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Yeah, he loved her house with the French feel.
He held her tight against him as he levitated. He didn’t want to bruise her arms or legs by moving too fast through the fairly narrow halls.
The bedroom faced east, like her backyard. The same kind of windows in the sitting room were also in her bedroom. The skylight had a view of a panorama of stars. The moon was cresting and full, already high in the night sky. Pale light covered the bed.
His blood was on fire.
As he rounded the far side of the bed, she found his throat and latched on. She used her levitation to keep her body pinned against his. Because of it, he floated next to the bed, free to take care of business as he whipped the covers back with his free hand.
He then laid her out beneath him, her lips making a sucking sound as she detached from his throat. He knew she was part vampire herself, an aspect of her genetics that seemed insistent on playing a role, even if she didn’t have fangs. He loved it.
He tried to get her clothes off, but she kept attacking him. She giggled and cursed. She tried to work his zipper, but he stopped her before she did some damage.
He was so far gone. He swore he’d walked into a cave of wildflowers now and her scent had him going mad.
He ended up pushing her back on the bed and kissed her bare shoulder. He tried tugging her shirt up, but her arms were wrapped around him too tight.
She kept giggling and it made him smile. Shit, when was the last time he’d felt anything but dead somber?
He finally drew back. She leaned up on her elbows. She was smiling, her hair mussed, her lips swollen. She was a little drunk. “Okay fine. I’m not doing this right. Just get my pants off.”
He removed her bunny slippers, then undid her jeans and pulled them down. As soon as he saw her bare sex, he almost stopped to use his tongue, but he knew it would be a mistake. He had to stick to his goal and get them both naked first.
He removed his Guard coat and his woven shirt. That helped a lot.
He managed his hip boots by sitting on the side of the bed. This turned out be a mistake because she jumped behind him and started sucking on his neck. Her hands were all over his pecs, his chest, his arms.
His cock wasn’t small by any standards, which meant when aroused, the zipper and snug leather of his pants was a problem.
“I need to stand up and you have to lie back down.” He shoved at her and she fell backward laughing. He turned to her, his lips curving. “And stay there, dammit.”
She curled a lock of hair around her finger. “Yes, Mastyr.” She was smiling, too.
He worked carefully at his zipper which was where her gaze fell.
He was charmed. He was fucking charmed because she was half-drunk and being herself. He was charmed by how much she wanted him and by the way her room looked like something from Paris with light walls, beautiful floral paintings, some etchings, a couple of nudes. She had an Eiffel Tower on top of her dresser. Ceramic fleur-de-lis glass dresser knobs. The drapes to the side of the window were olive green silk. Her headboard was ornate, cream and antique-looking.
Emily was all about love, about passion, about amour.
When he finally had his pants off, he turned to find her where he’d commanded her to stay. But she still wore her sloppy shirt, though nothing else. She had one arm lifted over her head. She was rubbing the emerald stud at the top of her pointed ear while she watched him. She looked him up and down and smiled all over again.
“You’re a gorgeous hunk, Devyn.”
He levitated in a swift move to hover over her, then lowered himself to take her ear, stud and all, in his mouth.
She sighed gustily as he sucked.
I’ve wanted to do that to you forever. You’re always rubbing your ear and it made me wish you’d be rubbing something else.
As he settled himself on the bed, she eased her hand down his back. He felt her fingers go exploring just like he hoped, moving to the front of his body. Lower she went, down his abdomen until she touched the crown of his cock.
She fondled him. “You mean rub you like this?” Her lips were against his cheek.
Goddess, yes. Just like that. He licked lower until he was doing what earth-dwellers called Frenching-her-ear.
It wasn’t exactly a French thing. In his experience, it was a pretty universal thing.
She moaned as he sucked and she played with his cock. She ran her hand the length of his stalk then reached low to tease his balls. She shifted to use both hands. She was worshiping. He was savoring.
