From brown to blue, he goes back into the form that he was always meant to have. He grins, blue eyes sparkling back at me then he nuzzles into my neck.
"My bride."
His lips skim across the column of my throat, kissing and sucking.
You're a little too good at that for me to believe you've never done this with anyone else, I say back to him.
I feel him chuckle.
I can't help but to taste you.
A sharp sting comes at the side of my neck, and I flinch. My hand leaves his neck and presses to my throat. When I pull back my fingers, there is no red.
Shit, forgive me. I got carried away,Ra'Sa pants.
My brows furrow. When he shifts into his Enduar form, Ra’Sa has two glowing dots on his throat. When I tended to Estela, she had these marks we would cover.
This is something they do.
Biting my lip, I look back at him. So much time has been spent with me belonging to someone else. Did I want such a blatant show of belonging to someone else?
Not yet.
"Hush, it is all right. Help me with my dress," I say hurriedly.
His expression goes hot again. His hands clench into the fabric of my nightgown, and he starts pulling. As the fabric slides over my head, my hands drop back to the hem of his shirt. I yank until I hear something tear. He chortles and returns to my neck before helping to ease off the cloth.
My nipples scrape against his soft chest. A short, velvety layer of fur covers his skin, making him feel like one of the finest fabrics I've ever had the pleasure of touching. I arch into him, craving the action again, just as one of his hands comes up to palm my breast. He squeezes, and I whimper.
A small barrier of clothing still separates my entrance from rubbing against his bare skin, but I'm dying of simple friction.
For a second, I think about how many firsts have happened with this man. The first time to orgasm with a man. The first time to sleep an entire night together.
The first time to fall in love.
His hand shifts, situating his thumb and pointer finger to pinch my nipple. He watches my eyes.
"Do you like this?"
I smile and groan as he does it again.
"Yes."
"Shh," he eases. "Careful, my little love. Do you trust me?"
"I think I've more than proven I do," I retort.
He smiles. "You've given me a gift with your body; let me show you how grateful I am."
I sink into the sound of his voice, but frown when his hand slides away from my breast. It passes over the stretch marks on my belly, over the scar I gave myself, and to the small loincloth. He tugs at the ties, until they come undone. His hand moves slowly from one side to the other.
He hums.
I feel every brush of his fingers, but remain watching his face as he explores me. The same fascination that he's always held forefront while making love with me is there on his face now. A pure heart, but the passion of a man.
The fabric slides away, and I suck in another sharp breath at the delicious sensation. His fingers move through the curls above my folds and then he brushes his finger against that small bundle of nerves. He works it again and again, moving over me until I am panting and pushing into the cold wall.
While he does, something coils around my calf. Something soft and playful.