He sucked in a breath and muttered a shaken curse. He made his body into an enormous cage constructed of bone and muscle and starvation as he bowed around her, pinning her with arms and legs and weight. She arched up with all her strength, exhilarating in the cage, which gave her a paradoxical feeling of release. She moaned as they ate at each other’s mouths, frantic to consume each other. His hands moved on her wrists, a restless shackle. His tongue thrust an aggressive rhythm as he fucked her mouth.
The ancient primitive rhythm only made her need flash hotter. She needed him to penetrate her in other ways. She writhed and he moved so that thick muscled thighs were on either side of hers, which brought his hips in full alignment with her aching pelvis.
It also brought the length of his erection against her clitoris. He ground against her, flexing like a great hunting cat, rubbing the hot, hard length of flesh along the graceful ridge of her pelvic bone. Pleasure raked frenzied claws through her. She cried out into his mouth and pushed her hips against his.
Vaguely she knew something was wrong. She was acting out of character even for a sexual dream. It had something to do with a lifetime of loneliness, with the electric sensuality this male exuded, with him calling her to him with sorcery and with her looking into his eyes and becoming snared, with his seductive, cunning patience. She tried to hold on to those thoughts but they ran like water flowing through her fingers. Her sexual frenzy—his sexual frenzy pouring over and through her—overrode all of it.
He dragged his mouth from hers, turned his head to one side and gasped something. The words were foreign, the language harsh and burning with Power. They sounded like curses. His hands slid away from her wrists. One dove to the small of her back to yank her hips tighter against him. The other came up to palm her small breast while he lay hard against her. His marauding lips plunged down the side of her face to her throat.
He bit her, a savage and archaic gesture that sent an earthquake through her body. She shrieked and raked her nails down the immense musculature of his back while she wrapped her legs around those taut pumping hips and pulled him even closer.
They were almost there, almost there. He rolled with her until she lay sprawled on top of him. She adjusted to the new position with an eager wiggle, mouth turned to him, seeking his. Hard hands sank into her hair and held her head imprisoned against his hairy chest. She needed him to push inside her like she’d never needed anything before. She plunged one hand between them to grip the velvety, broad head of his penis. It was damp at the tip.
Then, his lungs working hard, he pulled her head back until their lips were just touching. Still pushing his hips against her pelvis in that slow, hard sexual rhythm, rubbing his thick cock against her palm, he whispered into her open mouth, “Tell me what your Name is.”
Okay, wait. She had to remember something about that. She struggled to think past the burning need for him.
“Tell me,” he whispered, the words winding around her, snaring her tighter.
Wait a minute. Her breath shook. Names have Power. Power, like that in his voice.
She cast around in her desire-fuddled mind for a good lie but heard herself say, “P-Pia Giovanni.”
She panted in real pain and rubbed herself along the length of his body, trying to rediscover the rhythm he had begun. She needed to come so bad she could have screamed.
“Pia.” He didn’t so much say the name as breathe it. His hot breath coiled around her like tendrils of smoke from an infernal fire. “Pretty.”
God, it felt unbelievable, as he stroked her all over with nothing but the Power in his voice. He licked her hot skin and murmured, again with that caressing, dark, seductive voice, “But that’s your human name, isn’t it, darling? You’re some kind of Wyr. I need to know your real Name.”
Then as if he couldn’t help himself, he cupped the back of her ass and pushed up against her so hard his hips left the bed.
But just wait.
Giving him her real Name would give him Power over her.
“May all the gods have mercy, tell me.” The agonized groan came up from his core and blasted her swollen, moistened lips.
The ghost of her mother’s voice touched her desire-crazed thoughts with cool lucidity.
Don’t ever tell your real Name to anyone, my love, she had said to Pia. Over and over her mother had repeated this lesson. She spoke it with Power of her own in her voice, so that the lesson would be fixed in Pia’s mind because she had been a bit of a flighty child at times. If you tell someone your real Name, you have forever given that person Power over you. It is your most precious, private treasure. Keep it safe as you guard your life, for your Name is the key to your soul.
The dream spell shattered. “No,” she whispered.
Was she denying him or her mother? She tried to clamp down with her legs on his torso to hold on to him, clutching at that black spiky hair with greedy fingers.
He roared. He sounded like he was in as much pain as she was. He wrapped hard arms tight around her, but she was already growing insubstantial. The raw silk of his hair melted through her grip.