forced or bought for any amount of galactic credits. Her clever fingers found places on his body he hadn’t bothered to acknowledge. The kind of magic she conjured buffeted him in vast waves of sensation that eclipsed every star he’d ever seen.
And he wanted more.
He, who’d eaten his body weight in pies, who could swim while sleeping, who’d ripped apart enemy battalions with his hands, was matched kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, gasp for breath by this little fire-witch. She urged him to speak but he was too far gone to say more than “yes…lower…yes…harder…yes…” And her voice was near as low and guttural as his when she commanded “higher…more tongue…another finger…now…”
She was so small and yet her presence surrounded him. He was drowning in her, and going down happily, willingly. And when she took him inside her, she took him all in a relentless consumption that only spiked his own hunger higher. She rode him up as if he was a wave taking her to some distant shore, her hot, slick inner muscles caressing his swollen flesh with its own liquid fury. Her electrical field was rising, spiking around her and sending warning signals through his senses. Perhaps he was courting death, but it would be a glorious demise.
He gritted his teeth as her knees clamped around his flanks, as tight as her inner muscles rippled and strained, and he filled his hands with the strong muscles of her backside, flexing to hold her partly aloft, as if she were flying, connected to this planetary surface only by his thick, plunging shaft. When she straightened to stare down at him, grinding her pelvis into his, he switched one hand to splay across her sternum, the width of his fingers cradling the overflowing bounty of her breasts while the delicate skin of the web between his fingers vibrated with her pounding heartbeat.
Her eyes flared wide and golden with the flames and the raging gust of her exhalation was sweetened with frosting and the perfume of her arousal. With each flick of his fingers across her engorged nipples, her radiant aura spiked in a starburst pattern across his senses, an entire galaxy of desire. “Sting,” she groaned. “You’re going…”
“I am right here,” he assured her.
“You’re going to push me over the edge.”
“Seems only fair since you did that to me twice,” he reminded her. “I want it.” Letting her settle hard and flush against his groin, he repositioned his free hand to hover his thumb over the tiny heartbeating shell he’d found at the entrance to her hidden harbor.
Her eyes widened even more, the black pupils an abyssal midnight into which he could plunge, ecstatically and eternally. “I’ve dreamed of this…”
With the delicate precision he’d used to call the tiny seahorses, he extended his claws to pierce her with the most exquisite sting of Titanyri power.
She arched in ecstasy, her head thrown back. With her hair a frothing waterfall of curls and her eyes closed in abandonment, she was like a tidal wave lit by fire, caught in an impossibly suspended moment of time. As he gazed at her, his chest squeezed tight, not from her knees but from the inside, with a yearning like an unfathomable hunger. As if he might dive into her and be lost forever. Or maybe find what he’d never believed could be his…
She inhaled the deepest breath as if swallowing everything he could give her. And he held tight as she convulsed and her aura went supernova.
The scintillating starburst of her release exploded across his senses like the backwash of a thousand spaceships landing on his head. He held tight and rocked with the waves of her pleasure—an endless fall and breathlessly satisfying crash.
No, he would not leave her behind on this or any other world. After the directionless drift at the end of the war, he’d needed a new direction. And now, she was his course.
Chapter 10
Almost afraid to open her eyes, Lana shuddered in the aftermath of her orgasm. If she peeked, would she see Sting’s body, his heart blown out. Or maybe just a drifting cloud of ash, that was likely all that remained of a shark-man, her self-control, common sense, and her old beliefs and the limitations of just how good an orgasm could be.
As her senses came back online, she decided that at least she hadn’t incinerated her lover because she wasn’t huddled on the marble hearth alone. Although he wasn’t much softer than rock, Sting had at least