Such words! Did she feel exquisite? Her body was shifting, moving of its own volition. And yet, she could not stop.
His palms pressed into her breasts, and then his fingers began to move. She felt them roll over her nipples, and the peaks tightened unbearably.
“Too much!” she gasped.
He immediately eased his grip, softening his hands until her breasts lay gently in his palms. And still his fingers moved over her nipples, the edge of his thumbnail tweaking the peaks.
“Better?” he asked, and she heard a note of humor in his tone.
“Are you laughing at me?” she asked. She knew the tone of a man mocking a woman. His was not quite there, but—
“I mock myself, angel. Your breasts are sublime. Feel how I react to them.” So saying, he thrust his hips forward slightly. She felt the press of his dragon, hot and hard against her back.
It aroused him to touch her? She supposed that made sense. The making of children was supposed to be a mutual thing, was it not? Enjoyable to both?
To test this, she rolled her back against his dragon, flowing her spine along his ridge, and then grinned when she heard him hiss in reaction.
“You liked that?’ she asked.
In answer, he pinched her nipples. The pain was sharp and sweet all at once. Her gasp was both one of surprise and delight.
“You liked that?” he asked, and this time she knew he teased her.
But she was too far gone to care what either of them felt so long as it was more. More excitement, more tingling, more need as she dropped her head back against his broad shoulder and lifted her chest.
“Do it again,” she said. “And I will do it back.”
“Fox,” he said, his voice low, “you torture me.”
She smiled. She liked that she had some power here. “Shall I turn around?”
“No.” His voice was firm as were his hands where they pressed against her breasts. No longer teasing, he was holding her in place.
“But—”
“Hush. You have not reached completion yet. We cannot stop until you do.”
She didn’t know what that meant, but she trusted him. Indeed, she very much feared she would let him do anything as long as he kept teasing her breasts the way he was. His strokes were varied and delightful, as if he was totally caught up in playing with her body, seeing when she gasped, what made her arch, and what made her sigh in delight.
He squeezed her breasts, pulled at the nipples, and moved them how he willed. And all the time, he whispered words that made her throat go dry. For all that she saw him as a fighter, nightly destroying phantom enemies in his practice, he was also a scholar. Words were his true weapons, and he used them to great effect now.
“Men love breasts,” he said as his breath coiled about her ear. “We love to hold them, to touch them. We like to suck them and imagine our organ surrounded by them.”
They were strange words to her ears, but when he matched them with his actions, she felt the truth of it in her body. Especially when his fingers pulled at her nipples as if he were suckling them right now. Every pull had her belly tightening. Every pinch made her back arch as if seeking more. She was so absorbed in what he did that she barely noticed when he raised his knees and pulled them wide. And as he widened his knees, her legs spread even more open.
She loved the breeze as it cooled her most intimate petals. And when the heat there built unbearably, she welcomed the way he pulled her gown up until she was exposed to the full night sky.
If she’d had the breath to speak, she might have objected. Indeed, she could have fought him if she wanted.
She did not.
She wanted his hands to flow across her belly. And when his two hands left her breasts to squeeze her thighs, she reveled in their strength…and held her breath in anticipation.
“Do you feel wet? Do you smell your scent?”
Yes and no. The air was redolent with both of their scents, both of their heat. Behind her back, she felt his dragon pulse. Between her thighs, his fingers moved across her thighs. They inched into the crease between thigh and mons.
Then he wiggled his fingers.