When his mouth closed over her nipple, sucking and teasing, she nearly did scream. She drove her hips against his, hunting the rising release, her breath coming in rapid pants as he switched to her other breast, his teeth catching at her nipple, biting until pleasure bordered on pain. “Don’t stop,” she sobbed. “Please don’t stop!”
His laugh vibrated against her skin, and then he let go of her wrists, his hands gripping her waist as he lifted her. Zarrah gasped, her eyes snapping wide and her hands catching at the window frame, dangerously close to falling to the violent waters that surged below.
“Trust me,” he murmured, and the feel of his breath, hot against the apex of her thighs, drove away her fear. “I won’t let you fall.”
She did trust him. With her life and with her heart, so Zarrah closed her eyes, allowing her body to sway with the bucking motion of the ship. Her knees, which he’d rested on the back of the bench, slid wider, and Zarrah shuddered as she felt his tongue stroke the length of her sex, parting her, then delving into her.
Undoing her.
She screamed his name, but the sound was consumed by the rising wind, the thunder to the north, and the crash of the ship’s hull against the surf. She let go of the window frame.
If he let go of her, she’d fall. If he let go of her, she’d die, but Zarrah felt no fear as she rode the sensation of his tongue inside of her, the sea spray icy against her overheated flesh. His mouth captured the center of her pleasure, his tongue circling her. Teasing her. Then claiming her.
Zarrah climaxed, the force of the pleasure rocking her harder than the storm-tossed ship. Wave after wave surged through her, sending stars across her vision and dragging his name from her lips. She collapsed backward, her arms dangling as she half imagined she might touch the waves; then he was pulling her back down onto his lap and into his arms.
Her forehead pressed against his, Zarrah sighed as he stroked her naked back, shivers still coursing through her as her pleasure faded. Only to be replaced by the need for more. “I want you in me.” She kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. “I need you in me.”
“As always, Valcotta”—he circled her nipple with his thumb—“we are like-minded.”
Behind the ship, the storm was capturing more of the sky, the sea growing more violent by the second, but Zarrah didn’t care. Barely saw the lightning dancing across the sky or the rising whitecaps as she dropped to her knees. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she unfastened his belt, then drew his trousers over his hips, her core tightening at the sight of his considerable length.
She bent her head, wanting to taste him. Wanting to give him the same pleasure as he’d given her, but Keris’s hand curved around her cheek, lifting her face. “Goddesses don’t kneel before men.” He drew her up so that her knees were on either side of his hips, his cock pressing against her entrance, the sensation making her moan even as the sight of him made her body moisten, for it was he who appeared like a god. Too beautiful for words.
And he was hers.
So she claimed him, lowering herself inch by delicious inch, watching his eyes roll back, a groan tearing from his lips as they came together.
Zarrah thought it would be wild. Thought it would be a frantic, desperate union of two lovers long denied and soon to be parted. Instead, it was a slow and achingly sweet rebuilding of their hearts, her breasts pressed against his chest, only flesh separating their thundering hearts. His lips against hers, so his breath was her own. His body buried so deep inside hers that for this precious moment, they were one.
The ship rocked them, wind gusting over their bodies as tension rose in Zarrah’s core, gathering and building until she crested with an intensity that blinded with its brightness. It rippled through her even as she felt Keris climax, heard him cry out, his cock pulsing and filling her.
All she could see was stars, the map of their story in the sky of her mind, and her heart wept because without him, she feared there would be only darkness.
He picked her up. Carried her to the bed and eased her under the blankets, though it was the heat of him that warded away the chill. She did not want to give him up. God help her, she did not want to give him up.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and she felt him brush it away. Tasted him as he kissed her. Heard him as he whispered, “I love you, Valcotta. I will have you or I will have no one, because where you go, my heart goes with you.”
For a long moment, she could barely breathe much less speak, then she said, “I want you to call me Zarrah now. Because there will be no more walls between us. No bars. And no borders.”
“Zarrah.” His voice caught, and he repeated, “Zarrah.”
And it was with her name on his lips that she allowed exhaustion to claim her, falling asleep in his arms.
70
KERIS
After she’d drifted off, he’d risen to close the window against the driving wind and rain, drawing the sodden drapes and plunging the room into relative darkness before checking that the door lock was secure. Only then did Keris climb back into the bed, his chest aching as she curled into his arms, her feet cold against his shins.
And then he slept.
And slept.
For how long, Keris didn’t know, only that when he woke, it was dark, the storm rattling the windows, the seas rougher than they were before. The motion of the ship rocked Zarrah’s still-sleeping form against him, her breath warm and steady against his throat.
He loved her. God help him, but he loved this woman more than life. This fierce, beautiful creature who’d been thrown into a pit of hateful snakes and had not only survived but had emerged stronger. No longer someone whose pain could be manipulated and used, but as the commander of her own future, seeing clearly where once her eyes had been clouded by grief and hate.
He wished he could claim the same. Maybe then he’d be worthy of her.
Zarrah stirred, and in the dim light, he watched her eyes open, dark pools that he’d gladly drown in every day for the rest of his life.
“Is everything all right?”
“Everything is perfect.” He stroked back her tangled curls, his cock stiffening as the blanket pulled back to reveal the pert curve of her breast, her nipple hardening under his gaze.
“The seas are rough.” Her voice was breathy, and he smiled, lowering his mouth to flick his tongue over the dark peak before asking, “Does it bother you? The waves?”
She sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “No.”
He closed his mouth over her breast, sucking and biting, relying half on his memory of what she liked and half on his instinct of what he thought might undo her.