Psy & Changelings 10 - Kiss of Snow

damp softness of her. She’d be so lush, so perfect. Instead, he allowed himself only a single lick to the tip of one tightly furled nipple—to her quivering moan—before beginning to kiss his way down her body.
    Her fingers clenched in his hair.
    Realizing she was attempting to keep him at her breasts, he smiled, retraced his steps. “This what you want, baby?”
    She arched up off the bed when he took her nipple into his mouth, rolling the taut nub over his tongue. Sensitive, very sensitive, he thought, closing one hand over her hip, the touch of lace under his palm a sensual pleasure . . . but nowhere near as erotic as her naked skin. Releasing that nipple without biting—he’d save that for next time—he swirled his tongue around the other, wanting to drown her in pleasure, until she’d never feel the lack of the one thing he couldn’t give her.
    “Did you enjoy my mouth on your breasts?” he asked after resuming his downward journey.
    “You know I did.” Husky words, her hands shaping and caressing his shoulders.
    Wanting those hands on every inch of his body, he pressed a kiss to her navel. “I like to hear.” Her arousal was intoxicating this close to the liquid heat between her thighs, and he had to fist one hand in the sheets to rein himself back before he scared her. “Tell me if this pleases you.” Skipping over the damp curls under the small triangle of black lace that teased rather than concealed, he kissed and nipped at her inner thighs.
    A shuddering breath. “Yes.”
    Spreading her legs, he used a single claw to cut the sides of her panties. A tug later and they were gone. Every one of her muscles locked at the same moment, and when he looked up, her eyes were closed tight. His mouth watered to taste the drugging scent so rich and luscious against his tongue, but he wanted her with him.
    Rising, he pressed a kiss to her stomach, to her chest, to her throat, to her lips. She opened to him without hesitation, dangerous and wild and Sienna. Only when her hips were undulating up toward him did he run his hand back down to the heat between her legs, caressing her desire-swollen folds with a single finger, his touch delicate. “You like this.”
    “Yes.” A sigh, a roll of her hips as she searched for more.
    He cupped her, stroking around the tight, wet entrance that had his cock jerking in the confines of his pants. She cried out into his mouth and gripped his biceps, but he drew away to kiss his way down her body once more. This time her eyes stayed open, and on him.
     
     
    SIENNA had just barely enough presence of mind to check the cold fire. It was nowhere near critical after the most recent purge, and her reinforced shields were holding. That meant she could enjoy this night, enjoy being with Hawke.
    Right now, she wasn’t sure she’d survive what he intended to do, but oh, how she wanted it. Her body felt like a toy that had been wound up too tight, every part of her straining to reach for something she couldn’t quite touch. “Hawke, please.”
    Wolf-blue eyes held her own. “Trust me.”
    “Always.” There was no question of trust, never had been.
    A wicked, wicked smile. “I told you it was my turn for dessert.”
    With that sinful statement, he pulled her legs over his shoulders and gave her a kiss so intimate, her mind roiled with blackness before sparking in a fever of crimson. She’d never known, never understood. When she’d read about it in the women’s magazines, it had seemed like an act that would embarrass her. Right now, she wasn’t embarrassed. She was eager and needy and so pleasured it hurt.
    If the first level of dissonance had been in effect, she would’ve passed out from the pain, but though the sensations were beyond anything she’d ever known, there was no agonizing backlash.
    Her wolf had no inhibitions, refused to permit her any either. “A little more,” he said, spreading her thighs even farther to allow him better access to flesh swollen and flushed with passion. It made her hands clench on the sheets to imagine how he saw her. Slick and pink and open. Then he began to taste her in slow, wet strokes, one finger entering her in a prelude to the ultimate penetration, and her thoughts fractured into a long, shuddering submission.
    She came to, to find a very satisfied wolf at her side. He was drawing patterns on the sweat-sheened skin of her navel with his finger. “How was dessert?” she asked, her throat a husky reminder that she’d