To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(80)

His silver irises were half-lidded, a smile spreading across his face. He held her gaze while he massaged her breasts, teasing her aching nipples with his thumbs. Then he lifted her to sit sideways across his hard thighs, which placed her breasts above the water, at his eye level. He stared at them, then up at her flushed face as he cupped the left one in his right hand. “You’re stunning, Sheir-zin.”

She realized her lips were parted, and closed them.

He returned his gaze to her breasts, caressing them in his hands, brushing his thumbs over her nipples until they were so tight with need they almost hurt. Then he pulled her forward and took a nipple into his mouth, covering it with his lips and flicking his tongue over it inside his mouth.

When he sucked gently, she moaned.

“Sundarra,” he murmured against her breast. “Sheir-zin auf de sundarra…” He shifted to the other breast and took that nipple into his mouth, his lips and tongue working their magic on it as well.

Graciella clutched at his shoulders, hot with desire. Desire for more of his kisses, all over her body. “Yavi, don’t stop,” she breathed. “I need you.”

He held her waist and lapped at her nipple with his tongue. “Need me?” He licked, sucked gently. “Like this?”

“Yessss.”

He turned his attention back to the left breast, giving that nipple the same treatment.

“Mmh…” she groaned.

“Your body is sundarra, Sheir-zin. So beautiful,” he whispered against her sensitive flesh. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since Kitran spilled water on your dress that day in the kitchen.”

“You wanted to make love to me then?” she squeaked as he continued to kiss her breasts, his beard stubble brushing against her tender flesh.

“Wanted is an understatement.” He reached up to tease the right nipple with his fingers and thumb while he sucked the left.

“Zehu bless Kitran. But why in heaven’s name didn’t you say so?”

He chuckled, turning his head to take the right nipple into his mouth again. Graciella thought she had died and gone to heaven, and she wanted—badly—to turn her lower body to straddle him, press her aching pelvis against him. She squirmed in his lap.

He grimaced and reached down between their bodies to adjust himself. “Sweet Graciella, stop wiggling. You’re torturing me.”

She scooted back a little, trying to get her knee up. “Can’t I just…get my leg around you?”

He loosened his grip on her waist, and she backed up enough in the water to straddle his thighs. When she hugged his neck and pulled herself in closer to him, the underside of his hard cock pressed firmly at the juncture of her thighs.

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

Graciella opened her thighs wider and pressed against him until his huge shaft was securely against the spot that was crying out for contact with him. His cock jerked against her sensitive flesh, and he muttered a strained oath in Nandalan. “Graciella,” he choked, glancing down at her breasts. “Stop moving for a second; let me catch my breath.”

“Why?” She kissed his lips, grinding her hips against him. “I need you, Yavi.”

“Yes, I need you too, but I want to pleasure you the right way.”

“What’s the right way?”

“In a bed, for one.” He stood, lifting her up with him, and scooped her up into his arms cradle-style. He climbed out of the pool and set her on her feet, then picked up a towel and quickly dried her body. He unfolded a monk’s robe, draped it over her shoulders, and helped her wrap and tie it properly. Then he laid out a pair of slippers for her to slide her feet into. While she combed out her damp hair, he dried himself quickly with the other towel and shrugged into his own robe and slippers. He looked every inch the warrior-monk in the wide-sleeved robe once it was wrapped close to his torso and tied at his waist, and she was pretty certain the robe’s style didn’t look as good on her as it did on him.

He took her hand. “Come with me.”

They hurried past Yajna and Jiandra’s pool, ducked through the archway outside, and stepped lightly over the stones to an outbuilding at the far side of the garden. Once they were inside the portico, Yavi tapped on the door, opened it, and poked his head in. “Eliv?”

The young monk appeared. “Ahm, Mahaj.”

Yavi said something in Nandalan, and the monk nodded. He led them down a hall with windows that faced the monastery’s main sanctuary above. He stopped at a door at the far end of the hall and opened it for them. Yavi motioned Graciella to go inside first.

It was a bedroom with polished wooden floors and a low wooden platform holding a fluffy-looking mattress draped in off-white linens. A fire was lit in the small stone fireplace facing the foot of the bed, and the only other furniture was a chest along the wall next to the fireplace and a chair and table beside the bed. A thick, irregularly shaped rug made of white filstoc fur lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, and there was a washing bowl and pitcher on a wide windowsill on the far side of the room. Graciella went to look out the window and was treated to a breathtaking view of the early-morning sun filtering through the mist hanging over the cliffs and ridges that rose above the deep canyon below. She turned back to the bed and bent down to run her hand over the linens covering the soft mattress.

Yavi closed and bolted the door. He moved to the window to close the shutters, darkening the room, then came to her side. He grasped her hands in his and drew her with him toward the fire’s warmth, the orange blazes illuminating his clear silver irises. He brought her hands to his lips.