Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Prisoners of the Wind (14 page)

His smile was a
white-tooth gleam of sexuality and she lazily raised her gaze to the sharpness
and length of his canines. The smile was boyish, but there was nothing boyish
about the lethality of those teeth.

“Be easy, wench,” he
whispered. “Their sting will never be for you.”

“Are they growing?” she
asked. “They didn’t seem that long before.”

He chuckled. “The closer
I come to Conversion, a few changes begin to show. I’ll try not to grin like
the lovesick fool I’m becoming.”

She looked up into that
fevered gaze and thought she saw red flames leaping in the dark orbs.

“You have nothing to
fear from me,” he was saying to her, and his voice seemed to be coming at her
from far, far away, from beneath waves of cool wind. “I could no more hurt you
than I could lie down and die of my own accord.”

He moved his free hand
to her face and used the rough pad of his thumb to smooth a slow, sensuous line
over her bottom lip.

“Such a gorgeous mouth,”
he whispered, and his head began to lower toward her.

She would dream of that
moment for the rest of her life. The softness of his lips was like a feather’s
touch, but the pressure was exquisite and the feel of them against her own was
enough to melt any resistance she might have ever entertained. When his tongue
parted her lips to slip inside, she lost all semblance of maiden modesty and
wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him eagerly to her.

“Mine,” he whispered
against her mouth.

His strong-looking
fingers ran unhurriedly down the buttons of his black silk shirt. Never taking
his eyes from hers, he slowly pulled the tail of the soft shirt from black
leather britches that encased his lean hips like a second skin. Leisurely, he
pulled the shirt from his broad shoulders and the thick, dark pelt of hair that
formed a curly V from between his manly paps to the deep indention of his
naval.

Marin felt the tips of
his fingers against the hollow of her throat as he began unbuttoning the silk
blouse. Her breathing quickened and became shallower as he worked his way to
the waistline. She sank into the heat of his gaze and became boneless, unable
to move a muscle as his hands spread the bodice of the blouse open, peeled it
from her shoulders then turned attention to the black silk britches, tugging
them down her hips. She was acutely aware he had removed the garments from her
body and tossed them aside.

Marin did not know she
had put out the tip of her tongue to curl it over her bottom lip. She caught
her breath as his eyes widened and he stilled.

“At this moment, I feel
the beast crouched within me,” he said in a gruff voice. “Every impulse I have
bids me throw myself upon you and ravage you. Help me to not give in to those
instincts, Marin.”

“You were gentle with me
my first time, Taegin,” she said. “There is no need to be gentle now.”

“Aye, there is,” he
disagreed. “My blood is boiling and my cock is as hard as tempered steel. I
need to slow down else I’m afraid I’ll be too rough in the taking.”

“Then strip for me,
Tiogar,” she said, holding his gaze.

Taegin grinned like a
mischievous schoolboy, the twin dimples in his cheeks announcing his pleasure.
“Strip for you?”

“Strip for me very
slowly.”

“Am I to be your
plaything now?” he asked.

“I believe so, Tiogar,”
she replied, holding her breath for his reply. “Perhaps it will cool your blood
a bit.”

His eyes lit with humor.
“All right, milady. I am at your command,” he said.

Her eyes followed him as
he stood. Her gaze lowered from his face to the bare flesh of his broad chest
to the wide leather belt with its wicked Tiogar logo that he was slowly pulling
from its loops. Dreamily, she watched him slowly unbutton the studs at his
crotch then peel the slick leather from his lean hips. Her breath caught in her
throat as the wiry curls at the juncture of his taut thighs slid into view and
the thick staff that sprang from the spiky patch jutted forth. She did not hear
the groan that escaped her throat.

Barely breathing, she
watched him step from the tight confines of his britches, toss them aside then
sink unhurriedly toward her, stretching out his tall body beside hers.

Drae propped himself up
on his elbow, his hand threaded through the dark sleekness of his hair as he
stared down at Marin. His gaze drifted over her from blonde curls to the wild
pulse beating in her neck to the turgid peaks of her lush breasts then moved
downward. Beneath his scrutiny, her body burned with heat and she began
shivering with the force of the emotions bombarding her.

Lazily, he reached out
his free hand to twirl a lock of her hair around his index finger. “You should
always wear your hair down,” he said, lifting the lock to inhale it. Releasing
the lock of hair, he put his index finger to the hollow of her throat and
stroked her flesh gently. Very slowly, he ran his finger down her chest until
he could splay his fingers upon her sternum, the tips of his fingers stretching
toward the peaks of her breasts.

Marin moaned for the
heat of his hand was intoxicating and she felt a growing ache deep in her
belly. She writhed beneath his touch, unaware she did so.

His hand traveled lower,
the tip of his middle finger dipping into the well of her navel, the heel of
his palm coming to rest just at the silken fringe of her pubic hair. He said
nothing but his eyes spoke volumes. There was passion lurking in the dark rum
depths. His finger circled her navel slowly and the base of his hand pressed
firmly against her belly.

“Ah,” Marin sighed,
reveling in the weight and pressure of his strong hand upon her flesh. The
force pressing down on her belly seemed to heighten her awareness of the area
between her thighs that had begun to ache so sweetly. Her crotch felt heavy,
very sensitive, and a part of her actually felt as though it was throbbing.

Drae’s hand slid up her
belly, dragged over her rib cage, his fingertips feathering along the skin
until they came to rest beside her breast. Before she could take another
breath, his hand was over that weighty globe, the erect nipple pressed into his
palm, his fingers gently kneading the softness.

“You are perfection,
Marin,” he said, caressing her. With each movement of his hand, his palm
touched then arched away from her straining nipple, sending shivers of delight
racing along her sides. He gently twisted the mound, swirling his palm over her
then pressing it firmly down until her nipple was a hard little pebble aching
to be plucked.

And pluck it he did with
the hardness of his short fingernails.

Marin arched her body
upward at that intimate touch. Her face burned as her body ached and she could
not lie still beneath the sensations he was causing in her lower body. When he
leaned over her and replaced his fingertips with the hot, moist prod of his
tongue, she gasped loudly and shuddered, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. The
self-imposed blindness only added fuel to the fire already beginning to creep
out of control from his tongue and the sweet pressure of his suckling lips
fanning those flames to a roaring fire that threatened to consume her.

Drae was licking her
nipples very, very slowly, his tongue dragging over that highly responsive area
from base to erect tip. Now and again, he would lightly clamp his teeth over
the straining peak, chuckling softly to himself at the mew of pleasure that
came from Marin’s throat.

Feeling as though she
was standing in front of a roaring inferno, Marin longed to feel the full
length of Drae’s body pressed to hers. She threaded her fingers through his
dark hair and pressed his face closer to her breast, trying to turn so she
could feel the heat of him along her.

Releasing her nipple
from a delicate grip between his teeth, Drae lay down, pulling her into his
embrace, nestling her head in the crook of his shoulder. He held her firmly,
enjoying the seeking of her fingers through the crisp hairs on his chest. She
was trembling—and ready—but he pulled her even closer until she was forced to
wedge her leg between his thighs.

“Oh,” Marin said on a
long sigh as the hardness of his shaft stabbed at her thigh. Shyly, she slid
her hand under his encompassing arm and touched the head of his cock.

“A man’s rod is designed
to give great pleasure to his lady,” Drae said, willing his body to complete
control despite the animalistic urge he had to ram into Marin’s lush body.

“It is so smooth,” she
said, circling the head of his penis with her index finger.

“Yet as hard as steel,”
he said. “And very sensitive.”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” he was quick to
reply. “You are pleasuring me, wench.”

Her questing hand
returned to cup him gently. The tip of her middle finger touched very soft
flesh beneath the weighty sac and she stroked the area. “So very soft,” she
told him.

“And so very sensitive,”
he repeated, panting.

“Like my sensitive
places?” she asked.

One moment she was lying
beside him and the next she was flat on her back, his body sliding down hers
until he could grasp her hips in his hands and drape her legs over his broad
shoulders, his hot breath fanning over the very core of her open crotch.

“Let’s see if I can find
any,” he said gruffly.

Marin nearly came out of
her skin as his tongue dragged over her nether lips. She shrieked so loudly she
stuffed a fist to her mouth. He was lapping at her—his tongue spiraling along
the folds of her sex—and when he touched something down there, she bucked
against him like a wild bronco.

“I think I found one of
those places, wench,” he said with amusement, only a split second before his
lips closed on that highly sensitive area and Marin had to stifle her cry with
a palm pressed tightly over her lips.

Curling warmth began to
spread through Marin’s lower body and her hips were undulating as the Tiogar
worked his teeth lightly over her erect little clit. She was itching deep
inside and she pushed against his invading mouth with tiny little jerks that
soon became a quick rotation of her pelvis.

“Um-hmm,” she heard him
grunt.

It was his finger
slipping firmly inside her that brought an exquisite sensation rippling through
her womb—clenching and spiraling—and carrying her into a realm to which she had
never before ventured. She felt a rush of blood invade her upper body then a
pleasure so intense, so all-invasive that she felt as though she was spinning
out of control and falling, falling, falling until she landed softly in a warm
place that cradled her gently. Her heart was pounding. She was gasping for
breath. Her body was trembling uncontrollably, her legs shaking as though she
had the ague. Her skin crawled with energy and was so sensitive she thought she
could feel each individual hair on her flesh stirring.

“Did I find it?” Drae
asked with a chuckle as he slid up her body and gathered her to him, holding
her securely in his strong arms.

“You found it,” she
whispered, and felt perspiration clinging to her body.

Marin reached down for
his shaft but he stilled her hand.

“Taste me,” he asked.
“Take me in your mouth and suckle me.”

She didn’t question him
but rather slid down on the bunk, bent over his turgid shaft and took it
between her lips. She drew on the smooth head then pulled it from her lips.
“He’s leaking,” she said, smiling.

“He’s readying himself
for you,” he told her.

She slid him into her
mouth once more, laving his head with her tongue, drawing on the fluid that
escaped his slit.

Drae could feel the
blood pounding in his ears and knew if he didn’t stop her, he’d come in her
mouth. He didn’t want to break her into the sweet act of a woman loving a man
in this unique way with such abruptness. He put his hands on her cheeks and
lifted her away from him.

“I need to be inside
you,” he said, his breath erratic. “I need my cock buried within your sweet
body.”

She stretched out beside
him and opened her arms. “I am ready, milord,” she said.

“Taegin,” he said
softly, correcting her.

“Taegin,” she repeated.

Her arms encircled him
and she lifted her hips to lock her legs around him. They were looking into one
another’s eyes as he slowly—but firmly—pressed into the tight warmth of her.
There was a wondrous ache that infused her and she dug her nails into his back,
for the feeling was so powerful, so pleasurable, she wanted more of it.

Taegin felt her shift
against him, lift her hips in invitation and he pushed a bit deeper, held
himself there until she wriggled again then began to piston in and out of
her—slowly at first and shallowly—but then a bit faster and a bit deeper until
she was clawing at him, panting in concert with him. His stroke lengthened and
quickened until he was ramming at her with such power, such raw energy, he had
no other thought than to satisfy the burgeoning lust that was building to a
crushing crescendo within his pumping body.