Page 34 of Savage Warrior

His mouth finds mine again. I part my lips to deepen the kiss, and his tongue probes my mouth. It’s strange, exhilarating, intimate. He probes deeper, and I curl my tongue around his in a sweet dance. There’s a soft moaning sound, and I realise it’s me, the groan emerging from somewhere deep in my throat.

He kneels up, drawing me with him. As soon as I’m upright, he grasps the hem of the shirt he lent me and draws it up, over my head. I am naked apart from the bandage around my torso.

The sight of it reminds him. He pauses. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” I gasp, though I’m lying. My ribs ache. My entire body hurts, but ending this now would be worse. “Don’t stop…”

He peels his own T-shirt off and drops it on the floor next to mine. His upper body is inked. I recall I saw that when we were in the shower together, but I was too scared to take in the details. Now, I gaze with wonder at a bright-scarlet dragon, vibrant scales glistening over rippling muscles, stretching and unfurling like a live thing.

“You are beautiful,” I murmur and stroke my fingertips across the powerful image.

“So are you, princess.” He combs his fingers through my hair, holds my head still, then lowers his mouth to mine again.

He stretches out alongside me and rolls onto his back, bringing me over to lie on top of him. Now I’m the one kissing him while he explores my back and buttocks with gentle hands. Despite what I said, he’s trying not to hurt me. My breasts press against his chest. Our bodies writhe together.

He still has his jeans on, so I slide my hand between us to unfasten the button.

“Hold on.” He reaches into his back pocket and extracts a condom which he drops onto the bed beside us, then he unzips and slithers out of the denim, taking his socks, too. His boxers are the last to go, but he wastes no time.

“Can I touch you?” I ask. What is the protocol here? If a man gets naked in front of you, surely he wouldn’t mind…

“Feel free,” he murmurs, just before he takes my nipple in his mouth.

Sensation shoots straight to my clit. I forget my curiosity for a moment, caught up in a rush of unexpected pleasure. “Oh God…”

He moves to the other tingling, pebbled bud and repeats the same treatment. I think I’m in Heaven.

I arch under him, offering more, seeking more.

He works his way lower, nibbling and kissing a route across my abdomen, pausing to dip his tongue in my navel, then advancing to nuzzle between my thighs.

“Open for me, princess.”

I bend my knees and allow my thighs to part, not entirely sure what will happen next. I understand the general idea, but I’ve never actually done this before. The occasional fumbled kiss, perhaps, when life was normal, before my papa died and everything became so difficult. When I still had time for exploring and fun. Time for me.

I know it hurts. I remember the whispered, giggling tales exchanged at school, but I’m compelled to do this thing anyway. What seemed such a horrific prospect yesterday, is today the one thing I desire most in the world.

If I’ve gone mad, so be it.

?tefan kisses a wet trail from my knee, up my inner thigh to a spot just at the very top, a sensitive place where even the feathering of his breath makes me shiver.

He does it again, on the other thigh. Slowly, delicately, he works his way toward—

“Aaaah!”

I scream when he swipes the flat of his tongue across my clit.

He pauses, looks up at me with a sloppy grin. “Liking that?”

I grab his hair and cling on. “Yes,” I grind out. “Yes, yes, yes…”

He returns to his task, stroking his tongue the length of my folds, from arse to clit. A riot of sensation simply overwhelms me. Every nerve ending bursts into song. Pleasure pulses through me. I’m arching, thrusting, writhing against the mattress as heat builds and grows deep in my core.

“I can’t… Please…” I have no idea what I’m begging for, simply that I need more of whatever this is.

?tefan delivers. While his lips and teeth are teasing my clit, his fingers slide inside me. There’s a brief stab of pain. It feels odd, indescribable, not quite comfortable but wondrous, too.

What I know of orgasm is theoretical. Or it was, until now. I’ve read about it. Seen films, listened to songs. Giggled in friends’ bedrooms over teenage magazines. The reality shifts my world on its axis. Those books and songs were like trying to describe the colour red to a blind person. It’s all heat and light and flashing stars, weakness and strength, weightlessness, and an overwhelming rush of pressure.

---