My skin prickled with goose bumps, my thighs quaking with need, my core slicking in warm welcome.
I loved the vulnerability that came with being naked while he still wore his jeans and boots. I adored the sensations of earth magic humming across my exposed skin. And I craved the masculine scent of arousal tickling my nostrils.
“I can smell you,” I whispered, falling back against the tree, my hands roaming my own curves. “You want me.”
“I do,” he admitted, yet remained still, watching me embrace my element and touch myself in kind.
Prolonging the moment made me needy, had my knees threatening to bend, but I used the earth to keep myself upright, to be the queen I was born to be.
For him.
For myself.
“Zeph,” I said, my voice low and sultry.
“Aflora,” he returned softly, his thumb flicking open the button on his jeans.
I couldn’t see him as well as he could see me, but I caught enough of his movements to recognize his intentions. His zipper whispered through the
air, lashing my skin with a fresh wave of warmth and anticipation. However, he didn’t kick off his pants the way he’d stripped mine.
Hmm, no. He wouldn’t.
This was Zeph.
He needed a measure of control, which would come with him being partially dressed while I stood vulnerable and naked among the trees.
I didn’t mind. This was what I wanted. And his proclivity for dominance called to the queen within me. I adored the fight, the push and pull, the need to submit while knowing I could challenge him if I wanted to.
It made this so much more sensual and right.
His hands caught my hips, his arms flexing as he hoisted me into the air. “Wrap your legs around me.”
I did and moaned at the feel of his hard arousal situating itself right between my thighs. “Yes, Zeph. Yes.”
He didn’t enter me but teased me instead, his head stroking my clit with expert ease and causing me to shake against him. His mouth sealed over mine, catching my scream as rapture erupted inside me without warning. I hadn’t even felt it mounting, too lost to the teasing air and intensity thriving between us.
I panted against him, an apology on my tongue for exploding without his permission, but his tongue refused to let me utter the words. Almost as if he didn’t want to hear them. And maybe he didn’t, because I could feel his masculine pride vibrating around us, his obvious pleasure at causing me to fall apart without doing much more than stare at me.
“I love when you come,” he admitted, his lips tracing mine with each word. “I’m going to need you to do it again, Aflora. But around my cock this time.”
He didn’t give me a chance to reply, his hips shifting and causing him to line up with my entrance without so much as a hand between us. His body just knew where to go and how, and he proved it now by penetrating me with a thrust that left me winded.
His name caught in my throat, a cry of pain mingled with pleasure tingling against my tongue, and was swallowed abruptly by his mouth.
He kissed me as if he needed my essence to breathe.
And then he began to take me, truly, with his hips pounding against mine.
He’d been right about it being fast and hard, and it did hurt, just like he warned. But oh, it felt so good, too. I welcomed the scrapes against my back, bathed in the masculine growl coming from his chest as he pummeled into me, and tossed my head back on a sound of approval that probably echoed through the park.
If that guard came back now, I’d tie him up with a vine and stuff a flower in his mouth.
Because no one and nothing was going to ruin this moment.
Zeph had me.
I had him.