Page 104 of Lorran
“I like messy,” he said, breathless.
Wyn
Reverently, they undressed each other. Lorran no longer fumbled with hooks and threatened to tear her clothes off—while hot, not okay when she literally had one pair of clothes. She mastered the act of opening his weird space pants that had no zipper but a smart latch that parted if she stroked just right. Her finger brushed over his hardening cock, appreciating the firmness through the fabric.
Just right.
Naked herself, she circled around Lorran, taking in his form from all sides. He turned his head to follow, an amused smile on his face, but he remained in place. He might have flexed his butt. She might have given it an appreciative slap.
He growled and she wagged a finger. “Stay. I’m considering my medium.”
He was…she just couldn’t heap enough praise on him. All hard angles and firm muscle, Lorran was gorgeous. That couldn’t be denied, but there was more to him than just physical attractiveness. She had feared he wouldn’t look beyond her own body and discount her, and here she was stuck on that V-cut that ran down to his groin, because yeah. Wow.
He had a good heart and a playful soul that radiated out of him.
“Oh my God, stop showing off,” she said when he flexed his arms.
“I do not know what you mean. This is how I stand.” He held his arms out and brought his hands together in a classic bodybuilder pose. One foot stretched out to a point, and he shifted his weight.
Wyn laughed, and his eyes narrowed, watching her with a look of hunger and a flash of fangs.
“Stay there.” She turned to fetch her paint box and yelped when a firm hand smacked her on the ass, not hard but enough to shock her. “Hey!”
He laughed, not even trying to deny the smack. “You dared me.”
“I did not.” She rubbed her behind. It no longer stung, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Bronwyn, you ordered me to remain and then presented an irresistible morsel. I am only a simple male. I could not resist.”
A morsel? That was…unexpected and nice. She liked the idea of being his morsel.
Tattoos ran up his arms and across his shoulders, and a few decorated his hips and thighs. They glowed soft, silvery, and seemed to flare brighter as she examined them.
“Do your tattoos have a specific meaning?” She had never asked, despite him asking for the story behind her own magpie tattoos.
“What does this one mean?” she asked, brushing a finger along the design near his wrist. It flared brighter at her touch.
“My family name and a wish to honor my ancestors. See, my father’s name. My father’s father.” His free hand guided her along the swirling path.
“And this?” Her hand lifted to his pectoral.
“My first battle, when I truly became a warrior.” Again, his free hand guided hers along the path. “It was on Earth. I was fresh out of the Academy and sent to serve with my brother.”
Wyn wondered if they had ever crossed paths on Earth. Probably not, though she’d like to think she’d recognize Lorran if they had.
“Your skin is a lovely canvas,” she said. The open paint box revealed a row of slender paint tubes and a metal pan. “Tempera paint. Water soluble. It’ll wash off,” she explained.
“You have put much thought into your plan,” he said, watching her squirt globs of paint into the pan.
“It’s an idea I’ve had for a while, but the opportunity never came up.” She didn’t particularly want to tell Lorran that her ex wouldn’t indulge her fantasy, citing the mess and the waste of perfectly good paint. All valid points, so she didn’t press and filed away the idea.
“You have never done this before?” His eyes sparkled and his tattoos seemed to glow brighter.
“No. Never.”
“Then we will share a first together.”
She focused on the paint pan, blushing furiously. “I don’t know how you can be sweet and filthy at the same time.”
