He was about to fold it away, but she stopped him. “Allow me.”
“Sure,” he said, but he smiled. For some reason, this skill set had so far proved challenging.
She closed her eyes and he felt his harness give way, but it ended up hooked over his left shoulder.
She giggled as she manually pulled it off him and dropped it on the pavers next to the chaise longue. She looked down at it and laughed some more. “I’ll get better.”
“You did just fine,” he said, his voice husky. He moved into her again and once more put his hand on her breast. He caught the nape of her neck with his palm and met her gaze as he slowly slid his hand over her breast, across, in a wide circle down, around, and up, a lot of beautiful territory to cover. She moaned.
He thumbed her nipple again, and her lips parted. He leaned into her and caught her mouth, driving his tongue deep. She whimpered and pressed her breast into his hand, grinding against his palm. The peaked nipple was a firm bead against his skin, and he needed more of it.
He drew back, dipped low, then caught her breast in his mouth and tongued her nipple, rubbing up and down in a sudden swift motion that brought little cries from her mouth. The rush of tangerine-and-woman scent rose like a cloud around him, which of course worked on his body like soft stroking fingers so that beneath his kilt he was hard as a rock. His knees felt rubbery the more he suckled.
He needed more.
He was breathing hard when he pulled back. She jerked forward as though she’d lost that small bit of balance. Her eyes had darkened, even in the dim lights of the courtyard lamps.
He shoved a muscled thigh between her legs and stroked her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her onto his thigh. He held her tight against his chest. With his free hand he rubbed the side of her breast. Then he kissed her. He drove his tongue into her mouth over and over, letting her feel in that one pulsing movement what he wanted to do between her legs—tongue, cock, or fingers—to work her until she was screaming.
He drew back just enough to say, “First my tongue, then my cock.”
She shivered, all the way down.
With his thigh still holding her up—even her feet were off the pavers—he walked her backward, then with an arm behind her shoulders and one on her buttocks, he laid her out on the chaise-longue, just shallow enough so that her hips came to the edge.
Oh, Antony, yes, yes.
I love you inside my head.
I love you inside me any way you can get there.
He chuckled, and the throaty sound rolled around the small courtyard.
With his knees on the hard pavers, he looked into her eyes, those beautiful amethyst eyes, and for a moment his desire became suspended in something more, something he couldn’t explain, but he’d experienced it many centuries before with his wife.
Almost like, shit … almost like love.
But he couldn’t go there.
He kissed her lightly. He felt disoriented, as if he’d been reading a book then suddenly lost his place on the page.
“What is it?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
She touched his face. “I think you’re remembering other things. Come back to me, Antony. Save this time for me.”
He nodded. He looked at her and drew back. He let his gaze drift down her body, her extraordinary breasts, her belly button. He put a hand on her cargoes and folded them away.
The sight of her flat, smooth abdomen, her legs spread and waiting for him, the nest of her dark hair, sent a shiver down his body. A certain amount of pain accompanied the sight of her since he was holding back. He wanted to wait for her. He wanted to see ecstasy flow over her face and force more gasps, cries, and moans from her mouth before he came.
He calmed himself down and, with a thought, folded a towel from his bathroom into his hand. His kilt was long but not long enough to really maneuver and at the same time protect his knees.
He stretched the towel and settled his knees. Hey, a little preparation went a long way to getting his woman where he needed her to be. Still, he laughed at himself. God, he loved sex, and he really loved this moment.
As he situated his knees, he looked up the length of her body. She was propped up on her elbows, her face aglow, and it wasn’t the landscaping lights. “What is it?” he asked.
“You. You’re so beautiful, Antony. I know I should say handsome, but I think you’re beautiful. Your cheekbones are sculpted. Sometimes my chest aches when I look at you and your long warrior hair.” She sat up the rest of the way and ran her fingers from the top of his head down the entire length of his hair as though awestruck. “I never thought long hair on a man could be so erotic.” A heady wave of tangerine pounded his senses but before he knew what she was about to do, she had launched herself off the chaise longue and onto him so that, even in his kneeling position, she now had her legs wrapped around his waist.
She kissed him hard and her tongue, so feminine, was a driving pulse in his mouth. He groaned and held her against him, her exquisite breasts against the flat plane of his chest. He squeezed and squeezed, his biceps flexing and releasing as he embraced her. He held her in a tight grip as though trying to press her into his body so that he could carry her around with him day and night.
His tongue dueled with hers, an erotic battle that lasted several minutes until one of his hands was planted on her ass and pushing her hips in pulses against his hard-as-nails cock.
Sweet Jesus.
“I know you wanted this here,” she said, panting against his lips. “But I think I want you upstairs in my shower. Okay?”
Okay? Hell, she could have said, I want you to set your feet on fire, and right now he would have agreed to it.
So much for the careful towel on the pavers, but truth? He loved it.
He gained his feet with his woman still wrapped around his body, her heels digging into his ass through the kilt. He thought the thought and carried her through nether-space into the master bedroom shower upstairs, a large walk-in shower, a good eight feet deep. He could make it work.
She unhooked her legs and dropped her feet to the floor. She stepped away from him a little and looked down at his kilt and battle sandals, his shin guards—and yeah, he still wore his silver-studded black leather wrist guards.
He was ready to fold off the rest of his clothes but she stopped him. “Let me practice.”
He smiled because he loved the excited glitter in her eyes. They fit in this way. He was powerful and had known many of his powers from almost the day of his ascension. She was the same.
She worked at removing one piece of clothing at a time. She got his battle sandals off just fine. He nodded his approval. Even the shin guards came off. She put her hand under his kilt until she touched his flight briefs, snug Calvin Kleins, and she thought the thought.
“Not fucking bad,” he said with a smile.
But she looked past his shoulder and laughed. When he turned around he saw them hanging from a nozzle.
He laughed and kissed her nose. “Still, not bad.” Besides, it was incredibly sexy to have a naked woman undressing him like this.
“Now the kilt,” he said.
She nodded and again closed her eyes to concentrate.
But the kilt ended up just below his knees, which knocked him off balance. He dropped to his ass on the cold tile. He laughed up at her. She joined him for a split second, then her gaze fell down the line of his body and her laughter faded. In its stead was a ferocious darkening of her eye and a wave of tangerine that once again took his breath away.
He leaned back on his elbows and spread his legs a little more by lifting one knee and shaking the kilt to his ankles. He was fully erect, his cock stretched out on his abdomen. He wanted her to take a good long look.
Parisa had been laughing at her stupidity but now she wondered if just maybe she was some kind of genius. God, Antony looked gorgeous spread out on the floor like that, leaning up on his elbows so that his stomach had small ripples near his belly button. She’d like to put her tongue there because at the same place was the crown of his cock and she wanted her tongue on him, all the way down.
Damn, he was king-sized. Yes … he … was.
When she had said she wanted to be in the shower, she had meant standing up, the water on, his body pushing into hers, all that good stuff. But honestly, this was going to be better. A very specific image popped into her head.
“More tangerine,” he groaned.
She shivered in response because his sage scent swirled around her, licking at her body from her nose to her toes.
But as her gaze fell to what waited for her down low, her tongue tingled in anticipation.
She knelt. She could have practiced her folding technique a little more, but right now she wanted the pleasure of stripping his kilt off. She took her time, easing it past his ankles and feet, rubbing his shins with her hands, his hair teasing her palms.
She laid the kilt out between his legs so that she could stretch out as well. She settled onto her hip and smiled, her heart rate escalating. She wasn’t sure where all this boldness was coming from but after all, they’d been making love together, even if it was a long-distance affair, for over three months.
She’d also voyeured him so she knew the things he would like. Her mouth actually watered as her gaze roved the heavy sac of his testicles and the firm length of his cock. She reclined so that her head rested on his leg. Sage rolled.
“Antony?”
“Yes.” That one word was a husky drawl that filled the shower space.
“Will you do something for me?” Very lightly she drifted the backs of her fingers over his sac.
His back arched and he groaned. “Sweetheart, right now if you asked me to launch into outer space, I’d give it a try.”
She smiled up at him, met his gaze, and her heart squeezed. Yes, he was so beautiful and some of his hair hung down both sides of his chest. He was in every way a treat waiting to happen. “Touch yourself while I tend to you.”
He leaned back on his left elbow and said, “Is that what you want? You want to watch my hand move over my cock?”
She drew a deep breath. Desire played over her body. Shivers traced up and down as his hand moved lower and lower, teasing her.
