Page 24 of Lord of Dance and Desire

I hesitated, then said, “Prima.”

“Of course,” Con muttered. “What else? No one can accuse her of a lack of focus.”

Andrei rolled onto his back, laughing.

I propped myself on my elbow, staring at him. “I don’t see why that’s funny.”

“It’s Cassanian Court humor. It doesn’t really translate.” His expression sobered. “Speak the word prima, and I Vow to immediately withdraw.”

A tingle tightened my chest, a fleeting sense of. . .something. Constin and then Mathen repeated the Vow, grimaces on all of their faces.

“That’s unpleasant,” Andrei said. “I loathe Vows. They never work out the way you intended.”

“This one is straightforward,” Mathen said.

“The straightforward ones are the worst. Like telling a child not to cross a busy street because you think it’s unsafe, but there’s a monster on the sidewalk about to eat it.”

I sighed. “Do we need to convene the High Court, or can we proceed? If I’d known inviting you all to my bed would require hostage negotiations, I might have brought snacks.”

Andrei crawled on top of me. “Hostage negotiations before taking High Fae to your bed is fairly standard, though I realize you’re being sarcastic. What shall we do about that, hmm? About this smart little mouth of yours?”

Chapter

Six

Because the threat was meant to sound playful and matched the gleam in his eyes, I didn't tense when Andrei lowered his head, brushing his lips against mine.

But I also didn't open my mouth.

“You want to play,” he murmured, licking along the seam of my lips with the tip of his tongue, requesting entry.

When I continued to deny him, he nipped, the sharp points of his fangs drawing pinpricks of blood. I opened my mouth, and he delved inside.

I should bite you back.

“You're welcome to try.”

I wrapped my right leg around his waist and in a quick movement flipped him onto his back, grabbing his wrists and pinning them over his head. I wasn’t asdelicateas I looked.

Andrei, pliant under my hold, widened eyes filled with sensual humor—if lounging dragons were ever pliant. “What sport is this?”

“No sport.” My hair spilled over my shoulders as I leaned down, kissing his jaw. I released his wrists, sliding down his body. “I can take a hint.”

When I reached his naval and pressed a kiss on his taut abs, I straightened, glancing regretfully over his long, chiseled chest. Strong, elegant shoulders, arms and pecs with natural musculature rather than the overblown fake bulge of bodybuilders. More like a dancer’s frame, but with a swordsman’s added heft.

He looked so edible.

But according to Con, I had a reputation for focus.

I grasped the drawstring of his black leggings and loosened it, tugging the cloth down his body until it freed his erection.

Long, thick enough I couldn't wrap my entire hand around it, managing to look lovely even though it was just a swollen cock?—

“Do you like what you see, bonded?”

—and shouldn’t be given more praise than due because its owner was already vain enough.

“It’s pretty,” I said, affecting nonchalance. “But how does it taste?”

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