rumble as intimate as what they’d just shared.
Her hair tangled with his on the pillow, gold and brown, all mixed together. Placing a big warm palm on her stomach, he rubbed, very gently. “Close your eyes now, sweetheart. You need the rest.”
So she did.
The dreams tumbled past as fragments—that awful chair, the Technomage, razor-sharp implements in her gloved hands, the Necromancer’s toneless voice, evil incarnate. Worst of all, the dreadful noise Erik had made in the back of his throat, the blue of his lips, the big body she loved no more than an empty husk.
But when she jerked and trembled, her eyes flashing open on a choked cry, he was right there, his muscled warmth spooned around her, his deep voice murmuring reassurance in her ear. Prue pressed her lips to the smooth swell of Erik’s biceps and drifted off with a sigh of relief.
This time, her dreams were different, so vivid they were glimpses of an erotic scene in stained glass, bright chips showing what she’d done to him. Like the sun shining through pure color, a warm glow of triumph suffused her soul.
Her pulse thudding in her ears, she’d gone to her knees before him and parted the robe. Sister save her, but he was beautiful, velvet soft and steel hard, roped with a delicate tracery of blue veins.
When she’d run a considering finger from root to tip, his cock had jerked against his belly. “Don’t tease,” he’d grated.
Her heart singing, she’d raised a cool brow. “Is that an order, Your High and Mightiness?”
Erik almost laughed, she saw his lips twitch. He painted on a scowl, color flying high on his cheeks. “Your mouth,” he rumbled. “Give me your mouth.” But the fingers in her hair were gentle.
Oh gods. Permission to play.
Prue smiled in her sleep, her breath growing choppy.
Every part of his genitals fascinated her—the dense, velvety head of his shaft, all rosy red and salty sweet with desire; the contrast of the satin smooth skin over a solid, engorged core. The beat of his life throbbed under her tongue, deliciously hot and oh so vulnerable. Cupped in her palm, the furry bundle of his testicles was drawn up tight, his thighs rock hard with tension against her shoulder. Experimentally, Prue slid a finger up and over the seam of his balls and then back over his perineum.
Erik caught his breath. When she added a leisurely lick all around his glans, he hissed and his hips arched.
Sweet Sister, the power of it! Who’d have thought? Prue suppressed the wriggle of delight and set herself to drive him out of his mind, lick by lick, nibble by nibble.
Strong fingers tunneled into her hair, but she refused to be rushed. He tasted like sherbet infused with strong musk, making her tingle, the flavor all male, strangely compelling. Moaning, she pressed her thighs together, compressing the soft, slippery flesh of her nether lips. All she need do was strip off her trews, straddle him and impale herself. He was too far gone to resist.
No, she might hurt him. In any case, she couldn’t give up the intoxicating joy of control, not quite yet. The soft, wrinkled collar of his foreskin deserved a specially gentle nip, the heart-shaped head a spiral trail of kitten licks. And there was a sweet spot, beneath, just there . . . When she flicked it with her tongue, he—
Groaned.
As if the heart were being torn from his chest, while his hands urged her into a rhythm and his buttocks tightened with the desire to thrust. In all the time she’d known Erik the Golden, she didn’t think she’d heard him make any music as beautiful as that helpless, yearning noise.
Prue bent her head, fisted him from the root and swallowed as much hard flesh as she could manage. The groan dropped an octave, though she wouldn’t have thought it possible. Her eyes closed with pleasure, she began to suckle, softly at first, then more firmly. Moisture trickled down her thighs, dampening the trews.
Erik froze beneath her, no longer breathing, every muscle locked.
Prue chuckled, deep in her throat, which made him curse. Then she slowed down, lightening the pressure.
He tugged at her hair. “Godsdammit, woman! Finish me!”
Taking her time, Prue released him. “Ah,” she murmured, blowing a thoughtful stream of warm air over his crown, watching the muscles in his stomach contract. “Is that an order too?”
“Nngh!” His teeth clicked together. Vividly blue, his eyes blazed down into hers. “Fuck it, you need a spanking.”
Prue’s