She moaned again as his naked skin rubbed hers, electric, consuming, intensifying the ache his fingers caused. Soon she was writhing, searching for release from the intense sensations all but bursting within her.
"I'm almost there," she said. Everything inside her was coiling and poised for release. She was so close to the edge, so unbelievably close. "Don't stop." Her breath came in short, erratic pants. "Everywhere you touch, heat ripples under my skin. I want you to never stop touching me. Promise?"
"With my entire being." He groaned deep in his throat, the vibration touching her all the way to her toes.
He pressed just a bit harder, but it was enough. Her inner muscles tightened; fierce pleasure erupted with the force of an avalanche. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God!"
While her orgasm still hummed with life, he buried two fingers deep within her, stretching the walls of her femininity and making her ready for his invasion. His other hand gripped one side of her hips, pulling her up, helping her imitate the rhythm of sex. Once. Twice. He pushed his fingers deeper. Over and over pulling back, sinking in. Her need for him amazed her. Not just his touch, but him. His voice, his smile, his happiness.
Having deprived her body fulfillment for so long, it now demanded compensation. I need more, she thought. She craved all of him; she wanted him to experience release with her this time.
"By Elliea, Julia, I have never felt anything so hot," he praised. "So cursed good, so tight."
The tips of his fingers grew bolder, pushed deeper, teasing and taunting. Sensation eclipsed time. Fiery pleasure grew within her, the embers all but inextinguishable. Each movement she made served only one purpose. To gain deliverance from the sweet torment he continually inflicted.
"Come inside me, Tristan. I need you."
He removed his fingers and stared up at her face. "I want to taste you first."
Taste you first. It took a moment for Julia's passion-glazed mind to register what it was he actually wanted to do. When comprehension dawned, her sensual haze rescinded. She tore off the blindfold and tossed the black material to the floor. Panicked, she leaned back and drew her knees together.
"No." She quickly shook her head. "I can't let you do that." The thought, though sensuous in the image it evoked, caused her all kinds of worry.
"Aye." Tristan saw the wariness etching Julia's expression, and it doused the fire within him to a low-burning ember. His arms wrapped around her waist to keep her from bolting. "Let me taste you," he said. "Let me give you pleasure by using my tongue."
Incapable of speech, she shook her head. Her legs locked together even tighter. If she moved a fraction of an inch, he noticed, her closed knees would ram into his swollen flesh.
He gently cupped her chin in his hands and tilted. "Julia?"
She didn't answer, didn't relax.
"I asked you before if you trusted me," he said huskily. "Do you recall your answer?"
Somehow she managed a small nod. The very thought of him doing as he wanted sent shards of wicked desire pulsing between her legs. But could she allow him access to her most private place? To look? Taste?
He slid his hands between her clasped legs, softly gripping her knees and pushing them apart. Then, hoping the familiar sensations might ease her, he urged two fingers inside of her again. He felt the wetness that pooled there and almost came. It required every ounce of self-preservation he possessed to submerge his intense hunger.
"I'll never hurt you, little dragon. Let me. Let me take you inside my mouth."
"But what if you don't like it?" she asked, finally voicing her fear.
"I will like it," he said fiercely. "This I vow."
The rich persuasiveness of his tone relaxed her, persuaded her to enter into the unknown, the feared. Bit by bit, she loosened the muscles in her thighs, giving him the access he craved.
"If you're sure," she said softly.
Her voice sounded drugged, breathless with passion, honey rich with uncertainty. He moved down, cupping her bottom with his hand and lifting her until her knees were braced atop the arms of the chair, her hands anchored to the top edge. His breath tickled the pink folds a second before she felt the heat of his tongue. He licked, caressed, moved against her, creating a dizzying friction. Her bones liquefied, her nerves sizzled, and at that moment, Julia knew she would never feel such exquisite agony again. Her ragged moans filled the room, mingling with the rumbles of thunder.
Her head thrashed from side to side, causing her hair to stream wildly down her back, and even that served as a stimulant. The silky tendrils caressed her heated skin, tickling, brushing.
Tristan pulled away.
"Noooo." Her thighs tightened, trying to lock him in place and hold him to her until he fulfilled the need pulsing so steadily through her blood.
"Like it, do you?" He uttered a hoarse chuckle, but the sound soon became a moan. "I do, as well, little dragon." Once more his tongue stroked, probed. "Never have I tasted anything so sweet," he whispered against the dewy flesh. "So perfect."
Trembling, she arched into him. "Mmm" Speech was impossible.
So much pleasure Everything inside of her burst. Flashing lights. Twitching muscles. This orgasm rocked her to the core, stronger even than the last. Unable to temper the effects of this powerful onslaught, she screamed his name.
"You're killing me," she breathed.
He'd never felt this savage, this hot. "I need you, Julia," he said.
"Yes. Yes."
"You are so small. Are you prepared?"
"Do it, Tristan. Do it now." He lowered her, barely able to restrain his desperation, and placed her knees beside his thighs. With a roar, he surged up, burying his swollen flesh inside her and breaking the barrier of her innocence. She stiffened for only a moment, then fused completely against him. For an eternity, he remained unmoving, allowing her body time to accept his invasion.
For a moment, he felt her, not just her body, but her emotions, all the way to her soul. He felt her hunger, her awe. Her need. They were one being, two halves that made a whole.
"Are you unharmed?" he asked, sweat beading his brow.
"I am the way I was meant to be. A part of you."
His lips thinned with his strain to hold back.
"Can you take more?"
"I'll take everything you have to give." He pushed a bit deeper. She arched. Then he slipped all the way to the hilt. She gasped.
Perfection, he thought. He began to move deep, deeper, lifting her up, pulling her down, just as he had with his fingers. Little by little, his rhythm began to quicken. Faster. Faster, still. He took her hungrily, almost brutally, pounding into her the way he'd dreamed these many nights. He could not control his reaction to her; he wanted her too desperately. She stripped him to his baser self, consumed him. A moan escaped his throat when she rotated her hips, taking him at a different angle.
"Do that again," he praised.
"Like that?"
She did it again. He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth.
"Just like that."
Julia grinned wickedly, then quickly lost her smile on a pleasured moan. The width of his penis stretched her, but the feeling of completeness he evoked far surpassed any discomfort. He was a part of her now, deep and solid, his body one with hers, and the knowledge was more drugging than the most potent medicine. She'd dreamed of this moment, dreamed of being with him, but her imaginings had paled in comparison to reality.
His hand reached down between them, found her clitoris and pressed against it. With the mastery of his fingers, he made her forget any lingering discomfort.
"Tell me how you feel," he commanded hoarsely. "Tell me when you like what I do." He slipped in and out of her, increasing in speed, increasing in urgency, even as he continued the onslaught with his fingertips.
"I like I like " Her lower body moved with him, then against him, rising when he retreated, only to lower again when he surged forward. She couldn't think, could only push toward more satisfaction. By God, she would never deny herself this pleasure again.
"Tell me," he breathed. Faster and faster he increased his rhythm. "Do you like this?"
She opened her mouth to explain she'd reached the depths of heaven, but a moan tore from deep within her as she reached another climax. Molten sensations sent her spinning, spinning, faster, faster.
Feeling Julia's inner walls tighten around his swollen shaft sent Tristan propelling over the edge, as well. Gratification, wholly male and infinitely powerful, sent a bestial roar of satisfaction ripping out of his throat before he collapsed into the chair, taking Julia with him. They were both spent.
When he was able to drag in a mouthful of air, he whispered into the silky strands of her hair. "Well, my little dragon. I guess you liked it."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Once You Have Worshiped Your Master's Body, Immediately Do So Again
The evening shadows streamed through the velvety curtains and sheers, hazy and erotic. The storm had passed, yet its dewy essence still encompassed the room. Only an hour ago, Tristan had carried Julia to bed, where lace draped the entire length of the mattress and held them in a private haven. He had sparked the hearth's fire, and it now blazed with glowing embers, emitting lulling crackles every so often.
I will protect what is mine, he thought fiercely.
By fair means or foul, he would not allow Zirra, or any woman for that matter, to steal his box. Nor would he allow Julia to be hurt by such attempts. Nay, he would not. Death would come firsttheirs.
I will protect what is mine, he thought again. Zirra had already proved she couldn't call him back permanently. And her powers had not been strong enough to do any real damage to Julia, only her belongings. Still
Realizing his muscles were tensing and readying for battle, he forced himself to relax. He turned onto his side and curled his arm around Julia's bare hip, fitting himself against her warm, sleeping form. He breathed in the lushness of her fragrance, and his eyes closed in surrender. His lips lifted in a half smile. He had kept his dragon busy for hours, introducing her to the many ways to make love. Beside him, astride him, standing. He had never enjoyed himself more.
With his other guan rens, he had reached sexual release, aye, but he had remained unsated. Always unsated, as if something were missing inside of him. With Julia, he had reached the pinnacle of contentment. She made him feel free, gave him glimmers of absolution. Did she still consider herself unworthy? He had pleasured so many women, but until now he had never before held such potent sensuality in his hands. No woman had ever responded to him so completely, all inhibitions forgotten. Before Julia, sex had become a monotonous game he had tired of playing. With her, he found utter contentment.
He was not worthy of Julia.
As jaded as he was in matters of the flesh, this experience with Julia felt more real, fresher, than even his first time all those centuries ago. His fingertips traced silky patterns over her hip, then dipped lower to her bottom. The fact that he was Julia's first, her only, filled him with a possessive pride he could not explain.
But I will not love her, he added darkly. He would not allow his pleasure slave spell to be broken, for he did not want to return to Imperia alone. Quite simply, he refused to lose this woman he held. He uttered a sardonic chuckle. How ironic that he preferred to face an eternity of enslavement simply to be with this woman awhile longer, a small flash of time.
"Mine," he muttered, tightening his hold on Julia.
Like the howl of a banshee, the doorbell sounded.
Julia cracked open her eyelids and glanced at her bedside clock. Twelve thirty-four. Lunchtime. She was too content to eat. Or even move, for that matter. But the doorbell sounded again and she stretched, hoping to work the kinks from her naked limbs. Wincing at her soreness, she pushed out a breath and smoothed her hair from her cheeks.
At her side, Tristan stirred, instantly claiming her attention. A soft smile softened her lips. Inky locks of hair lay in disarray, framing his face. The length of his lashes cast shadows onto his cheeks, and a pink silk sheet draped the lower half of his bronzed body. And yet, he'd never looked more masculine.
With a drowsy, contented sigh, she kissed his jaw, always so smooth and devoid of stubble. He was so much more than she'd ever expected for herself, but she was finding that nothing less would satisfy her. For the rest of her life, every man she came into contact with would be judged against Tristan. No one could meet his standard.
I made love to this man, she thought, awed, drawing in his scent that still clung to her skin. Several times. Peace fluttered inside her, a feeling she'd thought she possessed beforea sort of satisfaction with her life, an acceptance. She'd deceived herself, convinced herself that her life was fine the way it was. Now she knew the truth. True satisfaction was only found in Tristan's arms. With him, she felt alive, whole. Desired.
And Zirra might attempt to summon him back at any moment.
Julia's smile faded. How could she protect him from a woman she couldn't see? From a woman who resided in another time, another world? She just didn't know. All she could do was keep his box hidden and hold on to him as tightly as she could.
Another round of bells chimed.
"If that is Puny Peter," Tristan said, his voice sleep rough as he rubbed a hand along his jaw, "I will have to kill him. Slowly and painfully."
"Not if I kill him first," she muttered. Already her breasts were tingling, aching for Tristan's touch as she considered all the ways she could "hold on to him." He'd trained her body well, and now she was addicted to his loving, in every position, gentle or rough.
A pounding of fists accompanied the bell this time.
"Whoever it is, isn't going away," Julia said morosely.
"Is my box still secure?"
"Yes. I haven't moved it."
Tristan eased to a sitting position and tossed the sheet to the floor with a whoosh.
"Stay here," he said, giving her a lingering, wistful once-over. "I will neutralize this enemy."