Page 79 of Changelings
Imogen’s soft smile lit up, illuminated by the glow of the lantern. He didn’t need the lantern, the ambient light from the bonfire out in the square was plenty to see her by, but he knew she needed light and didn’t want her stubbing a toe.
Holding the lantern aloft, Imogen turned in a small circle to inspect the cabin. There wasn’t too much for her to see, honestly; it was a single room, the fireplace on one wall, surrounded by sturdy chairs. The cot Kiri sometimes used laid bare, his blankets obviously moved to Soren’s cabin. A rectangular table sat nearly in the center, where Balar did all kinds of work like cooking, hammering, or leatherworking.
His cabin wasn’t as full as her cottage, but he was proud of what did inhabit it. Mostly, the big bed that took up the southwest corner. Square and piled high with pillows, the silken coverlet gleamed in the low light, an invitation to lay down and doze.
Except, Balar had no intention of dozing.
“I like it,” said Imogen. “The timber is excellent. Are you sure you want to move it?”
“Yes,” he said. “Unless you’d prefer to live here?”
Imogen tried to hide her grimace by turning away, but Balar knew her answer anyhow. Things might change in the future, but, for now, Imogen wished to remain on her land in the forest. Balar was content with that; adding his cabin to her cottage would give them more room, and the path between Dannan and her cottage had already become well-worn. She wasn’t nearly soisolated as she’d once been.
Balar watched hungrily as Imogen made another turn about the cabin. His heart stuttered in his chest when her gaze fell on him, and her grin grew wider.Ibás, he wasn’t a strong enough male to withstand temptation any longer.
Plucking the lantern from her hand, he purred, “You haven’t inspected the bed yet.”
Imogen laughed and rolled her eyes before walking over to do just that. In her absence, Balar opened the lantern and blew out the flame.
“Um, I’m supposed to be looking at the bed.”
“I wouldn’t want them outside to see.”
“See what—?”
A little gasp filled the darkness as he came up behind her. She had to feel the jut of his excited cock against her backside when he pulled her into him and buried his face in her neck. Balar filled his palms with her generous breasts, squeezing and kneading in time to his pounding pulse.
His purr turned almost violent when she reached back to bury a hand in his mane.
“Was this your plan all along?” she whispered.
“Maybe,” he admitted, licking up the side of her neck to her ear. “A good hunter never lets an opportunity go to waste.”
The cabin wasn’t entirely dark; he had the moonlight and the bonfire to see by as he worked her breasts free of her stays. Flickering squares of blue and orange light played across the backs of his hands from the windowpanes as he toyed with her, plumping her breasts and teasing her nipples.
Imogen began to squirm in his hold.Enket at inan,he adored how sensitive she was.
Over their days and weeks of practice, he’d become a devoted student of her pleasure. What she liked, what she craved, what made her writhe and moan and shout his name. His bravekigaramight have been shy to begin with, but as she grew more comfortable and confident, there was little they found that she didn’t like.
With every touch, they learned each other. There was little they hadn’t done at this point, and Balar was beyond proud of what a tempting little minx she could be. Little by little, Imogen was becoming used to not only asking for what she wanted but receiving it, too.
He’d used his tongue, his fingers, his thigh, even his tail to bring her to orgasm. All that was left was his cock. It wasn’t that that had been totally abandoned—Imogen never ceased to surprise him with her quiet determination. He knew what it was to come in her hand, in her mouth, between her breasts, between her thighs. He knew what it was to paint her soft skin with his seed, knew the sheen of her slick on his cock.
Tonight, he hoped for the rest. But her little moans and the adorable faces she made were for him alone.
“They’ll know what we’re doing if we don’t come back,” Imogen pointed out, although he was pleased to hear how her voice had already gone breathy.
“Mm, perhaps. If they do, they’ll be burning with jealousy. But your coming apart face is only for me.”
“Ido nothave acoming apartface,” Imogen nearly choked.
“You do,” he insisted, hand delving into the band of her trou. “And I intend to see it over and over again tonight. I want you, Imogen. In my bed.”
She turned in his arms to face him. For a moment, Balar feared she would tell him she didn’t want to, that she wasn’t ready.
But, as always, his Imogen surprised and delighted him.
Keeping his gaze, she shed her overcoat and began working on the laces of her stays. A greedy purr rattled in his chest as he watched her undress. She didn’t go too slow or quick, justenough to entice him. Layer by layer, she revealed herself to him.
