Dark Wolf (Dark #25)(105)
Author: Christine Feehan

As they moved through the trees into denser forest, she began to open the buttons of Dimitri’s shirt one by one, until his bare chest was exposed. Circling his neck with her arms, she leaned into him to trace the heavy muscles with her tongue. The scars were there, but no longer rigid, raw or discolored. The chain links were mere white lines, faded now. She knew she would never be able to make them disappear altogether, but she always traced the patterns over his body, delighting in the way he came to such glorious life under her ministrations.

“Take me to the fertility flower field, Dimitri,” she whispered. “Make love to me there. It isn’t so much that I might or might not get pregnant, but I’ve heard the flowers enhance the sexual need for one another. I never want to let you down. Not ever.”

He switched directions. “Nothing you do would let me down. When we make love, it’s always beautiful. If there’s ever a problem, we’ll stop and talk it out.”

Skyler laid her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I want more for us. I want wild, crazy sex sometimes. Not just for you, Dimitri, but for me. Sometimes when we’re making love, I see those images in your mind, or maybe they’re in mine and I want that for us as well as what we have now, but honestly, I’m scared at the same time.”

“We have all the time in the world for wild and crazy sex, Skyler,” he said gently. Once again they were out in the open air, making their way up the mountain. “Give yourself time. Sex is all about trust with us. The more you trust me, the more you know absolutely that you’re safe with me, the better it will be and the more things we can do together.”

“I do trust you implicitly,” she said. “I can’t imagine a situation where I wouldn’t.”

“What if I were to blindfold you? Would you be able to handle that?”

The field of flowers below them was beautiful, like a thousand glittering stars staring up at them, rather than looking down on them. Skyler’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart gave a wild jump and then settled, following the steady rhythm of his. A million butterflies took wing in her stomach, but her br**sts tingled, her ni**les growing hard and she felt the familiar rush of damp heat gathering between her legs.

“I wouldn’t mind trying,” she said, fear skittering down her spine even as every nerve ending in her body came alive.

He put her down in the very center of the field, stripping her clothes from her with a simple wave of his hand. The night air teased her skin, playing over her like a million fingers, caressing and stroking until she trembled with desire.

“I love looking at you,” Dimitri told her. “You’re so beautiful.” He turned his finger in a small circle, and she spun slowly around for him. “Let your hair down, sívamet.”

Obediently, Skyler lifted her arms up, the action lifting her br**sts. The coolness of the night air and that simple act of stretching upward sent a small rush of liquid heat pulsing between her legs. He didn’t have to actually touch her to make her body want his. The glacier-blue of his eyes turning cobalt with intense desire was enough.

She let the thick silken mass of hair fall down her back. Already it was banding with color, giving away her stark hunger and need for him. He was fully dressed, his eyes dark with a mixture of love and lust, a sinful stamp of pure sensuality on his face.

Around her the fragrance of the flowers began to take on his scent. The smell was intoxicating and potent. Her mouth watered. The tip of her tongue licked at her lips. She could taste him already, that addictive, masculine, foresty—warrior flavor she craved. It was stamped into his skin, there in his kiss, his blood and the male essence of his body.

He leaned down and chose a bloom, offering it to her with both palms open. As he did, he shed his clothes, standing tall in the midst of the field of beautiful flowers. He looked magnificent to her, very male, already hard and thick and eager for her attention.

“Sometimes my slumber is disturbed when images arouse me, taking hold of my body, setting my imagination and hunger free, all the things I want to do with you, Skyler, all the things I want to show you that will bring us so much pleasure.”

The sound of his voice, so smoky and sensual, an instrument of velvet playing over her body like the touch of fingers, like the cool of the night, wreaked havoc with her nerve endings. It took a moment to tear her gaze from his impressive erection to inspect the blossom. The Night Star flower seemed to have an impressive erection of its own.

Skyler found herself blushing. The ovary was a deep crimson red, with two striped filaments, but the stigma had color infusing her entire body because clearly it was shaped exactly like Dimitri’s heavy erection. There were even thin white bands as if the stigma had been scarred as he’d been.

“Use your tongue, csitri, the way you would on me.” His voice went low. Sexy. Mesmerizing.

Her gaze jumped to his. She lowered her head to the open petals, still looking at him, her tongue stroking along that long, bulbous head and thick shaft. She licked under the head and down the sides, curling her tongue, pretending it was him. Wanting it to be him. Sharing with him that she wanted it to be him and not a flower.

The taste was all Dimitri—his mouth, his blood, even his skin. It was addictive, that spicy, vivid flavor that burst through her body and sent blood surging through her veins.

His eyes darkened more, the hunger building in them. His shaft thickened, the girth enlarging impossibly, the head leaking small drops of nectar. She licked her lips, craving more.

Dimitri held out his hand, palm up, for the blossom. She gave it to him a little reluctantly. Still holding her gaze, he lapped at the honeyed liquid along the filaments and ovaries of the flower.

21

Skyler’s entire body went hot, tension coiling tight. She nearly groaned with wanting him. Everything about him was sexy, but watching him devour the nectar as if it was her feminine cream he was consuming made her go a little weak.

“Kneel back on your heels, sívamet, your thighs open for me,” he instructed. His voice went a little rough.

Her heart jumped and more liquid spilled between her legs. Keeping her gaze on his, she slowly sank down in front of him. The ground was covered in soft petals, cushioning her. He put the blossom right at the junction between her legs, so that the open petal caught any liquid spilling from her body.

Her heart pounded as his fingers brushed across her thighs. As he straightened, standing very close to her, her face was almost level with his erection. All she would have to do was kneel up. Her mouth watered, craved more of his taste.