Page 154 of Sunsplitter

She’d listen. She’d respect anything he asked. Antal knew.

“What do you want?” he breathed against her cheek.

Fionamara clicked her tongue. “Don’t be obtuse, daeyari. Youknow exactly how I feel once you start teasing that tongue—”

She gasped as he licked the length of her chin. A purr as he traced lower, settling a kiss to the hollow of her throat. She tasted like embers glowing against a Winter chill, salt and sweet dancing on his lips.

Undressing her was a litany. Antal’s people weren’t pious, had abandoned their religions millennia ago in favor of more tangible things—the surety of the Void, the legacy Veshri had left to them. In these moments, though, he thought he might understand the surrender of falling on his knees. The veneration of lifting her shirt off her shoulders. The sanctity of black lace, soft and pliant as he unclasped the bindings from her breasts.

The wholeness of her beneath him, every curve laid bare, was a different kind of divinity.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” he asked against hot skin, his lips mapping the line of her collarbone. “Not enough. Never enough.”

“Tell me, then,” she said, desire roughing the words.

He took a breast in his mouth, soft enough to make him shudder. When he dragged his tongue across the peak, she arched into him, her fingers carving through his hair.

“You’re a vision.” He scraped a fang across her chest, drawing a low sound in her throat. “When you fight, it’s like watching a tigress, a blaze of unstoppable flame.” He drifted kisses down her ribs, a nip to the softest dip of her belly. “It’sunseemly, the way I fall in love with you over and over again.”

He set his tongue to the tattoos at her waist, tracing every flower across her stomach. She lifted her hips to him, easier to drag those inconvenient pants off her.

A soft bite inside her bared thigh, and she gasped. Harder, and she groaned, grasping his antlers. Antal wound his tongue down the crease of each leg, skirting the spot she wanted himto touch, devouring her need. Soft whimpers slipped out of her like pleas.

Antal had been floating before. He drowned now, submerged beneath the scent of her skin, the sounds off her lips, scarcely remembering to come up for air.

At last, he tasted her center. All of her replied, back arcing off the bed, fists tightening on his antlers. A reward in itself, those panting sounds she made beneath the ministrations of his mouth. Antal’s cock was painfully hard, begging to rub against her, aching for the release she offered. Not until his work was done.

Everything was a fight with her. She struggled, fingers knotting against the bed sheets, hips squirming as he worked his tongue over her. Into her. A cry. A shudder. At last, she settled like a bridled mare, succumbing to the rhythm he set, hips rocking in tandem. The breadth of Antal’s world consisted of her splayed thighs.

Until she broke. Fionamara fractured with a moan, clenched through her teeth like some bitter defeat, as if every sound she made wasn’t divine. She bucked against him, still wild. Antal fought her down, tending to each spasm as she snarled, as she whimpered. At last, she slackened, falling back against the bed in a pant.

One was never enough. Slowly, dutifully, Antal teased her with his tongue. Coaxed her with a press of energy-warmed fingers. He worked her into another moan, a fiercer string of pleas on her lips. Filthy, those lips. Downright treacherous with his name on them.

Once he’d finished her a second time, Antal granted a reprieve, settling back to rest on his heels. He breathed in cool air. Savored the taste of her on his mouth. The moonlit lines of his room settled clearer than before, the high of aedari blood wearing off.

He brushed knuckles across her sweat-damp skin, admiring every curve.

Fionamara lay in a lazy sprawl against the sheets. Hair splayed. Eyes glassy with content. She grinned as she reached for him.

“What would you like, my Lord Daeyari?” she asked, soft enough to shatter him.

Antal considered all the ways he could have her.

Then… all the ways she could havehim. A deeper heat burrowed in his groin, a pleasure rarely satisfied. But he trusted her. Completely.

He took her hand. She obeyed, letting him lead her to the edge of the bed. Anticipation kindled in his chest as he pulled open a drawer.

Fionamara’s eyes widened at the contents.

“Antal,darling,” she breathed with wicked delight. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Hardly. Antal’s collection of toys wasn’t as extensive as hers, nor as adventurous. The drawer displayed phalluses of various sizes and materials, from polished metal to softer plant synthetics, stored in cases to keep them clean.

“You’re sure?” Fionamara asked.

“Pick one,” Antal returned.

He lay on his stomach, tail swaying, enjoying the concentrated furrow on Fionamara’s brow as she perused her options. She pulled out one of the larger offerings—because of course she did. Made of smoothed elk antler—becauseof courseshe did. The tool affixed to straps she could wear at her waist.