Warcry

Atira’s ear and started to play with her nipples. “I love that I can do this to you. That my touch affects you this way.”
    Atira leaned back against him, rubbing her ass against his groin. She covered his hand with her own, trying to increase the pressure. “Please, Heath. I want—”
    “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
    “Skies, please, stroke me again. Here.” Atira took his hand and guided it down to her depths.
    With a gentle touch, Heath grasped her wrists, pinning them against her body. Attira struggled, but Heath tightened his grip. “My way, my beloved.”
    Atira put her head back and moaned.
    Heath allowed his touch to deepen as his fingers explored her. Atira jerked her hips, trembling in his arms. She shifted slightly, spreading her legs. “Deeper, lover. Go deeper.”
    Heath paused, holding his hand still.
    Atira pushed against him, trying to drive his fingers further into her slick, wet heat.
    “I’m not just any lover, Atira.” Heath held perfectly still as Atira writhed in his arms. “Say my name,” he demanded.
    Atira tried to get her hands free, but Heath resisted. “Say my name, Atira of the Bear.” He whispered the words against her skin, placing soft kisses on her neck and shoulders.
    “Heath,” Atira whispered. “Please, Heath. Your hands, your touch. Skies, please, I need—”
    He answered her need, pushing in deep and brushing her nub.
    Atira grabbed his arm and came with a shout before melting into his arms. She was boneless, sweaty and sticky, and the scent of sex hung heavy in the air. He lowered her to the bedrolls, watching her breathe. He was still hard. Still aching. But that was all right.
    The night was not over.

    ATIRA AWOKE TO BLINK SLEEPILY AT HER LOVER. She could just see the outline of his head against the sky. “Heath,” she whispered.
    “Beloved.”
    “Such a city-dweller you are, lover.” Atira lifted her arms over her head and stretched. Heath watched as she eased out of her stance, his eyes hooded and intent. Atira gave him a soft, sultry look. “Something I want, Heath.”
    “Anything.” Heath whispered the word, then said it again. “Anything, Atira.”
    Atira attacked then, pulling him down, wrestling around so that he was flat on his back, and she was astride him. He was hard between her thighs. Atira smiled down, shaking her hair out so that it formed a curtain around them. “Oh no, city-dweller. You have to tell me that you want this.” She put her hands on the blankets by Heath’s shoulders and leaned down, letting her nipples graze his skin. “On my terms.”
    Heath blinked up at her.
    “You’d bind me to you, possess me, yes?” Atira shifted slightly, increasing the pressure on Heath’s groin. “You’d try to use our pleasure for that purpose. Well, I want you, Heath of Xy. Want you bad.” Atira kissed him, then pulled back. “Do you want me?”
    Heath swallowed hard, shuddering beneath her. All he seemed able to manage was a nod.
    Atira shook her head, making sure the tips of her hair brushed his chest. “Say it, Heath. Say it, for all the skies to hear.”
    Heath had to moisten his lips to get the words out. “Yes.” He cleared his throat, putting his hands on Atira’s hips. “Gods help me, yes.”
    Atira eased back, a satisfied smile on her lips. Then she lifted up slightly, and reached between her legs, taking Heath in her hand—

    HE’D FORGOTTEN THAT SHE WAS A WARRIOR, almost as strong as he was, truth be known.
    Now she was poised above him, having taken the upper hand, and damned if he was willing to fight her. He wanted her on any terms. His, hers, whatever, his body knew nothing more than want . . . and desire.
    She eased back, smiling that triumphant smile, and then reached between, taking him into her hand, positioning herself.
    She eased down, and there was pressure and heat. Atira gasped, suddenly stiff and rigid.
    “Atira?” Heath managed to stay still as she braced herself on his chest, and panted. He moved his hands up to cover hers. “Did I hurt you?”
    Atira shook her head, her eyes closed. “Just been so long.” She swallowed, drawing in deep breaths.
    “We can stop, if—”
    “No,” Atira drew another breath, slower this time. She moved back, and Heath felt himself slide deeper into her heat and pressure. He gasped, fighting the urge to buck his hips up, to move into that pleasure.
    Atira eased up and then sank down a bit more. “Ah, so damn good,” she panted again. “Just