Mists of Velvet

her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Floundering with the satin tie, she barely got it knotted before he sucked the nipple deeply into his mouth, pulling on her.
    She moaned, arching farther into his mouth, and he smiled, his gaze locking with hers.
    “That’s what I wanted,” he said appreciatively. “Now, cup them for me.”
    Rowan did as he asked, and he watched her, the way she kneaded her breasts and pulled at her nipples. He lowered his mouth to her once more, drawing her in and suckling her fiercely.
    She was impatient against him, writhing on top of his muscular thighs. She needed more, the ache growing hot and hard inside her.
    “Stand,” he gasped, ordering her up.
    She couldn’t. But one look at his glittering eyes told her of the immense pleasure she could experience if she would only obey him.
    Standing with one foot on either side of his hips, Rowan blushed as she looked down to find her sex level with his mouth.
    He was staring at her, and she felt horribly exposed. But then he kissed her, and moaned, and she grasped the headboard tightly in her hands, trying to keep herself up as her legs threatened to go down.
    “Closer,” he demanded, and she pressed in until she felt his tongue parting her folds with one long stroke.
    “More,” he growled as he strained against the ties she had bound him with. His voice was dark, and needy, rushing up her spine in a delicious tremor. The sound, the sensation, peaked her nipples. “More. Onto my face, until you are all I can smell and breathe and taste.”
    “Keir,” she cried as he moved his thigh behind her knees, bumping her forward so that she was shoved against him, her sex pressing against his seeking mouth and tongue.
    His words had aroused her and had let her inhibitions break free. She was holding him to her pussy, her hands grasping his hair. She held his mouth to her and felt his tongue probing and parting, licking and circling; she cried out as she rocked against him, building her orgasm as she listened to their sounds—her breathless pants, his deep guttural sounds as he pleasured her.
    And then she came, shaking and shivering until she collapsed against him. He kissed the top of her head, brushed his cheek against her temple, and allowed her to sink into him, taking his heat and strength.
    His body was hot and hard beneath hers, and she felt him stir against her. She touched him, her fingers skimming along his jaw and throat, then down to his shoulder. He moaned, and Rowan lifted her head in time to see him close his eyes and tilt his head back.
    Mesmerized by him, she let her fingers trail down his shoulders and arms, tracing the intricate designs on his body. His lips parted, and she pressed forward, kissing him. He kissed her back but did not go any deeper. Frowning, she kissed him again. Again, he kissed her back—waited. And then she clutched him, kissed him hard, slipped her tongue past his lips, and kissed him as she had dreamed about.
    It was long and drugging, intimate, and wanting. Her nails were biting his shoulders, but he only moaned, captured her mouth when she would end the kiss, and deepened it—claiming her.
    When she broke it off, she was trembling, her nipples beaded and aching. She wanted to feel him, to memorize him—how he smelled, the texture of his skin, and the smoothness of his chest.
    Bending over him, she inhaled the spicy scent of his skin and licked him, tasting the fine sheen of sweat that made his skin glisten. Closing her eyes, she absorbed every nuance of him—his size, the taste of his skin, the heat radiating out to her.
    “Yes,” he groaned as she licked her way down his neck, letting the tip of her tongue flick the hollow of his shoulder. He moaned as she went lower, her tongue tracing the swirling lines of his tattoos, which had turned a vibrant blue. Something was happening to him, and she was doing it to him. A sense of power infused her, and Rowan circled his erect nipple with the tip of her tongue. The tattoo around it glowed, and his breath came in short, harsh pants.
    “No, don’t!” Suddenly he was straining against the ties. “You’re taking me away from you.”
    “How?” she murmured, and continued licking and sucking each nipple in turn.
    “A divination. By touching them, you’re starting one. And I want to be here with you. I don’t want my spirit separated from my body. I want to be here with you—all of me—alone with you.”
    When she opened her eyes, he was looking