Page 141 of Kingdoms of Night

“Good,” he said. “Deep, slow breaths. Just feel.” His fingers curved inward. Then he leaned down and kissed her stomach.

She resented the fabric that separated her from his mouth, but even so, the heat was delicious. He pressed one hand just above her navel and, meeting her eyes darkly, kissed a little lower.

She squirmed, trying to focus on breathing. On just being and letting him—Oh!

He caressed and kissed her, a low masculine moan in his throat vibrating against her tender flesh. She squeezed her eyes shut, digging her fingers into the dirt, everything within her tightening and melting all at once. Delicious, aching pleasure built within her as he continued to kiss and tease, his tongue flicking and stroking. His pressure firmed, hot, wet, unrelenting, making her pulse and writhe.

She arched her back, eyelids squeezed shut, breathing uneven. Her hips thrust up, moving with their own will now. Any attempt to hide her gasps and moans of pleasure had melted away. She didn’t recognize the sounds coming from her own mouth. All she knew was it was building—building—

A scream tore loose from her as waves and waves of blissful pleasure pounded through her body. Her body shook, her thighs trembled. She arched up off the ground, vaguely aware of his hand anchoring her in place as he continued to kiss and stroke and push her further and further into the sublime ecstasy that now consumed her. It went on and on for what seemed like hours until he’d coaxed every last bit of pleasure from her spent, limp body.

Her entire body thundered to the primal pulse of her blood, sensual and satisfying, heavenly and heady. He lay down beside her and took her in his arms, holding her close while he stroked her cheek and her neck.

“You’re all right, Idalno?” he asked, his beautiful green eyes so soft and gentle that looking into them alone could have made her weep.

She nodded, clasping her hand over his. No one had ever made her feel this way. Not in any sense. More tears rolled down her cheeks. The intensity of the bliss still thrummed through her veins, but she was so exhausted she could only cling to him.

He shifted onto his back and pulled her alongside him, a big grin on his face. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

She let her head fall against his shoulder and her eyes slide shut. Yes. She was incredibly happy.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

IDALNO

Idalno smiled, warmly nestled in Feron’s arm. It would have been so easy to fall asleep here with his heartbeat gently thudding beneath her splayed hand. Night had come in earnest. The slim moon’s silver light filtered through the bending pink willow branches, and all was still. No night birds or insects sang. Only the sound of his heart and breath filled her ears.

Small lights appeared at intervals over the field of lavender poppies. They winked in and out, rising in strength and then fading. They almost seemed to call. Ordinarily, she might have thought they were beckoning her. But for now, she basked in the blissful glow of her release.

Up above and through the branches the stars twinkled, all white. She missed the stars of her home, all different pastels and soft shades. And they filled the sky. Here there were whole chunks of nothing but blackness. Especially near the horizon. It made it seem as if someone held a glass bowl full of stars and only set it down over them rather than pouring it out across the entirety of the night.

“What color are the stars in your world, Feron?” she asked, nuzzling closer.

“Hmmm?” He cracked an eyelid to look at her, then hugged her closer. His muscular arm wrapped so perfectly around her shoulders, warm and solid. He pulled her a little closer. “Just cuddle.”

She pressed her hand flat against his bare chest and stroked. “And here you are a snuggler. Do you like it when I wrap around you like a vine on a tree?”

A happy smile twitched at his lips. “Now I know how the red oaks feel at home, wrapped in mistletoe, in the best possible way.” He sighed contentedly, near sleep, a sated smile on his exceptionally kissable lips.

She curled closer, sliding her foot down his leg. “Does that make you my tree?”

He laughed, a joyful sound. “That depends. Do you want to bema vigne?”

My vine.She loved the way he spoke. His accent turned simple phrases into pure seduction. Those words caressed her and made her shiver with pleasure. She nodded against his shoulder.

“Mmm,” he moaned playfully. “I’m yours, then, ma vigne. Available for climbing, squeezing, cuddling—do vines cuddle trees?” He ducked his head, but a smile appeared nonetheless, as if he were both embarrassed and pleased.

“This one does. Kisses, too.” She kissed his cheek, rubbing against the light stubble that had grown up. “You made me feel better than anyone ever has. In every way.” It didn’t seem possible that anyone could have taken so much delight and effort in pleasing her. Yet he had. She rubbed her nose against his. “Incredibly good.”

“Hmmm. I suppose I am good at something.”

“You’re good at a lot of things, Feron. You really are.”

He mumbled in response, though it did not seem as if he had really heard her. Especially not when he had seemed so self-conscious on the path before when talking about his strengths.

“I didn’t know I could feel this way,” she continued.

“You deserve to,” he said. His hand curled over her shoulder while his other arm remained draped over his face. “Any time you want, tell me. I like the way you explode.”

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