Lord's Fall (Elder Races #5)(74)

He must have forgotten the low tent ceiling. She cringed to avoid it, but she still smacked one of her raised elbows along with her head against the long pole that formed the top of the A-frame.

“Ow!”

“Shit,” he snapped. He lowered her onto his lap immediately and hugged her.

She draped her arms around his neck and collapsed against him, dissolving into hiccups of laughter. So much for trying to keep what we’re doing quiet and private.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, cupping the top of her head and rubbing at the spot where she had hit the pole.

Straddling him brought them into alignment, and the length of his c**k pressed against her hypersensitive flesh. She lost her laughter as escalating hunger sank its claws deep into her flesh. “I’ll let you make it up to me,” she mouthed against his lips. At the same time she flexed her hips, rubbing herself along his hot, stiff penis.

“Gods, yes, let me make it up to you.” He gripped her by the back of the neck, and as he kissed her hard and deep, he eased one hand between them and probed gently at the folds of her moist, sensitive skin until he found her clitoris.

A lightning bolt of pleasure jolted through her. As she moaned, he fisted his hand in her hair, held her in place and swallowed the sound with his mouth. She broke into a light sweat and started to shake as he stroked her, holding himself so tightly, the muscles in his chest and arms were rock hard.

She could feel the moisture of her arousal pouring out of her and coating his fingers. She rocked against his hand while she gripped his c**k and fitted the thick, broad head against her entrance. Come on, come on.

Not yet, he said tensely in her head.

She growled, and he swallowed that sound too as he pierced her deeply with his hardened tongue, f**king her mouth with the same kind of rhythm he used as he stroked her. The lightning built, stronger and stronger, and she tried to twist, tried to impale herself on him, but he held her imprisoned with his fist in her hair and his hand between her legs. When she couldn’t get what she wanted, she whined and clawed at his arms.

You’re impossible. You make me crazy.

She didn’t know if she just thought the words again, or if she actually said them telepathically. Her mind was glazed, her body filled with light. Just when she wanted to scream at him, the lightning peaked. She arched into her climax, gasping, and that was when he finally penetrated her. She was so ready for him by that point that his c**k slid smooth as butter inside her, a liquid penetration that brought her pelvis hard against his and she peaked again, every muscle in her thighs shaking.

He clamped one arm around her hips and pumped up into her, once, twice, as he ground his mouth against hers. She gripped him with her inner muscles while the pleasure twisted her up and wrung her out, all their laughter and sexy talk burning away to rippling intensity.

Then it was his turn to make a sound, a quiet, shaken groan. She felt him climax deep inside of her, the outpouring of his pleasure beginning in the echoes of her own, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as he rocked into her.

Breathing heavily, he loosened his grip in her hair at last. She pulled her mouth away from his to rest her head on his shoulder as he cradled her.

“My gods, you burn me up,” he said against the skin of her neck. “I go up in flames every time.”

“I do too,” she whispered. Lucky, she was so, so lucky.

She felt limp as a dishrag as she draped on his chest, and he shook out one of the blankets to wrap it around her. She didn’t even bother to move when he lay down on his back and tucked her pack behind his head; she just went down with him.

She wasn’t exactly comfortable. Her pack felt rough and lumpy against her cheek, and she would probably have to move off of him soon. But she was so tired. She didn’t think she could get more saturated with a sense of his presence or his vitality, and she didn’t want to lose any shred of the comfort that it gave her.

Which made it even more of a pity that she couldn’t take any of that comfort with her into sleep, or into her dreams.

SIXTEEN

The man had such compelling green eyes.

She didn’t know how she could see the color when he sat in silhouette just outside their tent. Behind the man, the passageway blazed with black flames, while every living soul in the camp shone white as the stars. The man’s outline was immaculately still.

“Won’t you join me?” he asked gently. “Your soul has a light like no other. Together you and I could transform the world.”

“You can’t get in here,” she told Amras Gaeleval. She peered out from underneath the flap at him. Somehow she had dragged her clothes on, but she didn’t remember it. Dragos had to be in the tent with her. He was here the last time she looked. Cold sweat broke over her face. She did not dare take her eyes away from Gaeleval to check.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t,” the man said. “Your camp’s defenses are not perfect although they are working somewhat. But I can ask you to come out here, Pia. That is what you like to call yourself, isn’t it? Pia Giovanni.”

Dread bled through her body. She gripped the edge of the tent flap tightly. “You can’t compel me with that name.”

“No, like all the Wyr, you have another Name, don’t you? A true Name. Wouldn’t you like to tell me what that is?”

She wanted to so badly. He was, after all, her closest and best-loved friend. Why, if she hadn’t met Dragos first, he might even have become her mate. Maybe he could still become her mate. She and Dragos had, after all, only been together for seven months.