Wings of Fire (Guardians of Ascension #3)(45)
Author: Caris Roane

They traded places as he sat down. She turned into him and moved between his spread legs. He was a banquet, oh such a feast, but first—his warrior hair.

She drifted her fingers from the top of his head all the way down past his shoulders and over his chest. She lifted her hands and thrust her fingers into his hair just below his temples.

She had wanted this from the first time she had voyeured him after a shower. She couldn’t explain how his hair made her feel, but it was as though something essential lived there, a reflection of who he was, certainly of his warrior status.

She took a large portion and wrapped it around her hand. Then she loosed her grip and the strands eased, separated, and flowed over her fingers. He had very fine hair, so different from her own. She grabbed another thick portion, pushed her fingers through, and dragged downward until she hit a snag. She withdrew. She kept tugging, stroking, playing until he groaned and his lips found her in a surprising kiss. She hadn’t realized how close she was.

She opened her mouth to gasp and his tongue filled her. “Oh,” she murmured, leaning against him.

She suckled his tongue and his arms glided around her back, his erection still firm and hard against her abdomen. His hips rocked, and she felt that sturdy length glide up her abdomen. He kept thrusting his tongue and gliding his c**k as he pushed the fabric of her dress around.

She drew back. Her lips felt swollen. “I want my dress off.”

He put a hand to her shoulder and folded the dress off. She had a glimpse of the white and splashy flowers appearing on a chair near the blinds.

She smiled. “That’s a great trick.”

His hands were on her shoulders and he pushed away from her. He growled as his gaze drifted over the rest of her clothes, red lace underwire bra, red lace panties, no stockings.

“I’m smelling sage, lots of it,” she whispered.

He made a sound like a grunt and grabbed her around the waist. He rose to his feet and lifted her to kneel on the bed. This put her br**sts, in a most fortuitous happenstance, right at mouth level. She giggled. He scooped each breast out of her bra to rest in large mounds on the underwires. She drew back just out of reach of his mouth.

He looked up at her, uncertain, but she shook her head. “I didn’t say you could do that.” But her look dared him and begged him at the same time.

He put his hands on her back and never lost eye-contact. His brown eyes were black in the twilight. He pushed on her back, forcing her toward him, his lips parted, his tongue drifting over his bottom lip.

Oh, God.

She resisted. She put her hands on his shoulders. She stared at him and pushed back, but he was stronger and kept pulling her toward him. Her ni**les grew peaked, giving the lie to her resistance.

His tongue was so close. The well of her body tightened. She cried out, gave way. He pulled her in tight and took her left breast in his mouth, as much as he could. His movements were rapid and harsh, just what she wanted, as he sucked, pulled, licked, and worked her into a frenzy.

In this position, his thick c**k found the inside of her left thigh. She pressed her legs together so that his c**k could stroke the tight space between. He was way too low to penetrate, but the feel of his mouth on her breast brought deep moans from her throat.

Antony, she sent, straight to his mind. I need more. Now. Yes, her telepathy had improved.

She had meant for him to penetrate her hard and fast because she was so ready for him.

Instead he released her breast and, in a quick movement, grabbed her both high and low, behind her shoulders and across her bottom, then laid her out once more on the bed. He dragged her hips to the end so that her legs hung off the side, then he sank to his knees on the floor.

She leaned up, intending to protest, but he pushed her back. “You’ve had your way,” he said, holding her chest down with one hand while the other ripped her lace panties off. “Now I’m going to do what I want to do.”

She might have protested but then he put his mouth against her lower lips and French-kissed her.

Oh. Dear. God.

He was a big man, and so was his tongue. He glided over her and she cried out. He kissed her labia then poked and prodded every fold of her with the tip of his tongue until she was gasping and panting.

“Hold on,” he whispered.

“Hold on for what?” She looked down at him and he looked up. He smiled but it was a wicked smile, full of purpose and design and, oh, God, his fangs emerged.

He bent low once more. Nestling his face against her lower lips, he drew back then struck.

Oh, shit, he’d used a fang. Just one. She felt a warmth right there. The pleasure started, a tingling at first, then like rivulets of electricity and pleasure mingled. Potions. That’s right. His fangs could release chemicals. She whimpered and her eyes rolled back in her head.

He slid a finger deep inside, then two.

Her upper body felt frozen as the sensation glided over her. She flung her legs wide as though trying to escape it, which of course only made things worse, or better, since he groaned and his groan clutched something deep in her chest.

Tangerine, he whispered through her mind.

He stroked her with his fingers. He laid his tongue flat against her and just rolled over her, the barest pulse of movement, but with the potion working it felt as if a dozen tongues were flicking over all that sensitive flesh. His fingers moved faster and then she cried out because it was like nothing she had ever felt before. If this was ascension, oh, God, give her more and more and more.

The orgasm struck, a bolt of lightning that traveled through her in a pulse of pleasure. She was bucking off the bed, but he kept her pinned now with an arm across her hips as she rode the orgasm. He kept moving his tongue, helping her along, sustaining the roll of ecstasy. Only as she stopped straining against his arm, only as her body settled down, did he pause, his fingers quiet, his tongue not touching her.

Even so, little jolts of orgasm struck her over and over.

Finally, when she lay quiet on the bed, he asked, “Ready for another?”

“Another what?” Her heart skipped a few beats. “There’s more?”

Without asking for permission or giving her a chance to catch her breath, he thrust his fingers into her again and again, hard and fast. He laid his tongue against her once more, pressed into her, then rippled over her flesh. Another orgasm chased the last one, streaking through her until she was screaming and screaming. A full minute passed before her hips grew quiet. She couldn’t stop the panting, though, and her heart raced.

His deep throaty laugh blew between her thighs. She heard the smugness, the delight, the thrill, and she knew he wasn’t done.