Page 83 of A Reign of Embers
I slide off the gold-and-sapphire ring that’s aided me in so many of my plans and set it apart from us on the bedside table.
Marc watches, his gray eyes darkening. He might not know exactly how I’ve used my ring, but he already guessed that I’ve been able to affect people with it somehow. I’d imagine he can deduce that it factored into my manipulations of our past intimacies as well.
But it’ll have no part in our interlude this afternoon. Everything we both experience will be completely real.
I return to him, and he works at my dress with small caresses of my back and sides. As the bodice loosens and gapes, he can’t seem to resist leaning in to brand the crook of my neck with his mouth. But then he eases back, nudging the fabric down to pool at my feet.
I lift my arms so he can strip my chemise off me too. He tugs my drawers down to join my dress.
His gaze rakes over my naked form, drinking in every inch of me as he promised. My skin may not be as smooth as it was before my pregnancy and my belly may not have lost all of its extra curve, but if anything, my husband looks more awed by my body than he did when he first saw me this way a year ago.
I let him get his fill before grasping the collar of his uniform. “Do I get to share in the admiring?”
The corner of Marc’s mouth quirks upward. “I would never deny you, wife.”
Together, we unbutton the shirt. Marc tosses it aside, the muscles across his shoulders and chest rippling.
The smooth gray discoloration that covers so much of his face seeps down his neck but peters out by his collarbone. It seems anyplace his skin was covered by his clothing, the combination of Bastien’s and Raul’s magic didn’t imprint on it.
I trace my fingertips along the edge of the scar and up across his cheek. With a rough sound, Marc bends to kiss me again. Then he hefts me up as he did by the table and carries me onto the bed.
He lays me out on top of the covers, my head nestled on a pillow, and kneels between my knees. For all I’m spread out before him, his gaze doesn’t leave mine.
“That one time,” he says. “In Lavira. I didn’t imagine any ofthat, did I? I never fell asleep.”
The memory of how much pleasure he managed to stoke in my body even when I didn’t want to feel it floods me with heat.
“That was all real,” I confirm.
A full smile lights his face. “Then I’ll start with what I already know you’ll enjoy.”
He doesn’t torment me with the lead-up this time, perhaps as impatient to revel in the pleasure of this act as I am. After a few strokes of his hands up and down my thighs, he crouches down and laps his tongue over my sex.
That’s all it takes for bliss to jolt through my torso. I bite my lip against a whimper. My bedroom door is solid enough to prevent most sound from traveling through, but I don’t want to take the chance of getting too loud.
Marc hums approvingly and leans closer. He braces his arms on either side of my hips in the most intimate of embraces and buries his face between my thighs.
His tongue strums over my clit and delves between my folds. His lips work over every place I’m neediest with pulse after pulse of rising pleasure.
I can’t hold back a moan, as much as I try to muffle it. My hips rock of their own accord, urging him on.
Marc doesn’t bother to come up for air. He devours me as if I’m a meal he’ll never get enough of, sucking and licking and pumping his tongue inside me.
I clutch his hair, the rising waves of bliss shocking gasp after gasp from my mouth. He swirls his tongue across my clit, and I come apart in a crash of ecstasy.
Marc replaces his tongue with his thumb, continuing to stroke that sensitive numb until I’ve sagged into the bed with my release. He grins. “I can’t imagine a sight I enjoy more than watching you unravel with pleasure. I think I need to enjoy it at least a couple more times today.”
I let out a breathless laugh. “I don’t see any reason to argue.”
He chuckles in return and kisses my inner thighs on both sides before making his way up my torso. His lips chart a path across my hips and belly before lingering on my breasts.
“I’ve never given these the worshipping they deserve, have I?” he murmurs, and laps one tip into his mouth. As he teases that nipple with his tongue, he trails a thumb over the other.
Heavy quivers shoot through my flesh. I whimper and squirm beneath my husband, a knot of need returning to my core despite my recent release. My hands trace over the muscles of his shoulders and down his back until he lets out a groan.
He lifts his head and surges up so our mouths can collideagain. As he kisses me, he fondles one breast and then the other as if he means to provoke every spark of pleasure he can from their slopes.
His groin brushes my sex through his slacks, and a desperate mewling escapes me. Our lips break apart; I grasp at his pants between us. “I’ve been waiting more than a year to be able to welcome you properly. Let’s not delay it any longer.”
