Page 50 of The Sorcerer's Thief
He leans in. I open my legs to make room, and we share our first real kiss. His lips are even sweeter than his fingers. Perfect against mine as we get to know each other in this way.
I wrap my legs around his waist and tug him as close as two people can get. My body tingles with warmth. With anticipation. My stomach is aflutter.
It’s been ages since I felt like this. So taken with another person that my skin comes alive pressed against his. My mind reels with the possibilities between us. I want to hold him, to make him writhe, to coax pleasured moans from his throat. I want to give him everything. I want to fuck him. I want him tofuck me. I want us to fly so high on sensation we forget where we are and pass out from the rush.
I want, I want, I want…
Julian’s chuckle breaks our kiss. He sucks in a breath. “Slow down. We have all night.”
“And we shall take it.” Deprived of his lips, I kiss his throat instead.
“Yes, but we need air to breathe.” His skin vibrates in an intoxicating way as he speaks.
I want more.“Air is overrated.”
He laughs again, lowly, deep in his throat, and I get what I wished for.
Locked in this intimate embrace, our mouths meet again and again, parting for each other, tasting and exploring.
Julian is an excellent kisser. Firm but gentle. Eager yet restrained enough to keep me needy and desperate.
As he draws away, I grin with delight at his plump, pink, kiss-swollen, and spit-slick lips. Mine must look the same, but it’s downright seductive on Julian.
He sinks into the water, hands on my spread thighs, a heady sight between my knees.
“May I?” Even his voice is trying to kill me.
“I might die if you don’t.”
Pleasure shocks my system as he takes my cock into his mouth and sucks. No preamble, no more waiting, just achingly intense pressure and the soft feeling of his tongue tasting all of me.
I tangle my hands in his hair, damp from steam, and grip firmly but without guiding. He’s doing a fine job without my help. My toes curl where they’re dangling in the water. My muscles tense and release.
“You, you, oh, yes,” I stutter as he finds a particularly sensitive spot. “You’re, erm, quite good at that, Jules.”
He flashes his emerald irises up at me, and if a man could smirk and suck cock at the same time, that is what he’s doing.
I have to shut my eyes because watching him watch me while he’s doingthatis going to make me come. And we have so much more to do first. And after. And tomorrow.
And every day from here on out if I have anything to say about it.
I take as much of this ecstasy as I can handle, but then I gather all my willpower and ask him to stop. “Please. Or I’ll come. It’s so good, but I don’t want to. Not yet. Please.”
Through all this gibberish, he slows his motions, pulls off, and lays his cheek against my inner thigh while I catch my breath.
He’s so beautiful like this. Relaxed and giving. Totally in the moment with me, not treading the dangerous waters of his past or planning a vicious, deadly future.
When I’ve convinced my body to ease back from the edge, I fish out the bathing sponge from the bathwater. “Shall I wash you?”
“Please.” He lets me turn him this way and that while I drag the sponge over bare skin, over sensitive places, and private places with relish.
His body is art. Every line, every curve and sharp angle. Every freckle. I would study each one at length.
I wash his hair, combing my fingers through the long black tresses, working soap to his scalp, and massaging his head.
He moans. A delicate sound, content and needy at once.
When he’s as clean as I am, we help each other out of the tub and take turns drying off. I can’t take my eyes off him.
