“Just the start. Just a sample.” He pressed his lips to her thundering heart. “This time you’ll take, and taking, you give.”
He gripped her hands with his, as her touch, her explorations tempted him to rush. So he used only his mouth on her, roaming down her torso, pleasing himself when her belly quivered under his tongue.
She moaned for him, moved for him, and the mix of her need and surrender sparked like a wire in his blood. Another time he would give in to that, another time he would let that hunger loose. But now he would seduce her, now he would torment them both.
He brushed his lips over her thigh, and then his tongue along the vulnerable line beside her center. And his teeth, lightly, lightly, until her breath became long, sighing moans, until her body undulated.
He found her warm and wet, so ready to fly up again.
It was like being showered with warm liquid gold, showered with melted jewels. Every inch of her sparkled, shone, glimmered, gleamed. The world was warm and soft, and smothered in flowers, drenched in moonlight.
And the world was only him.
As his mouth came back to hers again, as her hands were free to touch and stroke, she thought nothing could ever be more beautiful.
“Will you look at me now? Look at me, Sasha.”
She opened eyes dark and heavy with the glorious weight of pleasure. “Bran.”
“This is ours, only.”
He banished even the thought of pain as he slipped into her. And she learned there was more beauty. She opened for it, welcomed it. Keeping her eyes on his, she moved with him, let that beauty, the glory of it saturate her.
It took her higher to where the air thinned, the world spun. As even the air shattered around her, she laid her hand on his cheek. “Yes,” she said. “Yes,” she sighed, and let herself slide down.
She imagined her body pulsing off light. Pale pink and gold light. Warm and soft and lovely. He lay full on her so she imagined the light pulsed right through him as well, and filled the room with color.
She wondered, if this is how sex made you feel, how people managed to do anything else.
“Well, we can be a bit preoccupied with it.”
“What? Did I say that out loud?”
“You did.” He raised his head, gave her face a study out of dark, sleepy eyes. “And it’s a fine compliment to me.”
“You gave me a bed of flowers and moonlight. I’m full of compliments.”
He shifted, rolled so he could draw her up against his side. “I want that painting.”
She laughed, happy to rest her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know how I looked.”
“I’ll see that you do. Is it bad timing to ask why you haven’t been with someone before this?”
“No. I felt I had to be honest about things before I slept with someone. And whenever things got to that point, the man was either put off or too interested
in that part of me. It wasn’t about me anymore, about wanting me anymore. You already knew. And you have something . . . it balances things. That sounds calculated.”
“No, it sounds human.”
Now she shifted, propped up so she could see his face. “This?” She gestured to the flowers, the moonlight. “What you have, are? It’s fascinating. It’s compelling. But it’s not why I’m here with you now.”
“This?” He laid a hand on her temple. “What you have and are is fascinating and compelling. But it’s not why I want you here.”
Content, she settled down again. “We have so many things to deal with, to figure out. Gods and stars and caves and vanishing islands. Right now none of it seems real. But it is.”
“And we’ll do what needs doing. We’ll find the star that’s here for us. You’ve seen it.”
“Not everything comes through exactly as I see it.”