Her name on his lips aroused her even more. They were enemies, but he cared enough to use it, to respect her with it.
She moaned, almost painfully aroused, his touches blasting her with pleasure. She couldn’t find words to respond, only nodding and wanting him to continue.
He’d taken over control, stroking her molten core as he kept her against the wall, kissing her with need that matched hers, pausing only to add, “Since the dragon.”
He watched her, waiting for a response as his fingers brought her to such exquisite heights that she almost cried out his name, begging for him to take her fully. Never had she needed anyone—anything—so badly.
“Since the dragon,” she panted, writhing against him, gripping his shoulder with one hand and finding his hard length with the other. “Take me, Vorik.”
“Oh, I will.” With satisfaction and lust turning his eyes fiery, Vorik lifted her leg to hook over his hip and drove into her.
He roared, letting her know the intense satisfaction as he gave in to what he’d wanted since their first ride. As he filled her, she yelled his name to the storm, to whatever gods watched. Fingers digging into his shoulders, she was as eager as he for the next thrust, accepting all of him as he plunged deep. Panting and kissing, they fenced with their mouths as they rocked together, eachdeep plunge more satisfying than the last, each bringing them closer to the ultimate ecstasy.
With the sea smashing against the rocks outside and thunder rumbling, they cried out for each other. Again and again, they came together, sweat gleaming on their bodies, their pants and groans of need filling the air. Growing more and more desperate for a climax, Syla felt more frenzied and out of control than she’d ever been in her life. And she felt more alive.
Thunder crashed one more time, and her pleasure exploded like solstice fireworks. She clung to him, thrusting her breasts toward him, as waves of intense satisfaction swept over her.
His eyes fastened on her chest, on the trembling pleasure of her aftermath, and with a final great plunge, Vorik came. With his roar as he poured himself into her, she believed that he’d wanted her as badly as he’d claimed. For as long as he’d claimed. And when he lowered to the ground, taking her with him and cuddling her close, she believed he regretted that they were on different sides.
Syla wished this were purely about enjoyment, but as he kissed her and stroked her gently, she couldn’t help but glance at the candles. They’d burned halfway down, and their scent filled the back of the cave, but nothing during their sex had suggested Vorik felt any sluggishness. She almost laughed at the thought. He’d beenanythingbut that. Images of powerful predators came to mind again. Of dragons.
She kissed him and trailed her fingers down his taut abdomen, wondering how she might keep him occupied for another hour or however long it would take for the candles to kick in.Ifthey kicked in. Earlier, she’d worried if his dragon-bond would keep him from being affected. But Lesva had been starting to yawn. Maybe it would simply take longer to work on someone with such magic?
Vorik nuzzled her gently, shifting her in his arms so that theywere snuggled with her back to his chest, cupped to him. She would have loved to spend the night like that with him but expected him to remember his mission any time and leap to his feet and run out. How could she keep him here?
He surprised her by shifting her hair aside, kissing the back of her neck, and taking one of her breasts in his hand. Her body responded instantly, nipple tightening in anticipation, as if there might be more.
“You were magnificent,” he murmured, his thumb brushing her sensitive skin. “And deserve more than I gave.”
“What you gave was, uhm…” The most intense pleasure she’d ever received. “Good.”
“Good.” He snorted softly, then kissed her neck again. “After the days you’ve had, I wish I could give you pleasure that would last you the rest of your life.”
Did his voice sound slightly muzzy? Sleepy?
His fingers traced her breast, almost lazy in their movement though they stimulated her, and her nerves perked, wondering if there might be more tonight.
“I wish I could give you a berry cobbler every day for the rest of your life,” she said. “We make them out of apples, cherries, and peaches, too, you know.”
“I love apples,” he murmured, eyes closed.
His fingers slid lower, brushing between her legs, but they merely came to rest there. That was a little disappointing, but Syla reminded herself that she wanted him to fall asleep. To fall into a deep unconscious state that would last for hours.
“And the drink your people make from them,” he added. “Cider?”
“We make all kinds of drinks, alcoholic and not. Juice, cider, brandy, applejack, and one of my relatives does an apple liqueur that he mixes with syrup to pour over ice cream.”
“What is… ice cream?” Eyes still closed, Vorik yawned and rested his stubbled jaw against her bare shoulder.
“It’s made from cow’s milk and cream, sugar from beets, and various flavorings like strawberries and blueberries.” What a thing to discuss during a seduction, or in the aftermath of a seduction. Were enemy agents supposed to be interested in fruits and desserts?
“You get hunks of rock ice from the ice man, put them around a special mixing barrel, then whip together the ingredients inside, and the ice chills the mixture. Then you either have to eat it all right away, while it’s frozen, or store it in an icehouse. When we were kids, it was always a special treat to have ice cream in the summer.”
Vorik’s breathing was even.
Syla watched his face, trying to tell if he’d nodded off.
“I think you’d like ice cream, Vorik,” she murmured.
