Sunday's Child(32)
Small waves lapped gently around her as he drew close, his chest to her back. He leaned down to caress her throat with his fingertips, tendrils of his long white hair ghosting over her shoulder to leave rivulets of water trickling past her collarbone. A roiling flutter of heat erupted in her belly, spreading to her thighs when he curved his hands over her shoulders.
“I say them because they’re true. You are the grace of all women. I have wanted you since you first translated my insignia.” His hands dripped water into her hair, and she felt the wetness of his cheek as he bent to kiss the soft skin at her temple. “I watch you, dream of you. Shall I tell you of my dreams? How I awake in the night, covered in sweat, my thighs wet with my own seed because I was lost in the illusion of thrusting between your sweet thighs? Tasting your skin?”
The slide of his tongue along the curve of her ear sent heat sizzling through her blood, and Castil jerked forward, an involuntary response to the sensual caress. Doranis snaked an arm around her waist, splaying long fingers across her belly to steady her. She stared downward, hypnotized by the sight of the narrow white hand resting against her skin.
“You have beautiful hair,” he whispered. His fingers fluttered against her abdomen while his other hand wrapped tendrils of her hair around his wrist, bringing it gently to his nose to inhale its fragrance.
Castil didn’t move, transfixed by the softly spoken words and the knowledge that he was slowly making love to her through the husky vibrations of his voice and the deep sounds of his breathing against her flesh. His free hand released her hair, only to skim along her hip and down her leg, making her shiver.
The weight of his scrutiny rested heavy on her, measuring, assessing the shape of her body, partially concealed by the hazy water. His lovely words made her reel, yet she wondered if he compared her plainness to memories of Kareena’s beauty or to other lovers who once shared his bed.
He put her silent musings to rest when he traced a finger down her spine, leaving chills in its wake. “My dreams were as nothing to this reality. You are more beautiful than I could have imagined,” he murmured.
Castil’s eyelids slid shut, her ability to reason, to think, even to talk, obliterated by the touch of his hands on her body, the whisper of his voice in her ear.
So aroused by his seduction, she jumped when his hands gripped her hips, pulling her hard against him. Whatever doubts she had regarding his desire for her evaporated. His erection nudged the cleft of her buttocks, unmistakable proof that he wanted her with the same desperation she craved him. She responded by parting her legs and rubbing against him. He rewarded her with a drawn out groan, his fingers digging into her flesh.
Her breathing shortened to pants as one of those graceful hands slid upward, across her ribs, to stroke one of her breasts. She gasped, arching her back as he lightly abraded her nipple. Oh sweet Mother! She wouldn’t survive this!
He soothed her with slow caresses, all the while running his tongue along the outer curve of her ear. “Shh, fair Castil. This is only the beginning.”
Whether threat or promise, he followed through, teasing her until she danced on the edge of an orgasm and begged him for mercy. He scooped her into his arms and waded up the steps and out of the pool. The rug under her back was rough, but she didn’t care. Doranis loomed over her, big, aroused, desire written in every line of his body and every sharp angle of his face. The lines bracketing either side of his mouth deepened, and his pale eyes gleamed like banked coals. Her lips parted instinctively as his head tipped towards her, giving silent welcome as his tongue slid into her mouth, invading and plunging, even as he ground his hips against hers.
She felt more than heard the heavy groan emanating from his chest as she slid her hands around his back and down to his buttocks, curving her hands over the tight muscles. He continued to ravage her mouth and she was lost in wet, suctioning heat as he sucked on her tongue and nibbled lightly on her lower lip.
Doranis broke the breath-stealing kiss to lower his face to her breasts. Castil moaned and rocked against him as he teased her nipples with his tongue, making her arch upward in a silent appeal for more.
His voice painted spells on her skin. “You like this?”
She buried her hands in his wet hair, cupping his head to hold him closer. “Yes,” she murmured, the word becoming a rhythmic chant as he suckled her with rapacious greed. He dragged her into a whirlpool of frenetic desire and sexual frenzy where nothing existed save the feel of lean muscle, the wetness of a ravening mouth and the swell of his erection riding between her thighs.
Doranis slowly pulled away from her, breathing in slow, deep gasps. He wrapped an arm around her hips, tightening the embrace between them that melded her pelvis to his. “Gods,” he breathed, “you cradle me well.”
She whispered his name when he slid inside her, implored gods when he set a rhythm that had her clutching his shoulders. His sounds of pleasure mimicked hers, gaining in volume until his back arched and his eyes rolled back, and he held still against her as his climax rolled through him. The sensual rub of his pelvis on just the right spot insured she followed him soon after, her legs squeezing his hips so tight, he grunted in protest.
Wet with water and sweat and gasping for breath, he eased his full weight onto her before rolling them both to their sides. Castil scraped away the hair stuck to his forehead while trying to calm her own breathing. She mapped the planes of his face with one finger, noticing for the first time the way his pupils dominated his irises, turning his eyes almost black.