deeper, using that mouth harder and making her cry under the onslaught. Her skin would be marked and bruised, and a fierce disappointment hit that she wouldn’t see this when she woke, that the traces he left on her body would be gone when her eyes opened.

Pushing the unpleasant thought aside, she continued pulling him to her, a soft whine of disappointment escaping as he let up, only to sigh in pleasure as he switched sides, taking her other breast as he had the first.

All thoughts were drowned out by sensation, lost in a pleasant haze that enveloped her mind. Here, in this moment, it was her and this beautiful man with his wicked tongue, and the heavy thump in the back of her mind was something she fought to ignore.