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Dessin’s hands fly up to my throat, curling his fingers with a firm yet gentle touch. He brings my face closer to his, breathing heavily against my mouth.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” he growls into my ear. His lips part, an opening for his tongue to glide against that sensitive spot. Hot. Wet. I’m writhing in his lap, losing my mind, and panting like a dog left outside in the heat.
The room fades from existence. The moans, the aroma of sweat and saliva, all gone. Now there’s only the faint whiff of cedar and sandalwood. The forest during a thunderstorm.
I want him. And it’s in his grip tightening around my throat. He wants me, too, and he would kill to have me.
“Dessin,” I beg, my arms hugging his neck to me. But he doesn’t stop. He’s licking my neck, flicking his hot tongue against the lobe of my ear. “I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you!”
He pauses, moving his face away from my neck. “Is that right?”
I nod.
“I know you remember when I told you that I can’t have your lips yet,” he says.
The lagoon. I can’t have your mouth yet, but you can have mine.
“You want to taste me, Skylenna? Is that what you need?”
“Please.” My voice is the wisp of a whimper. A shred of dignity.
He smiles like a madman. Possessed. Starved. Dessin brings two fingers to his mouth, watching for my reaction as he dips them past his lips. When they exit, his index and middle finger are shiny.
“Open,” he commands.
His fingertips hover over my lips. “Taste me, Skylenna.” And he’s in my mouth. Two large fingers spread my lips until I taste him, salty and sweet. I stare in a haze of ecstasy, stunned by a storm of fire between my legs. He’s studying me. Examining my reaction.
So, I begin to suck. Drawing Dessin’s fingers deeper into my mouth to savor every moment. To enjoy the little bit of him that I can have.
My eyes flick back to him, locking with his wicked gaze. He laughs darkly until I move my mouth up and down the length to meet his knuckles.
He looks angry. As if the amusement he once felt has slipped away, down to the base of his spine to relax. Now, he’s roaring with another sensation. Violence. The locking of his jaw. The furrowed brow. The rigid arms flexed around me.
“You keep doing that, and I’ll make you regret it.” A voice of fire and brimstone. “I’ll rip this pathetic excuse for clothing from your body and fuck you until your eyes water.”
“Oooh, can I join?”
Runa.
I freeze in his lap. Dessin doesn’t seem fazed. He couldn’t care less who is watching.
“Need something?” he asks her without taking his eyes off me.
“A great many things,” she answers. “But they’ll have to wait. The elders would like to meet you.”
~
Another cave opens into a cathedral of stone and darkness.
Dessin and I are stewing in a web of uncomfortable silence as we follow Runa. Was it all for show? Was he touching and moving to put on a performance? Or was the evidence in his pants all the proof I need?
I glance at his tan, stoic features as we descend into the shadows and dim lighting. Unreadable. Not a hint of insecurity or questioning what we did back there.
Fine.
I mimic his expression of indifference. Another game? Let’s do it. He won’t see how that affected me. I’ll share his mask and let him wonder if his actions touched my heart at all.
I examine the musty scented cave of iron light fixtures, jagged stone pillars, and rows of seating like a church. As we continue following Runa down a never-ending aisle, I see the shape of a long table on a pedestal sitting horizontal to us. Two old men and one old woman are watching us approach. Tall black candles are perched in front of them, casting a honey-and-metallic-gold glow over their withered faces.
