“Yes,” I whispered as his hips rotated again and his thrusts got marginally faster. “Mayoo, Lahn.”
“Me,” he denied. “Ruhnoo kah quaxi.”
“Okay,” I breathed as the slow burn built.
“Ruhnoo kah xac, kah Lahnahsahna,” he growled.
“Yes,” I repeated, lifting my hips to receive all of him and he gave it to me, slow, slow, then faster and faster until we were both breathing heavily, I knew I was close again and the whole time his painted black eyes never left mine.
“Lahn,” I whispered when it started, my limbs getting tighter, my hands, which had been roaming his back, his ass, his shoulders, his arms, clenched him to me.
“Ruhnoo kay,” he grunted, putting power behind his thrusts, my frame jerking with them and that was it. My body arced from the small of my back to my head, pressing into his as an orgasm as slow and sweet as his lovemaking swept through me.
Then I kept taking him, his face now in my neck, his driving cock jerking me with every thrust, his grunts sounding against my skin until he pounded in slow, his hips rotating with each thrust, again and again and again as he groaned in my neck.
He stayed still for long moments before he pulled out and slid off, his slick skin gliding against mine.
Then he was on his side, head in hand, elbow in the pillows, one leg cocked with his foot in the bed, the other leg the length of mine (and longer). He watched in the candlelight as his hand slid through the black paint he’d transferred to me, over my chest, between my breasts, down, down, between my legs then his finger slid over my clit, making my hips jerk lightly and a noise escaped my throat.
His sexy, sated eyes came to mine and his hand moved back up, now trailing our combined wetness through the paint on my skin to come to rest light on my belly.
“Kah quaxi, nahna quaxi,” he whispered and I had no idea what that meant but whatever it was, it was important to him.
“Okay,” I said softly.
“No,” he whispered back and leaned an inch into me, “good. ”
I wished he wouldn’t be like this, for instance, great in bed and sometimes so damned sweet.
“Right,” I muttered, “good.”
He grinned at me, bent his head and ran his tongue along my shoulder. Then he settled down on his side but not on me like the last two nights, just beside me. He grabbed my hand, cocked my arm and held it against his chest but that was it.
He was minding the burn.
Shit, shit, he could be sweet.
Damn.
Then again, I reminded myself, I wouldn’t have the burn if it wasn’t for him.
I turned my head to look at him.
“Trahyoo, kah fauna,” he whispered, his hand pressing mine to his chest.
There it was again, kah fauna. His doe. Now I had three. Not knowing what it meant, it felt nice. Knowing what it meant, it felt freaking great.
Damn.
“All right, Lahn,” I whispered back, he tipped his chin back and closed his eyes.
I looked at the ceiling and closed my eyes.
And I decided one of my steps if I woke up here tomorrow was going to be avoiding my king. And I’d keep taking that step until I figured out some way to get myself home.
Because if I didn’t, I knew all would be lost.
* Translation: “No Geoffrey, Circe. The King commands it, you understand?”
** Translation: “You and me. Gold and paint. King and Queen.
Tiger and Tigress. Your gold is on my body now. My paint will be on your body tonight, my Circe.”
*** Translation: “My paint, your paint.”
**** Translation: “Take my paint, Circe, take my cock.”
Chapter Ten
Sunstroke
My body’s uncontrollable shaking woke me and about a second later, it woke Lahn.
“Circe?” he called, getting up on an elbow in the bed and looking down at me, his hand still holding mine at his chest.
Sunstroke. My skin was chill at the same time it was burning, it was tight and it hurt like hell.
I turned my head to look at him and saw his face awash with concern.
