He reached out, stroking his thumb over her silken cheek. She turned her head into his palm, drawing his thumb between her lips to suckle.
“Uhn.” How could that enflame his entire body so fiercely? The jolt of sensation was startling—not to mention the memories she conjured, of when she’d sucked his shaft thus . . .
Now that he had seed to give her, would she take it between her lips? Spending se**n like that was an offendment, but if Lanthe would drink, he’d give and give till she’d had her fill.
Just like that, he was desperate for her, his h*ps beginning to pump into her hot glove. When she released him with a last lick, he cupped her nape, drawing her closer—
“Wait!” she cried. “Let me up, let me up.”
He jerked back. “Have I hurt you?”
“Roll onto your back.”
With a frown, he did, reversing their positions.
Once she was on top, she gracefully dismounted, leaving the sheet’s opening to ring the base of his shaft.
She’d turned the claiming sheet around on him.
His eyes widened at his rampant erection protruding from the sacred sheet. “Lanthe, this . . . this might be blasphemy.”
“You did it to me, and I’ll do it to you. That’s what our marriage will be like—equal and a little subversive to both of our factions. But it’ll work for us.”
His heart pounded. Though he was convinced, her certainty surprised him. “Will it work for us?”
“That depends on how much grief you give me about the freaking sheet.”
Realization struck him with the force of an anvil. If they continued to make concessions for each other, they would not only be wed forever, but wed well. She’d traveled here for him—no other reason—and she’d surrendered much; he would meet her halfway. “No grief, wife.”
“Good man,” she said softly. “So are we done with the sheet now?”
“Yes. But only because we’re married.” He enjoyed saying that. “It’s served its purpose.”
She tugged the material off him, tossing it to a far corner of the bed. “Back to business, then.” With a smile, she straddled him, kneeling up above his shaft. “So, this is what I like to call Thronos and Lanthe’s Pandemonian position.”
His grin faded when she began to slip down his length. He could only stare as her sex swallowed him inch by torturous inch. . . .
Altering.
Once she’d taken him as deep as he could go, he gazed up at his exquisite wife. Her hair was a glossy tangle all around her heartbreakingly lovely face, her sorcery shimmering. He dimly noted that her swollen ni**les were the same shade as her curving lips.
While he beheld her, she’d been gazing at him. “Look how big and hard your body is. And it’s all for me. The greedy sorceress in me is well pleased.”
Gods, she made his chest bow with pride.
She rasped one of his ni**les with a nail, and the jolt of pleasure was as unexpected as when she’d suckled his thumb!
Then she pressed her hands on his shoulders to rise up. . . .
The night air cooled his heated testicles, the base of his wetted shaft. When his h*ps bucked, chasing her tight heat, she dropped down at the same time.
His eyes rolled back in his head.
He roused when she began to slowly ride him, her br**sts bouncing for his enthralled gaze. Mesmerized by the way they moved, he fought the urge to knead them. “So damned lovely—”
His words were cut off. As she slipped up and down his length, she squeezed it—from the inside.
“Lanthe!”