“It feels good,” she whispered, having the courage to do this only because it was Vasic. Her Arrow. Her lover. “But I like your touch better.”
His breathing had lost its rhythm, his voice gravel when he said, “I like watching you. Do it for me, Ivy.”
All at once, her body was tighter, wetter, more wound up, each caress creating a heady rain of sensation. Moaning, she closed her eyes . . . and Vasic pressed up tight against her, trapping her hand as he kissed her with such unleashed passion that all she could do was take it. The wall vanished from behind her, but it was back before she could lose her balance, the bedroom a misty landscape painted in steam.
His hand around her throat in a gentle, protective hold that made the nerve endings in her skin ignite, Vasic kissed her into an oblivion of pleasure. Ivy rubbed and arched against him, her ni**les deliciously abraded by the muscled silk of his chest. A groan came from deep in him. The vibration traveled through her near-painfully aroused ni**les to the engorged folds between her thighs.
“I want you,” she got out between kisses, and it was half entreaty, half demand. “Inside me, Vasic.”
Shifting back without warning, he allowed her to remove her hand from her panties before dropping her to her feet, his hands on her waist keeping her upright when her knees threatened to crumple. Startled because she’d assumed he wanted to enter her in their previous position, she gasped when he flipped her around so she faced the wall.
“Brace your hands against it.” The words were so rough, she wasn’t surprised when the wall disappeared a second later, the desert in front of her. The wall was back in a single heartbeat. He was getting faster at the switching, she realized before all thought was lost as Vasic pulled down her panties.
Leaving them tangled around her thighs, he squeezed one cheek with a blatantly possessive touch, then dipped his hand between her legs. “You’re liquid.” Crushed rocks and sexual heat, that was his voice.
Ivy’s answer required no thought. “Because it’s you.”
Movement behind her, the back of his hand brushing her bu**ocks. The sound of a zipper. Fabric being pushed down. And then he was gripping her h*ps to tilt her farther forward as he pushed into her with relentless focus. Making incoherent sounds of need, she was hardly aware of the world altering between sand and the wall and back over and over. Every cell in her body was focused on Vasic, on feeling the thick intrusion of him stretching her flesh.
This position permitted nothing else.
He slammed home to her body’s convulsive rippling, stroked out, thrust in. Again and again and again. It was harder and faster than he’d ever before ridden her, his fingers bruising in their grip. When he rasped out her name, she knew it came from between gritted teeth.
“Yes,” she said, afraid he was going to stop, to slow down. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—” Her words ended in a hoarse scream as he increased the speed of his possession, his testicles slapping against her with every thrust.
It made her mindless, her fingernails trying to dig into the wall. The orgasm caught her unaware, demolishing her into a million shards of unbridled ecstasy. But it didn’t hurt, felt wonderful, because Vasic never let her go, even when his own orgasm turned his body to living stone, his seed pulsing wet inside her, the intimacy absolute.
• • •
THEY came to lying on the floor, Ivy on top of Vasic. Her panties were tangled around one of her ankles, her bra twisted. Vasic wasn’t in much better shape. Running her foot over his leg, she found her way blocked by jeans he’d never actually fully taken off. She glanced down, laughed a silly, delirious laugh. “You’re still wearing your boots.”
Chest heaving as if he’d just run a long-distance race, he didn’t answer except to stroke his hand down to splay over her bu**ocks. Feeling lethargic and pleasured and adored, she looked up at his face to see his lashes shading his cheeks, his gauntleted arm above his head.
She flicked out her tongue over the flat disk of his nipple, licked up the salt and sex of him. When she bit at his pectoral muscle a little, he squeezed her where he held her but didn’t otherwise protest. Finding a new vein of energy on the realization she finally had him at her mercy, Ivy managed to kick off her panties and unhook her bra.
Then, rubbing her na**d body over his, she began to kiss her way down his chest. Only when she reached the bottom of his ridged abdomen did he react—to twine his fingers in her hair. She hesitated, glanced up. His eyes remained closed, the tension in him a quiet hum, nothing urgent.
Returning to her pleasurable task, she licked along his hip bone, pushing up on her forearms to admire the V shape created low on his body by some very nice muscles. She didn’t know what they were called, but she’d already decided it was one of her favorite parts of his body.
To be fair, she licked the other side, too.
His hand tugged at her hair in reaction. The tug came again when she curled her fingers around his penis, which was already semihard again. Fascinated by the differences in their bodies, in the way he responded to her touch, she rested her cheek against the hair-roughened skin of his thigh and stroked him, testing to see what he liked, what made his breathing alter, his hand flex in her hair.
And found her own legs getting restless, the place between her thighs slick with renewed wetness. When he hauled her up and flipped their positions, she didn’t argue. Taking a second to get rid of his boots and remaining clothing, he sank into her pleasure-swollen flesh, his forearms braced on either side of her head and her arms around his neck.