What if I do everything wrong? Or worse, what if he hates it?
As he continues, my breath rises and falls with each wonderous wave. I moan as he applies pressure to the nerves between my legs.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his tone as soothing as his touch.
Ridiculous.
I'm not a girl.
But when he says it again, I moan even louder, as if my traitorous body enjoys his encouragement.
Jasce continues caressing and stroking until my body trembles with need, with want, with things I cannot explain. Nor do I want to. That would take effort, the kind of effort I don’t want to take right now. Not when it would distract me from this moment with him.
Right now, I am just a woman, craving the touch of a man who knows exactly what to do.
He’s not from House of Crimson, and I’m not from House of Silver.
We’re equals, wearing the same crown, the same color. Our reflections are the same, a glimmer of light and darkness. We both have sharp and blunt edges. Peaks and valleys. Sunny skies and rainy days.
He slows his movements, keeping me from reaching a place I have never reached before. Not with him. Not with anyone.
"Jasce," I breathe. “Please.”
He shifts to kneel between my legs, and I let out a quick breath when he lowers his mouth to my center. He licks and kisses, hitting every point that needs this surrender, this total abandonment of thoughts, wants, dreams, hopes.
Tomorrow, they can matter again, but not right now.
I curl my fingers around the bedcovers, wanting it to never end, needing it to never end. All of my resistance fades as I shatter. I close my eyes, savoring the lingering sensation as my body quivers with pleasure.
When I open my eyes, I find him watching me, a satisfied grin on his face.
“I always knew you would shatter for me.”
* * *
Jasce settles nextto me and keeps my nightdress bunched around my waist. “Let me lie next to you like this.” He brings his hand to rest against my hip, allowing his heat to warm my skin. “I like your flame.”
My breath catches as he skims his knuckles over the birthmark.
“It’s the part of you I can physically see and touch.”
Don’t do this.
Please don’t make me fall for you.
“What color hair and eyes do you have?” he asks.
“My hair is reddish brown. And my eyes are dark blue.”
Boldly, he brings his hand to my breast and cups his fingers around me. “Are you the same here?”
“Jasce…”
“Tell me,” he insists.
“Mine are bigger.”
“Nice.” He brushes his fingers through the material until he finds my nipple. I gasp when it hardens. “I want to know how to recognize you in a room full of people.”
