Page 24 of The Oracle's Journey

“What would you do to me if you were?” I asked with a cheeky lilt. I bit my lip while he stared up at me, seemingly frozen. Except for his heart. I could hear it racing along like the hooves of a charging bull.

Then he exploded into movement. Growling, he shed the jacket and all but launched himself at me, tossing the garment out of the hammock in the same movement. He rolled me underneath, pinning me with the weight of his body and nipped at my throat, raising gooseflesh from jaw to shoulders with the tickle of his breath.

He whispered harshly by my ear. “I would drag you into the dark and tie you to my bed. I’d inflict such unbearable pleasure upon you that you’d never find fulfillment outside of my touch.” He nuzzled his nose just under my ear and I shuddered. “My absence would be nothing but longing. I’d make you mine in a way only the wild within you would understand.”He pulled back a little, to meet my wide eyes.

I gaped at him for a moment, while a slow daring smile spread across my face. “That hardly sounds like a threat at all.”

The intensity in his expression relaxed into a bemused grin. “I doubt the hammock would survive that, so perhaps another time.”

I marveled at his eyes as they twinkled and his smile—so wicked, so joyful.

And then his firm lips crushed against mine in a hungry, urgent kiss.

Oh, Mother above, what a kiss—fervent and hot for a heartbeat, then gentled to indulgent exploration when our lips parted, and tongues met. My hands wandered up his muscular arms and shoulders before cupping his jaw, returning the kiss. He tasted like the exhilaration of venturing out on a moonlit night—the mysterious thrill of facing peril or pleasure in the dark. His rumbling hum of satisfaction resonated to my belly, the shivering muscles there making my breaths tremble. And when he pulled away, breaking contact with my lips, it was as though he took the air with him. That the absence of his kiss had created a vacuum, and I knew … knew that his tantalizing threat was true. Whether he’d known it or not.

“Lose the shirt if you want to wear it again,” he said with a shiver before stealing another heated kiss and sitting back.

I gasped and wriggled and worked the shirt up but found myself frozen, blouse at my chin, when he whisked his own away.

I ogled Lhoris as he straddled my thigh.

The glowing light of the hammock shone upwards on his slate skin, an unearthly glow against the black backdrop of night behind him. Long silver hair framed his striking features and draped over his shoulders like moonlight. The fine, white speckles across his nose and sleek, athletically muscled torso were almost an echo of the stars in the night sky. He wore a long, fine chain with beads of crystal and sliver that glistened around his neck, and I could finally see that the pearlescent tattoo ended at his navel, enticing my fingers to touch ... but I couldn’t seem to get my shirt off let alone reach for him.

With a knowing, sinful smile, Lhoris reached down to help finish tugging the blouse over my head. The shirt caught my chin and snapped my mouth shut with a clack. I’d been slack jawed.

His long fingers brushed over my breasts with reverence, thumbs flicking over the peaked nipples. I moaned, bringing his gaze back to my face. His pupils were huge.

“Oz, may I finish undressing you?” His throat bobbed.

“Okay,” I agreed breathlessly.

He shifted to kneel between my knees and ran his fingers up my thighs, once again leaving chills in his wake, to catch the hem of the cotton shorts. He whisked them away. I whimpered “oh no” as the garment went sailing over the side of the hammock.

He froze as his eyes raked over my body. He started to reach for me, but hesitated, then moved again, as if he couldn’t decide where to start. I could hear his heartbeat like a frantic, driving drum, urging him to do something, anything. He shook his head. “Savor later,” he murmured before falling upon me with abandon.

I squealed and embraced him as our bodies crashed together, hammock rocking. He laid another searing kiss upon my lips, palming one of my breasts. He pinched the sensitive, pebbled tip, rolling it between his fingers, making me yelp and moan and press against the rough skin of his hand.

I slid my fingers through his silky, soft hair, encouraging the press of his lips and stroking tongue. Lhoris leaned his hips into me, the bulge in his pants against my needy clit and hissed, curling to bury his nose against the crook of my neck. I rocked my hips against him, desperate for friction.

He rolled to his back, giving himself space to undo his pants. I followed, looming over him and straddled his hips. His knuckles occasionally grazed the wetness between my thighs, sending little jolts of excitement through my belly. Lhoris fumbled with his pants, as if his frantic fingers had forgotten how to work buckles and buttons. I leaned down and kissed him gently then met his eyes again.

“Take a breath, Lhoris. I’m not going anywhere.”

He closed his eyes and took that breath, and another, trying to rein in the frenzied, needful energy we’d been generating. I shifted off him and shooed his hands aside then calmly started to work on the buckle and buttons. He lifted his hips so I could pull the leather and fabric down.

The size of him as he came free of confinement was startling. Grinning, I met his eyes and wrapped my fingers around the shaft of his long, thick cock and stroked it from the bottom up, running my thumb over the plump crown. With a sharp intake of breath and a low moan, he all but jumped out of his skin. Lhoris pawed at the hammock, as if looking for something to dig his fingers into. He growled and slapped at the fabric.

“Stupid fucking hammock,” he grumbled, frustrated. “If we were on the ground, I’d already have bent you over a rock and fucked you thoroughly.”

I hummed a little, enjoying how he squirmed under my touch, at how he tried not to ruin our shelter for the night, or dig his clutching fingers into me. It gave me an idea.

“Where is your enchanted rope?”

Once I had it, I bound his hands and he rested them, fisted, against his forehead. I stroked him again before shifting to straddle his hips. I pressed the broad head of his cock against the slick opening between my thighs and lowered myself onto it slowly, carefully. Watching tension build in his face while I inched down, was an aphrodisiac on its own. He hissed and groaned and gasped through slightly parted lips, his eyes fixed on my cunt until I seated him wholly.

When I was flush against him, he whispered, almost mournfully, “Damn it, woman. Fuck.” And took a shuddering breath when I clenched around him. So full. I allowed myself a moment to just enjoy that delicious stretch before lifting my weight back off his hips. I kept my pace slow and steady.

His fisted hands flexed, and his hips rocked against me, trying to push my pace. “This is almost cruel,” he finally murmured with a shuddering breath, before whispering some words in elvish. “Go faster,” he almost begged.

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