teeth. "I bet you it wouldn't faze her."
He had the feeling she was right.
Changelings were very respectful of one another's personal space, never assuming even casual skin privileges with people they didn't know, but nakedness was accepted as a natural state of being, a logical outcome of the fact that every changeling young and old, came out of the shift naked.
"Well," he muttered, "it'd faze me."
Lara laughed, breath hot against his skin. "So shy, my poor darling." Tugging her up from his throat to claim her mouth, drink of her laughter, he moved his hand down past her navel to cup her over the lace of her panties, kissing her slow and deep until she grew damp against his palm, the scent of her an invitation. In no hurry, he continued the lazy seduction until she began to move restlessly against him, her delicate flesh plump against the lace.
His mate was more than happy to cooperate when he tugged off the silky shred of cloth, sighed as she realized he'd stripped off his pajama bottoms before returning to her. Rubbing her partially bared breasts against his chest when he bent to her mouth once again, kissing her one of his favorite pleasures, she wrapped her legs around his hips, her nightgown bunched up at her waist.
Silky and feminine and soft, she surrounded him, claimed him.
Moving one hand between their bodies to grip his erection, position himself at the tight heat of her entrance, he said, "Yes?"
"Please." A sultry invitation, her body rising to welcome his.
He shuddered as he pushed home.
Bracing himself on one arm and controlling the urge to thrust, he used the fingers of his free hand to tug the straps of her nightgown all the way off and brush his fingertips over the bare mounds of her breasts. She moaned, drawing her nails up along his back in a light caress as her internal muscles fluttered around him, her flesh molten honey with welcome. "You feel so good inside me."
Her words were a caress as intoxicating as the possessive clasp of her body.
Lowering his mouth to her throat, he kissed his way down to her breasts, teased her with his teeth, his lips...while rocking into her, slow and easy. They had only been mated a short period, but he knew how to listen to his mate's body, never forgot a single detail of what pleasured her.
"You're thinking," she accused.
He tugged a sensitive nipple between his teeth, released it to her gasp. "For the moment." He knew from experience he'd soon succumb to an overload of pure sensation.
"You know this" - a soft moan as he drew back at leisure, pushed in as deliberately - "drives me crazy."
"Hmm."
Reaching down, he insinuated his hand between their bodies once more to touch her exactly where and how she loved it the most; knowledge he possessed because she'd whispered it to him when he'd asked her to teach him her pleasure points, his wild sensual mate who denied him nothing. "Is this better?"
Her body tightened then broke in a shocked ripple of ecstasy, her muscles clamping down on him. He gritted his teeth to hold back the urge to rush - he wasn't in a rushing kind of a mood tonight - and then, when she softened beneath him, he kissed her with languorous sensuality, petting her down from the peak.
Heavy lids lifted to reveal eyes gone nightglow.
"I guess," she murmured, kissing his throat, "this patience is a side effect of the control you had to maintain in the PsyNet." He held her to his throat, sucking in a breath as she licked out at a particularly sensitive spot. "Possibly." A smile against his skin. "Lucky me."
Looking down into her pleasure-drenched expression, he whispered, "No. I'm the lucky one."
He held her gaze for every long, deep stroke, luxuriated in the touch of her hands down his back as she tried to bring him impossibly closer, gloried in the secondary wave of pleasure that turned those wolf-bright eyes hazy...and took him under in a passionate storm that short-circuited his every nerve.
HE came to, collapsed beside his mate's body, his thigh pinning both of hers and his arm over her breasts, his face turned toward her own on a single shared pillow. Breathing was an effort, but since Lara seemed to be having the same problem, he was content to lie there, hot and sweaty and happy.
Happy.
It was the wrong word to think tonight, the wrong key to turn after the flash of memory