Page 18 of Veinblood
Then she takes a step back, bottom lip caught between her teeth. I catch her wrist stopping her before she can turn away.
“Where are you going?” The question comes out rough.
She looks down at my hand on her wrist, then back up. “I was going to letyou?—”
“Don’t.” I pull her closer, and I reach for the hem of her top.
The fabric slides upward, revealing skin that burns beneath my palm. She tugs her wrist free and lifts her arms, allowing me to pull it over her head. I toss it on top of the growing pile of clothes, then lower my head to press my lips to the hollow of her throat. Her pulse quickens beneath my mouth. When she reaches behind her, I stop her, replacing her fingers with mine. The clasp I find there is awkward, but it yields to my touch, and our eyes lock as it falls away. My hands drop to curve over her hips, so I can draw her closer, and I slide one palm up over the dip of her waist, the flare of her ribs, until my fingers can cup her breast.
Her hands reach for my remaining clothes while mine encounter the fastening at her waist—a small round-shaped toggle that works easily enough. But below it, there are metal teeth with a small tab that proves more puzzling.
“It’s a zipper.”
“Zipper.” I repeat the odd word, and tug it experimentally. The metal tab slides down with a soft sound. “Interesting.”
She toes off her footwear, and pushes the heavy fabric down her hips, then steps out of them. My remaining clothes join hers, and once we’re both naked, she tips her head back to gaze up at me.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” she whispers.
Instead of answering with words, I close the distance between us until our lips are less than a breath apart. Steam swirls between us, beading on her upper lip, and I dip my headso I can taste it, my tongue flicking out to lick it away. She makes a small sound, then leans forward to capture my lips fully.
Her mouth is soft, yet insistent, her teeth grazing my lower lip with enough pressure to make me hiss. The second our lips meet, shadows lift from my skin. Silver light flickers across her throat in response. I tilt my head, fitting our mouths together more completely. Her lips part beneath mine, inviting me deeper. When my tongue dips into her mouth, hers meets it stroke for stroke. They dance together as shadows and silver light pulse around us and the kiss turns hungry, more demanding. When we finally break apart for air, we’re both breathing hard.
Reaching for my hand, she pulls me across the room toward the running water. I don’t resist, letting her tug me beneath the spray. When it hits us, she lets out a small gasp at the heat, head tipping back and letting the water stream down her body. I step behind her in the narrow space, my thoughts turning briefly to how this endless flow of heated water would be viewed as magic in Meridian and whether it would be possible to achieve. Then my attention is drawn back to her. The way the water cascades over her curves, how her skin glistens as she arches her back beneath the flow. I wrap my fingers around her braid, and bring her around to face me, claiming her mouth in another kiss.
Her arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer, until her body presses against mine. Every point of contact sharpens sensation—skin to skin, heat to heat—and my shadowsrespond, rising to twine around us both. They stretch toward her, drawn to her, answering something deeper than will.
She leans back just enough to breathe, every inhale brushing her breasts against my chest. Water streams down her face, catching in her eyelashes and dripping down her cheeks. I brush the droplets away with my thumb, following the curve of her cheekbone, the line of her jaw.
“I want to touch every part of you.” One arm unwinds from my neck so she can rest her palm over my heart, before sliding it down over my ribs, stomach, and lower, pausing just above where I’m already hardening in anticipation of her touch. When her fingertips brush the length of me, I catch her wrist, and wait until her eyes lift to meet mine, then slowly cover her hand with mine and guide her fingers around me.
Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, then she begins to stroke me, slow and deliberate, from base to tip. Each pass sends a wave of heat through me, pressure and pleasure, more promise than relief.
But I do not stand there passive.
I take her other hand and raise it to my mouth. Drawing her index finer between my lips, I suck gently, never breaking eye contact. Her pupils dilate as I swirl my tongue around the digit, then slide it free so I can guide our joined hands between her legs. She’s already wet, and a flush spreads across her chest, rising to her throat, and blooming over her cheeks. Her breathing changes, becomes shorter and sharper, and her hips rock to follow the rhythm of our fingers. I feel theexact moment she grows slicker beneath our fingers, her body responding with unmistakable readiness.
“More.” Her demand comes low and husky.
I guide her back until she’s pressed against the wall. The water hits my back now, and I drop to my knees before her, her hand falling away from my erection. Lifting her right leg over my shoulder, the position opens her completely to my view, and I look up the length of her body, meeting her gaze before I lean in.
The first slow sweep of my tongue draws a sound from her, half-gasp, half-moan, and utterly unguarded. I do it again, exploring the treasure I’ve uncovered, finding the pressure that makes her breath hitch. Her hands find my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp as she tries to guide me to where she wants me.
I resist her urging, and slide two fingers inside her. Her spine arches away from the wall, her inner muscles clenching around my fingers. Her whimpers wash over me while my tongue never breaks contact with that most sensitive part of her.
“Sacha.” She gasps my name, voice breaking on the second syllable. Her thigh tenses against my shoulder, heel digging into my back.
I work her harder,faster, driving her toward the edge. Her hand leaves my hair to cover her mouth, muffling the sounds that grow higher, more desperate. I reach up with one hand to pull her fingers away.
“I want to hear you.”
She cries out as she comes, her entire body going rigidbefore shuddering with waves of release around my fingers. I taste the shift in her on my tongue as she gasps and moans above me, and I don’t stop until the aftershocks begin to ease. Only then do I pull back, pressing one final kiss to her inner thigh, and rise to my feet.
Her lips find mine, hungry and open-mouthed, her tongue seeking her own taste on my lips. Her hand finds me again, harder now after watching her pleasure, and she strokes me from root to tip, gathering the moisture beading at the head to spread it down my length.
Pulling her lips free from mine, she bites and sucks her way down my throat, my chest. The bites become licks, her tongue tracing a circle around my nipple, while her fingers continue to work me, and then she’s lowering herself to her knees before me.
“You don’t have to.” The words leave my lips before I can stop them. It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy her mouth on me, but years of war taught me quickly that the most intimate touch can turn deadly quickly.
